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ro-is-struggling · 7 months

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The Ballad of Orpheus and Eurydice || Geralt of Rivia x nymph!reader

REQUESTED

Summary: Life was good when Geralt was by her side. They were in love and happy... Until they weren't and she was left alone once again. After spending so much time under his protection, she had forgotten how dangerous the world was for creatures like her. Sad and heartbroken, she was unable to defend herself when the men came for her. Now locked up far away from her forest, she only hoped that her loved protector would come to her rescue.

Warnings: angst (with happy ending), major character death, reader gets imprisoned by a evil dude (I don't know how to tag this lol but I think it’s important to mention that she’s forced to serve him), fluff (it’s not all sad, I promise), forest nymph!reader, fem!reader, let me know if I missed anything!

English is not my first language

Word count: 12.700 (it's a long one)

Notes: A few things to have in mind while reading: It follows the timeline very loosely, and Geralt and Yen's relationship never got to that solid point in s3 cause it's not real love, just the product of Geralt binding their fates together with that wish

She never imagined that her story would end like this, locked in a cold and humid dungeon far away from her forest. Nymphs were not immortal beings —something she had come close to verifying several times in her long years on the continent—, so the idea of her inevitable end was something that she had thought about from time to time. It was not something that haunted her obsessively, but every once in a while her mind would wander to the imagining of the end of her days.

She lived a quiet life, making sure to be cautious around any unwanted people who passed through her forest. She had no enemies, at least not ones powerful enough to present a real danger to her. So she always imagined that she would die a peaceful death, slowly fading away as her birth tree withered away after having completed its cycle on this earth. If not, she imagined she would die a heroic death as she fought the greedy humans to prevent the destruction of her forest. Both scenarios brought her a sense of comfort in a way, because they showed that she had fulfilled her life's mission, the purpose for which she had been placed on the continent.

She never imagined that the end of her days would actually be so dark and torturous, forced to live in captivity away from her home and everything she loved. She never thought she would miss the feel of the wind on her face, or the warmth of the early morning sun, or the sweet scent of flowers in the spring. She had never imagined herself living anywhere but her forest, but that was an option that had been taken away from her the moment King Elian's men set foot in her home.

She had heard rumors of his infamous reputation from the mouths of other frightened nymphs. His name inspired terror among magical creatures, who chose to call him The Hunter as if the mere mention of his name was a sign of bad omens. He was known for his obsession with magical creatures and what he did with them after capturing them. Despite what his nickname implied, he did not always chase a magical creature to kill it and display some part of its body as a hunting trophy. No. There was a fate far more horrible and obscure than that, and that was to end up as a piece of his collection, just another exhibit, forced to smile in his presence and perform for his entertainment whenever he wanted it. It was the terrible fate that had unfortunately fallen upon her.

In the past she had not seen King Elian as a threat. His kingdom was on the other side of the continent and while he used to go on hunting trips when he heard rumors of a creature in his vicinity, he had never ventured this far before. Besides, she was under the protection of one of the continent's fiercest witchers, so she knew no one would dare mess with her. No one who knew Geralt of Rivia would dare to challenge him, and the poor bastards who, out of ignorance or arrogance did, usually didn't live to tell the tale. The bond they had was strong, a love unlike any she had ever experienced in her many years of life, so she never thought there would be a day when she would wake up without him by her side.

"The king requires your presence." A guard announced from her cell door, snapping her out of her thoughts. She rose to her feet reluctantly, stepping up to the bars so he could put the handcuffs on her before unlocking her cell. The dimeritium on her wrists was engraved with the same symbols as the bars of the box in which she spent her days. It was a powerful incantation that weakened her magic so that she could not use her powers to escape. It was painful since the metal burned her skin, but she had learned the hard way not to complain.

The guard led her to the throne room, where the king was shouting directions to the group of servants working on decorating the place, changing the curtains and adding chairs and tables to the sides of the room. She had been there long enough to know that the castle was being prepared for a feast, though she did not know what the celebratory occasion was.

She forced herself to bow when the king's eyes fell upon her figure, though her expression showed how little respect she truly had for him. "Your majesty." She murmured as a learned response as she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"I hope you used your time in the dungeon to reflect on your attitude." His voice was firm, almost as if he was still angry with her for refusing to comply with his demands almost a week ago when he had wanted to use her to entertain the king of the neighboring kingdom who had come to visit. "You have to understand that you belong to me. You are here to serve me and the only reason you are not dead already is that I find you useful. But that can change and it depends entirely on how you behave. Do I make myself clear?"

She clenched her jaw, biting her tongue to avoid causing a scene that would undoubtedly send her straight to the dungeon again. "Yes, my king." She wasn't able to look him in the eye as she spoke as she didn't want to see the satisfaction in his expression.

"As a demonstration of my great generosity and compassion, I have decided to give you a second chance to prove your loyalty. But do not mistake my mercy for stupidity for this will be your last chance to prove your worth to me. If you say or do anything out of place you will know the sharp blade of my sword."

After she submissively assured him that she understood the seriousness of his words, he explained that he needed her to take care of some of the preparations for the feast in honor of his daughter. During the week the entire kingdom had participated in the celebrations for the girl's fifteenth birthday, an event that would culminate with a grand banquet in the evening. She would be in charge of preparing the floral arrangements that would decorate the entire palace as well as being responsible for the main entertainment since there was nothing to match the singing of a nymph. But in addition, the king put her on a special task. He wanted to give his daughter a beautiful garden with different types of flowers —one for each year of her life—, and she was the perfect person for the job. She accepted without question, not so much because she valued her life or feared reprisals if she refused, but rather because after being locked up for so long she missed being in contact with nature.

"If it's alright with you, my lord, I would like to start with the garden." She said in the most respectful way possible, explaining that with her powers weakened it was the task that would take the most work.

She was escorted by a group of half a dozen guards, who grabbed her roughly by the arms and dragged her through the castle corridors to the garden. Normally she would have complained about their mistreatment, but it all stopped mattering to her when she felt the gentle breeze hit the skin of her face. It was a wonderful feeling smelling the wet dirt in the air and hearing the birds singing after having spent so much time locked up in the deepest part of the castle. It almost felt like freedom.

Working in the garden awakened a bittersweet feeling in her. On the one hand, it was the most comfortable she had been since she arrived at the castle. Walking barefoot on the grass, feeling the earth between her toes and the flowers growing under her hands was as close to home as she had ever been. It was liberating in a way, putting her powers to good use and connecting with the nature she missed so much. But, on the other hand, it was also a reminder of all that she had lost, the life she would never get back. As much as she loved being outside after so many days locked up, she couldn't help but notice that nothing felt like home. The flowers didn't smell the same, the grass under her feet wasn't as soft, and even the birds didn't sing the same. That wasn't her home. This was not her forest.

As she buried her hands in the ground, she couldn't help but question what she was doing, and more importantly, why she was doing it. Sure, avoiding further punishment for disobeying the king's orders was a valid motivation, but was it really worth it? Why was she trying to preserve her life when the only future she had was to live locked up there forever? Was dying such a terrible fate when the alternative was imprisonment and slavery? A life away from her home, forced to indulge the whims of a power-hungry monster was no life at all, so why was she there obeying the orders of that disgusting man?

Then she realized that she still held out hope of escaping. Her spirit wasn't completely crushed and her love for Geralt wasn't entirely gone, so even if it was foolish, she still hoped he would show up to rescue her. They hadn't seen each other for over a year, since that sad day when their story had met an abrupt end after he confessed to her that there was another woman in his life, but she still held out hope of seeing him again. She dreamed of seeing his long white hair move in the air as he skillfully knocked down the guards that separated them and freed her from her confinement. How could she not when he had been her savior on more than one occasion? In fact, that was how they had met.

She was frightened and hurt the first time she saw him, trapped in a cage with symbols carved into the bars. It was a powerful spell that weakened her powers just like the shackles of dimeritium around her wrists. The cage was too small for her, a confined space where she could barely stretch her legs or sit up straight if she wanted to. A group of well-trained men had managed to capture her, taking advantage of her distraction and temporary weakness to lock her up and take her back to their master. She was so terrified that when she heard Geralt's sword clash with that of one of her attackers, she curled up in a corner, her body folding in on itself in an attempt to make herself small and invisible to the group of fighting men.

She recognized immediately that he was a witcher and that brought her no relief. While his kind generally didn't tend to see nymphs as dangerous monsters —as long as they behaved and didn't do anything to end up on their list, of course— she didn't feel completely safe in the presence of a witcher. She tended to hide on the occasions when one passed through her forest, believing it was best to stay away from people like that just in case. After all, they were monster hunters, a concept that, in her experience, meant something different to each individual and there was no way of knowing for sure if she fell into that category or not. So, even though he had overpowered her captors, she still felt fear when he approached.

Geralt felt that fear as soon as he took a step towards her, it was almost as strong as the power and magic that flowed from her being. Her beauty alone was enough to let him know that she was a nymph of the forest. Behind the earth and blood, hidden in a grimace of terror, were the delicate features that the witcher had only seen in the creatures of her kind that he had encountered in the past. The nymphs had a certain look, a special glow that distinguished them from the rest of the magical beings on the continent. They were also one of the gentlest and most peaceful creatures on the continent, focused only on protecting their homes and turning to violence only as a last defense mechanism. That was why Geralt did not sense a drop of evil in her. And that was also why he set out to free her from her confinement.

Even though her captors lay dead on the ground, she still looked terrified, her eyes glassy with tears and her lower lip trembling as she struggled to hold back a sob. When he approached her, the nymph snuggled further into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest in a protective manner. He raised his hands in the air in an attempt to show her that he was not going to hurt her, walking slowly toward the cage so he could release her. It was then that he noticed the symbols on the bars and the dimeritium shackles, which helped him understand how she had ended up there and why she was so scared. She was in a position of extreme vulnerability without her magic and, despite having saved her, he was a complete stranger who could very well cause her more trouble. So the witcher made an effort to appear friendly and non-threatening.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He told her to try to calm her down, though it wasn't much help. She curled further into the corner of the cage, hugging her legs to her chest and looking up at him with watchful eyes from between her knees.

"I know what you are." She answered him, the fear clear in her voice. "You are a witcher, you kill-"

"Monsters, yes." Geralt spoke for her. "But you are not one of them. You're safe with me."

At that moment she had no way of knowing what kind of impact those words would have on her life and how genuine they were. She accepted his help because she had no other choice, but time would show her how fortunate she had been to cross paths with Geralt. At first he played hard to get, barely speaking as she nursed his wounds once her powers stabilized. She'd had to resort to using her charms a little to soften that hard exterior of his, but once Geralt began to open up to her, she discovered the man he truly was.

Geralt tended to lean into rumors about himself and his kind, pretending to be emotionless and not caring about anything or anyone but himself. But that was all an act, a protective shield. In reality he cared. He was capable of feeling emotions as deeply as any other being on the continent. He hated and held grudges, but he also loved and cared for those close to him just as intensely. And once she discovered that, she found it very easy to love him back.

She was truly safe with him, and in the long years that their love blossomed he did nothing but prove that to her. Geralt was her favorite person in the world. He was her home, her lover, her protector... A love like that was not easily forgotten and no one could blame her for holding out even the slightest hope that he would come for her, that he would somehow sense that she was in danger and rush to her rescue. It had happened in the past, their connection was that strong, so it wasn't an entirely far-fetched idea. It was just... naive of her.

Geralt had been traveling for days. He usually preferred to use alternative paths hidden behind forests or swamps, they were quieter and better for his business. Not many people used them so he didn't run into anyone that would bother him, and it was easy to run into the occasional monster roaming around, so it was a win-win situation for everyone. What he hated, however, was that most of the time it took him twice as long to get to some town where he could rest with minimal comforts and eat a hot meal.

Had he taken the main road he would probably already be at his destination, drinking in the dark corner of some dingy bar or locked in the room of some cheap inn, and not wandering the forest in search of an animal big enough to satisfy his appetite. He didn't mind being outdoors or having to hunt for his food on the spot —-in fact he was so used to that he almost preferred it—, but this time he was tired and couldn't wait to be anywhere but there. Perhaps that was why when he came across a king and his hunting party he accepted his offer to return to his camp to eat with him without putting up much of a fight.

Geralt hated royalty and King Elian was no exception. He was arrogant and self-absorbed, just like the vast majority of kings, but there was something else about him that rubbed the witcher the wrong way. He tried to decline his offer at first, but he was unwilling to take no for an answer.

"I'm afraid I will have to insist. My camp is not far from here and my tent is big and warm. I have more than enough food and I would love to hear some of your stories while we eat." The king insisted, pressing Geralt to accept his offer. "My men don't make for good company and I'm bored. I'm sure a witcher like you has been involved in a good share of adventures that make for fascinating stories."

In any other circumstances, Geralt would have found a way to escape from there. The last thing he wanted was to be used as the personal entertainment of an arrogant king. But this time he decided not to resist too much. He attributed it to his tiredness, he had been traveling for a long time and at least it wouldn't be a sacrifice in vain since he could at least get food in exchange for entertaining him for a while. But perhaps there was something more than that playing a role there. Fate itself had crossed their paths for a reason, even though he didn't know it yet.

"It's not as interesting or glorious as one might think." Geralt said with honesty.

In his experience there were two types of opinions regarding his people and what they did for a living. There were the people who despised them for what they were and believed they were no different than the monsters they killed and there were those who found them fascinating and longed to go on adventures like the ones they often experienced. To him both opinions were bullshit. He wasn't a monster, he didn't kill for pleasure or for fun as many people believed, but neither was he some kind of hero whose life was worthy of being immortalized in songs and poems. He was just a man who did what he knew best to survive, just like all witchers and all beings on the continent. He and his kind did not deserve hatred, but neither did they deserve to be crowned with laurels. They deserved to be left in peace, nothing more, nothing less.

"I have to say I'm grateful for the work you and your kind does." The king continued speaking without acknowledging Geralt's words. It was as if he was not there, his words were of little value to the king when they did not say exactly what he wanted to hear from him. "These creatures are dangerous and can't be left alone to live amongst us. Although some are fascinating creatures if given proper care and purpose."

Geralt looked at the monarch with a frown, unsure of what he meant by that. He said nothing, however, just remained silent for most of their journey to the camp, while trying to get a better read on the man beyond the typical arrogance of all of his kind. There was something about him that he did not like, something that caused a feeling that other kings and nobles did not. It was something more than his simple unpleasant personality, but he could not figure out what it was.

"You should come to my kingdom sometime." King Elian offered as they finally reached what appeared to be the camp where he and his hunting party had set up their base. "I have a collection of creatures I'm sure you would love to see."

The witcher halted his walk, looking at the king with narrowed eyes. "A collection?"

"Oh yes! I have the biggest collection of magical creatures in the whole continent." He admitted as if it was something to be proud of. "I have some pretty rare ones I'm sure you and your people would love to study. You're more than welcome to come over anytime! After all, we are all on the same side."

Geralt did not like the way the king referred to magical creatures and hated that he equated himself with witchers and the work they did. They didn't lock up monsters to brag about their large collection to strangers. They didn't see them as objects that gave them some kind of prestige. They saw them as living creatures, sometimes dangerous, sometimes misunderstood. Witchers did not enslave or kill monsters for fun as he seemed to do and Geralt was disgusted that he would even try to imply such a thing.

However, before he could voice his opinion, the king shoved him into his luxurious tent and the servants set a plate of food in front of him. It was filled with meat and potatoes and vegetables so colorful that they must have been freshly picked. It might have been the hunger talking, but it was the most appetizing food he had tasted in a long time. It was indeed fit for a king and Geralt thought it was definitely worth chatting with his host for a while in exchange for a share, especially after tasting the wine.

"It's good, isn't it?" the king asked him, studying his reaction as he lifted the wine glass to his mouth. "I have someone special that takes care of all the plants in the castle so I only eat the best of the best. It's actually one of my creatures. You can meet her, if you want."

Geralt let go of the piece of meat between his fingers and looked at the king with a frown. There was a subtle change in the air that made him instinctively tense, wondering what his host was up to. The king gave him a small smile before gesturing to one of his men, who left the tent without saying a word. The monarch's menacing aura put the witcher on alert, carefully watching his every move while he ate as if trying to predict what he would do next. His attitude had changed in a matter of seconds. Geralt couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something about the way he looked back at him that put him on edge. It was almost as if he was waiting for something to happen —as if he knew something was going to happen—, the glow of anticipation clear in his eyes.

He didn't understand his attitude, at least not until the guard returned to the tent. Only he wasn't alone, but was carrying a girl on his arm who was shuffling her bare feet across the ground hesitantly, as if she really didn't want to be there. Her eyes were downcast and her long hair was tangled over her face, so that Geralt could not see her features. Her dress, which seemed to have been a beautiful piece of art at one time, was now dirty and worn, with the fabric torn to shreds on some sides. Her hands were bound together at her wrists, trapped by shackles of dimeritium that marked her condition of slavery. It was a sad sight that became horrifying when Geralt smelled the scent of flowers in the air.

His heart stopped as his nostrils were assaulted with the sweet smell of cherry blossom that he knew and had come to love. The world around him stopped as he was struck with the horrible realization of what was happening. He did not need to see the face of the captured young woman to know it was her. It was enough to feel her energy in the tent as he breathed in her characteristic sweet scent.

Geralt jumped to his feet, hand gripping his sword as he entered a state of desperation. He wasn't thinking, he couldn't, he had been reduced to his most primitive instincts by seeing her there in that condition. She was weak and injured in a way that Geralt had never seen, her glow and warm, positive energy almost completely extinguished after being tortured for who knows how long. However, when her eyes met his, he noticed a slight glimmer of joy and hope. That only further increased his desire to protect her, the murderous urge growing inside him and urging him to crush anyone who stood between them.

"Let her go!" Geralt demanded firmly, turning his eyes away from his former lover to look the king in the eyes.

He was furious and desperate, it was evident in his voice and in the hard expression on his face. Anyone would have given in to his demands if he looked at them with those murderous eyes, but King Elian did not flinch. He didn't seem to care that Geralt was pointing his sword at him or that he looked ready to take on an army on his own, he continued to eat as if nothing was happening while the tent filled with guards ready to defend him.

"Please, sit down. You barely touched your food." The monarch spoke in a calm, casual tone. But Geralt did not move, he stood his ground, sword held high and hate-filled eyes fixed on him. "Fate is its a curious thing, don't you agree? This invisible force pushing us to the right path so we might fulfill our destiny, making every little interaction, every little decision, integral... Take this as an example. This morning when I woke up I didn't think that I was going to cross paths with you and yet here we are."

"Let. Her. Go." Geralt interrupted the king's unimportant ramblings, pausing slightly at each word to emphasize his anger. He didn't care what the man had to say, he would slice him through with his sword right there if it weren't for the fact that his sweet nymph was bound and surrounded by guards who wouldn't hesitate to hurt her before he could get to her. "I won't ask again. Next time it will be my sword doing the talking."

"I don't want to fight you, Geralt. If anything, I want to thank you for helping me fulfill my destiny, my purpose of becoming the biggest collector of magical creatures in the continent... You see, if it weren't for you, I could never have captured a forest nymph as powerful as her. I admit that you ruined my plans the first time when you attacked my men, but in the end it was thanks to you that I was able to get my hands on her."

"What are you talking about?" the witcher asked, confused. It could be the adrenaline coursing through his veins and drowning out his thoughts —or the fact that his heart was beating so fast that it was pounding in his ears muffling all other sounds—, but the king wasn't making much sense to him. They had never crossed paths before, and if they had, he would never have helped him in something so horrible.

"I could never have caught her while she was under your protection. But when you left... well, let's just say she was withering away little by little, weakening day by day until she got to the point where she couldn't defend herself when my men came for her."

Geralt froze in place as the king's words echoed in his head. It was a lot of information to process and he was in no condition to do so. If he wasn't so devastated he might have reacted to the implication that the king had been watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike after he had saved her from his men the day they had met. But at that moment he could only concentrate on the feelings of guilt and regret that came over him.

When he left, he never thought about the consequences his decision might have. He never thought about how his departure would affect her or if she would be okay. He knew she would be sad and hurt, just as it hurt him to have to leave her, but he also knew it was the right thing to do. So he focused on moving on, hoping she would too, without stopping to consider the consequences. He thought about her a lot in the time they spent apart —when he lay awake at night, admiring the stars and the nocturnal sounds of the woods; or as he dressed quietly after spending a night with Yennefer—, but in his mind he always pictured her happy. She was strong and had lived many years alone on the continent before their paths crossed, so he was sure that their breakup would not destroy her. He was sure that she would find a way to get back on her feet and that it would be better for the both of them to stay apart.

Now he realized that was just an excuse. He was being selfish, protecting himself and running away from reality so as not to face it because it hurted him. It hurted to know that he was hurting her. It hurted that he fell in love with another woman behind her back. It hurted to have to leave her after all they had been through together, the love they shared, the moments of vulnerability and intimacy that had brought them together. It hurted because he had failed her, because he couldn't keep his promise to be with her forever. So he completely disappeared from her life, making excuses to justify his behavior and convince himself that he was doing the right thing even though he knew deep down that he wasn't. He ran away like a coward and she ended up paying the price for it.

The witcher's eyes searched the nymph's, hoping to find in them the answers to the questions he had not asked, some indication that the king was not lying. She escaped his gaze, feeling embarrassed and extremely vulnerable. But eventually their gazes met and Geralt knew the mistake he had made. He should have been there for her. He should have helped her when they came for her. He should have searched for her all over the continent once he noticed her disappearance. He should have protected her, just as he always had. He had failed her twice, but he would not let there be a third.

Geralt carried out his threat without hesitation, lashing out at the nearest soldiers in an effort to reach her. The clinking sound of clashing swords and the groans of his opponents were all that echoed in his mind, focusing on his enemy to keep his head cool and ensure victory. They were no threat to him. They were well trained and knew how to move around very well, but he was a witcher with decades of experience and unmatched reflexes and skills. He had defeated them once in the past and he would do it again now without breaking a sweat.

At least that's what he thought before he heard the voice of the young nymph in the distance calling out for him.

“Geralt!” She exclaimed his name for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Her sweet voice traveled through the air, piercing through the sound of metal and the grunts of pain until it reached his ears. She managed to get his attention immediately as he recognized the hint of fear in it. As he buried his sword in his opponent, his eyes snapped up to her, searching for her in the crowd following the sound of her voice.

When he finally found her, Geralt's heart sank as he discovered the reason for the fear in her voice. The king had his hands around her, holding her tightly against his body. His left hand was wrapped around her torso, restricting her movement, while his right hand wielded a silver dagger against her neck. The metal gleamed in the dim light, revealing the sharp edge that burned the girl's skin. Desperate, Geralt tried to lunge at the monarch, but he stopped him with a click of his tongue.

