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imagine-darksiders · 2 days

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Eden's Heir, chapter 4 - The Jump.

I can't believe it's been almost a year since I updated this. A lot has happened recently, not all of it good, but I'm still here, and will continue to be by hook or by crook! I've had to cut it into two chapters because the final fight between the Slag Demon and the Horsemen is taking way too long to write. Good news though, there'll be two chapters in [hopefully] quick succession. Hooray! Hope you like this one, guys, thank you all so much for standing by me and waiting so patiently.. I don't know where I'd be without your support. <3 <3 <3

Summary:

As you grapple with the horrifying, new reality you've found yourself in, Strife continues to torment you in the misguided hope that somehow, you'll spontaneously start to like him. His jokes are terrible. It's just a shame you have a weakness for terrible jokes. War, meanwhile, can't stop his eyes from wandering to your fresh, undeserved scar...

You suppose that when Strife said this would be ‘fun,’ he was only factoring himself into the equation. Because for you, there’s nothing very fun about having your particles ripped apart and rocketed through a portal which, according to modern science, should not and does not exist.

Well, modern science owes you a formal apology.

As it turns out, portals very much do exist, and they’re a lot less fun than the media has led you to believe.

The experience - though you hesitate to give it such a mundane moniker - isn’t… painful, per se, mostly because the whole process is over and done with so quickly that your brain and body aren’t given the time to notice that they’ve been squished through one end of a worm hole, reassembled atom by atom, and then spat out on the other side.

Perhaps more disconcertingly than the feeling itself is the fact that when you’re hanging for that split-second moment in a space outside of existence itself, you notice that the temperature around you inexplicably skyrockets.

And frankly, you’re not sure which is worse… The stale, unwelcoming chill of the Void, or the absolute blistering inferno that greets you within less than a second of leaving it.

Before you can even open your mouth to scream at the unnatural process your very human body is being subjected to, the space around you solidifies and stabilises again, and an unexpected jolt shoots straight through you when Strife’s metal boots collide with a hard, stone surface, jarring your stomach painfully against his shoulder pauldron.

At the same time, a wave of hot, dry air sweeps over you from head to toe, cloaking you in uncomfortable and immediate warmth that’s downright oppressive, thick and inescapable, as if you’ve just been tossed onto the fiery surface of the sun and left to sizzle.

Actually, now that you’ve experienced both extremes, perhaps you are sure which is worse. At least that sinister demon’s Void didn’t make you want to peel yourself out of your own skin.

Groaning miserably, you pick your hazy head up and suck in a breath that goes down about as well as spoiled meat, and then nearly retch at the unpleasant texture of heat sliding down the walls of your oesophagus like something squirming and alive.

Even the metal chain on your bag begins to grow warm against the skin of your neck, dangling down below your head near the Horseman’s holsters.

“Hot damn,” Strife announces, concisely putting a voice to your thoughts.

Your lashes are sticky from leftover tears, clumping together when you squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to pry them apart again. It takes a few arduous blinks before your blurry surroundings bleed into focus.

You rather wish you’d just kept your head down and your eyes firmly shut.

If there were any doubts left in your mind that teleportation really is possible, they swiftly fly out of the proverbial window when you catch your first, proper glimpse of the surroundings.

Wherever you are, it definitely isn’t the same place you were in barely ten seconds ago.

Bracing a palm against Strife’s solidly armoured back, you lever your torso up slightly to give yourself a better view of the world around you.

It seems that the portal – your brain starts to ache as it tries to accept the existence of those – has spat you out underneath the roof of an absolutely gargantuan cavern.

Roving your gaze back and forth, mouth ajar, you notice the walls, floor and ceiling are made entirely of dark, igneous rock, and yet all around you, you start to spot signs of… Well, perhaps not civilisation exactly, but definitely an external presence that gives you the impression that this is a keep of some kind, dug by hand rather than time or nature.

Two, immense pillars stand proudly at the far corners of the enormous chamber, large enough to prop up the roof of a veritable mountain.