"One more step and she dies." He assured, firmly. Geralt noticed the honesty in his voice, so he stayed in place and slowly lowered his sword —though he did not drop it—, a desperate attempt to buy time to think of a plan to get out of there with her by his side.

"You don't have to do this." Geralt tried to reason with him even though he knew it was in vain. He didn't see her as more than an object, just another piece in his long collection of creatures, so it was safe to assume he didn't value her life very much. But still, Geralt didn't have much choice so he tried anyway.

"She has been nothing but trouble since the moment she arrived at the castle, isn't that right, darling?" The king grumbled, lowering his head just slightly so he could mutter the last question against the young nymph's ear. "Crying all day, disobeying my orders, upsetting the other creatures... and now your friend over here kills half my men after I feed him and show him my generosity."

"If we present so much trouble to you, why don't you let us go? I'll take her with me and I promise you won't hear from us ever again."

"You are ungrateful brats." The king continued speaking, completely ignoring Geralt's words. "You think you are special, important, and therefore above it all... but you are not. Your actions have consequences and I am the one who decides what they are... You do not deserve my generosity or my mercy."

Geralt didn't have time to think about the hypocrisy in the monarch's words because before he could process them his eyes watched in horror as he slid the blade of the dagger across his beloved's neck. Blood began to gush violently from the wound, the thick, sticky liquid sliding down the young woman's delicate skin, turning everything red. He screamed her name, his sword slipping from his fingers and crashing to the floor with a muffled sound. He ran towards her, completely forgetting the guards he was fighting moments before. He only cared about her.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was moving in slow motion, as if his feet were twice as heavy and dragging them along the ground was more difficult than usual. Everyone around him seemed to slow down, the men around him, the gentle breeze of the wind... everything but her. He watched her collapse to the ground, blood covering her chest as she struggled to keep breathing. But he couldn't reach her. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms one more time, but it was as if an abyss was keeping them apart. It felt as if fate was mocking him, punishing him for his mistakes by allowing him to be there with her, but not letting him do anything to save her.

He tried to stop the bleeding as he knelt beside her —placing his hands on her neck and feeling the blood gushing from the wound—, but it was too late. She was pale and weak, all the magic in the world could not have saved her at that moment. There were tears in her eyes, in those beautiful green orbs that were fading with each passing second. She was scared, Geralt could see it in her expression. She didn't want to go, but she knew there was nothing else to do now.

"I'm here, I'm here." Geralt whispered in the calmest, most comforting tone he was capable of uttering at that moment. He swallowed his anger and pain, holding back tears so he could give her some peace. He cradled her face in his hands, fingers caressing the skin of her cheeks delicately as if he were afraid of breaking it. "It's going to be okay... you're going to be okay. I will fix this."

She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but instead of sound only blood came out. Geralt caressed her gently, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks. She clutched her hand around his arm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. She was begging him to understand her, to read in her eyes her thoughts as he had done so many times in the past. It took Geralt a few seconds to understand her, although in hindsight it should have been obvious to him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, to assure him that none of it was his fault and that no matter what had happened between them, he would own her heart forever.

"I love you. I always will."

Geralt saw the reassurance in her face as the warmth of love enveloped her in her last moments. She gave him the faintest of smiles, an almost invisible sign of the peace his words had brought her. And then her grip on his arm weakened, her hand dropping to the floor as life left her body. Suddenly, that subtle smile, now permanently carved into her expression, was all he had left of her, of her life and the love they shared.

Geralt did not fight when the soldiers dragged him and tied him to a tree to leave him there to die while they escaped, he did not have the strength to do so. He was numb to the world around him, consumed by grief. The sound of the king and his men preparing to leave sounded muffled and distant, as if they were far away from him. And in a way they were, for his mind was not one with his body, but far away. He was focused on the slowly withering body of his beloved, on the fear as she called his name and the terror in her eyes as the edge of the dagger sealed her fate. He could only think of her and all the time they had lost and could never get back, feeling the guilt slowly consuming him as her body transformed into a pile of pink petals.

Geralt admired her face in the dim glow of the candlelight, thinking about how beautiful she looked tangled in the sheets beside him. Her hair spread across the pillow like a halo around her head and her smooth skin was covered with a light layer of sweat that gave her an almost ethereal glow. It felt like an illusion, a trick of his mind. He found it hard to believe he had someone like her lying next to him, looking at him with love in her eyes.

It wasn't just her beauty. No. It was the peace her mere presence awakened in him and the void he felt in his chest when they were apart. It was the way he dreamed of her and her caresses every night he went to bed alone and how his longing disappeared when he felt her warmth against him as their bodies melted into one. It was the way her kisses made him feel like he was home, safe and away from the complications of the world outside the little paradise that was her forest. It was much more than physical attraction, more than the effects of her nymph charm, as he had initially thought. It was love. Pure, honest love, like he had never felt before. He was in love with her, and while he hadn't put it into words yet, he wasn't afraid to admit it.

Her fingers aroused a warm tingle as they caressed his cheek. Geralt leaned into it, closing his eyes for a second to appreciate the magic of the moment. It was amazing how such a subtle act, such a light touch, was able bring out so many emotions in him. It was something only she could do, a clear demonstration of how deep his feelings for her were.

However, when Geralt opened his eyes again, he didn't find the special glow he usually saw in them at intimate moments like this. She was looking straight at him, but it was as if she was looking right through him, as if her mind was lost in her thoughts. Something was bothering her, that much was clear in the green tint of her eyes. Her mouth would open slightly, almost in an imperceptible movement, only to close seconds later, as if there was something she wanted to tell him but couldn't quite bring herself to say. So he decided to ask her about it.

"What's wrong?" Geralt voice was low and raspy with sleep, looking at her with a slight frown in confusion. There was a moment of silence before she answered. Her eyes never left his, but her hand slowly slid from his cheek to rest on his bare chest.

"I'm afraid of losing you." She eventually said, her voice almost a whisper. "You travel across the continent, meet all kinds of people... I'm afraid one day you will get bored of me... find someone better and leave me forever."

Geralt could not believe his ears. It was ridiculous to him that she could have such a fear of abandonment when he felt the way he did. If only she knew how happy being with her made him... If only he could somehow transfer his emotions to her so that she could feel his heart race when they kissed, or experience the peace that filled him inside every night when he lay down next to her... If only she knew, she wouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts. So, he took her hand in his and pressed it against the left side of his chest, right over where his heart was beating with love for her. She needed to know that she was the only one who had a permanent place there. She was the only one he loved and he doubted that would ever change.

"Believe me when I tell you that there is no force on this continent that can keep me away from you." He spoke in a soft voice and watched as her eyes lit up full of illusion. "I love you, forever and always."

He sealed his promise with a kiss, showing her with his lips how serious he was about it. He loved her and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to be with her for the rest of his life, sharing intimate moments like this one and protecting her from any evil that might come her way. He felt complete with her and could not imagine how miserable his life would be without her by his side.

Geralt allowed himself to get lost in the passion of the moment, fingers tracing trails over his beloved's bare skin as he melted into the kiss. It was different this time, more intimate and charged with all the emotions that were left unsaid —it was their special way of communicating, one kiss and they knew what was going through each other's minds. The comforting warmth of love filled his heart, leaving him in a state of total bliss as she whispered sweet nothings against his lips. He was happy in a way he could not remember ever being before, in a way he knew he could only be with her.

But suddenly that comforting warmth that flooded his insides was replaced by a paralyzing cold, an emptiness that pressed against his chest and took his breath away. Geralt could no longer feel his beloved's lips against his. He could no longer smell the flowery scent her soft skin radiated or feel the warmth of her body. He was trapped in a black void, in emptiness itself, all alone. And in the distance he could hear his name being called.

Geralt

It was a cry for help, the voice of terror of someone who had been confronted with their own mortality. The voice trembled with fear, certain of the fatal fate that awaited them. Geralt could not escape its shrieks, no matter how hard he tried. It was his own personal hell, a void where he was forced to confront his pain, his guilt, and to listen again and again to his beloved's voice filled with terror as she spoke his name for the last time.

Geralt woke up tangled in the sheets, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and breathing fast due to his nightmare. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling as he tried to pull himself together. His beloved's voice was still ringing in his ears, only that with every waking second it became more and more distant until it became an almost unintelligible whisper. Anguish and guilt weighed heavy on his chest, but he was used to that by now. The emptiness inside him had accompanied him every moment of his life since that unfortunate day. He could not escape the pain and regret he felt, it haunted him even when he closed his eyes at night. He could not even enjoy the peaceful ignorance in the mornings, when one's mind is too sleepy to process life's tragedies, because his nightmares would remind him of every painful detail of that day so that he could not rest.

At a time like this, when life had become so overwhelming that he was unable to sleep, he usually reached out to her. With her gentle touch and sweet voice she was always able to calm his tormented self, wash away the anger and frustration and replace it with love and calmness. But now she was gone and he didn't know how to go on. He missed her more than he thought it was possible to miss anyone. He missed the melodious sound of her laughter and the light in her eyes when she was happy. He missed waking up next to her in the mornings, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping him as she whispered good morning to him, her voice hoarse from sleep. He wished he could once again feel the soft caress of her lips on his and hear her say she loved him one more time.

There was nothing Geralt wasn't willing to do to have her back with him, to be able to tell her how much he loved her and how he regretted leaving her. He had been an idiot to have given in to his desires for Yennefer. He should never have gotten involved with her, he should have let her own greed and obsession destroy her that day. He should have saved Jaskier and moved on with his life, after all Yennefer's problems were of no concern to him. But he could not resist his need to intervene, acting like a knight in shining armor instead of what he really was: a witcher. He made an impulsive decision, binding their destinies with magic and unknowingly triggering the death of his beloved. For if only he had been with her, if only he had stayed by her side to protect her as he had promised, he was sure things would be very different. She would still be alive and he would not be so miserable.

But Geralt was determined to make things right. He refused to let her die because of his mistakes. And looking at the cherry blossom tree growing outside his window, he knew the time was getting closer.

"I will fix this." He spoke to the tree, stroking the trunk with his hand as he sucked in a long breath of air. It smelled like her, a sweet scent mixed with the aroma of wood and wet earth. It ached and comforted him in equal amounts. "I will bring you back to me and I will keep my promise to you this time."

Geralt knew she was gone, but her essence was still alive in that tree. Born from the pink petals in which her body had withered when she died, it grew stronger with each day, keeping a fragment of her alive. Of course it was not her, but for now he was happy to make promises to the wind that its branches generated, clinging to the sweet scent of its flowers as the only sign that his words were well received by her. It was all he had, all he had left of her, and for now that was enough. He still wasn't sure how he would fulfill his promises or even where to begin. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that his love for her was stronger than fate itself and there was no force on the continent that could stop him from keeping his promise this time.

The solution to his dilemma presented itself almost by accident. And it came from the place Geralt least expected. He had spent the last few months visiting every library he had access to, reading every book and consulting with every expert he knew in his desperate search to find a way to bring his beloved back to life. But in the end, it was Jaskier who presented him with a solution in the form of a song.

They were traveling on a back road after a successful job. The bard had offered to accompany him under the excuse that he needed new inspirations, but Geralt knew he was doing it because he didn't want to leave him alone. Jaskier knew the pain he felt and being the good friend he was he wanted to accompany him in mourning. Geralt appreciated him even if he didn't have the strength to say it in words. His light-hearted comments and meaningless ramblings were exactly what he needed to distract his tormented mind. Even his spontaneous singing at the worst possible moment cheered him up instead of irritating him as usual. Anything to help him concentrate on something else was welcomed.

They had been walking for hours, hoping to reach the next town before dark and sleep in a comfortable bed in a warm room and not in the middle of the forest again. They were quiet, only the chirping of birds and the sound of leaves crunching under their feet echoed in the air. They had run out of things to talk about an hour ago and Jaskier was starting to get bored. So he did what he always did when he found himself in that situation, sing. Only this time Geralt didn't recognize the verses as one of his own original songs. It was one he had not heard him sing before, so he paid attention.

It told the story of a young man that had managed to win the heart of a forest nymph with his beautiful singing. The connection they shared was so strong that they married shortly after meeting, in the same place where they first saw each other. Happiness and love filled their days for a few long and joyful months. That was until fate, jealous and bitter, stood in the way of their happiness. So, one morning, after being bitten by a snake, the young nymph died. Her beloved fell into a state of despair when he heard the tragic news. Unable to accept that his wife had been taken from his life without warning, he descended into the depths of the underworld to plead for her soul. The song narrated the difficulties of his journey and the perseverance with which he had faced each difficulty until he reached the lord of the underworld himself, to whom he tearfully begged for the return of his wife. The emotion in his words was such that he managed to move Hades, who gave in to his prayers. Although he imposed a condition: that he would not turn around to see his wife's soul following his steps until he left the underworld.

The story did not end well since the young man had been too eager and had turned to see his beloved before she was completely above ground. But Geralt didn't care about that somber detail. His attention was focused on the young man and his journey to the underworld, not only because he felt somehow connected to the emotions of sadness and despair he felt, but also because he was fairly certain he could recreate his heroic efforts.

"Are you crazy?" was Jaskier's reaction to hearing Geralt's idea, his voice raised in a tone of surprise and concern. "Haven't you heard the end of the song? Things go wrong! He doesn't get his wife back!"

“I know, but I don’t care.”

“Geralt, the story it’s just a myth… a tragic love story that one could say is a cautionary tale! You’re not supposed to follow in his footsteps, you’re supposed to learn to live with the grief, process your emotions and eventually move on… Look, I know this is hard for you. I miss her too… What happened to her wasn’t fair, but it wasn't your fault either. Blindly following the words of a myth is not going to change anything.”

“But it’s not a myth, not all of it at least.” Geralt recognized that the love story of the young man and the forest nymph might be an invention, but he knew of the existence of a door to the underworld. It was hidden and required great power and extensive knowledge of magic to be opened, but it was real. And fortunately for him, he knew one of the most powerful and skilled mages on the continent. Though convincing her to help him would not be an easy task given how things had ended between them.

"Why should I help you?" Yennefer said with annoyance in her voice when he showed up unannounced to ask for her help. It was clear that she did not enjoy the witcher's surprise visit and was not shy about showing it. "And more importantly, why are you asking for my help with something like this? I thought you of all people would know how dangerous opening the doors of the underworld is."

"Why do you care?" Geralt answered her with another question. To be honest, he didn't think the difficulties in getting her help would come from a moral issue. Yennefer was not the type of mage who cared too much about such things. "Are you in this or not?"

"That depends... what's in it for me? I hope you know I'm not going to waste my energy in helping you out of the goodness of my heart, not after all the shit you did." Geralt smiled at her remark, surprised that it had taken her so long to once again blurt out her complaints about him saving her life. She was still angry at him for linking their destinies with the wish to the Djinn and at this point he doubted she would ever get over it.

"You get the once in a lifetime chance to traverse the underworld and possibly get knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension." He simply stated.

Yennefer was silent for a moment, watching Geralt intently, violet eyes piercing his yellow orbs. It alerted him to strengthen his mental shield to keep her from entering his thoughts.

"When you live as long as I have, once in a lifetime opportunities start losing power and meaning."

"I'm offering you an opportunity to explore the unexplored and that's your answer? This could have all the answers you've spent years looking for and you're not interested?"

"Oh I'm interested, I just can't understand why Geralt of Rivia, the mighty witcher who prides in his indifference and ability to not intervene, would be interested in opening the gates to the underworld?"

"I have my reasons and they are not of your concern. Are you going to help me or not?"

Yennfer was silent for a moment, considering her options. And then, she smiled at him, and he knew he could count on her help.

Preparing for such an adventure was difficult. It was the first time in his life that Geralt did not know what to expect. He had no idea what he was going to encounter once they crossed the gates to the world of the dead. He didn't know what kind of obstacles he would encounter on the journey or if he would even accomplish his task. But he had to try. Even if it was the last thing he did, he owed it to her.

It was difficult to prepare for the uncertain, so he tried to imagine all possible scenarios and prepare accordingly. He tried to be as meticulous as possible, but he knew it was impossible to stay on top of everything. What he never imagined, however, was that trouble would come from Yennefer's end. He always saw her as such a powerful and determined individual that he did not take into consideration that her energy could wear out and her magic could be consumed. Geralt had no way of really knowing how demanding the spell to open the gates of the underworld would be. He knew it was not something that just anyone could do, but he thought Yennefer could handle it without much trouble. He had never seen magic like hers. And what she lacked in skill, she made up for in stubbornness, so he thought that with her by his side things would not be so difficult.

However, the moment they took a step into the world of the dead, Yennefer fell weakly into the witcher's arms. She muttered something about having spent her energy and how the nature of the place did not allow her to pull herself together. Geralt suggested that she stay outside, after all, this wasn't her fight and she didn't have to risk so much for him. And at that instant, as if the walls were listening to them, the doors closed, leaving only one possible path.

The place was cold and dark, like a cave hidden deep in a mountain. There was not so much as a ray of sunlight, the little light that illuminated their way came from torches distributed along the stone walls. The air was heavy, stale, and it was hard to breathe. It was clear that this was no place for the living, but Geralt continued on his way despite the difficulties. He took Yennefer by the waist, letting her wrap one arm around his shoulders so she could walk, and followed the straight path that the torches seemed to indicate. At the end of the tunnel he came to a large river, and on the shore rested a boat. Inside it stood a hooded figure, long black robes covered its entire body in a way that Geralt could not see its face when it turned to look at them, only a void lost inside the hood.

"He's been waiting for you." The figure spoke, stepping aside so they could board the boat. Geralt hesitated, thinking back to all the catastrophic scenarios he had imagined in preparation for this moment. Surely that had to be a trap, things couldn't be that simple, could they?

"He wants to speak to you, Geralt of Rivia." The figure spoke again as it noticed the hesitation in the witcher's attitude. "He sent me to find you and ensure your safe passage through these waters." He did not trust it, but Yennefer pushed him into the boat with what little strength she had, so he had no other choice.

The dark figure did not utter another word. It went about its task in complete silence, paddling in the waters of oblivion until it brought them close to shore. It did not help them down once they reached their destination, nor did it open its mouth to give them directions. Just pointed a long, skeletal finger toward the horizon and set off the same way it had come.

A dark, dead forest loomed before them. Long, thin tree trunks, nearly leafless branches and shabby bushes decorated the path. Everything seemed to be in shades of black and gray, though that was probably due to the lack of sun. In the distance a structure could be seen, a castle whose colors matched the rest of the landscape. Although the neat and polished appearance of its exterior contrasted with the disheveled and dead environment around it. It was clear that that was where they should go, so Geralt took Yennefer in his arms once more and set off on his way.

There was not much distance separating them from the castle, but the witcher felt as if he had spent an eternity walking. And yet, at the same time, when he reached the large wooden gates, he was amazed to have reached his destination so quickly. His perception of time was totally altered, affected by the atmosphere of the place. Time did not flow there in the same way as it did on the surface. It was as if it was both stopped and accelerated all at once, as if each step took hours and at the same time a couple of seconds. It was more than the absence of sunlight confusing his perception. It was the way things worked in that place, a world separate from the one lying on the surface that he was not supposed to access.

The man who appeared in front of them when the doors opened on their own was imposing, but far less frightening than Geralt expected. It was enough to look into his eyes to know that he was the person in charge of the place. Power shone in his eyes in the same way the witcher had seen it in the kings in the world of the living. And yet, there was something unique about them, something that made it clear that he was no mere mortal. Geralt knew better than to challenge him, though he wasn't sure his emotions would allow him to be cautious if things didn't go as he hoped.

"I've been waiting for you, witcher." the god said in a loud, clear voice. "I'm surprised it took you this long to find me."

Geralt was not pleased to learn that he had been waiting for him. He had imagined it might be a possibility, but he thought the god would use that knowledge to stop him. The fact that he welcomed him without trials or difficulties, sending his people to look for him and opening the doors of his home to him without hesitation, made him suspicious. For all he knew, it could all be a trap.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, witcher! I have far more important things to do than to set you up." The god spoke as if reading his thoughts.

"You knew I was coming?" Geralt managed to say and the god nodded.

"And most importantly, I know why you are here. I knew you were going to find your way here the second she came in."

The mere mention of his beloved in the conversation had Geralt's heart racing, a gesture of both love and anxiety. He felt Yennefer's eyes on him, watching him with furrowed brows as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She knew of his former lover, the forest nymph he had abandoned after their destinies were linked, and he had no doubt that she would understand what was happening in just a second, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to have her back.

"So, I'm assuming you know why I'm here."

"I do, yes. And I will not be opposing to your wishes, Geralt of Rivia. I knew from the first moment that this was not her time and I am willing to give her another chance to live out her destiny without surprise interruptions from magic... However, I do have one condition."

"And you say it was not a trap..."

"It is not! It is just a simple... exchange."

"An exchange of what?"

The god paused, taking his moment to answer.

"Souls are complex things, Geralt. Very powerful, very strong... I can't just let one walk out of here."

"Why not? You have plenty here."

"It's a matter of balance, I don't expect you to understand that. But, if you want your dear nymph back, you'll have to give me a soul in return."

Geralt was silent for a moment, carefully analyzing his situation. After all the work it had taken him to get there, he didn't plan to leave empty-handed. But he also didn't want to condemn an innocent soul who had nothing to do with his mistakes. So he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Fine," the witcher agreed. "Take me then. My soul for hers, it's only fair."

Yennefer tugged on his arm, ready to argue with him —thinking he was acting like an idiot by offering his life as if it was nothing—, but was interrupted before she could open her mouth by the laughter of the god in front of them.

"It's a nice gesture, but your soul isn't nearly powerful enough. It's better than an ordinary human’s soul, I'll give you that, but she's a nymph. Do you have any idea how much energy her soul contains?"

"Then name your price." Geralt said. He wasn't necessarily going to give in to his demands, but he figured it didn't hurt to learn what the god's wishes were.

"To be honest, I don't think you can get a soul of such power... however, you do have access to one that is quite close." Geralt didn't like the suggestive tone in the god's voice. And he liked it even less when his eyes fell on Yennefer as he finished the sentence.

"No!" The witcher declared as he understood the intentions behind those words. He had brought Yennefer with him to help him open the portal and nothing else. He refused to sacrifice one more life. No one else had to suffer because of his stupid decisions.

"She wouldn't suffer." The god spoke after glancing at Geralt's thoughts. "She doesn't even have to be dead, she just has to stay here with me."

"I don’t care. We're not doing this."

"Why don't you let her decide?" The god said, resting his eyes on Yennefer's violet ones. "It is a good deal. You get your lover back and she gets-"

"She gets imprisoned here forever." Geralt interrupted and the god looked at him wearily.

"She gets to be the most powerful madge in history, sitting by my side ruling the underworld... isn't that what you always wanted, Yennefer of Vengerberg, to have power beyond imaginable? What's more powerful than deciding between life and death?"

Geralt snorted at such words, finding the god's tricks very ineffective. But when he looked back at Yennefer, she had a look in her eyes that made him doubt. "You're not seriously considering his proposal, aren't you?" he approached her, speaking in a lower tone of voice so as not to be heard by the god.

"If we leave now then we traveled this far for nothing. Don't you want to get her back?"

"No if it means hurting innocent people. You have nothing to do with this."

"Except I do since the moment you made that srupid wish."

"I didn't save your life then just to leave you here now."

"You're not leaving me, I'm choosing to stay."

"You don't have to do this, Yennefer." Geralt's voice became softer. She seemed quite sure of her decision and he knew it would not be easy to persuade her otherwise, but he had to try. He didn't like the idea of leaving her behind, of sacrificing her in favor of his own happiness.

"Oh, please! I'm not doing this just for you. I usually don't like to waste my time and energy just to end up empty handed. I came here because, as you said, it was an opportunity to find the answers I've been looking for. So why don't you worry about you and let me worry about myself?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes. And while she wasn't lying and really had interests of her own in that place, Geralt really was a big part of the reason she wanted to accept the god's offer. There was something in his eyes, the sparkle of true love, that shone every time he thought of his departed lover. It was something she had never noticed in his eyes when he looked at her. It was clear that what they had was real, it softened her hardened and withering heart, and gave her hope that love was real. Though of course, she would never admit that to Geralt.

The witcher growled under his breath, clenching his jaw. Even though part of him didn't like the idea of leaving Yennefer behind, he couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved to hear those words. If she wanted to stay there for her own selfish reasons, then accepting the god's proposal was much easier on his conscience.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked her once more, giving her one last chance to back out.

Yennefer shrugged. "I lived a long time among the living, had my good share of adventures... maybe it's time to try my luck in the underworld. "

That answer was good enough for Geralt. He accepted the god's proposal, exchanging Yennefer's soul for that of his beloved nymph. She would stay in the underworld with him and in return Geralt would get a second chance with his lover. The god instructed him to return home and assured him that when he arrived, her soul would already be back in her birth tree.

As he made his way back, the thought that the god was tricking him crossed his mind. He realized that he really had nothing to assure him that he would keep his word. For all he knew, this could have been a strange move by the god to get to Yennefer and her powers for some reason he did not know. Perhaps he was being used as a pawn in a larger chess game that he did not know he was part of. Perhaps he had unleashed a terrible evil upon the continent without realizing it.

But then he felt it.

The sweet scent of flowers assaulted his nostrils the moment he set foot in the forest. It was strong, much stronger than it had been in a long time. He noticed then that everything looked greener and more alive, every flower, bush and plant glowing in the warm sunlight in a way that they didn't when he left. Even the birds seemed to sing louder and more cheerfully.

Geralt ran to the cherry blossom tree he had been tending for what had felt like an eternity. His heart was racing with every step he took, not from the physical effort, but from the anticipation. The hope of seeing her again was what had kept him sane since that horrible day he had lost her. All this time he had thought it was impossible, an illusion that only served to keep him on his feet until the pain subsided. But now it was a reality, and he had so many emotions swirling inside him that he didn't know exactly what to feel.

Suddenly, his eyes came upon a figure on the horizon. It was partially blocked by the rays of sunlight that kept him from seeing clearly, so he picked up his pace to get closer. Little by little the figure revealed itself in front of him, until it became clear to him that the one who was walking around the forest, picking flowers and petting the animals, was her.

She looked as beautiful as he remembered her, with her long hair blowing in the wind and a sweet smile on her face. It was as if time had never passed, as if that horrible day and the pain that her death had unleashed had been just a bad dream. It was as if he had never lost her.

Geralt stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell on hers, paralyzed by the emotions coursing through him. All this time he had dreamed of this moment and now that he had her only a few feet away he didn't know how to react. His eyes blurred with tears, but he caught a glimpse of his beloved's figure running to him before he felt the warmth of her body in his arms. He held her tighter than he ever had, pulling her against his chest as a way of both making sure she was real and that she couldn't pull away from him.

"You came for me." She muttered, melting into the embrace. Her memory was somewhat fuzzy, but she remembered clearly the moment when the blade of the dagger had caressed her neck. She remembered how it had felt and the horror in Geralt's eyes as she fell into his arms, taking her last breaths. She remembered his words of comfort and his promise to make things right, as if he actually could. She still didn't understand how she was back there, but she knew it was Geralt she had to thank for her second chance at life. Somehow, he had found a way to bring her back, she was sure of that.

"I'll always come back for you."

The kiss they shared was unlike any other. It was passionate and desperate, yet soft and tender. It was charged with all the emotions that had been left unsaid between them, sadness, regret, longing, but, above all, love. They felt that spark the moment their lips brushed, just like in the old days. Geralt hadn't realized how much he had missed feeling her soft lips on his until that moment. He allowed himself to get lost in the joy he felt, letting the warmth of her body against his slowly remove the traces of sadness and pain that had haunted him all this time.

They remained in each other's arms for a long time, enjoying the moment they had both been longing for so long. It was just him, her and the chirping of birds in the trees. Breathing in the floral scent of her hair, Geralt knew that the gray days were behind him. Gone were the guilt and the pain, the sleepless nights and the cold mornings without his beloved. She was back by his side, just as she always should have been. And he was more than happy for the new beginning he had with her. A new chance to make things right, to honor his word and keep his promise, just as he should have done from the beginning. He was ashamed that he had had to lose her to realize how big his mistake had been, but now that he had her back he wasn't going to let her go. His love had proven to be stronger than everything, even death itself.

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slickfordain · 1 year

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I saw Sagau Genshin Impact and now I’m drowning in endless thoughts about “What if I was there? Wait no, what if the reader had my fucking unhealthy personality?”

And let me tell you. Chaos. Just, pure chaos.

It was just a normal day in every nation, with you maining as Lumine. (Sorry to the darlings who main Aether,,, I just think homeboy deserves to be a villain for once for always helping people so I chose Lumine.) Lumine was ever so grateful to have you in her presence - even though you controlled her, she didn’t care. She was devoted to you, only you, obsessed with you that she just wants to smother your face with kis—

“I wonder if I should make a character of myself if I was in Teyvat…”

As you accidentally said that out loud (since you’re unaware that they’re aware), people in Teyvat stopped moving. Their bodies froze, but their hearts continued to slowly beat in a little… Joy. You? Wanting to wonder how it’s like to be in Teyvat and trying to see how it goes? Oh Irene, you’re going to make one hell of a harem that’ll chase after you. However, that’s… One misunderstanding. What you now said was something horrifying that struck down their imaginations. (Wenk wonk)

“I will name her/him (Insert character name), and give them all of my trauma.”

Zhongli spat out his drink and almost choked on it, Ei almost destroyed her town— causing electrocution when she heard, Venti was having a mental crisis and whined as he tried to catch your attention. The NPCs were mortified and immediately took action to make their city more decorative- more “cozy” styled because they knew that;; if you had dumped all your trauma to your “Genshin character”, they knew fairy lights would make you calm and soothe yourself.

Characters like Razor and Bennet would cry, absolutely shatter and will prepare themselves to comfort your character insert. I think it’s all safe to say, the characters would go over the moon even to endlessly help your character.

Lumine and Paimon were even more terrified than they should be, along with the ones in the party. Lumine will throw a boulder at anyone who DARED to give you and your character such trauma. Nobody will escape her grasp and she will make sure of it.

Kaeya and Dainsleif, will seize those who dares to give your character any more trauma. They will kill for your character, and you, they would die for you.

The Fatuis even, aren’t any saner than them. Pantalone will pay off the best room service and best comfort zone for you— Arlecchino will have a whole setup of guards practicing to kill the person who traumatized you, and basically— everyone else will go to war. It’s you we’re talking about.

It doesn’t fucking matter what you looked like.

Average, ugly, pretty, short, tall, chubby, weak— They will fucking kill all of those bitches who dared to lay a hand on you. And Tsaritsa will make sure they will be beheaded.

But then…

“If I was in Teyvat, I probably would be this ditzy dumb background NPC character who just happens to be there and tries to help Lumine. I suck, maybe even a lazy lovey dovey person who craves for attention and affection—”

That did it.

That sent everyone’s hearts to ablaze and their hormones to the top of their lungs. They were riled up to win you the damn over. You want a lover? They will kill each other to prove themselves one of them is worthy for you. Even the NPCs. They will win the hell to get you to themselves.

As for the kids, they will argue and set off bombs to one another - arguing who will be your adopted child. It doesn’t matter which one gets injured, they want to win. For you,

for their divine God. Their creator. (Y/N) (L/N).

#various x reader #various #yandere x reader #yandere sagau #Yandere sagau genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin cult au #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin au

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 months

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Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Dante's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Dante's Path

Pairing: Dante x Reader Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all. Author's Notes: Fucking. Finally. It took forever, but here I have around 20 pages of a demon wanting to marry the reader and Dante going feral over it. Took me ALL THIS TIME to write and I do apologize, but SO MUCH has happened since October, I'm finally managing to get my life back on track. So heeeeeey, here we have Dante's part of the Halloween Special for 2023! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand the road so far yes Supernatural fan right here and have fun!! But I do have to thank @furyeclipse - the idea came from an ask sent a thousand years ago and I've been reading her works on ao3 and that motivated™ me to write again! Be sure to check Fury's work over there!

Oh. And I highly recommend an AC/DC playlist while reading this. Just sayin'. We all know Dante is an AC/DC guy

Devil May Halloween 2023 – Dante’s Path

“You know, of all the things that could have happened to me as a hunter, getting into a forced marriage with a demon lord was the very last one I would’ve imagined.”

And you were definitely the only person in the world that could have made Kyrie laugh in a moment like that – at least, that was what she thought as she smiled for the first time since you both had stepped in that place.

It was desecrated ground, that was the reason why the demons chose such a place. An old cathedral, now turned into an abandoned set of ruins with a cemetery of forgotten souls in the back. Some stone walls still stood tall, but the roof was gone, along with some windows and part of its gothic architecture. The shroud of the darkest tones of night slowly crept over, having rows and sets of candles of all sizes as the only source of light beside the moon.

You and Kyrie were being kept in a secured room – the only with still four walls to hold you in, and a heavy set of crumbling wooden doors. You were handed wedding attires – white, as to demonstrate the purity of your human souls compared to demons – and shoved in there, forced to change before the ritual.

You tried to resist, but as soon as they threatened Kyrie, you had to abide. There was nothing you could do: you had promised Nero nothing would happen to her, and she was your weak spot that night.

“We will figure something out…” Kyrie murmured with a ghost of a smile on her soft lips, even if she didn’t carry too much hope in her heart. She knew that if you were alone, you would probably be fist-fighting demons with all your might to drag yourself out of that place, but with her by your side… She had never seen you so compliant.

“Hmmm. Yeah. I’m still trying to think of something.” You huffed, sitting by her side on a stone loveseat, having your elbows on your knees and your face cradled by your hands. “I feel naked without my stuff. So uncomfortable.”

Once again, Kyrie giggled. Indeed, it was probably the first time she ever saw you without your everyday clothes and specially without your weapons: be it your guns, your sword or even a pocketknife you carried around for emergency self-defense. She could only imagine how stripped you felt at that moment.

“Well, if it serves as consolation, this is definitely not my style.” She whispered in response, making you laugh immediately. Indeed, poor Kyrie looked like a princess covered in Chantilly. Too over-the-top for her, and you could say the same about your forced attire.

“Oh, what a mess we got ourselves into this time, huh…?” You still had that laugh in your lips, making Kyrie respond with a sad smile. “Though I bet Nero is going to die seeing you dressed as a bride.”

“He will never admit it.” Kyrie had to giggle with that mental image. She could almost see Nero standing in front of her, red as a tomato, stuttering while trying to maintain that nonchalant punk attitude he always tried to – even if Kyrie could easily see through all of that. “He does get all flustered whenever I’m wearing anything slightly bridal looking.”

“There you go. The hideous Chantilly wedding dress will have at least one good effect after all.” You sighed with a laugh, following Kyrie on her giggles as she blushed herself, happy to imagine that.

The moment wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt something shifting in the air. You immediately got up on your feet, keeping Kyrie safe and sound behind you. Her curious, scared eyes tried to pick up what was going on, but neither of you could see – you could just feel it.

With some fiery sparkles, one of the demons responsible for that mess materialized right in front of you.

“Well, well. It is good to see you are already prepared.” Horns and sharp features, but in the suit of a ruthless man – that was the best way you could describe the demon lords. They had the leathery wings, skin as rough as that of a lizard, eyes bright like flames in the dark – but something still carried the resemblance of a human being. They were tall – even taller than most doors – with sharp nails to be used as claws, fangs ready to tear throats apart. But they were built in the image of humans: something quite rare when it came to demons.

“Not out of our own free will – you shouldn’t be that pleased your minions managed to coerce us into these horrid things.” You pointed at your own attire, making Kyrie look up at you with tense eyes.

It was something she admired, to say the least. You could all look in the face of the most threatening of creatures and still manage to say something to taunt or belittle them. She wished she had that kind of courage.

“You do have a point, human.” The demon had a quick giggle in his voice, making you furrow your eyebrows slightly. It wasn’t every day one of those things would agree with your big mouth. “Come. I would very much like to speak with you.”

Oh. Demons and their teleportation shenanigans – to be quite honest, you hated it. Whenever you used any of their magic or even Vergil’s void thing from the Yamato, you always felt a little dizzy afterwards. It took you some quick seconds to make sense you were in what seemed to be the abandoned church’s library – in a room made of stones and rotten books, lit by decrepit candles and having just one usable table in a corner. The demon lords had clearly made that their own room for the day.

“It’s rare a demon wishes to talk.” You finally managed to say while the demon lord slowly walked towards his desk, having you in the middle of the room. Now Kyrie was alone and you had no idea what was going on with her – you had to play your cards well to see her alive again. “According to my experience, your kind prefers a bloodier approach.”

“I take it you haven’t met many demon lords then.” He had a nonchalant tone, waving his hand in disregard as he approached his desk and leaned into it, staring at you. “Nevertheless, that is more Orcus’ style.”

“Your little friend.”

“Al Pacino did play the devil once, didn’t he…?” The demon laughed in response and you did your best to cover up the shock that he understood your Scarface reference.

Movies and pop culture references with Dante were a given – the same way Vergil was an encyclopedia of forgotten and obscure texts, Dante was the go-to man when it came to movies, especially the classic ones. Making references and laughing with each other was something both of you cherished wholeheartedly – and you never thought a demon would get it.

Vergil never did – and he had to have spent some time with those guys in the last decades.

“Well, I don’t think you brought me down here just to talk about movies.” You crossed your arms, trying as much as you could to look tough in that attire. Which wasn’t going very well for you. “And it certainly wasn’t to properly ask for my hand in marriage.”

“Oh, no, no…” He answered with a laugh that crackled like fire – and you could easily see the amusement in his eyes. “I wanted to see what the son of Sparda saw in you… To bind himself to one of the weakest creatures known. Just like his father before him.”

“It’s not like Dante has married me, you know? We’re not like Eva and Sparda.” You raised one of your eyebrows. Something about that conversation was very… Weird. To put it mildly. “We’re not bonded like you want to do today. And on that note, I have to point out: marriages are quite religious. Aren’t you guys going to combust spontaneously trying to do something holy?”

“Oh, but you are bonded. He may not have chosen his father’s path, but his heart does not lie.” The demon had something quite mischievous in his eyes, and you were starting to notice the difference between him and Orcus: the second one was more of a brute, a lord of war so to speak – the one you were talking to, Erlach, was very cunning; but there was a glint of bloodthirstiness in the back of his eyes. That made him even more dangerous than you gave him credit for at first. “I shall never understand why Sparda did not wish to follow the ritual with his human. That would have made him so powerful, not even the most dangerous creatures in Hell would have dared to slaughter his family. A shame really.” He tossed aside a charred painting of Sparda and Eva: old, barely holding itself together, but still clearly depicting the couple holding hands and smiling to whoever decided to look upon them. “We do have our own rituals – and demons are no strangers to marriages. It has another name in Hell, though, it is a binding ritual: where souls connect and one can be made more from the other’s power.”

“Oh. So the other just accepts it’s going to be a puny little thing beside their partner? Sounds more like slavery to me.” You wouldn’t give the demon the benefit of the doubt nor make it all sound so wonderful. Anything related to devils always had a catch – and that had to be the catch to their own twisted version of a ‘marriage’.

And in all honesty, you weren’t looking forward to be made a slave to a demon lord.

“Some creatures enjoy that.” And the smile that covered Erlach’s lips could be only considered devilish. You did your best not to look like you were agreeing – even if you knew, deep down, that yes, some people did enjoy that. “Every con has its pro. With the binding and forfeit of power, comes protection and status. Few would want to desecrate the partner of a powerful demon – it could easily be the last thing they would do.”

“if I am bonded to Dante, then, I wonder why would someone like you decide to mess with the chosen partner of the son of Sparda.” Now you had a small smile hidden in the corner of your lips, slightly raising your head in hubris. You wouldn’t lie: the status you got from him among demons was always very welcome. “Not that I really need him to help me. If I had my weapons, you would all be laying on the floor in a pool of your own blood – and I’d be home celebrating Halloween with him.”

Erlach stared into your eyes for a good four seconds before opening a threatening smile with his sharp fangs. His own eyes burned like fire, but you never let his gaze go – it wasn’t in you to be scared by the likes of him. You had seen worse, you had fought worse… And only you knew how threatening Dante’s eyes could look when he was half asleep in a nightmare of his young years with you trying to wake him up so he could have some peace. That was worse than any demon you could ever face.

“Indeed, that is why I needed some leverage against you.” He waved his hand nonchalantly towards the door and you immediately understood he was talking about Kyrie. “It was never my intention to allow Orcus to bond to some creature as powerful as mine… But I did not knew the extent of your powers, so I needed something to keep you in line. Luckily, Sparda’s grandson is not as attuned to powerful partners as Sparda’s children.”

You furrowed your brows. Whenever you talked between the members of the crew, there was a tacit agreement Kyrie was indeed the most powerful of all – for her ability to love openly, to cry, to be vulnerable and to care with such an open heart.

But those abilities were inherently human – and appreciated in humans rather than demons. In the human point of view, Kyrie was stronger than all of you together, and no one could argue against that. But in the demonic point of view… You and Lady were top of the list when it came to being able to take demons in a fair fight.

But you… You had Dante’s heart.

“It was part of our bargain. But I would never allow Orcus to bind to the most powerful of partners, would I?” Again, that smile painted his lips. You remained in the middle of the room, holding his gaze, not even flinching as he approached you. “I must admit, though, I never thought you would have this… Fire.”

As Erlach stopped with a few inches from your own face, you didn’t recoil. You remained with your arms crossed, standing as tall as you could in front of that huge demon lord as his fiery eyes just stared deeply into yours – and you stared back.

But you sensed something… Different. In his words, in his gaze. You wanted to furrow your brows as you were slowly coming to realize something, but you did your best to remain as proud and emotionless as you could – and Erlach took note of that. A pleasurable note.

“I can see what the son of Sparda saw in you.” That devilish smile colored his lips once more as the demon took another step towards you. It took you a great amount of willpower not to step back. You would never step back. “When demons bind with demons, it is one sort of marriage. When demons bind with humans, on Samhein, with the correct ritual… Well, it is a very different thing. A kind of binding never seen before – and never attempted, not even by Sparda.” Erlach approached with another step, making you raise your head even higher. Every fiber of your being wanted to scream Dante’s name and watch your red devil storm inside that room and suplex Erlach face first on the floor – as he deserved. The demon lord, though, offered one hand to you, palm facing up. “At first, I targeted you for Dante would not take a weakling as a partner, but now… I am more than inclined to take you as mine. With me, you would have the protection and status of royalty in Hell. We can take over entire worlds. And they would all be mine and yours to rule.” You just kept staring at him as Erlach’s fiery eyes stared even more deeply into yours. “You just have to say yes.”

To say your head was spinning was an understatement. What a wild ride that night was becoming – and something inside you stirred, telling you it would become even wilder. Were you reading his words right…? His gestures…? Not that Erlach was being subtle about it, he was being as blunt as his kind could be, but… Were you going crazy? You were, probably. That was a more plausible explanation than what you had to admit yourself – than what you were living right at that moment.

“If you think I’d give up Dante for power, then you can see nothing he saw in me.” You spat back, still holding your head high. “You are just as clueless as the rest of your kind.”

Erlach laughed back – not a laugh of an evil demon as you were used to, but one of delight. He… Enjoyed your answer…?

“The more you speak, the more I see.” He finally chuckled, stepping back after one last stare. “And I will see you later.”

With a snap of his fingers, you were back to the cold, abandoned crypt you and Kyrie were being held hostages. As your dizziness faded and you came back to reality, you saw her holding one of your hands, checking if you were ok with one of her palms on your forehead. Even if you didn’t feel lightheaded anymore, your mind was still troubled – and you had to sit down on the stone loveseat you shared with Kyrie earlier.

“Are you ok, y/n? What happened?” She sat by your side, big hazelnut eyes staring at you with warmth and humanity – so much different from the fiery pit of Erlach’s eyes. So much more welcoming and cozier. So much more like home. You would’ve hugged her if you weren’t so disoriented. “Y/n. What did he do to you? What happened?!”

“I think…” You finally managed to put into words what just happened – even if you didn’t want to say what you thought out loud. It seemed that by saying it, a sort of magic would make it become true. “I think… A demon lord just fell in love with me.”

You and Kyrie just stared at each other in horror, not even knowing what to say.

“What the hell…?!”

And Kyrie finally managed to put into words what you had been thinking the whole time.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Nico just stared at Lady as Dante growled while mounting on his bike.

To be fair, Nico wasn’t the safest person to be behind a wheel, even more in a dire situation like that with Nero by her side looking like he was about to bite ankles and throw punches – but something about Dante looking like he was about to burst into flames while viciously riding the Cavaliere and growling in a half-distorted demon voice was enough to get the gunsmith ever so slightly… Concerned.