Craning your neck back until it twinges, you squint through a haze of simmering air at the ceiling far above you, feeling a trickle of dread creep down into the pit of your stomach.

Bolted into the rock between the stalactites, there are numerous, gigantic chains hanging like eerie sentinel over your heads, so large and heavy that it doesn’t look as though anything short of gale-force winds could cause them to sway. You don’t dare to imagine what purpose they might serve.

Pale, unreachable light trickles lazily down from above, dappling little patches of the grey stone underneath Strife’s boots.

With your heart wedged in your throat, you swallow another curl of heat and let your gaze wander over to the side of the keep to where the ground falls away in a sheer drop several feet from the walls. It’s from the resulting pit that a vivid, orange glow rises, carrying with it the distinct sound of cracking, like glass windows slowly splintering apart, or a lake of ice breaking under a heavily placed boot. And below that sound, a deep, subterranean rumble serves as the background noise to this stifling place, constant and oozing.

Coupled with the acrid stench permeating your nostrils and the sweltering heat, you’re suddenly struck by the very disconcerting but plausible notion that you might have found yourself in the heart a volcano.

As if your day wasn’t horrendous enough.

All of a sudden, your ears are pricked by a low grunt from somewhere just a little too close to you, reminding you of your larger tormentor’s presence with a nauseating pang to the stomach. Consequentially, the unsightly welt on your forearm gives an insistent twinge.

Twisting your head to the left, you nearly jump out of your skin to find War has appeared out of thin air beside you, straightening to his full domineering height that easily clears his brother, and subsequently, you. The hooded behemoth only spares you a disinterested glance before his pale, blue eyes dart away again just as quickly and he stomps around to Strife’s front, out of view.

A breath you didn’t know you were keeping behind your teeth shakes itself loose.

You have to peel your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth like a strip of velcro before you’re able to form a small, hesitant question in a voice baked hoarse and thin. “What is this place?”

No sooner has your meek question faded below the rumble of the cavern’s ambiance than an entirely new and harrowing sound punctures the otherwise quiet air.

Howling along the cavern walls comes a piercing, anguished scream, stemming from a place much deeper than you’ve already seen. It’s a raw sound, broken and terrified and primal, like a man with his humanity stripped and skewed just enough that he can’t quite be called human any longer. It prompts a sharp gasp out of you as the sound ricochets off the rocks, curdling your blood and raising the finer hairs on the back of your neck.

As if he’s entirely unconcerned with such a horrifying occurrence, Strife plants his free hand squarely on a hip and draws in a deep, obnoxious breath through his nose before he sighs it all out again, casting a casual glance around with all the air of a man surveying a pleasant sunrise.

“Ahh~ Screams of suffering, chains hanging from the ceiling, no sign of an exit…” he sighs wistfully, clapping the back of your thigh with his palm and announcing, “Yep! We’re definitely in a dungeon.”

He seems oblivious to your apprehension as you dart your eyes to every darkened corner of the cavern as if you might find the source of the tormented scream, curling your legs up under your dress until your knees bump against the Horseman’s chest. “A-a dungeon!?” you gulp, kneading your fingers between the gaps of Strife’s armoured spine, “A dungeon for what?”

Distracted for a fleeting moment by the foreign sensation of fingertips pressing against his leather under-armour, the Horseman almost forgets to respond.

It isn’t until he notices War’s expectant glare burning a hole into the side of his visor that he gives his head a shake and promptly shrugs his massive shoulders, swinging himself around to face away from his brother, and in doing do, bringing you almost nose to chest with the surly giant.

“Beats me,” he hums, utterly heedless of the fearsome stare-down currently happening just behind his head, “Probably for the poor bastard we just heard screaming... And a few others, to boot.”

Angling your head up, you have to gulp past a rather thick lump in your throat as you peer meekly up at War, who in turn, glares right back down at you, his eyes glinting ominously from within the shadow of his hood.

Reluctant to drop your gaze or even breathe for fear of provoking him by committing some unknowable slight, you shrink against Strife and duck your head, peeping up at him through your lashes as you tap your forefinger against one of the silver armour pieces interlocking across your captor’s back.