“Everything ok there, Dante, or do we need to take you in the van?” Lady screamed out her window, while Nico hoped the bright red glint in Dante’s eyes was only her imagination. “You look like you wanna beat me in a race! We hunt demons to save humans, not run them over, you know?”

“Eh, demon spidey-sense is tinglin’, Lady! That’s no good!” Dante screamed back, doing his best to keep the demonic part of his voice repressed inside his chest. He would have more than enough opportunities to let that explode. “Y/n is unsafe. I can feel it. And I…” With that, Dante drove to the back of the van because of a narrowing road, only to come back a few seconds later. “Don’t…” Another interruption for Dante not to run over a citizen cluelessly crossing the street and almost being run over by Nico. “Like it!”

His last phrase couldn’t keep the distortion in anymore and it sounded like a deep roar that came out of his chest like fire. Trish could already see the fangs in his bared teeth: those demons were in for the fight of a lifetime, for everyone knew making Dante’s lover feel unsafe was one of the worst sins in the Sparda dictionary.

Nico opened her mouth to talk to Nero – because, maybe, he could beat some sense into his uncle’s head, given they had the very same heritage – but for the first time she just put the cigarette between her lips and decided to shut up.

She was still getting used to Nero’s new trigger, so the halfway-into-turning state was something Nico didn’t really know how to deal with. By this point, Nero’s nails were definitely claws and his fangs were very much similar to Dante’s. He was fidgeting everywhere, messing with Blue Rose, as if something was really wrong with the gun and he had to fix it – a thousand fucking times. Nico could also swear his eyes were starting to glow with an inhumane gold tinge and that was very alien to her.

“Hey, kid! What about your spidey-sense tingling? Anything new?” Luckily for Nico, she had Trish around – and that woman was a pure devil, so there were very few things she feared. They all knew Nero was getting used to his own new powers, so Trish always decided to stay around and lend a hand whenever Nero had to go through something emotionally heavy – she knew it herself that demon instinct always came crashing like a wild wave whenever emotions were running high.

“Eh, she’s not good too, Trish. Worried as heck, I can feel it.” Nero mumbled under his breath, fixing the barrels of the Blue Rose for the tenth time, probably – not even needing to mention he was talking about Kyrie. With a click, the gun cocked back to its original state and Nero turned his now slightly golden aquamarine eyes to the devil leaning on his seat. “And I don’t like it either. Not at fucking all.”

Nico had to say, it always sent shivers down her spine when Nero spoke with his demonic voice like that. She was used to him being her goofy sort of brother, bickering with her down the road and tossing over-the-top, smart mouthed taunts to demons. Hearing him like that was… Something else. And Nico didn’t like it that much as well.

The last time you felt unsafe seemed like a whole lifetime ago.

You tried to control your hands as they wanted to start shaking – but you kept telling yourself you needed to keep Kyrie safe. After all, you were the devil hunter, not her. Kyrie could kill every single one in the crew with kindness, but not those devils… Those had to be killed with blades and gunpowder.

Being with Dante had given you something you never really had before, and just now you noticed it was tied to your red devil: safety. Even if he wasn’t around physically, you could always count on the fact that Dante, son of Sparda, Crimson Slayer, would bend Hell itself around his will to keep you from any kind of harm. It had never downed on you because, up until that point, that was a given.

Today, Halloween of all days, was a little more complicated. Dante wasn’t around, the whole ritual was bound to have some heavy magic to keep him at bay, you were completely unarmed and the demons you were up against were another kind – not the stupid, belligerent type you handled almost on a daily basis; no, those were smart, cunning and dangerous.

To top all of that, you had Kyrie on your side. If you were alone, you’d probably already be trying some unhinged escape attempts, but they were so smart on deciding to kidnap her as well. She was your weak spot on that situation and the fact that you felt unsafe and couldn’t do your best to protect her, only highlighted the fear you started to feel creeping up at the base of your stomach.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, the only thing that could at least try to calm your nerves was to imagine being back in Dante’s arms, at the Devil May Cry, the smell of warm pizza around and him humming some old tunes you both loved. That was home. That was your haven. Dante was your refuge, keeping you secure from every evil thing that could attack you in this world, and he wasn’t there.

For a split second, you wondered if he could feel how much your heart was aching – screaming with all its might in the hopes he would hear its call.

Suddenly, two demons entered the room you and Kyrie were being held. They didn’t have to say much: with swords pointed at both of you and the heavy doors wide open, you knew it was time. Knowing you had to calm your nerves so at least she could have a chance to escape, you got up and calmly walked in front of Kyrie – head high and staring those demons right back in their eyes.

“Everything will be ok.” You murmured back over your shoulder, knowing Kyrie would listen. “If you find a safe chance to run, do it and don’t look back. I can handle them better alone.”

You felt Kyrie’s soft hands brushing on one of yours, her voice nothing but a whisper. “Don’t put yourself in danger, y/n. I don’t wanna run without you.”

You closed your eyes, chuckling a little in silence. She was indeed an angel among so many demons – including all of you in the crew. “Oh, Kyrie. You have to learn… The whole crew would die for you, don’t you know that already…?” And even if your words weren’t the kindest, you had the sweetest tone in your voice – saying nothing but the truth. “You run. It’ll take more than a few demons to bring me down.”

Kyrie knew you were lying only to make her feel safer – there was a tinge of bitterness in your sweetness, a slight glint of sadness in your eyes. Those were more than a few demons, and both of you knew it.

She could only sigh in response and confirm with her head. You and Dante were bittersweetly so alike: always lying and pretending nothing was too serious, putting yourselves on the line for those you loved, trying to make them stop worrying while you were both ready to walk right into certain death. She had seen how angry you got every time he tried to pull something like that on you – and Kyrie had to smile even if a little bit upon realizing how similar you and your lover were, even if you hated when he did that.

Both of your thoughts had to be violently changed and brought back to the present moment when the time came to enter what one day was a beautiful, untarnished cathedral. The imposing gothic architecture was in shambles, the stars shining clearly in the deep night sky above your heads – the high peaks of the cathedral long gone. A long tapestry on the ground, torn apart and eaten by parasites, lead the way in a dirty blood red to the middle of the aisle, where a grandiose bonfire stood and lit none other than your groom.

That was definitely not the devil you had intended to marry if you ever walked down the aisle. Also, you always thought if you ever married Dante, the ceremony would be in the Devil May Cry: you would enter the shop, dressed in your best hunting clothes – maybe something leather, carefully picked by Trish to make you even more mesmerizing – watching Dante smiling at you, leaning on his desk, arms crossed and love pouring from his eyes.

That was the perfect marriage for you alright. And leaving for a quick honeymoon with your red devil, riding on the Cavaliere, a few cans tied to it with a “just married” sign on the back, waving at the crew at the door of the shop while Dante made the motorcycle burn the road with its demonic power? More than perfect.

“You shall enter first. The other human stays until your ritual is performed.” One of the demons held Kyrie hostage, pointing your way down the derelict aisle. Her eyes were filled with fear, and you couldn’t do anything but comply.

Holding your head high, you walked down the damned aisle. Not like a perfect fiancé, but like a wronged force of nature, just waiting for the right time to unleash your fury against all those demons. You were wearing those ridiculous clothes, on that ridiculous place, while demons started chanting and playing a song for the demonic ritual that had just started, stripped of your guns, blades and clothes.

To say you wanted to sucker punch Erlach on his face until his sharp teeth fell out was an understatement.

And yet, he had nothing but admiration and fire in his eyes for you. The more you approached, the more he smiled, offering you his hand as you were getting closer and closer – you refused to take it, standing in front of him just like you did when he first talked to you.

“You know, the kidnapping and taking my gear away, I could forgive. But these clothes…?” You pointed down at that hideous thing that was forced to you. “You could’ve done better. A lot better.”

“I judged you by all the mortals I’ve ever met – and now I realize I shouldn’t have done so. Do apologize, exquisite creature.” And Erlach answered your insult with a delighted distorted laugh. You just remained there, looking like you had just stuck a flip flop into a toaster, not knowing what to do. It seemed that the more you tried to repel him, the more Erlach liked you. “But rituals shouldn’t be taken lightly. One should wear the proper attire.”

“To think a demon would’ve dressed his counterpart a lot better and risqué than this…” You sighed, pushing all those ruffles away from your face as he, once more, tried to take your hand and guide you to approach the bonfire. “I thought this was going to be a dual wedding. Where’s your friend?”

“Orcus can try to pull off his ritual after I’m done with mine.” Erlach had a devilish smile pulling his lips up in a distorted line. It was a little… Unsettling. “We… Agreed such a powerful ritual should be done one at a time.”

“Huh. That’ll be before or after you kill him?” You had one eyebrow lifted and Erlach laughed with joy in his voice, now finally forcing you to walk with him towards the bonfire. “You got quite the silver tongue to convince him you’re gonna let him go through with his ritual with his head still on his shoulders.”

“Oh, my dear, you have no idea.” Erlach forced you to spin around and look deep into his eyes, holding you by both of your arms in an iron clasp you couldn’t break away easily without your weapons. “You are very welcome to discover soon enough. I am mesmerized with your cunning and wit – so much better than all those pitiful uninspired creatures I have to live with every day. We will be quite a pair, sweet temptation.”

That admiration was there, that fire burning in his eyes, and… Lust…?! You had to contain a shiver of pure terror thinking a creature like that lusted for you. It wasn’t necessarily his appearance – you did find Dante one hell of a piece of temptation in whatever form he was, be it human, Devil Trigger or even his Sin Devil Trigger – but his soul. Erlach lacked the very thing that made you fall madly and hopelessly for Dante: his golden heart, his gentle soul, his kind eyes and his unapologetic humanity.

That was why it didn’t matter how Dante looked like: you would always fall in love with him. Even if he was just a piece of rock with googly eyes laying on his desk, you would love that rock with all your heart.

“What if I refuse to be your pair?” You had one of your eyebrows raised, trying to hide the fear creeping at the base of your stomach. “As far as I know, all marriages require a resounding yes from both parts. What are you gonna do? Torture me?”

“As tempting as that sounds…” And even if you didn’t show it, your blood certainly froze in your veins for a second. “I fear you would take a very long time to break under such circumstances. The Son of Sparda chose you for your brave heart and hardened soul, I can see that now. Luckily for demonic rituals, the sacrifices don’t need to consent.”

“Oh. I thought I was more than just a disposable piece of meat. I’m hurt.” Masking your fear with jokes and taunts, you had learned that with the very best. Dante had all the blame for that.

“Don’t be, my creature.” Erlach’s words were laced with a laugh while he took a ceremonial dagger from an altar nearby. “That is how humans are usually named in our rituals. You will remain alive, or else, it doesn’t work. I do need your blood… A reasonable amount, but nothing lethal.”

His hand clasped your wrist with a tight grip you couldn’t break from. Your heart started beating faster and faster, as you looked around trying to find Kyrie – crossing her terrified eyes as she watched from the distance, close to the entrance where once was a door, fearing for your life. You wanted to mutter some soothing words for her, but not even you could lie that much: your survival instincts kicked in and your adrenaline spiked. It was now or never, but you had to escape.

Erlach held your arm above a bowl made of pure gold, now darkened with time and stained with all the sacrifices it contained. He spoke some words in demonic language, while the chanting got even more intense – some things you could understand, but the others were lost as your mind became hazy with trying to think what to do.

It was a surprise to all – you closed your free hand in a fist and did exactly what you wanted to do since you saw that hideous thing you were wearing: sucker punch that conceited demon right on his face.

Erlach was taken aback for a moment, looking back at you with confused eyes. Seizing his distraction, you disarmed him and took the ceremonial dagger to yourself, cutting his hand that held your wrist and demanding him to let you go. Erlach stumbled back in awe, while you took a fighting stance with the dagger in your hand, ready to kill – but not ready to get married.

And he smiled.

“Such fire…!” To say Erlach was ecstatic was an underestimation. “My creature… What are you going to do with that?” And he took a predator stance, as both of you studied your options in that fight.

If you could look back at Kyrie, you would see her smiling and supporting you as much as she could. To say she admired you, was to say you only liked Dante.

“I am going to kill every single demon in this cathedral… Including you.” Pointing the dagger at Erlach, it was your turn to allow a devilish smile to cover your lips. “Then, I’m taking my friend back home. Back into the arms of the only devil I will ever love. Back to Dante.”

As you spoke, you didn’t even hear a ragged guitar faintly playing in the background – and approaching ominously. The only thing you had in mind was a tunnel focus on Erlach, ready to tear him apart as soon as he got close to you.

“Oh, I will enjoy that, my creature. And I might even need to get rid of Dante myself.” As soon as he finished his sentence, though, you scoffed in a laughter of pure mockery.

“Now that, you would try. Dante is so much more than you will ever be – he will reduce you to ashes with a single stare. That’s how pitiful you are compared to him, Erlach.” As your words poured, you couldn’t stop laughing at how he looked slightly insulted. Fucking finally. “And I gotta say, that’s not the only thing Dante is really good at. He does burn like fire.”

“I will enjoy subduing you.” Erlach growled, baring his teeth. Now you managed to piss him off.

“I will enjoy watching you try.” You wouldn’t allow him too much time to think: spinning the blade in your hand for a better grip, you finally tried to stab him with a swift attack – but he easily dodged as you got even angrier at that ridiculous clothing you were wearing. Those frills and terrible fabric made your movement a lot debilitated.

You tried a few other attacks as Erlach dodged and started smiling again, enjoying every bit of it – starting to even try a few attacks, while you blocked with the dagger. It was all too fast… At the same pace of the guitar that now echoed loudly, with a very familiar song approaching the chorus.

“Now, my creature.” Erlach held your hand with the dagger when you tried another stab. Even if you were resisting, it was more entertaining than anything else: you needed your gear. He pulled you closer to him, even if you tried to stay away as much as you could. “It’s time to stop the fun. We can do this after the ritual.”

Before any of you could do anything else, the guitar finally arrived – with the screeching of what seemed a thousand tires, the smell of gasoline and the sound of a shot from a gun you knew so well.

Said shot hit the dagger, making it shatter into a thousand little pieces in your hand, causing Erlach to let go of you in a reflex – while AC/DC’s vocalist screamed he would shoot to thrill, play to kill.

“Well, I think we’re all ready for the afterparty, aren’t we, hot stuff?”

Dante had entered down the aisle with Cavaliere screeching, leaving a trail of fire behind him, stopping right in the middle to shoot that ceremonial dagger into oblivion. The smoke was still fresh on the barrel of his gun, while he had one foot on the ground, still mounted on his motorcycle, smirking at you with that gorgeous smile that, today, you wanted to kiss out of his mouth with so much passion the crew would probably have to throw a whole bucket of water on both of you to put out the fire.

And, right behind him, Nico crashed what was left of the cathedral’s door while blasting AC/DC’s Shoot to Thrill because she would be damned if she didn’t put a good soundtrack for that moment. You could see her smiling behind the wheel, supporting every single bit of Dante’s antics.

The smile that painted your lips – a broad one, mixed with thrill and relief – was everything Dante wanted to see. That was all the confirmation he needed to know that pull in his chest was actually your heart desperately calling for him to help.

“Ya know, I could forgive the kidnapping, you got one hell of a devil hunter in your hands to deal with…” Dante now let go of Cavaliere, leaving it in the middle of the cathedral, walking down the aisle with the sassy walk you always loved to see – moving his hips and opening his arms, taunting with a pretended carefree attitude. The distortion in his voice, sharp teeth and claws betrayed his words, though – and you couldn’t be happier. “But what’s the deal with those clothes?!”

“Exactly.” You smiled back, sighing as if someone there finally understood you. Erlach just looked at you and back at Dante trying to contain his surprise – it wasn’t possible you were synchronized in even that. “I can barely move, how am I supposed to kick his ass?”

“I can help ya with that, pretty eyes.” Dante’s voice now became darker, leaning even further into his Devil Trigger. For a split second, you could swear you saw his demonic form taking over before Dante appeared again. His eyes were almost entirely taken by red, his hand already gripping the hilt of Rebellion. “But I gotta deal with a few of these clowns first.”

“I’m not going anywhere, hot stuff.” You had the proudest of smiles on your lips as the demons started to approach, ready to fight your red devil. “Show them what a real party looks like.”

“Ya don’t have to ask twice!”

“What are you all waiting for?!” As soon as Erlach screamed, the demons ran towards Dante as a pack of rabid creatures, ready to take his blood. Erlach smiled with pride as they surrounded the Crimson Slayer, already pouncing to take a bite – there was no way a hybrid could take so many demons at once in a fight.

Looking at the crew’s van, you managed to see Lady leaning by the vehicle, watching it all with excitement but refusing to get into the fight. You almost laughed upon seeing Trish holding Nero’s jacket while he tried to let himself go from her iron tight grip, probably saying he should be in the fight too – but his eyes weren’t locked on Dante or the swarming demons: Nero was looking for Kyrie.

And you would’ve done the same, finally questioning yourself where they were keeping her after all that confusion took over the ritual. Nero could very well let himself go of Trish, but everyone knew he had his own priority – a priority you couldn’t find, and that fact started worrying you.

You would have given that a better thought if a sudden fiery explosion hadn’t sent demons flying around the cathedral like fireworks. Dante’s Devil Trigger was on, but not his normal one… It was his Sin Devil Trigger in all his demonic glory, with leathery wings hovering him from the floor and Devil Sword Dante burning like fire in his hands.

To say that would be a slaughter… Again, would be putting it lightly. With the masterfully chosen soundtrack by Nico blasting on the background, Dante single handedly slayed all the demons that decided to cross between you and him. You risked a side look to Erlach, only to find the demon astonished by Dante’s form and power – and you couldn’t resist. You leaned on the altar next to you, with a matter-of-fact look in your eyes.

“He usually has this effect on people… And demons.” You had to say it. You just couldn’t refrain from taunting and annoying that silly devil who forced you to wear those terrible wedding clothes.

With the Devil Sword Dante dripping blood, the son of Sparda approached as he slayed all the demons that tried to fight. Dante was a frightening powerhouse – usually terrifying, but today even more… After all, the human he loved most in all dimensions was kidnapped by a conceited demon who thought he would have the chance to bind his beloved in a marriage ritual without their consent. Dante was beyond angry.

“It will only be an obstacle, then.” Erlach turned his eyes back to you. “Don’t think for a second I gave up, my creature. If I have to kill the son of Sparda, I will do so – with the power you will grant me with your blood.”

Once again, the demon held your arm – but this time, digging the nails into your skin, making you scream with the sudden pain. That made Dante immediately turn to you, being hit as well and inundating the cathedral with the smell of the blood of Sparda. His fighting became sloppy as he tried to approach you even faster – but it also became even more vicious.

Erlach dragged you back to the sacrificial bowl, as you tried to get away. Even with your fighting, your limited movements weren’t helping too much. As he extended your arm above the bowl, you managed to see – behind him, in the distance, covered in shadows – Orcus holding Kyrie hostage, searching everywhere for a breech so he could finish his ritual before Erlach.

“Nero! Kyrie is over there! Go kick his ass, kid!” You screamed while fighting so Erlach couldn’t drip your blood into the bowl. Yes, he needed more than a few drops from the gashes from his claws – but he could make them bigger once you were in a decent position. And you didn’t want to give him that.

“Kyrie! I’m coming for you!” And finally, after his aquamarine eyes found Kyrie’s plea for help, Nero did let go of Trish with ease – and the she-devil didn’t even try to hold him back. With just a smile on her face, the woman looked back at Lady and they knew it was time to intervene now that both of you were located and they wouldn’t risk any of your lives.

Amidst all that, with Dante literally burning his way towards you while being held back by three demons, a few invisible cuts made them fall apart and gush blood all over the floor. Vergil entered the cathedral, while carrying an old book you saw at Erlach’s office earlier that night – the book with all the ancient, and most forbidden, devilish incantations.

“Go on, Dante. I’ll take it from here.” Vergil barely looked at the demons he was fighting with: holding the book with one hand and being assisted by summoned swords, he only needed a few well placed judgement cuts to get rid of all those nuisances.

Dante didn’t even think twice after hearing his brother’s words. Marching down the aisle, he approached you and Erlach like a death omen – his demonic form in his ultimate Devil Trigger was enough to inspire respect even in the upper echelon of Hell.

And you had to say, you were proud of that.

“Let y/n go, Erlach.” As Dante commanded, you couldn’t fail to notice his voice was slightly… Different. The more he approached, the more his voice sounded less distorted and more human. “Ya know, for a demon with such a pretentious plan, you’d think you’d put up more of a difficult fight.” And when Dante stopped right in front of the altar between you both, he was completely human – looking at you with the sky blue eyes you loved so much. “I’m barely breakin’ a sweat.”

If Erlach’s claws weren’t deep into your skin, you would’ve locked your arms around his neck already, taking in his scent and calming down your heart. Yes, Dante would be smelling of gunpowder, blood and sweat, but that was still his scent. It was enough to make you feel secure again.

“Indeed. I underestimated you.” Erlach’s claws dug out of your skin, making you retreat quickly. You managed to see a little commotion where Kyrie and Nero were before, but with everything that was happening, you couldn’t quite make the moment where Orcus was nowhere to be seen – all you could be sure was that Kyrie was safe, back into Nero’s arms. And that was enough. “It seems like the blood of Sparda still thrives to this day.”

“Yeah, yeah, daddy’s blood and all that…” Dante rolled his eyes, shooting near Erlach’s feet. The demon jumped back, farther away from you – and that made you smile. “Spit it out, spook. How did you find out ‘bout the ritual? Where did ya get that book?”

“Apparently you never heard of a library. On that aspect, I win, my creature.” Erlach still had that weird admiration in his eyes for you, making you wince. You never gave him a single reason to like you. Demons had to be masochist creatures.

“Oh, I heard about those alright. It just so happens my brother here has spent a very long vacation time in Hell and lemme tell ya…” With those words, Dante finally took Erlach by his neck, leaning the demon over the sacrificial bowl and touching the blade of Rebellion on his neck. Dante usually didn’t get that feral… But Erlach had tried him a little bit too much that night. “He doesn’t have very nice words about you and your little friends. Those rituals aren’t well known in detail. Something gave you that book. Who?”

It wasn’t a side of Dante you liked to see, but, when dealing with those kinds of demons, it was a necessary one. Erlach, as far as you could tell, wasn’t just your dumb daily demon – he was in the upper echelon. And said echelon only became worse the higher the rank.

“You would love to know, wouldn’t you?” Erlach laughed even if the sword already started to nick some blood out of his thick demonic skin. “You will have to let me go to get your answer. If you don’t, no deal.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. Erlach was the deal kind of demon. And it was always a slippery slope with those silver tongue devils.

Dante knew that as well. His heart screamed at him to kill Erlach and let his blood run over the floor of the cathedral – to take you home safely and let you know that threat would never loom over you again.

But they needed answers. Only very high rank demons would have access to that kind of book – to those kinds of rituals. Demons like Sparda… Like Mundus. And that was something none of them wanted as a threat. The single thought of the possibility of Mundus being alive made him shiver and his blood boil. His house burned in his childhood, his family slaughtered like animals, his past stained in blood and sulfur. He didn’t want that to happen again. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Not to anyone in the crew, not to his nephew, not to his brother… Not to you.

Dante let Erlach go. The demon cracked his neck, gaining his posture once again. You stood by Dante’s side, ready to suplex Erlach into oblivion if he tried anything funny.

“The two of you already have what you need to know the answer.” Erlach pointed at the book in Vergil’s hands, moving his gaze back to you soon after. “I will have you as mine, y/n. You have my word, sweet creature.”

Before you could do anything in response, Erlach set himself ablaze in flames that kept burning for a few seconds while he disappeared back to where he came from – probably Hell, if you had to guess.

“Eh. We should’ve known he would leave without giving us a decent answer.” You sighed, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time that night, knowing all demons were dead and you were around safe people again.

“And even shamelessly flirtin’ with ya, what’s up with that…?”

“No idea, red devil. I did my best for him to hate me; apparently it backfired tremendously.”

You finally turned to look at each other. Both of you looked tired, completely out of energy – you, from your human body; Dante from the toll all that fiery explosion of anger and demonic heritage could take on him. His eyes, though… Those sky blue eyes, looked at you with the human kindness you always longed for – with the admiration and fire of a lover, but the gentleness of a soul who was not only your mate, but your home.

You felt safe again. All that insecurity, that fear, that horror of being alone and having to fight on your own – to survive on your own – it washed away in that infinite blue sky. He was your home, and you were safe. Nothing bad would ever happen to you, for Dante was there to catch you and hold you in his arms until you felt you could walk with certainty again.

“I heard you, pretty eyes…” Dante murmured, taking a strand of hair out of your dirty face, watching with amusement as you furrowed your brows. He took one of his hands over his heart, eyes looking into yours. “I heard you here.”

A gradual smile lit up your face as you understood what he had said. That pull, that thing you did, of closing your eyes and praying he would find you… It worked. Of course it worked. And you couldn’t be happier, with all that pouring like a golden fountain from your heart, making your eyes laminate with a few tears and threaten to overflow.

“I’m glad you did, cowboy.” You approached him, cradling his face with your hands and leaning him down so his forehead could touch yours. “I’m glad you did. I prayed so loud for you.”

With that, you took his hand to touch your heart, in the hopes he would once again listen – but this time hear the golden tunes it sang along the overflow. The frills of the ridiculous attire didn’t allow him to find your beat, though.

“Well, I told ya I’d get rid of that, right?” Dante sighed, staring down at that horrid attire – although he would argue you could never look bad. Even with that thing on. “Ei! All of ya, look away! I’m puttin’ y/n out of their misery!”

“What…?”

Before you could finish asking, though, Dante masterfully moved Rebellion around you – while everyone turned away or closed their eyes. Lady and Trish, though, just kept staring at that goof of a man you called your lover. Within a few seconds, those terrifying wedding clothes tore apart, pooling around your feet on the floor while you just stared back at your red devil – the chilly air of the night all around your bare skin.

“That was hot.” You had to say it while Dante quickly checked you out like the masterpiece he always thought you were.

“Not as hot as you, babe.” With a wink, Dante took off his red coat, wrapping it around you and making you warm again.

You loved wearing Dante’s coat. It was definitely too big for you, but it was always warm – that night, you could almost say it seemed like it was enveloped in flames. But it had his scent all over it and it fit like a huge cape you could almost drag on the ground. You couldn’t have asked for a better attire for that evening.

“Hey.” As you called for his attention, those blue eyes rested on you again, little by little settling all that restlessness that whole ordeal had set in your soul. And, since words weren’t enough, you once again cradled his face with your hands, this time placing a well-deserved kiss on your lover’s lips.

Dante giggled between your lips, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to lift you off the floor – making it easier for you to kiss him unapologetically. You never saw yourself as a damsel in distress, and you would have killed every demon in that room with a dagger and your teeth if it was necessary, but it wasn’t. And that was so new: you could always count on Dante to be there for you, to protect you and to be a place for you to fall whenever you lost your balance.

Your heart stopped screaming and Dante’s soul found peace again.

“Ah, I see Nero stole Dante’s idea.”

As you saw Kyrie leaving the van’s bathroom wearing nothing but Nero’s coat, she smiled happily back at you while showing it off as soon as you pointed that out. You were sitting in the van, still in the red coat – Dante would know only later that decision would cost him his sanity while trying to get his coat back from you. A few chases and him gripping you tight to get his coat back was in store for the rest of that night.

“It was a very good idea.” Kyrie had a mischievous smile on her lips, blushing a little bit while grabbing the collar of Nero’s coat and taking in the scent. “It smells like him. It feels like he’s always around.”

“I know what you mean.” You smiled proudly as an answer, barely noticing Nico staring at both of you while Lady and Trish giggled.

“Ya know what she means…? That coat is nasty!” Nico pointed at the blue coat enveloping the crew’s little angel, making you laugh a little bit more. “And yours?! If Nero’s coat is bad, Dante’s even worse! Looks like he just blasted from the insides of a frog demon or somethin’! And you say it has his scent?!” The gunsmith couldn’t be more revolted at yours and Kyrie’s antics.

“That’s Dante’s scent for ya...” You sighed, leaning back on the van’s seat – something quite red devilish like. “Gunpowder, demon’s blood and sweat. When he’s clean, though, it’s more of a woody and musky with a hint of pizza kind of scent. Sometimes strawberries.”

“Apparently, love doesn’t make us only blind, it makes our sense of smell completely absent.” Trish strutted her way towards the seat she always took in the van, across from you, having a complacent smile on her devil lips.

“It makes us more tolerant.” Kyrie sat by your side, completely happy to be wearing Nero’s clothes and safe and sound with the crew again. “That is a thing most people need to learn more about.”

“As always, angel Kyrie is right.” Lady sighed, taking her spot inside the van – after lightly elbowing Nico just to tease the gunsmith. “Just like we tolerate the smell of your cigarettes.”

“Hey, at least I’m not turning into a fuming creature blasting demon viscera everywhere!” Nico pointed at Lady with her cigarette between her fingers, making all of you laugh. “Must take days to get those things off your hair!”

“Sometimes, it takes even weeks!” Dante’s voice added from outside of the van, entering soon after to take his seat right by your side. To say Dante would be hovering around you for months, overly protecting you over anything and everything, was a very mild way to describe his behavior after that evening.

“Ya know, once I found a piece of liver hidden right behind my ear…?” Nero approached Nico as she just glared at him with pure disgust. “Took me days to find it.”

“You’re nasty, demon boy.” Nico lightly shoved Nero out of the way, dismissing all that conversation to go back to the stirring wheel. Nero laughed back, making his way to Kyrie and sitting by her side, cradling her with one of his arms while she rested her head on his chest.

“We couldn’t find more on the origin of their knowledge…” Vergil was the last one to board, closing the van’s door behind him. As soon as he did, Nico started driving back home – and he showed you a few things he had in his hands. “But we did find your gear. I will keep it in a safe place until we get back to the shop.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Verge!” You had genuine relief in your voice, watching as he carefully placed your sword next to him. “I thought I’d never see those things again. Thanks for finding them.”

As always, Vergil didn’t answer, just bowed his head as the perfect gentleman he was. Soon, Dante’s arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

“Huh, so much thankfulness for Vergil, while I was the one who saved your ass from that demon lord. I’m feeling a little ignored.” Of course, you knew Dante was only joking – never in all your time together you picked up any sign of jealousy he could have of you and Vergil. Dante was very secure about your relationship, knowing quite well where your heart rested – he would be insecure, sometimes, when it came to other humans.

“Oh, c’mon. How can I not be thankful when it’s my gear we’re talking about?” You raised one eyebrow, teasing him back – which only made Dante smile. “Now being a little more serious, it was rough being stripped of everything. Even with that hideous frilly attire, I felt completely naked. There’s no way for me to defend myself without all my stuff; I don’t have demonic blood running through my veins to go into a rampage and kill every single living thing in front of me.”

“Well, lucky for you, I got that goin’ for me.” Dante brought you even closer, tightening his half hug around you.

“Hmmm…” You took some time to take in his scent, this time directly from his neck, right in front of you. Yes, all those things you mentioned before, but you could always find the woody and musky Dante scent underneath all of that. And maybe it was that which made you feel so comfortable and secure. “I was scared. I was running out of options when you showed up.”

“Shhh, don’cha think ‘bout that, pretty eyes.” Whenever you voiced how uncomfortable you were with something, Dante immediately started caressing you just to at least make you feel physically comfortable again. And you had to say, it always worked.

“I know, I know… It’s just… I know I can always count on you to appear at the direst of moments, no matter where I am.” With those words, you placed one of your hands above his heart, making those sky blue eyes look back into yours. “I know you can hear me call, no matter what.”

“It’s part of the demon thing, babe.” Even though he was happy with that, Dante had a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe… But demons don’t show up to save desperate souls who are praying for them when all other options have failed.” You brushed aside some strands of dirty hair that insisted on covering those beautiful eyes – now looking at you with curiosity and admiration. “Do you know who do?”

“Hmmm…?”

“Angels do.” Your answer was but a murmur, even quieter than the engines of the van. “You are my very own guardian angel, Dante.”

Lady once said that, somewhere out there, even a devil may cry when he loses a loved one – but you would dare to add that devils did cry when they were loved back.

Your red devil was living proof of that on that Halloween night.

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #dante x reader #dante imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc dante #dante sparda #devil may halloween #the ripping the dress apart scene #I'm SUCH a fan of Zorro #and Antonio Banderas does that with Catherine Zeta Jones in the 1st movie #BOOM one of my fave things right there when I saw it for the first time #Dante was raised on Zorro and I'll die on this hill #alsoooo couldn't resist making Erlach a character that may or may not appear again #something about having a demon lord fall in love with Dante/Vergil's s/o sounds so funny to me #I have to make that a recurrent theme #and the 'I'd love you even if you were a rock with googly eyes' is indeed a reference to Everything Everywhere All At Once #just recently watched with my mom and was devastated and happy at the same time #some people we would love even in the rock dimension #I hope you guys like it!! even if it took forever to post!! T-T

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newkatzkafe2023 · 3 months

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@lara-legomonkiekid

What if Y/N had the ability to release sleeping gas?(It can either help others sleep or if it's like enemies, she would release it and make sure that it'll give the enemy's nightmares/Illusions).

Hey everybody as a celebration Of Poppy's playtime Chapter 3 coming out yesterday thought I make this enjoy

(Lmk Wukong) He didn't Know. Like at all He thought he was just Thought he was sleeping peacefully now that the Dangers were over. But no it was thanks To you his wife of well im guessing 500+ years. You have a sleep smoke ability To not only put people to sleep , but to give them sweet dreams due to the Poppy flower smells. But You can also make it to Where you can Make people see horrible hallucinations if they were clearly an enemy. For that's a happen you use heavy doses But it's your loving husband so you use a light Dosage so he can sleep peacefully. You really He doesn't have to know about your ability And you really want to keep it that way until You guys were attacked by Another one of his enemies. The Other demon was putting up a good fight against your husband so you decided to step in you told Wukong to hold his breath and don't breathe no matter what Easy for him to do Since he's well immortal , but he still wasn't sure what you were about to do and When he saw a large creepy smile appear on your face which freak him the Hell out and see a navy blue smoke leave from your Mouth and on to the other demon. That's when he witness the effects The demon began to laugh hysterically , derangely insanely and then scream in terror and pain for a whole freacking hour then fall over and die. He then slowly looked at you in horror But he saw tears come out of your eyes when you saw his reaction. He clearly gonna have a talk with you about your ability. But right now he wants to go comfort you so You don't think he's afraid of you.

(NR Wukong) He tries to be as understanding as possible. He remembered what you had done all those years ago. He was never mad at you. Because you were simply defending yourself and him. But he's still aware of the ability of your sleep smoke. And neither of you knew you were gonna have to use it again because of the demon Thugs that attempted to attack the garage The second he saw the blank deranged Threatening smile on your face. He told Li to run inside and hold this breath While he quickly put on a gas mask and stood back That's when you released your Smoke Into the area towards the demons. The second they breathe Everybody began to laugh and cried arrangely and And for a whole freaking hour before they passed out possibly dead. Li Who witnessed what happened knew how dangerous you could be But he never imagine that you were this Lethal.

(HIB Wukong) Do you know about your ability but only the good part. Do you use your ability to help him and Liuer Sleep peacefully without nightmares from either of you. And you normally are the one who It's up to look out for danger and that's exactly what happened that night. Some demons Came in the middle to Chi and robbed the village. They chose to do a stealth mission. Not knowing that you were the only one in the village awake , so you spotted immediately and went into action. You got into a good position when the demons invaders were still unaware of you And that Smiled wide and released the smoke into the field. They were in and all of a sudden they began Laugh laugh and laugh. It were laughing hysterically insanely derangely, And they started screaming and horror and pain This went on for a good hour before they all finally died of laughter. Everybody In the village woke up justin time to see the dead bodies of the would be invaders. Wukong looked up To see you and your wide range smile. That's when he knew exactly what had happened and why he should never get on your bad side.

(Mk Reborn Wukong) You two were together for a long time. You were there when he got into a fight with the jade emperor and buddha. And you were there for when he got sealed under the mountain. You literally stop by everyday just to blow some sleeping gas till so keep him calm and let him know that you're still visiting every day. In fact , master tang was the one meet you first before he got to the monkey king. He heard about your mini legend about the sleepinguess you release. But he also knows the danger you can bring with it So he presented the Opportunity to join the journey to your husband who you both let out of his seal. One night you guys were attacked by a group of demons and they were pretty strong. That's when you put your ability to good use. You told everyone to hold their breaths. As long as you can and get as far away from you was possible. They saw a big creepy smile Appear on your face and when they got far enough They witness your ability and the demons that attack them began to Laugh derangely hysterically and sadly you name it and Thirty minutes and they started to scream and pain and horror from the illusions they received before they died. All everyone but master tang and your husband looked in horror at your Power. Knowing never to make a enemy Out of you

(Netflix Wukong) You're a Well known and popular In the village know as the sleep demon. You always release your sleep smoke into the village to help the villagers get good night rest. And the children of the village good dreams to have. It was very special and it helped your bond with your fellow neighbors. Wukong Loved your abilities and admired how it was really helping out with the villagers. You always made sure that he has all the good dreams you can give him but One night though when you weren't feeling particularly Sleepy and he was asleep that's When demons decided to attack at night Everybody was Still asleep from the smoke you released earlier , so it was up to you to take care. When you made the village look at you that's when the demons Thought you would be an easy target considering it was just you and they thought you were the village protector or something like that. But that's when they notice your eyes were blank. Staring into everybody's soul and that's when you smiled wide and creepily. Asking if any of them were sleepy. The demons laughed at you for asking. And we're going to kill you and make quick work of you. But that's when you release the navy. Blue smoke darker than the smoke you always use. And that's when the demons knew something was up But it was too late for them. For they each began to laugh hysterically, loudly and sadly. Derangely, you name it. And then they started screaming and pain and horror and fear. Waking up the village finally, and this went on for a freaking hour and each and every one of them died. The villagers ran outside to see you. Looking back at them with your normal face. But the dead bodies of the demon army in the Town center. Wukong Continue to this day to ask what happened. But you always remain silent for you felt he will never be ready for what you can truly do.

Feel Free to Reblog 😇 👍

#monkey king netflix #monkey king reborn #monkey king x reader #nezha reborn #lmk monkey king #x female y/n #monkey king hero is back #poppy playtime #cat nap #horror #nightmare time

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thesweetnessofspring · 4 months

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One thing I think the fandom doesn’t do enough is give Peeta a little more credit with with being cognizant of Katniss’s feelings for him pre hijacking. Now do I believe he did think Katniss preferred Gale after the whipping and think he was very selfless about that that night. But I do also think he noticed her avoiding Gale about it and them not acting like a couple at all afterwards. And from the point of her broken ankle to the QQ announcement I always thought that he was noticing the signs of her behavior changing, he just refused to admit it because he was wrong before and doesn’t think highly of himself. And then from the QQ announcement he refused to think about it because he’s accepted dying for her and Gale is an easier solution for him too. I think the hug on the train was a relief for both of them to act a little selfishly and just give in to what they wanted (each other) before dying for the other and to not overthink everything to death like they always do for the sake of others

Ooooh Non coming in with the hot takes! lol

We know that Peeta--or at least hijacked!Peeta who has slowly been getting his real memories back--believes that Katniss is in love with Gale and will choose him after the whipping. We also know that Peeta questioned Katniss whether or not she loved him, whether or not she liked kissing him or kissing Gale.

And I think that this probably tracks for how Peeta was figuring it out in real time. That he knew not all of the Games was an act, that Katniss sought physical affection from him, that she was willing to die for him. But at the same time, all he knows about the kiss between her and Gale (the first one) was that it happened. As far as Peeta knows, Katniss has never kissed Peeta of her own free will but she did with Gale. And she lost it when Gale was whipped, responded to Haymitch's jab about Madge with jealousy, and stayed up with Gale all night, and that Gale had to spend at least days (maybe even two weeks?) at the Everdeens' while his back healed. After, the lack of Gale coming over he can no doubt put the blame on Gale's work schedule. And we don't know that Gale never came over, but it would be odd if he never checked in on Katniss for weeks when not only she's been hurt, but also because he's trying to win her over so he's going to come over whenever he can. And as for their lack of couple-like behavior from Katniss and Gale could also be explained by the increase of Thread's presence and Snow's threat, so that any couple activities they did would have to be hush-hush from anyone else seeing or picking up on.

But the Quell, THAT had to change things. The distance he put between them during training seemed to signal his own preparation to ensure Katniss wanted and chose Gale, so that she'd let him die for her. But once Gale is gone and will only see them as an "act" and Katniss lets her vulnerability show to Peeta...like you said, it was a relief to both of them. Neither broke the hug, it was the attendant coming in. Yet I also think it's important to remember how Katniss also got upset at Peeta for calling her pure and shut him out when she saw what happened to Darius and kept her distance at training (and resenting Johanna showing off her breasts, which she associated with Peeta and the elevator). Then she's back to being loving, and then the cameras were on. All of that to say, even when they're at their strongest (Quell-reaping onward) there's still bumps and difficulties as well as like you mentioned, Peeta pushing Gale forward toward Katniss so that she would live. As for the undeniable married-vibes they give off, as you said, Peeta could also explain those away. That she needs comfort, too, in these last days. That she's such a heroic, self-sacrificing person she would die for any number of people and he's no different. And again that wound he has of not seeing his worth and feeling unloved.

Thanks for sending your thoughts Non!

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #anon ask

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doro6o · 3 months

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pre-re6! ada wong x agent! reader

cw: mentions of sex, mentions of death, angst, infidelity, ooc ada, reader’s kinda an asshole, shitty ending so sorry, not proofread.

...

in this line of work, ada was always doomed to die. one way or another. ada knew the minute she accepted her first job as a mercenary would not only cost her humanity but also her life. she knew that she would be killed one day, hence why she always looked back on her shoulder.

ada tells herself that she isn’t afraid of death, that the idea of dying doesn’t scare her but that was complete bullshit – as you called it. ada was no different from the rest, she values her life a lot more than she admits to despite her persistence. the only thing she has left is her life and it is her only treasure; no amount of money or gold or whatever divine temptation they could send to her that will make her give up her own life. she had come so far so why must she give it up now?

just from the way she speaks, ada was oozies of sex. every little thing about her was sensual even if it was against her knowledge. it was out of instinct. her whole life she’s gotten whatever she wants in two ways; killing or sex. she prefers to go with the latter despite the first option being a lot easier and less messier.

perhaps that’s why she’s tangled between these silky sheets that smell a lot like you. your bare scarred arm wrapped around her naked torso, hand sprawled against her back, your warmth radiating off her sweaty body and she shivers ever so lightly when she feels your finger tapping onto her spine.

getting involved with you is difficult and messy. especially if you’re on the other side of the coin. ada thinks everything would be much easier if you chose the mercenary life instead of devoting your life to protecting those arrogant stupidly rich people.

as the raven-haired woman lays in your bed, her mind slowly wanders to thoughts that she prefers to not think of; what would it be like you two have met under normal circumstances? would you even ever meet? what if you weren’t a government property? would you still be with her under these satin sheets or what if you were a normal person? would you still look at her with softness in your eyes and kiss her scars? worshiping her like she’s your god like you do now?

ada could feel her rapid heartbeat in her head and she fears you could hear it. hear how her heart threatens to jump out of her chest. know how much she needs you, god, ada needs you so desperately in many ways that she couldn’t even list them down. yeah, this has gotten out of hand.

“what are you thinking, my love?” the sleepy murmur of your voice snaps the mercenary out of her thoughts.

ada glances down at you, your head laying on her chest and you looked so peaceful. she hopes this could last forever. “is someone nervous?” the teasing tilt of your voice made her scoff rather playfully.

“you’re growing delusional, agent.” she states in a stern tone to which you only chuckle. she feels your chest rumble against her skin. “maybe giving you a chance was a bad idea.”

your head shot up at that sentence, “don’t say that.” your bottom lip juts out. “i know you don’t mean that.” you add, placing your head back down just above her right tit.

ada’s hand wanders to your arm, her nails scratch your skin and you let out a satisfied hum, her eyes flutter shut.

“what makes you say that?” she knew the answer to that but she asked anyway.

“you’re in my bed,” you smirked. “in my house, ada. oh and not to mention, you’re still here with me.” you state it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

this makes a small smile crack to her face and ada can’t help the breathless chuckle that leaves her. she feels your fingers freezing for a second before returning to caressing her sides. she feels you shift above her then something damp and soft on her collarbones.

ada cracks an eye open, watching you pepper kisses that slowly trails up to her neck, then jaw, face. your lips hovering centimeters away from hers. you stare at her with a glint in your eyes before moving back to lay on her chest again. a sigh leaves her nostrils earning a giggle from you.

“sounds like my baby’s disappointed,” you teased. your hand coming up and down her body leaving her feeling ticklish against the sensation of your calloused hands.

she feels her stomach turn from the nickname. geez agent, don’t call her that unless you want her to throw up from the lovesickness she feels for you.

“don’t call me baby.” she warns you and you only pinch her skin gently.