“Um,” you start, hearing Strife’s helm brush against your dress when he turns to listen, “C-can you, uh, put me down now…” Then, following a notable stretch of deafening silence, you squeakily tack on a hurried, “Please?”

There’s no guarantee that being on the ground will be any better for you than dangling over an uncomfortable, metal shoulder, but you’re at least willing to entertain the illusion that you’ll be safer on your feet without Strife dictating your every move. A modicum of control is better than none at all.

And truthfully, you’d just like to end the humiliation of being carried around like a sack of distraught potatoes.

Yet for some, inane reason, the armour-clad Horseman doesn’t seem as eager to relinquish you as you are to be relinquished.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” he drawls, bumping his shoulder up and down playfully, no doubt to pull a rise out of you which you frustratingly give him in the form of a gasp before he continues, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

Still glaring down at you, unimpressed, War gives an exasperated huff, blasting a jet of warm air onto the crown of your head.

“Put her down,” he states firmly, lifting his gaze from you at last, “You will need both hands free if we run into trouble.”

Knocking his head back over a shoulder to address you, Strife grins beneath his helm and murmurs, “Ha. You’d be amazed what I can pull off one-handed.”

Trying your best to ignore his boast, you roll your eyes and start to squirm, wriggling around under the weight of his arm. “Ugh,” you complain, “Will you please just put me down?”

“Mmm…” Humming obnoxiously, Strife sucks his teeth and replies, “Depends. You gonna try and run away again?”

That, at least, gives you something to consider. Are you going to try and run again? They certainly haven’t given you much of a reason not to.

The scar War gave you still burns when you bend your arm a certain way and the flesh pulls and stretches beyond the limits of the tissue.

More to the point, how do you really know any of what they’ve told you is true?

How do you know you’re not on Earth right now, somewhere remote, yes, but escapable. Because they told you you’re not?

You don’t know these giants from Adam.

You can’t trust anything they say. You don’t trust anything they say. And while you’ve undeniably found yourself smack-dab in the middle of some seriously unnatural goings on, that doesn’t mean you have to accept everything at face value.

Reality might be breaking apart around you, but you don’t have to join it, tempting though it may be to curl up into a ball and sob until the problem sorts itself out.

Desperate, your brain falls into a tailspin as it tries to rationalise such irrational circumstances.

Outwardly however, you’re aware he’s waiting for a response, so, sweeping your tongue nervously over your bottom lip, you finally croak out a hesitant, “No?”

The silence that follows is damn near chilling.

Twisting your neck up and back over your shoulder, you catch the shine in one of Strife’s luminous eyes peering at you, narrow and thin with obvious scepticism.

“Huh,” he says, clicking his tongue, “That didn’t sound very convincing. I’m not very convinced.” Casting a look over at his brother, he adds, “War, are you very convinced?”

Predictably, War’s only response is to glower down at the shorter Horseman and grumble impatiently at the back of his throat.

Nonplussed, Strife returns his attention to you. “I don’t think he’s very convinced.”

You have to press your lips into a firm, immoveable line and swallow back the vulgar words you’d just love to spew all over his shoulder…. Instead, you heave in a hot, arduous breath and slowly reiterate, “No. I won’t try to run away.” Then for added measure… “Again.”

You loathe that you can feel the scrutiny of not one, but two apocalyptic beings boring into the side of your head with suspicious, calculating glares.

Just as you’re beginning to consider whether pulling his hair will get him to drop you or kill you, Strife suddenly perks up, his sinister doubt disappearing as he raises his chin to pipe, “A’right. Good enough for me.”

Taken wildly aback, you let your mouth hang open whilst Strife simply raises his arms and lays two oversized hands on your hips, causing your jaw to snap shut before you can emit an embarrassing squeak of fright.

With far too much ease, the Horseman lifts you up and off his shoulder.

The moment you lose the stability of his armour under your stomach, you begin to tilt forwards. Choking on a gasp, you throw your hands up and brace them on each of his forearms.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” he chuckles brightly, to your immense dismay.