“yeah? what ya gon’ do about it, baby?” you rhetorically asked, not bothering to look up to see the bright color of her cheeks.

seriously, you’ll be the death of her. you pat her thigh before sitting up and a small whimper leaves ada’s lips when she feels the cold air hits her skin. pathetic.

you went to grab your clothes, ada frowns. she cranes her head to look at the clock on your bedside table. 11 pm.

“going somewhere?” ada asks with her eyebrows still furrowed.

the sound of your harnesses clicking could be heard in your room. she watches you button up your dress shirt and your pants. you barely spare her a glance when you went to pick up your phone that ding! with a message notification.

“told ash i’ll be back before sunrise.” you say rather casually than you intend to. the dismissiveness of your tone only made ada’s frown deeper.

sometimes ada forgets that you weren’t completely hers as much as she was yours.

she feels the butterflies in her stomach dying as soon as they come. nauseous, that’s what she feels. perhaps this has really gotten difficult and messy for ada to handle. dealing with her emotions weren’t her strong feature but she swallows the lump down her throat, the burning sensation building from the back of it.

you don’t look her way once, not when a familiar ringtone escapes the device in your hand or when you muster a grin that’s a lot more brighter than you give her or when you those three forbidden words roll off your tongue gracefully as if you didn’t use that same tongue to make her reach heaven a few minutes ago.

ada never feels more jealous of the short blonde chick than ever.

once the call ended, you finally glanced at ada’s way. she ignores the guilty and sorrow glimmering in your eyes. fuck you, she doesn’t want your pity right now. not when you shove it to her face that you were someone else’s and not hers.

“ma chérie..” you called out, feet paddling towards her but ada only shook her head, denying you. you insisted.

she feels the bed sink with you as you place yourself beside her, trapping her body between your arms as you’re face to face with her. ada musters the courage to look at you and you see the pain in them. you sighed.

“you know i love you,” you breathed out, weakly, “but i can’ live that life with you. forever running away, always looking back.” you reasoned but ada could smell your bullshit from miles away.

you just wanted to find a way to lessen the pain once she meets her fate.

“i know.” she chokes out despite every fiber of her being yells at her to do something, say something, make you hers even if it would only be for a moment. “i know you don’t love me enough to leave her.”

you frown, unable to find the words to say anything because what are you supposed to tell her? that ashley was the other woman but you didn’t want to ruin things between your job and the president? you crawled your way to the top, kudos to your abilities and skills. ashley was just a cherry on top to seal the deal. you weren’t gonna risk anything to lose this one thing you had always dreamed for. not even the woman you loved the most who’s in your bed.

your hand comes up to caress her cheek and she melts to the warmness you bring to her. god she hates the effect you have on her.

“i’ll come back soon.” you promised her, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead before heading out to the door. “don’t forget to get rid of your traces here before you leave.” you remind her, giving your lover one last look before you disappear through the night.

just like that, you were gone. a sadden chuckle leaves ada’s lips when she hears the front door close, a bitter taste lingering in her tongue. how ironic, she was the one who’s being left behind this time.

how disappointing. to only love someone for once only for them to not return the same affection.

#ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader

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teaberrii · 7 months

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Chapter 26: Where it Ends

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

“You should’ve come to me years ago with this proposal,” Jing Yuan said flatly. “I would’ve accepted it on the spot. But now, I think you're out of your mind."

Young’s eyes flashed in the dark. “You can’t hide your real identity forever, Jing Yuan. If Mother's plan goes through, whose side are you going to take? Will you expose Mother and her ugly lies? Or, will you continue living amongst the humans who cannot accept your real identity?"

Jing Yuan sucked in his teeth. "And what about you? You're the fucking heir to the Middle Kingdom. Don't tell me no one is going notice that you just suddenly vanished."

"...Which is why I plan to erase their memories."

"Erase their...?" Jing Yuan scoffed. "You're going to erase your existence? For a woman? Pathetic." When Young said nothing, Jing Yuan sighed. "I'll hear you out. Just make it fast."

Your body is slightly shaking. Young chose to die? You already hated your parents and society, but it was Young’s death that drove you over the edge. He had been your heart and soul, and he chose to die so you could continue living in the very society that robbed you of your happiness.

“That day…” you begin quietly. “You knew that your mother used a concealment spell. You knew that she thought Jing Yuan was going to kill me. You knew…” Your voice breaks as you say, “You were going to die.”

“...When the execution happened, it was supposed to trigger a spell to eventually wipe their memories of me.”

You take a small breath as you try to keep your mind sound. “And was that supposed to solve everything? You dying… Your mother believing I was dead… forgetting about you…" A pause. "No. When she tried to kill me, she remembered you.“

“That was not supposed to happen,” Young says quietly. “By then, the spell should already take effect, but I don't know what went wrong. The plan was to keep you alive… but also have Mother slowly let her hatred go.”

“That still doesn’t make sense!” You clench your fists. “You said she wanted to enslave the humans. Fine. But how was keeping me alive and forgetting about you supposed to stop that from happening?”

“Jing Yuan.”

“...Jing Yuan?”

“Jing Yuan came to the north to take revenge for what your parents did to his father. He and Mother share the same hatred. If Jing Yuan killed them, he could take control of the north. He’s also respected in the south.”

You scoff and look away. “He’d become the ruler of the Kingdoms. Is that it?”

Young puts his hands on your arms. “That’s why I needed his help. There would be no war. You would be ali—”

“I would be alive, yes,” you say through gritted teeth. “Jing Yuan eventually made my life a living hell. Even before you two came up with this little plan. I… I can’t—”

“Jing Yuan came to the north to kill your parents. But… because they’re your parents, he put off his plan.” Young briefly closes his eyes. “He fell in love with you.”

“Do you think I’m going to thank you?” There are tears in your eyes, and you clench your fists. “I loved you… I loved you so much that I cursed people. I bet you and Jing Yuan didn’t have that in your plans, did you? You thought I was just going to have a little heartbreak and then move on?" You glare at him. "Oh, wait. I guess I was supposed to forget about you, too."

Young wants to reach out to you but the sheer anger in your eyes tells him otherwise. “...What happened was beyond anything I could’ve imagined. It was not supposed to happen.”

“Well, I guess I’m just full of surprises, huh?” You take a small breath. “It’s too late to say this now. But, we should’ve fought. The war your mother wanted to happen… it should’ve happened. Then…” You can’t stop the tears from falling now. “...Perhaps we would’ve died together. That would’ve been the best outcome.” You aren’t looking at him anymore. “Did Jing Yuan know everything? About why you tied your soul to this locket?”

“...No. He never knew about any of the magic imbued in that locket.”

“Here’s another question. You asked Pom to put a protection spell on this locket. What was the point of that if you and Jing Yuan were working together in the first place?”

“This wasn’t something we were planning from the beginning. Jing Yuan and I were still enemies when I went to Pom.” Young slowly hugs you. “...I know you’re angry, and I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I—”

You close your eyes and exhale softly. “Do you know what I’m most upset about? You know… besides the whole oh-my-God-I-literally-cursed-people?” You pull away and give him a little, sad smile. “It’s that you didn’t confide in me. Whatever your mother was planning… She could've been planning to summon the God of Death or King of Hell, but I wished you could’ve talked to me instead of trying to protect me by yourself.”

The look in Young’s eyes tells you he understands.

But, maybe this is also fate.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes with a message.

Pom: Found Caelus!! At hospital!!! Get chur butts ova here.

By the time you and Young arrive at the hospital, you see Jing Yuan sitting in a waiting area with a bloody bandage on his arm. When he sees you, he only nods at a door where you assume Caelus is.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“That’s what I’m wondering myself,” Jing Yuan mutters. Then, he sighs loudly. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken that damn shortcut today.” Upon noticing Young staring at him, Jing Yuan slightly narrows his eyes. “Is there something on my face?”

“...It’s been a long time."

Jing Yuan raises a brow. “Not long enough for you to be saying that. What’s—”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jing Yuan slid a hand into his pocket as he stared at his half-naked brother who would be dead in the next couple of hours. “Do you know I’ve had dreams about killing you? But looking at you now…” Jing Yuan sighed. “I’ve been too into my head about hating you.”

"You say this now when I'm going to die."

Jing Yuan crossed his arms. "We love the same woman, but you're literally dying for her. I don't know if I could top that."

Young looked down and smiled. "...Hard to say."

"How did you find out? That we were related?"

"My father. If he didn't tell me his story about him and Mother, I probably would never have found out."

“What made you ask? Something must’ve prompted you.”

Then, Young quietly said your name.

“Were you really stupid enough to say her name in front of your father?”

“I told him there was a girl I love so much that I want to marry her. But… due to circumstances, it’s impossible for us to be together.” Jing Yuan looked away. “I couldn’t tell him everything… but after all that, he said I should marry out of love, something he never got to experience.”

“...And that got you asking questions,” Jing Yuan muttered. Then, out of curiosity, he asked, “Does he hate humans as much as Mother?”

“His hate does not run as deep as Mother’s, but the pain of the war that happened many years ago… that cannot be easily erased.”

“And here we are now…” Jing Yuan sighed. “If Mother had taken a different path… things would’ve turned out differently.”

Young scoffed with a small smile. “Yes. We'd be fighting over the same girl instead of trying to save her life.”

Jing Yuan put a hand on Young’s head. “We did fight over her, and in the end, she still chose you over me. Now, here I am… making her hate me even more as I kill my brother and the fucking man she loves. What a joke.”

“It’s not like you to cry.”

“I’m not!”

“Right. I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

“Smartass.” When noises could be heard outside, Young heard his brother say his name. The half-dragon looked at his brother as he said, “...She won't forget about you, you know.” A small pause. “I won’t forget.”

“I liked you better when you were trying to assert your dominance.”

Jing Yuan glared at him. “Don’t make me walk out there with your head in my hands.”

Young looked down, and with a small, sad smile, he said, “It’s time, Brother.”

Jing Yuan stares at Young in shock, but before he can say a word, the door suddenly opens. Caelus’s father is the first one out followed by a nervous-looking Pom. As soon as Caelus’s father sees you, he frowns.

“...You.” He walks up. “What did you do to my son?”

Pom quickly slips between you and Caelus’s father. “Sir, it’s—”

“You’ve said enough,” Caelus’s father interrupts. “Now, move.” You don't get a chance to say anything as he shouts, "Explain why he keeps saying you're the reason why he's sick!"

Before Caelus’s father can grab you by the shoulders, Young quickly steps in, glaring at him. “Touch her, and you’ll be sorry.”

“Y’know,” Jing Yuan says, “I’d like to know why your son attacked me at the park. You don’t see me barging in there and grabbing at him.”

Caelus’s father glares at him. “He mentioned you as well. Something about you betraying him. How do you know my son?”

“...Dad.” Stelle comes out with Lan. “Stop.”

“I just want some answers, Stelle. I’m sure you do, too. Caelus isn’t supposed to be here! He’s—”

“He wanted to keep it a secret,” Lan says. “All of us”—he nods towards you—”we were looking for ways to help him because this cannot be solved using normal means.”

“How do you expect me to believe that my son is cursed? That is utterly ridiculous! I—”

“It’s true,” you say, and everyone turns. “...I was the one who cursed him.”

◆◆◆

A scream. A slash. A thud.

By now, the curse had taken over all three kingdoms. There was chaos and destruction at every corner. There was no order, no royals, and no titles. Everyone was strangely equal, but the situation still favoured those with wit and strength.

Just as Luocha pulled out his sword from the throat of an infected, he saw three of the infected swarm on top of a guard. Having no choice, Luocha fled and eventually sought shelter in his father’s room. The room still smelled like blood.

Luocha had just closed his eyes when he heard a light creak behind him. He spun around, his sword raised, and his eyes widened when he saw… you. He quietly said your name, nearly dropping his sword. A black veil covered half of your face, revealing nothing but your sharp eyes. Your clothes, a mix of white, gray, and black, were nothing like what the other women your age wore. Yours were fit for battle.

“How… Why are you here?” Luocha asked.

“I was curious.” You glanced at an ink-painted portrait of your family with bloody fingerprints all over. “...How everyone was doing.”

Luocha narrowed his eyes. “...You knew about everything that was going on."

“Stop trying to get a confession out of me, Luocha. Just say what you want to say.”

“You used magic… disguised yourself as Jing Yuan’s handmaiden and cursed our father.”

You looked down and chuckled. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you were the one to figure this all out. How long have you known?”

“For father’s health to suddenly deteriorate like that… it wasn't normal. After weeks of trying to treat him, I had a hunch this was because of black magic.”

“And from that, you suddenly decided that I was the one responsible?”

“No. Rather, I thought Jing Yuan was the one behind it. But, when his wife was cursed, I started to think it was you. I never thought you'd give up studying magic. You also had Young teaching you when he was alive.” Luocha walked up to you. “It’s been years, Sister, but you haven’t changed. At least, your thirst for knowledge never fails to surprise me.”

“Are you going to kill me? For killing Father?”

“You should’ve stopped there.” You glared at him, but Luocha didn’t back down. “Was Young so important that you had to get innocent people involved? He wouldn’t have wanted this to happen.”

Your sword was now at the side of his neck. “...Young was my happiness. Why should I continue living in the very society that turns a blind eye to injustice? What did we do that was so wrong? Young had every right to live as much as everyone else. Yet, his life was taken away, and for what? For me? Because of the political rivalry?” You scoffed. “I doubt we’re the first, and we won’t be the last.” Your blade drew closer. “...I want to end all of this political bullshit.”

Luocha was silent for a moment until he said, “And are you happy with the outcome?”

“I’m not finished.” Luocha briefly closed his eyes. Then, you quietly said, “I trusted you. Yet… when everything was happening, you did nothing.”

He could’ve preached that he was trying to protect you, but he knew he wasn't. Looking back, all he did was follow the status quo. So, he told you to stay away from Young, knowing well what would happen if you got caught. But, it wouldn’t be his fault. He warned you, after all. You just didn’t listen. Even when Jing Yuan banished you, Luocha remembered how he wanted to say something. But, what if he ended up getting banished with you? What would become of him? His status as a doctor? Would all of his hard work go to waste? Deep down, Luocha knew that he only wanted to protect himself.

A vial appeared in your hand. “I was saving this for you.”

“...Are you not going to use it?”

Then, you smiled wryly. “I don’t know… Who do I hate more? You or Jing Yuan? If you were Caelus or anyone else, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you.”

Luocha suddenly grabbed your hand that was holding the vial. He popped the vial open, and the mist wasted no time snaking up the glass and into the air. “I may have failed you as a brother, but know that during the time you were gone, I always hoped you were well. And…” Luocha neither flinched nor stepped back as the mist swiftly crawled into his eyes. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, and the sound of swords hit the ground. When Luocha looked at you, the whites of his eyes were already turning blood red. “...And that I was proud to have a sister like you.”

You watched your brother fall to the floor, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish out of water until someone said your name.

“I found him.”

You stood just as your brother turned eerily quiet. But, instead of answering Pom, you picked up your sword. With both hands, you held it over your brother.

Before Luocha could regain consciousness without any humanity left in him, you struck the sword through his heart.

Luocha has one hand on the sink, the other is clutching his heart as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. You had killed him to spare him from turning into a horrendous creature. But the pain remains. His heart feels as if it’s engulfed in flames. When he closes his eyes, he sees you and then collapses to the floor.

◆◆◆

“...My son is dying in there,” Caelus’s father says, pointing to the closed door. “Do something!”

Then, the rest of the group walks out of Caelus's room, and March closes the door behind her. “He's finally asleep,” she says.

The doctor who had taken over for Luocha looks as white as a sheet. “I don’t know how long the sedation will last given his current state. Let me try to get in touch with Doctor Luocha and see if he can come in to help.”

“...Don’t think the guy will be much help,” Jing Yuan mutters.

“Dad.” Stelle puts a hand on her father’s shoulder. “...I can stay with Caelus tonight. You should go home, and get some rest.”

Before he can answer, his phone goes off. With one look at the screen, he walks off and answers it. “Yes… Yes… I know. I’ll deal with it…”

“Sounds like he’s got a lot on his plate,” Gepard says, watching the man round the corner while looking down.

“He’s been stressed,” Stelle says. “Not sure about what… but—”

“You really don’t know much about your father, don’t you?”

March puts a hand on her hip. “Are you saying you do?”

“I know my clients like the back of my hand, sweetheart.”

“Clients?” Gepard asks, raising a brow.

“He asked you to do something about that article about The Withering, didn’t he?” Stelle asks.

Jing Yuan smiles. "You're a smart one."

“L-Look,” March says after a sigh. “There’s too much going on right now! What are we going to do about Caelus? What happens after he wakes up? He’s not just going to… I don’t know… bust outta here, right?”

“...What can we do?” Gepard says quietly. “Let’s just wait if Luocha can do something about this.”

“Yeah, if you’re talking about the tall, blonde, pretty boy, you’re out of luck,” Nanook says, sitting on a nearby chair.

Stelle quickly looks at him. “...What? Did something happen to him?” Then, she looks at you. “What happened to Luocha?”

Jing Yuan steps in front of you and Stelle and says, “He’s fine. I can get in touch with him.”

Stelle frowns. “Don’t tell me he’s associated with you, too.”

“Take a guess.”

Stelle’s father comes around the corner and looks at his daughter. “...Stelle, we’re going home.”

“What?” Stelle looks at Caelus’s closed door. “But, what about Caelus?”

“It’s not like you can do anything if you stay.”

Gepard frowns at Lan. “Did you really have to put it like that?”

“It’s true,” Nanook says, looking at Stelle. “There’s really nothing you can do for him at this point.”

Stelle’s eyes land on you, and she walks up. “I may not know exactly what happened between you and my brother,” she says quietly. “But, isn’t that all in the past? I hope… I hope you can find it in you to help him.”

Then, she walks away with her father.

“I’ll keep an eye on Caelus,” Nanook says. “He won’t be going on any murderous rampages under my watch.”

Gepard and March are the first to leave. Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, Jing Yuan turns toward the rest of the group and says, “Does this mean I’m officially off the radar? No more babysitters?”

Young finally turns to Pom. “You’ve been fidgeting for a while. What’s wrong?”

Pom quickly turns to Young. “M-Me? Oh, um, well…”

“I’ve noticed it, too,” Lan says. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Pom?”

Pom takes a breath and looks at you. But, before he can say anything else, they hear another voice. “Yes, Pom, don’t you think it’s time to stop keeping secrets to yourself?”

Nanook frowns at Sampo who’s suddenly sitting in a chair next to him. “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

Sampo shrugs just as Pom nervously says, “There’s a way to stop the curse.”

“How?” you ask.

Pom slowly looks at you, but it’s Sampo who breaks the news. “You die, Cupid.” Then, he stands and walks over. He leans down so he’s at eye-level with you. “...This is the choice you have to make.” When you look Sampo in the eyes, it’s as if he’s compelling you not to look away. “To live or to die.”

“...So, if she dies, the curse will go away?” Jing Yuan asks. "Everyone will live?"

“Correct.” Sampo leans upright. “You’d better decide quickly, dearie. Because time is not on your side.”

Then, he looks over his shoulder and sees Jing Yuan standing behind him. But his gold eyes are fixed on you.

“...What are you doing, Jing Yuan?” Lan asks.

Jing Yuan pushes past Sampo and suddenly grabs you by the hair, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re at a disadvantage,” Young says sternly. “Let her go.”

“I thought we’re all on the same team here. We want this curse gone, don’t we?” Jing Yuan shoots you a look. “And now we have an answer.” Without turning his head, Jing Yuan looks at Young. “You must be the one I’ve been hearing so much about. Cold Dragon Young.”

“...If you really wanted to kill me,” you say quietly. When Jing Yuan looks back, he sees you glaring at him. “You would’ve killed me that day.”

Jing Yuan had his sword drawn. Something creaked behind him, but when he turned all he saw were the shadows of the candles on the walls. After he and Luocha split up, he ended up seeking refuge in your old room to escape the chaos outside. Ever since Jing Yuan banished you, he didn’t let anyone use your room, not even his wife. Sometimes, he’d pass by, and the night when he first tried to woo you almost always came back to him.

It was the night you had been drinking with Jing Yuan and Luocha. You had a little too much, and Jing Yuan ended up giving you a piggyback ride back to your room.

“...Young…” you’d whispered. “I miss you.”

Would his name ever leave your lips like that? Jing Yuan slid your door open, walked inside, and went straight to your bed. He gently put you down, but his hand was also itching to grab the knife hidden inside his hanfu. It would be so easy to kill you. One slash to the neck. One stab to the heart. You were completely vulnerable. Yet, before he knew it, Jing Yuan was leaning over you, his face dangerously close to yours. He could smell the alcohol, and he was fighting the curious urge to taste it on your lips.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you quickly sat up as if the sight of him made you sober.

“What are you doing?” you asked, holding the blanket over you.

“You passed out,” Jing Yuan answered calmly. “I took you back to your room.”

“...Okay, but why are you still here?”

Jing Yuan decided to take a risk. “Because I’m curious.”

“About what?” You frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re curious about a girl’s room.”

“You kept muttering a name. Young. Don’t tell me it’s Young, heir of the Middle Kingdom?” Jing Yuan knew, but it was your reaction that he was looking for. You’d stiffened and looked away. “...Looks like I was spot on.”

"Thank you for taking me back to my room, but if you could just leave—"

“Race aside… It’s not wise to waste your time on men who play with your feelings.”

Your gaze hardened. “He’s not playing with my feelings."

“So, you’re pathetically pining over him?”

“...Get lost.”

Jing Yuan grabbed your cheeks and forced you to look at him. “...I could make you forget about him.”

“You’re crazy. I think you’re the one who had too much to—”

His mouth was on yours, hard and rough. One of his hands held your wrists, and when he nipped your top lip, he raised your hand to the side of your head. He gently pulled your lip with his own and repeated the caress on your bottom lip before your lips finally parted. Jing Yuan wasted no time. The heat that began at his mouth had unfurled so fast that he needed more.

The alcohol tasted even better on your tongue. Your bed dipped when he climbed on top. Soon, his body was flush against yours until he heard you say, “...Stop.” Jing Yuan broke away. He had you on your bed, hands on either side of your head. The sight had sent his nerves on fire, but your face said a different story. " This isn’t right.”

“Who said?” You looked away, so Jing Yuan continued, “You aren’t his.”

“I’m not yours either.”

“But, you didn’t resist, which means… you also feel something for me.”

“I don’t want this,” you muttered. “Get off me.”

“...Say it while looking at me.”

You finally looked back at him. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Then, his mouth was on yours again.

Another creak made Jing Yuan spin around. Except this time, a sword pierced just next to his heart. Jing Yuan instantly fell to his knees. He could feel the tip of his blade scratching at his heart like fingernails on a chalkboard. This was deliberate. The placement was planned. With shaking hands, Jing Yuan put his hands on the grip until he saw you emerge from the shadows of the room.

“...We finally meet again.”

“I remember now,” Jing Yuan mutters. “You tortured me that day.”

Nanook looks at you. “Tortured and cursed?”

“No,” you say, without looking at him. “I didn’t curse him.”

Lan and Nanook glance at each other. “...Why not?”

Young has a hand on top of Jing Yuan's, and the man lets out a short scream before releasing you.

“Because once the person is dead," you say, "the curse won’t work.”

Jing Yuan couldn’t move. A small knife had pierced his hands, forcing them together. With every small movement, he felt the tip of your blade press against his heart. You were standing in front of him, your eyes cold, dead, and beyond saving. He was shirtless with blood and bruises all over.

“...I didn’t want to believe it was you.”

“And look where that got you, General.” You heard something crash outside. “Fire. Destruction.” Your eyes landed back on him. “Revenge.”

“This… This is all for Young, isn’t it?”

You twirled a knife in your hand and teased the blade down the side of his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. You walked behind him, stabbed him, and slowly dug the knife deeper… and deeper, taking great pleasure in hearing his painful groans.

“Why couldn’t we just get along?” you asked, leaving the knife inside of him and another one appeared in your hands. “...Your initial kindness was just an act.”

“...No,” Jing Yuan managed to say He took a breath. “Do you know why I came to the North?” At your silence, he forced a little, painful smile. “Your family took everything from me. My childhood. My parents. The life I could've had. And for what?” He looked up at you. “Because they couldn’t stand that my father fell in love with a woman from the Middle Kingdom.”

Was it ironic or a cruel twist of fate that Jing Yuan suffered a similar fate?

“I could’ve killed them earlier… but seeing how you were their daughter”—a small scoff—”I started rethinking everything.” Jing Yuan screamed in pain as his hand slid across the blade until it was finally free. But now there were two gaping holes in the middle of his palms. The blade fell to the floor just as he grabbed your hand with the dagger. “I want to stop this. For you. For Young. For myself.” Upon pulling you closer, he felt the tip of the dagger against his abdomen. “...My brother and I wanted to protect you, but I guess we failed.”

As if sensing it was coming, you tried to stop him, but with the last of his strength, the dagger impaled him. With the amount of force you felt, you knew he was gone.

Sampo looks at you. “Your revenge ended with Jing Yuan, but the war raged on. Nothing could stop the monsters you created.”

“Pom,” Nanook says. Then, he eyes Sampo. “Is that what you wanted to tell us? You knew she had to die for the curse to be over?”

“I had a dream about it,” Pom says quietly.

“That may have been true, but perhaps not anymore.” Everyone turns to Young, but he's looking at you. “...There might be another way.”

Chapter 27

End notes: I think a lot of people are probably wondering about why/how Cupid became a God. Well, our dear 'ol Sampo is going to reveal that in the next chapter lol now that all this revenge has finally come to light.

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @nqctre @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @lunavixia @akwardbiscuit @sunsethw4 @hiqhkey @n8mareee @vintagepoetryluna

#dan heng x y/n #honkai dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng #dan heng honkai star rail #honkai star rail dan heng #danheng #danheng x y/n #danheng x you #danheng x reader

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blackstarmylove · 2 months

Text

Threatened Reader 2 (HC)

Fandom: Blackstar Theater Starless

Pairing: Sotetsu, Qu, Akira, Heath, Menou with fem!Reader

Warning: Death, suicide, mental spiraling/depression, blood, self-harm.

Requested by: Potato

Prompt: I think I've finally recovered enough to ask for another Threatened Reader if you're up for it? Nothing huge cast member wise, maybe Sotetsu, Qu, Akira, Heath, Menou? - P

Original prompt: A reader ignoring their lover because a random fangirl said so or They will Kill her? The leader gets sad and keep forcing them to talk to them but when she yelled at them for the reason she ignored them she gets a bullet shot on her head?….I just want to know how they would react to that can you do a headcannon?

A/N: I FINALLY finished it, and it only took me ages. 😭 Please take the warning seriously. There is some VERY heavy stuff under the cut. Kids, not meant for your eyes!

----------------------------

Prologue:

“Why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?” The anxiety and desperation in his voice were evident.

“Just leave me alone!” It pained you to say those words, but you had no choice. You chose to keep your back to him, no wanting to see his distressed expressions.

You wish that you had never met the insane fangirl on that accursed day. Her words kept ringing in your ears over and over. Stay away from him, or else I will kill you.

You would’ve taken her threat with a grain of salt had it not been for the crazed look in her eyes. She meant every word.

While you were busy with your thoughts, you failed to notice your lover behind you. He quickly wrapped his arms tightly around you.

“Don’t do this to me.”

No matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t get out of his iron grip. As you continue your attempt to get out of his hold, your eyes rapidly scanned the area. You prayed that she was not around.

“Enough! At least tell me why you’re doing this!?”

The anger in his voice snapped something inside you. “Because I don’t want to die!”

“What?” His grasp around you loosened as he stared in shock.

“One of your fans threatened me! She said to stay away from you if I don’t want to die.” You sighed, “Please, j-just leave-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a loud bang rang through the empty street.

----

Your body slammed on the concrete, limp and lifeless. Sotetsu’s hand trembled uncontrollably as he wiped your blood from his face. The smell of iron had filled every inch of his nose.

His hands grasped at the thin air as if searching for an anchor, as everything around him began to spin. His eyes blurred with tears as his laughter echoed through the area.

Sotetsu’s laugh was tinged with madness and despair - the laugh of a man who knew the universe was once again being sadistic and taking his happiness from him.

He searched high and low for the fangirl, determined to make her pay, slowly and painfully. He toyed with her, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse. A game that had her fearful to even step out of her house, so he forced her out of her home and continued the game until she could no longer take it and ended her life.

He pretended to be normal after that, but there was always a mad glint in his eyes. But everyone in Starless noticed and was worried about him, but Sotetsu refused to let any of them through.

The memories of the moment you died haunted him - always had him on edge, always watching, waiting for something to go wrong.

Akira's face turned pallid. He backed away, eyes wide with shock, until his back was pressed against a surface. The singer gasped for air, feeling like someone had a tight grip on his throat.

Though he managed to pry his eyes away from your body, the loud thud of your body colliding with the hard ground echoed repeatedly in his ears. Akira pressed his palms against his ears in an attempt to get the sound to stop, but it refused to go away.

Hours, days, and weeks passed, but he couldn't get that sound out of his head.

He started to flirt with every woman who crossed his path, but his heart remained empty. Every girl fell flat. They were just meaningless, nothing more than objects of momentary distraction.

Akira felt lost and empty. Nothing brought him satisfaction, not even singing.

His life turned into a blur of hedonistic pleasures. He slept with multiple women daily, sometimes several at once, at home, in Starless, in random places, at parties, everywhere.

Even then, he couldn't feel anything. Everyone in Starless was concerned, including Kokuyou. At times, Kokuyou slapped Akira to get him to snap out of it, but nothing worked.

It was like Akira was hoping to destroy himself physically and mentally. Then, maybe just then, he would be able to join you...wherever you were.

His heart froze in his chest. Qu's hand reached out to you, but it was too late. You were already on the ground. His hand remained in the air, trembling violently. Qu's mouth felt like a desert, and he could barely breathe. A crushing pressure pushed down on his chest, and Qu fainted.

He refused to leave his room and stayed curled in a corner. He remained there like a statue, crying nonstop. Neither Team C nor Maica were able to convince him to come out, eat, or care for himself.

His once beautiful, spotless skin was covered in breakouts, his well-groomed hair was growing out of control, and his physique had shivered to skin and bones.

Maica worked with Hari to find the fangirl who was responsible for your death. Maybe if they made her pay, Qu would slowly gather himself, but she was nowhere to be found.

He was a ghost among the living. No amount of doctors, medicines, or therapy helped. Even the medical professionals had given up on him.

It was his fault that you died, so Qu was repenting by tormenting himself in any way he could. His team members and friends watch helplessly as Qu's life painfully withered away.

As you lay motionless, your expression one of shock and horror, blood oozed through the hole in your skull. Menou stood in place, his eyes cold and devoid of empathy or remorse.

He walked away, going where his feet carried him. He thought about nothing, and his lifeless eyes stared straight ahead. Menou felt like a shell walking through the world without a purpose.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your terror-filled expression and could smell the coopery stench of your blood pouring out of the bullet hole. You were there, mocking him, making him remember over and over that he was responsible for your death.

Menou thought that if he found the woman responsible, you would finally leave him alone. So, he hunted her down. He covered her mouth and tore her to pieces, limb by limb, devoid of expression. But that was still not enough. You continued to mock him.

Team P tried to get him to sleep or visit a doctor and suggested anything and everything that could possibly help him, but Menou ignored them all.

Progressively, the image of your limp body was engraved in his vision. No matter where he looked, he saw you. Unable to take it, he dug his nails around his eyes and didn't stop until he clawed his eyes out. The entire time, he laughed, thinking he was mocking you now because he would no longer be able to see you.

His vision grew darker and darker. It eventually turned pitch black, and that was the last memory Menou's mind retrained before it, too, gave into the permanent darkness.

Heath dropped to his knees, with a look of horror and despair on his face, and cradled your head in his arms. He tried to wipe the blood away from the bullet wound. But why didn't the blood stop?

In a desperate attempt, he collected your blood in his palm and tried to pour it back into your wound. Why was your body getting cold?

"(Y/n), stop acting. It's not funny. Wake up. Wake...up. WAKE UP!"

Those were the last words Heath ever said as the trauma of losing you attacked his voice. He couldn't speak or rap. Even his uncontrollable sobs were muted.

His team members were breaking down with him. Mizuki would scream at him to snap out of it. Rico and Kongou couldn't bear to see Heath's state and developed trauma of their own. Hinata didn't show it but was severely disturbed by everything. Ran hunted down the fangirl and threw her lifeless body in front of Heath, hoping it would help the rapper recover, but the rapper stared at the body expressionless.

All he did was stare into space, not reacting to anything or anyone unless someone said your name.

One day, Heath saw you. His dull eyes sparkled, and his lips curled into a smile. He called out your name and followed you through the hallways, up the stairs, and to the rooftop.

The cast members heard screams outside the restaurant and ran out to see what was happening. And there was Heath in a pool of his own blood, his limbs sprawled in unnatural positions. But there was a smile on pale, cracked lips. He was finally with you.

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➣ BlackStar Theater Starless Masterlists [1][2][3][4]

➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

#bsts #blackstar theater starless #bsts sotetsu #bsts qu #bsts menou #bsts heath #bsts akira

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subastian-swallows · 11 months

Text

Dark Whispers, Light Vows

PROLOGUE: ESCAPING IS ONLY THE BEGINNING ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

Chapter one ★

Pairing: Dark!Sebastian x AurorMC x AurorOminis - Love Triangle Fic

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst baby — will eventually grow darker, angsty, smutty, painful, softer...I suppose just a little bit of everything

Summary: “In a race against time, (Auror’s) Alice and Ominis must work together to recapture their former friend Sebastian, an escapee from Azkaban. But when Sebastian begins to use a mysterious new form of magic to haunt Alice’s dreams, she’s torn between bringing him to justice or helping him escape, risking everything in the process. Love, friendship, and the battle between light and dark intertwine as Alice must decide which path she will take.”

A/N: This fic, holds a special place in my heart. I have prepared the ending and it’s very bittersweet, will be sad (that is my goal), so only go into this if you don’t mind a sad/happy ending. There will only be one choice at the end for Alice and I won’t let it be known who she picks until the final chapters...so we will see her with both Ominis and Sebastian. I look forward to showing you this little bit of me and I hope you enjoy it!ヽ༼ ಥ_ಥ༽ﾉ

“We cannot be sure of having something to live for unless we are willing to die for it.” ― Che Guevara

The scent of the sea made Sebastian sick now. The lingering saltiness on the air attaching to his skin like a leech, slowly sucking away any leftover warmth from it. And yet, a part of him recalled just how much Alice loved the sea.

He couldn’t recall much more than little snippets of her now, desperately clutching onto their memories together and yet, with each attempt they grew harder to remember. Each day felt dark and Sebastian no longer knew how long it had been, but he had grown several feet taller and his body lost all of it’s baby fat, so he knew it had been awhile. But it seemed pretty pointless to care about time in a place like this. Time was no longer a friend. It was just something else to forget about and with so little space left in his head, Sebastian chose to keep it only for her.

Sebastian often wondered if she thought about him and despite realising it was cruel of him to think such a thing, he hoped she did. At the beginning, he regretted hurting her. Feeling as if he had destroyed someone so pure and kind, but eventually, even his love for her, couldn’t hide the anger he felt. Perhaps, it was his mind playing tricks on him, contorting his memories of Alice, just enough to make him wonder if she had ever loved him. And so, his anger festered, lingering in his heart and ripping it to shreds as his eyes unfocused on the sun and moon slowly morphing together.

The visions of her grew darker, as if he willed them to make him hate her. And for a time it seemed to work, the softness of her skin, the melody in her laughter, now quickly fading into the darkness as he locked them away. Sebastian had to hate her, for if he didn’t, he would surely suffocate. But, it seemed that Alice always returned to him when he let his guard down and when she did, Sebastian wished he had more tears to cry—for now, his eyes just stung painfully with the memories of her.

The weight of everything swallowed him quickly and soon it felt like he was drowning. Sebastian clung desperately to what little he had left, before he finally let the darkness consume him completely and he laughed softly to himself as he dropped to the floor. But it seemed that Merlin himself wasn't quite finished with Sebastian, no instead rather cruelly, it appeared that he wished to keep a hold on him and there was no fight left in Sebastian to stop it. The touch came first, like a small electric shock, that lingered on the surface of his skin and then the dreams came.

But they weren’t Sebastian’s dreams. No, it was as if he was only a spectator and eventually he realised that he could communicate with the dreamer. Overtime, Sebastian grew more curious, more daring and when he attempted to touch, to mark the dreamer, as if to test out his theories—Sebastian only grew excited, seeing the marks he had left, now vibrant and real. He fiddled with this new found power for a while, practising on prisoners, guards, figuring out what he could do and get away with. And yet, in the darkest moments of the evening, when the only light that slipped into his cell was the moon, Sebastian wondered just how far he could push himself.

He wanted to visit her dreams. To touch her, hold her and yet, he couldn’t reach her. Not yet. Perhaps he just needed more practice, more information and so he returned his focus to the guards and to figuring out how to use it to his advantage. Sebastian’s touch only grew more bold as he learnt how to manipulate the minds he invaded, starting off small, extra rations, more water. But, even that got boring quickly. So Sebastian spent hours, days, slowly penetrating the mind of a guard he hadn’t seen around long—a pretty thing, easy and soon she was in the palm of his hand.

Sebastian had planned it perfectly, falsely placing visions of himself into the woman’s mind and in the end he had created a willing pawn for his escape. It was exhilarating and for the first time in years, Sebastian felt his confidence return, felt the darkness welcome him with open arms and he accepted it willingly. When the day came, he cared little for the soft kisses the woman provided him as she gave him a wand and provided him with clothing. She was risking everything and had no idea, her vision so clouded by the false reality he had shown her—that Sebastian knew she’d even take the responsibility for it all, if he asked. And he would.

The escape hadn’t been easy and he had to kill again. But this time, it felt justified, at least to him, at least in that moment. For Sebastian only cared for one thing and that was getting back to her, back to Alice. He knew this meant that they would come after him and yet, he didn’t care as long as he could see her again. It had been awhile, Sebastian wondered if she would have moved on by now and he grew disgusted by the thought. The woman that helped him escape followed with eagerness, until he didn’t need her anymore and he simply casted her aside, removing the fog of his visions—purely to make her suffer with her choices and she did.

It should have ended there. With Sebastian putting way too much faith in being able to research his new ability alone, desperately wishing someone had scribed something down about it. But, that would have been too easy. And so, Sebastian lingered in the shadows and kept his focus on figuring out exactly what he was capable of, only hoping it would eventually lead him to her. Word spread quickly of his escape, that even Sebastian was amused by the chorus of whispers and rumours that now spread about him. Eventually he got bored of it though, caring little for those that meant nothing to him but then he thought of Alice and he wondered if she had been told.

Sebastian now had one last task, that he would see through. He would have her again. Alice was the piece of him that was missing and Sebastian was ready to watch the world burn, just to be with her. But, being a fugitive made things difficult and it appeared, she had been busy, Sebastian catching sight of her moving picture alongside Ominis—the bile rising quickly in his throat at their smiles. They had become Aurors, typical, simply desperate to feel helpful, even after everything. And yet, he couldn’t dismiss it completely, it did fit them.

Tossing the paper to the ground and letting it soak up the soft mud, which had grown thick due to the rain, Sebastian pulled at his cloak’s hood and covered his face. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was her, was them. Sebastian was confident Alice hadn’t forgotten him, forgotten his touch and the way his lips felt against hers. So, he slipped back into the shadows and promised one thing: she would be his once more, no matter the cost. He was already a fugitive, a murderer and so there was nothing to lose, nothing he wouldn’t do to have her back in his arms. And the only way he would stop, or give up, was if they killed him.

However, Sebastian didn’t realise it yet, but his determination and possessiveness meant he would eventually find himself agreeing to an unbreakable vow with the devil.

But he was willing to do anything for love…right?

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randomfoggytiger · 6 months

Text

X-Files Collector’s Edition: Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part III)

Here we are again: Part III, a list dedicated to all the fics that are (unfortunately) not given enough attention for their different achievements.

Loose chronological order below~

@pilotinthestars's (Ao3) a green nursery (Ao3)

The convenience store worker said and did nothing but eye him up and down. He supposed most tuxedo-clad men didn’t come into this establishment for the purpose of buying pregnancy tests for the little black dress-clad women they had brought with them.

AU-- Hollywood A.D. Mulder realizes Scully's new symptoms add up to pregnancy. He convinces her to take a test; and both are relieved and delighted that the night ends-- literally-- on a positive note.

@enigmaticdrblockhead's

Mountains Crumble to the Sea

...I’m scared.

God?

//God is a spectator-//

Ah, right, I remember. Is He watching, are You watching, is anyone watching? //He just reads the box scores.// Baseball, I loved- no love, baseball; I’m not dead yet.

But I can’t remember and it hurts. I can’t remember what your voice sounds like, it hurts so much. I can’t remember what anything sounds like. All I can hear, is pounding in my head. Loud and slow, once methodical but now erratic.

What will happen to me after this?

TINH Mulder is relentlessly tortured, thoughts rambling away as his body slowly "dies."

AliveDead

He is nothing but empty pockets. Leaning against the stone building he sits and watches them go by. Moving forward and walking past, they ignore his plight and give only isolation....

His right hand almost seems stiff. Fingers are curved upward to show a gray palm. He begs for whatever they can give. He is never lucky.

AU-- Deadalive Mulder was returned, sick and amnesiac, to wander the streets without knowing where to go.

Darkness (brief)

I feel like I’m falling down to earth and floating up to the heavens at the same time.

I’m tempted to blame someone but I can’t. My training exposed me to this, but like most things I chose to ignore it.

Three Words Mulder has risen from the dead horrified, not awed.

Ascension

He must be weak, either that or they drugged him. His feet drag towards me and his masked face hangs low. He trips on a bump in the carpet and tumbles at my feet. The father kneeling before the son....

The way his body lunges forward every second or two, tells me that he’s out of breath or perhaps he’s in pain. The blanche, plastic mask with small slits fixates on me. It doesn’t stop and he doesn’t struggle. He isn’t shaking or attempting to break free like all the others. He just breaths and watches me.

Stop it. Stop watching me. Look down. Look away. Don’t watch me in this moment. The moment where I kill you.

AU-- Colonization was thorough and unyielding; and Will, like all other children under the regime, must kill his father to "ascend."

Looking Forward to the Abyss

“People think when you die, you go to heaven or hell. But people never think about what happens if you come back.

“Well, Mrs. Scully…I do. Because I did die, on a case. They killed me, and they foolishly thought to bring me back. They were religious too…although…”

He couldn’t help but smile now. It was a joke and he knew the punchline. How could he not smile.

AU-- Mulder, demonic and unrepentant, recounts the horror he was forced to inflict on Scully... and the unhinged revenge he doled out afterward.

@spookytheory's Fire, But Better

Fox Mulder’s sharp smile strikes across Dana. She ignites, the flames spelling out her new titles: FBI Agent. Spy. Scully. Scully emerges from the fire, brushing the ashes of deference from her shoulder pads.

Pilot Scully is trying to put Daniel Waterston and her past behind her, easing into the newness of being referred to constantly by her "father's" name.

@fabulouspatsystone's

I don't want that anymore

His heart sinks into his entrails and becomes heavy as stone. Who is she talking to and, even more important, what is she saying? The air around him seems to disappear and all he can hear is a distant muffled humming. He feels like he’s under water and everything just rushes by. All he manages is to hold on to the mail he collected with a tight grip.

S1 Mulder overhears and misinterprets Scully's phone call. He fumes, then silently figures it out.

Unnamed

She was gone all day. They hauled her off to Quantico early this morning leaving him with a short message on his answering machine that she will not be in today. She sounded sleepy and a little cranky, probably hadn’t have her coffee yet. And she sounded adorable.

Mulder, bummed after a case, thinks about his love for Scully's smiles, notes, and little quirks and habits.

Unnamed

Mulder’s voice sounded way to chipper for this hour. He pretended and she knew.

Mulder messed up the filing system; and successfully bribes Scully to help him out later.

Something Better

“A curious fella you got there, sweetheart. And very handsome...how do you get anything done?”

“Excuse me?” The surprise about this question made her choke on her last bite.

Even the old lady handing out gingerbread cookies asks why Scully and her young man are investigating Christmas trees instead of enjoying each other's company.

On the Outside

He walks by her apartment. Not by accident or by chance, but on purpose. He's never been in there but he's been here on this side of her street looking up. It is usually dark, no sign of life, just glass windows that hide her loneliness behind closed curtains.

Breakup Mulder roams to Scully's, surprised to note how dull and Christmas-less it looks.

@pedalinginhummus's

Happened Before

"Oho, Scully!” He said as he lifted her arm by the elbow towards the ceiling. “Don’t get too comfy as the medical doctor on this team. I think I can give you a run for your money with this,” he said proudly, admiring his work.

Mulder helps Scully bandage her wound; and the two start their tradition of thumb warring after injuries.