It’s a disconcerting sight. From the tips of your fingers to the heels of your palms, your hands don’t even wrap halfway around his armoured wrists.

Gawking down at your appendages, they seem so lost against the enormity of the arms that lower you gently to the ground.

As soon as the soles of your shoes touch a solid surface again, you waste no time in ripping your hands away from him and staggering backwards, trying but failing to extract yourself from his sturdy grasp.

Before you can get very far at all, fingers of solid steel bury themselves into your dress at the hip and you jerk to an immediate halt for fear of tearing the fabric by struggling. Arms held aloft to avoid touching his own again, you throw a wary look up at Strife’s visor, reluctantly meeting those sharp, alien eyes and finding they’ve narrowed to thin lines of gold, gleaming brightly against the shadows cast by his helm.

“You’re gonna have to get used to sticking close to one of us, kid,” he warns, his tone brooking no argument and devoid of any previous jocularity, “Cause as nasty as you think we are, I guarantee there’re things in here that are a thousand times worse.”

The well you typically draw your courage from ran dry long ago, long before you came here, long before you quietly agreed to marry Cain. So, you aren’t sure where you find the nerve to jut out your chin and bitterly remark, “Worse than trying to slice off my limbs?”

Sudden movement freezes you in your shoes as War emerges from behind his brother, moving to stand at his side and swallowing you up in the egregious shadow he casts across the ground.

Ignoring his approach, the gunslinger continues to hold you still.

“Yeah,” he replies simply, “A lot worse.”

Squeezing your lips into a tight, anxious pout, you swallow, unnerved by the way his gaze instantly dips to watch your throat bob around the undulating motion.

Gradually, you lower your head, losing the defiance of a jutting chin to instead tuck it timidly away against your chest, consumed by the sudden and unwarranted ideas that start to flash in your mind’s eye, showing you gruesome fates that could await you just around the corner.

If two gigantic maniacs wielding guns and a sword aren’t the worst you could face…

Just what the Hell have you walked into?

Regarding you closely for a few more moments, Strife eventually gives his head a satisfied bob, deeming that you’ve read him loud and clear.

Gingerly, he starts to peel his fingers from your dress, wincing when the gaps in his gauntlets pinch the delicate fabric as he returns his hands to his sides. Regardless, all of his muscles remain bunched, ready to spring into action at the first sign that you might go back on your word and attempt to flee after all.

He’s almost more caught off guard when you don’t move.

Instead, you murmur a soft, “Thank you,” which just about smacks the jaw clean off his face. Staring down at you, his lips parted by a fraction, he watches you fiddle with a jewelled band of gold sitting at the base of one of your fingers for several seconds before he remembers to blink.

Indifferent, and admittedly ignorant of his sudden bout of silence, you try to distract yourself by absently brushing the palms of your hands over your dress, tutting softly at the creases and rumples in the tulle.

It’s all you can think to do now that you’ve got a little freedom back.

Nearby, War shifts his immense weight to stand even closer to Strife’s flank, and together, the brothers share a sidelong glance before returning their attention to the fussy, little human in front of them.

Even with the helm obscuring most of Strife’s angular features, War only needs to take one glance at his profile to catch the distinct and unmistakable gleam of fascination bleeding through the cracks in his armour.

Typical Strife, he scoffs to himself. The minute something new and shiny comes along, it’s all he seems to be able to think about. And there are very few things newer and shinier than a lost human dressed from head to toe in sparkling, white garb.

Hauling his eyes up towards the cavernous ceiling, War lets out an exasperated sigh and brusquely elbows Strife aside, sweeping him backwards with the palm of his prosthetic gauntlet, much to his brother’s belligerence.

“Hey!” he barks, though he goes entirely ignored.

Stepping sideways into the spot Strife had once occupied, War places his back to the smaller Nephilim and clears his throat, curious at the way you quickly stiffen like a prey animal and gradually lift your head.

He stands so close that you have to tip it all the way back before you’re even able to meet his eye, reminding him of how much smaller humans are. Smaller, and weaker…

The colossal Horseman almost can’t quite believe that for a member of a species so vulnerable, you don’t seem to possess any weapons. Natural or otherwise.

His eyes drift down to the long, pink line he’d marked you with. You hadn’t tried to claw or bite or do much of anything to stop him, not that it would have made an iota of difference. You were helpless… And he…

A pair of snowy white brows twitch microscopically inwards.

“Do you know how to fight?” he utters at last, lifting his gaze to meet your otherworldly stare. He doesn’t miss how you seem to be fixated on something behind his crimson hood, and if he has to hazard a guess, you’re staring directly at Chaoseater’s hilt.

Pulling a face, you look back at him and croak, “I… I-I’m sorry?”

Briefly wondering why in the nine Hells you’re apologising, he presses, “Have you any weapons training?” When all he receives it a blank stare, he casts his mind about for something primitive you’ll have heard of and adds, “Swords? Axes…? Bows?”

“Guns?” Strife eagerly pipes up from somewhere behind him.

Heaving an irritated sigh, War half turns his head over a shoulder and snaps, “She is a human. She doesn’t know what guns are.”

“I… What?” you peep, wrenched from your stupor by the absurdity of his declaration, “Uh… Yes, I do.”

Bemused, War raises his brow at you and retorts, “No, you do not.”

For a moment, you’re so dumbstruck by his apparent ignorance that you forget how much larger and more dangerous he is, enough that you pluck up the gall to scoff at him and insist, “Uh. I’m pretty sure I do? Humans have been using guns for centuries.”

Raising your hands, you start to knock a list off your fingers, unaware of the behemoth’s eyes growing wide.

“Shotguns, rifles, pistols-“ you state, pausing to throw a hand out and gesture at the guns in Strife’s leather holsters. “Revolvers-!”

You’re unprepared for War to suddenly move forwards, instantly cutting off your rambling list and sending your glimmer of nerve scurrying back down your throat as he leans towards you, filling your field of view with his indomitable, ferocious scowl.

On a reflex, you tilt backwards with a hand on your chest, blinking owlishly up into the depths of his hood.

“How could you possibly know about firearms?” he demands, the sigil on his forehead burning with fiery heat as his temper flares.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stammer out, “I.. I don’t, I’m not-“

“-Hey,” Strife tries to interject, “C’mon, War. You’re scarin’ her.”

Disregarding his brother, the Horseman raises his voice and growls, “Who has been supplying you?! Speak!”

Your hands wring together as you try to form an answer, struggling in the face of someone who has proven they have no qualms about hurting you. But all you can produce is another pitiable whimper. “Nobody! We just-“

Before you can utter another sound, a large, silver hand suddenly appears over War’s shoulder, grabbing the metal pauldron that’s been forged in the likeness of a snarling face and tugging him away from you.

“War!” Strife barks, trying to wrench his brother around to face him, “I said back off.”

Savagely tearing his arm out of his grasp, War rounds on him, nostrils flaring like a raging bull. Flinging his arm out towards you indicatively, he bellows, “If humans are being supplied with weapons-!”

“-Then why’re you takin’ it out on her, and not the asshole trying to arm her species?”

War’s teeth click shut, his shoulders heaving with every breath he pulls into his train carriage chest.

Letting out a sigh, Strife sends a sideways glance at you, lowering his voice to add, “Come on. Look at who you’re trying to intimidate.”

Begrudgingly, War follows his brother’s line of sight.

You’re well aware you aren’t exactly giving humanity a good name right now, shivering like a wet leaf and holding your injured arm guardedly against your chest, all the while stifling a sob and eyeing War as if he’ll draw his sword and run you through at any moment.

For several, terrible seconds, the Horseman’s sneer remains locked in place, rigid and threatening, but as he watches you cower away from him, something in War’s almighty resolve shudders…

And yields.

Slowly, at a pace that would make a glacier yawn, his hard snarl recedes.

“See,” Strife points out, “You just look like a dick.”