Unnamed

With a muffled voice she says “If only you could grow another hand out of your chest,” aching to feel pressure at every angle.

Mulder chuckles. “Kind of like in Alien?"

Post Memento Mori Scully has a headache; and allows Mulder to massage it away.

@blackcoffeeandteardrops’s (Ao3)

XF episode: Die Hand Die Verletzt?

“The human mind can be very persuasive, Scully. There are documented cases of people under hypnosis or otherwise suggestive activities doing things they report they normally wouldn’t do. Things like driving a car four hours away in the dead of night, buying an excessive amount of cheese, and in one case, even getting married,” he said, not missing the way she sighed.

Post Die Hand De Verletzt Scully calls Mulder, nervous about Mrs. Paddock out and about.

I know it’s probably been done before but Three Words for your episode prompt

There’s a silence that settles between them, a solid weight that somehow does not feel heavy. For a few moments, Mulder swears his ears are ringing. “In Oregon,” he replies, leaning in. He furrows his brow, slowly putting the pieces together.

AU-- Three Words Mulder wants space but goes to Scully's apartment with a frog blanket, anyway. He has no memories of his torture; and is thrilled to find out that the baby is his.

Home To Me

“Hi baby,” she said, planting a kiss against his hair. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him close, drinking in the scent of of his No More Tears Shampoo. She tucked the tag of his pajamas back in and carded a hand through his auburn curls, preemptively mourning the day his hair would straighten out. They did the best they could with him, but she knew they couldn’t keep him young forever.

AU-- Mulder, Scully, and Will enjoy life as a family, bedtime stories and Quantico opportunities included.

Better Now (Ao3)

“I know it sounds odd, Mulder, but considering everything we’ve been through, I’m glad to see us facing something so...normal.”

“Be that as it may,” Mulder replied, setting the bowl of soup in his lap. He held a spoon of broth to his lips, blowing on it before taking a taste.

AU-- Scully catches a cold; and Will brings her purple flowers.

Dulcet (Ao3)

Beside her, William gasped, his eyes honing in on a water gun that had been left on the ground a few feet away. He sprinted to get it and ran right back to Scully, shaking it near his ear, listening for the sound of water sloshing around inside. “Here, mom, it's still got water in it,” he said, his cheeks red and his breathing heavy from the exertion of running. “Get him!”

AU-- Will's 5th birthday: water balloons and Toy Story reruns.

Reprieve

Tucked between the pages of the books was a picture of William and Scully, one he’d taken the day before he left. He knew it was in the book, knew it because every night before he fell asleep, he’d hold the picture and stare at their faces, and he’d hope he’d see them soon. The picture had been a source of comfort before, a talisman that kept him grounded and reminded him why he had to keep fighting, but seeing it again filled him with something kin to sadness mixed with anger. He closed the book as the bus took off, and he stared out the window, trying to convince himself the anger wasn’t at Scully, but rather at the impossible situation they’d been faced with.

AU-- Post William Mulder calls up Skinner for information, tracking down Will just in time to save his son from murderous operatives. Scully panics, angered, at first; but the two eventually reconcile.

Small Steps

Still, the ice between them had been thawing, especially since they’d returned to the FBI together, but Mulder remained afraid that he’d somehow be overstepping his bounds. He turns to offer something lighthearted instead, but stops, reaching out to grasp her arm & get her to stop walking. “Scully, you’ve got a little something--” he trails off, free hand gesturing up to his own face.

Revival Scully's nose bleeds after she and Mulder conclude a case. He panics, dabbing at it with his tie. Both hope it's just the high altitude.

Mashed Potatoes

“My mother used to make mashed potatoes every year. Some of the other side dishes would change, depending upon what ingredients were available or how many people would be present, but her mashed potatoes stayed the same,” she said, worrying the surface of the coin as she stared off into the distance. She didn’t come to until she felt something pressing against her waist, not realizing at first that William had crossed the room to pull her into a hug.

AU-- My Struggle II William and Scully talk about their individual losses fondly, eventually waking up a recovering Mulder.

Enough For Now

When Scully brought in the flyer advertising for the local county fair, she never expected anything to come of it. She’d laid it on the table with the other junk mail she’d go through whenever she had the time, taking care to save any coupons that might prove useful. But when William sat at the table one night for dinner, he pulled it from the stack, talking about how back in Wyoming they’d go almost every year when he was a kid, and she knew before he even asked that they’d go.

AU-- My Struggle III Mulder, Scully, and William start bonding as a family while visiting the fair: basketball, roller coasters, and pizza.

Keep On Wanting

Mulder reaches for her seatbelt, unclipping it, and when he gets out to open her door, she lets him lead her inside.

Mulder takes her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door, before doing the same thing with his own, even though it’s still caked with blood. He’ll handle it later, either by having it cleaned or burning it, he’s not sure which.

Post My Struggle IV Mulder calms a chilled, anxious Scully. Both feel hopeful after a good night's rest.

Livewire (Ao3)

“Who says I need protecting? I was just shot because that creep thought I was you,” Jackson replied, trying but failing to push away from him.

Any other time, that response would’ve pained Mulder more than it did, but he looped an arm around his son’s shoulders and started wading back toward the docks, determined to get them there with or without Jackson’s help.

AU-- Post My Struggle IV Mulder drags Jackson out of the water, refusing to let his son leave before they've all ironed things out.

Commonplace

He couldn’t see her face, but if he could, Mulder was almost certain there would be tears in her eyes. After everything they’d been through in the last year, that fact wouldn’t be a surprise. “I’m just as concerned as you, Scully. The best thing we can do for him now is to work as hard as we possibly can to keep him safe. To protect the best thing that’s ever happened to either of us.”

Post My Struggle IV Mulder and Scully are delighted to have Jackson around, lightly parenting him about bedtime and schooling.

Little By Little

Despite the added inch or two the skates gave her, as Scully caught up to William and he laid a hand on her shoulder, it occurred to her again of how much taller than her he was. “Are you having a good time? If you want to go faster, you don’t have to wait for me or Mulder, you know. Just be careful,” she said, though she secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

Post My Struggle IV Jackson bonds with his parents over ice skating and last names.

Signs of Light

It wasn’t until several months passed, until they’d begun to creep past the awkwardness that came with getting to know the teenage son whose entire life they’d missed, that she even mentioned the headaches.

It’s nothing, Mulder, I’m fine, Scully had said, pinching the bridge of her nose and fanning her face with a file as they sat outside a warehouse, waiting on a suspect to exit the building.

AU-- Revival Scully's cancer returns. Mulder refuses to promise to stop searching for a cure; and Jackson slowly starts hanging around, warming up to his parents.

@mchalowitz’s (Ao3)

fic; un-mulder

It’s so un-Mulder, embellished with white detailing, small pine pones. There’s little gifts attached and a few are just hanging swatches of metallic paper, the clear result of curious fingers in years long past.

The wreath rustles against the door as it swings open. There’s a bright smile on Mulder’s face.

Pre-TGTSC Mulder surprises Scully with a Christmas door wreath.

after

Being the believer in the office is exhausting.

Scully is telling him as much, even giving some actual merit to being one with the unbelievable views, when she notices Mulder is sleeping upright, his head propped up with his hand.

She slides herself to the edge of the couch to push herself up but feels his hand on her arm.

“I’m awake,” Mulder insists, “I was listening.”

Post Vienen Scully is glad Mulder is back, even if he is pushing and pulling away from impending parenthood like a pendulum.

34 + 28 msr for the OTP prompt List 💚💚

Remain calm. That’s what all the pregnancy books say.

AU-- S8 Mulder and Scully are horrified over a pregnancy complication.

hack job

Scully’s rarely frantic. The peaceful foil to her overwrought partner. Russians seized their home and she careened over the side of the porch level headed.

She’s pulling drawers open so hard they’re coming off their tracks. They crash to the floor. She finds a pair of scissors in the third one. They’re not for hair cutting but they’ll have to work.

Revival Scully gives herself an emergency haircut while Mulder burns critical evidence.

fic; a little snow

She heads down to start the coffee maker and adjust the finicky heater. Every morning she descends those stairs, thinking the man she loves will have returned to her.

Pre-IWTB Scully, though worried for her partner, is heartened a little when Mulder warms up her car and shovels out the driveway.

@lovesicks4pphic's (Ao3) Effective Communication (Ao3)

“Sir, you can’t seriously think this is a good use of our time?”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t think, Mulder. Besides, I know full well the two of you bailed on the last seminar you were supposed to attend.”

Scully felt Mulder’s eyes dart in her direction.

AU-- Post Triangle Kersh forces Mulder and Scully to attend a conference, which causes Scully to unduly overthink in anguish. Mulder is clueless; but the two work it out and take their relationship to the next level.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #fic #Collector's Edition #Fics That Deserve More Comments #Part II #xf fic #xf fanfic #x-files #the x files #xfiles #mine #spookytheory #peddlinginhummus #enigmaticdrblockhead #fabulouspatsystone #pilotinthestars #blackcoffeeandteardrops #lovesicks4pphic #mchalowitz

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jeysbvck · 2 years

Text

freedom (is standing next to you) - part 1

A/N: pirate!eddie is something so special to me, and i finally decided to write it, so welcome to another multi-chapter fic. it's a little short, but the next parts should be longer! title is a lyric from fleetwood mac - freedom. if you'd like to be added/taken off the taglist, just let me know :)

warnings: none that i can think of, piracy?

word count: 3k

taglist: @valeriiecameron @oeuryale @myguiltypleasures21 @aprilfire18 @mallgothmunson @tinalbion

summary: To avoid being sold into marriage, you decide to run away, and you meet Pirate Captain Eddie Munson, who shows you a life you never knew was possible. But with your husband to be unhappy about being jilted and determined to get you down the aisle, is a life of happiness and freedom possible?

It was now or never. Tonight was your only chance to escape the life that had been forced upon you. You were under no illusions, you knew this happened; you'd watched your friends over the years be forced into marriages, some were sold, and some had been arranged since before they were born. You had, however, always thought this would never happen to you. Your mother had spent her life promising you that you'd experience marriage the right way, by falling in love, and if you chose it, and your father had always seemed to be in agreement.

But when you were fifteen, your mother died, cruelly, without any explanation or warning. One day she was alive, the next she wasn't. At first, your father did the best he could. He worked hard, but always made time to come home and cook dinner. He'd tell you about his day, you'd tell him about yours, and as you helped clear up, he'd tell you stories about your mother, ones you'd never heard before. But a few months later, things changed. He started going to the pub more often, drinking a lot more, staying out late before coming home to pass out in his chair, if he ever came home at all. You got used to the distance your father put between you both, even if it did break your heart, it was awkward when he was home, he could barely look at you, let alone say three words to you.

So it was unnerving when you came home from spending the day at the market with Nancy, to find your father, not only relatively sober but also cooking dinner - something he hadn't done in years - and you naively thought that maybe things were looking up, that he wasn't going to let his grief ruin his relationship with you. But you were wrong, he was ready to let his grief completely eviscerate any relationship you two had. He told you he was selling you into marriage, that he'd had an offer he just couldn't refuse. He tried to soften the blow with the news it would be to the Prince, but you didn't care.

You argued, cried, and begged, but his mind was made up. You screamed at him that you'd never forgive him, that you hated him, that your mother would hate him too, but he didn't flinch, he didn't waver. And so you and Nancy made an escape plan. While Nancy came up with the intricate details, you tried to make sense of your father's decision. You didn't think he needed the money, but you also had no idea what your father got up to anymore. Maybe he could no longer stand the sight of you, unable to live with the constant reminder of the love of his life, and how she was cruelly snatched away from him.

You didn't want to leave your home, the place where you grew up, that held the memories of your mother, memories that were slowly fading with time; but you knew that you'd rather leave and possibly die on the run with your best friend than live a life imprisoned in a marriage you never wanted. You just needed to get as far away from this town as possible, somewhere you could change your name and be free. So you grabbed a duffel bag, stuffed as many clothes as you could inside it - which wasn't many - begrudgingly leaving all of your mother's mementos, apart from a charcoal picture of her that you and drawn, her necklace, and your favorite ring of hers. Then after one last look around your bedroom, you slipped out of the window and shimmied down the makeshift blanket rope, where Nancy was waiting for you.

"Are you ready?" Nancy asked, wiping the tears from your cheeks with her thumbs. "We've got this. You've got this." She whispered repeatedly, as she led you away from life as you knew it.

***

You pulled your hood over your face a little further and followed Nancy into the pub. You couldn't be too careful, you had no idea if this was a pub your dad frequented, and with your mother's death having been the talk of the town, you were worried you'd be recognized.

The small pub was dingy and dim, but it was still busy and loud, everyone too invested in their own business to pay attention to you, and you managed to find an empty table near the back. You sat with your head low as Nancy ordered two bowls of soup and two small glasses of wine. "You'll be thanking me later," she said, "we'll need our strength, we can't be running away on empty stomachs!"

As you tucked into the soup, which was swiftly brought over, Nancy told you the first phase of the plan.

"The best way out of town, and the easiest way, is on a ship."

"Okay, and how do we acquire a ship?" You asked, between spoonfuls of soup.

"I have a contact," Nancy replied, tilting her head towards the rowdiest table. It didn't take a genius to know that the table was occupied by pirates, it was pretty obvious who they were from the way they were dressed, and how they acted like they owned the place. The men were singing loudly, shouting above each other and laughing, as they groped the women sat on their laps. "See the guy in the middle? That's Steve Harrington."

"Wait, Nancy...Steve "The King" Harrington? First Mate of The Freaks? Nance, you can't be serious!"

"Oh, I'm completely serious. This is our only option. In a few hours, the streets are going to be crawling with royal guards searching for you, we need to do this." Nancy said as she stood up and brushed down the front of her coat.

"I thought you said this would be easy." You mumbled, and she laughed.

"I said it was the easiest way, not that it would be easy." She smiled at your worried expression and leaned on the table as she asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do." You replied, without missing a beat.

"Then I'll be back soon." She turned away, just as you shot up.

"Nance, wait!" You managed to grab her hand and pulled her back, making her groan. "You can't just go over there and ask him for a favor!"

"Why? Because he's a pirate?"

"Yes! You know what they say about him and his crew."

Nancy pulled her arm from your grip and took your hands in hers. "I know, okay? This whole thing is a risk, but your freedom is worth it, right? It is to me." You nodded, and she carried on. "Look, I know Steve, okay? He's a pirate, so he has access to a ship, and I know he'll help us."

"You know Steve Harrington?" You couldn't help but smirk, and Nancy rolled her eyes.

"We have a...history, okay? He wasn't always a pirate, you know?"

You stared at Nancy, your mouth open slightly, making her laugh as she put two fingers under your chin, closing your mouth for you. "Okay fine," you replied, "but you're not going over there alone. He's still a risk, right?"

"Of course he is, he's a pirate. But if plan A doesn't work- Nancy dropped one of your hands and opened her coat slightly, showing off a revolver in a holster attached to her skirt. "- I have a plan B."

You masked the revolver with her coat again and sighed, before nodding. "Okay fine, let's do this. But promise me, one way or another, we're getting out of here."

"On my life." Nancy promised, giving your hand a squeeze before she pulled you towards the table of pirates.

***

You had heard all the tales about Steve "The King" Harrington, First Mate of The Freaks, and about how he grew up right here in town, his family wealthy, but not very present. Steve got into trouble around town, but with his family name and his charismatic nature, he got away with most of it before things escalated. He left it all behind for a life of piracy, though, and joined The Freaks, where he became infamous, the crew's status almost hitting mythological heights, where the line between truth and storytelling became blurred, until one day, they were the most fearsome crew on the seas.

You used to hear the rumors that Steve Harrington had died almost instantly after leaving home. People used to say "there was no way this pirate could possibly be little Steve Harrington, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and who couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag" and laugh as if the thought of someone dying was funny. Then one day, Steve Harrington rocked up in town, squashing the rumors that he'd died once and for all, and he proved he and his newfound family were a force to be reckoned with by claiming this very pub as The Freaks' new hangout whenever they were in town.

Not only was Steve a fierce pirate, but he was a handsome one at that. You weren't sure how much of what you had heard was exaggerated, but his attractiveness certainly hadn't been. Your heart battered against your rib cage, you'd never been around someone this attractive before, and on top of that, he was a pirate too. You had no idea what was about to happen, or what to even expect, yet Nancy looked calm, completely unfazed by what you were walking into. It was just another reminder that - although she was your best friend, and you knew more about her than anyone else did - there was still so much you didn't know about her.

"Nancy Wheeler!" Steve shouted, slamming his tankard down on the wooden table as he stood up, kicking his chair over. He jumped on the table, walking over everything before he jumped off in front of her. "What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, embracing her. From over her shoulder, his eyes found you, and he raised his eyebrow. "Whose this?"

You felt scrutinized as he stared at you with narrow eyes, and you prayed he didn't know you or your father. "This is my friend, we need your help." Nancy replied, and Steve's eyes darted back to her.

"Does your friend have a name?"

"Her name isn't important, we just need to get out of town. Tonight." Nancy said. "You owe me, Harrington, remember?"

Steve laughed loudly, making everyone in the pub stop and stare for a second. "I should've known you'd not forget that!"

"Been holding onto it for six years." Nancy grinned. "So, is that a yes?"

Steve glanced at you both, before he clapped his hand on her shoulder, his large rings catching your eye. "I owe you, remember? I need to talk to Cap though, so meet me at the dock in an hour, can you keep out of trouble for that long?"

"I think we'll manage," Nancy said. "Thanks, Steve." They hugged again before Nancy pulled away and linked her arm around yours.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She grinned as you walked away, and you laughed.

"Why was it so easy, Nance?" You asked, and she patted your arm as she tutted.

"Don't worry about it."

***

When you and Nancy arrived at the dock, Steve was already waiting for you. He was smoking a cigarette, leaning against the wooden shed, illuminated from above by the one dim light attached to the building.

"Ladies," He greeted, taking one last drag of the cigarette before flicking it into the ocean. "Are you ready to become pirates?"

Your heart began to beat faster again, the nerves almost becoming too much for you. The tiny voice of doubt in the back of your head became louder as you started to question whether life on the run, forever looking over your shoulder was worth it. Nancy grabbed your hand and squeezed it three times, almost as if she was reading your mind, knowing what you were thinking.

"We've got this. You've got this." Nancy repeated the affirmations she had said back at your father's house, and you smiled. "Let's go be free."

"Thank you." You mouthed, as Steve led you towards the large ship that loomed in the distance.

"Okay so, the Cap's a little...eccentric, chaotic, he's a little bit of a mess, to be honest with you, but he's alright if you stay on his good side," Steve explained. "So just do what he says, and everything will be fine."

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but the ship was stunning. The wood was dark, almost black, with the words Corroded Coffin etched in gold on the side. There were a few circular windows dotted along the side of the ship, red cloth hanging inside the rooms, acting like curtains, and two large white sails loomed above you. You followed Steve up the large plank, taking his hand when he offered to help you hop over the edge onto the deck.

The ship was huge, the deck bustling with members of the crew running around getting the ship ready. There were people mopping the wooden floor, setting the sails, rolling barrels, and carrying boxes down into the cabins under the deck. It was so chaotic and you were shocked by how busy the ship was. It was overwhelming, and judging from the way Nancy's nails were digging into the palm of your hand, she was feeling the same way, which was slightly comforting.

"So, these are the runaways! The damsels in distress!" A loud voice came from behind you, and you and Nancy whirled around.

You didn't need anyone to tell you that this was the Captain. Everyone on the ship was staring up at the curly-haired man in admiration; he was clad in black leather trousers, and a billowing white shirt as he balanced on the edge of the ship, holding only a rope with one hand for support. You were mesmerized by him; just like everyone else, you couldn't take your eyes off him. He jumped from the edge, onto the balcony, crossing it like he was a tightrope walker, his brown eyes never leaving yours. He was completely captivating, you had never seen anyone act this way before, and it was hard to tear your eyes away from him.

"We're not damsels in distress." Nancy said, the Captain's eyes finally leaving yours to look at her. You exhaled, you didn't realize you were even holding your breath, and you watched as the Captain jumped off the balcony, landing in front of you and Nancy. He looked you both up and down, his eyebrow raised, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Please, who are you trying to fool? You're damsels- probably from royalty, judging from the way you're dressed- who are so desperate to get out of town, that you're trusting pirates, of all people. Not just any pirate crew, but The Freaks!" He, and the crew, all laughed loudly and Nancy rolled her eyes.

"We're not royalty, just because we're dressed nicely, nor are we in distress, just because we need help." Nancy scowled, crossing her arms across her chest, and staring the Captain down. Nancy never failed to amaze you, she was always so fearless, no matter what she faced. She was the only person you could count on, the only person that had never let you down, and the only person you trusted with your life.

"I take it you're not the one running away." The Captain replied, turning his attention back to you. You took a leaf out of Nancy's book and held his gaze, although you were pretty sure Nancy didn't find it this hard to not drown in his beautiful eyeliner-covered eyes. If the First Mate was handsome, the Captain was beautiful, the most beautiful person you'd ever seen, if you were being honest. Luckily, before you made a fool of yourself, Nancy spoke for you.

"We're a package deal. If one's running, we both are."

He smirked, as he twisted the rings on his fingers. He was clearly amused by the two of you, and your doubts about your plan were growing. Trusting pirates was the worst decision you could make, and yet, here you were, trusting the worst pirates of all. It was so crazy, that even the Captain was in disbelief. You knew he thought you were both naive, and he could use that to his advantage if he wanted to. You had to make sure you were ready for anything. Before Nancy or the Captain could trade more jibes at each other, Steve clasped his hand on the Captain's shoulder and chuckled.

"Come on, Eddie, leave them alone. We need to go, now." Steve interjected, and Eddie winked at you before clapping.

"Alright, fine," Eddie said, his eyes slowly trailing up and down your body once again. "Robin!" He yelled, and you saw a brunette, freckled-faced woman scurry across the deck from next to the ship's wheel. "Would you be so kind as to take these two to your chamber, they need to change."

"Change?" You squeaked, and Eddie's head whipped around to you. A toothy grin spread across his face and you cursed yourself for being so awkward.

"Oh, she speaks!" He said, loudly and dramatically, the ship erupting with laughter again and a hot wave of embarrassment washed over you. "Yes, Princess, you need to change. You're on the run and you don't look like you belong on my ship, you do see how that might end up being a bit of a problem, don't you?"

You nodded, and Eddie smirked once again. "Make them look like pirates, Robin!" He said, and as Robin ushered you down some stairs, you couldn't help but wonder what the fuck you had gotten yourselves into.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #my writing*

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