The furious expression is back on War’s face in the blink of an eye, but at least this time, he aims it at his brother, opening his mouth to suck down a sharp breath, ready to berate him…

Rocks skitter across the ground somewhere too close for comfort, snatching the attention of your unlikely troop.

As one unit, Strife and War spin towards the far end of the chamber where the noise had come from, reaching for their weapons and placing their broad, armoured backs to you.

It would be the perfect opportunity to make a break for it, if you weren’t frozen solid by the prospect of running into whatever made these juggernauts so jumpy.

The former Horseman draws both of his guns from their holsters so quickly, your eyes can barely keep track of the movement. War, in the meantime, takes a gigantic step backwards as he swings his accursed sword over his shoulder, crowding you into a clumsy retreat to avoid having your toes stepped on.

Frantic, you try to peer through the gap between the titans, scanning the chamber walls for any sign of life.

“What the hell was that?” you can’t help but whisper-shout, hardly daring to breathe.

Neither of them replies for a time, not even Strife, who has his revolvers aimed out at the room, his arms still as statues as if he isn’t even vaguely affected by the weight of his guns.

Seconds tick by at an agonising pace, and the three of you wait, and wait, straining your ears to try and pick up another sound. But aside from the crackle of lava cooling as it hits the air, everything remains perfectly still and silent once more.

After another minute, War grunts, lowering his sword and casting a dark look up at the ceiling. “We’ve lingered here for too long,” he remarks, half turning to peer down at you again, his eyes skimming over you from head to toe.

“So,” he starts, “You’ve handled guns?”

Shaking your head, you hold your hands out helplessly and say, “No, I mean, I know about them, but I-I’ve never actually shot one.”

“I could teach you,” Strife pipes up, thrusting the revolvers back into their holsters with casual ease.

“Now is hardly the time, brother,” War snaps, still eyeing you pensively.

Something very strange has been hovering about you like a miasma ever since you crashed into his brother in the Void. Something unplaceable that he can’t quite put his finger on. You are human, that much is confirmed, but you’re not like any human he’s ever heard of. It’s a troubling notion, that some unseen force might be trying to arm your species. If that’s the case, they’ll need to figure out who. Then why.

But in the meantime, he and Strife have a job to do, here and now.

First thing’s first…

“… Never handled a weapon,” he murmurs aloud.

It makes sense, he concedes. Humans aren’t a war-faring species, so it’s little wonder that you don’t know how to use weapons… For War, however, a Nephilim who has been holding a blade since the day he was risen from dust, the concept seems so alien, not to mention disconcerting.

Inclining his head, he gives you another once-over before turning away, stating matter-of-factly, “You will be a liability.”

It’s such a blasé statement, accusing, as if you’re culpable of something you’ve had no control over thus far. It actually makes you recoil as you draw your head back to fix him with an incredulous frown, lips parted, and your brows furrowed heavily above your eyes.

Despite every fibre of your being telling you that there’s a terrible idea forming at the back of your mind, you take a step away, lean your weight on your heel, and start to size him up.

Now, you’ve picked some battles before, tried to stand up to people you had no business standing up to. Cain and Delilah nipped that streak in the bud back when you thought asserting your opinion on matters of marriage should make a difference. Those battles were wildly different from this one, and you lost, every time, worn down and beaten back from the woman you used to be by wills stronger and more tempered than yours. You used to think you could face the world bravely, and all it took were a few people to show you that you weren’t as strong as you liked to think you were. It humbled you, and over time, you learned an easier life was synonymous with a passive life.

But you’ve been passive a lot lately.

Maybe you’ve been running on cold feet for too long. Maybe this whole, nightmarish interruption to your routine is finally catching up to you and numbing you to sense and logic, but truth be told?

You really don’t like hearing that this is somehow your fault.

Balling your hands into fists, you swallow thickly, and steady yourself with a noisy breath, wondering if this will be the moment you get to learn if there’s a Heaven as well as a Hell.

“Hey! I didn’t ask you to bring me with you, okay?” you say in a wobbly voice, staring at a spot just past his left arm to avoid his glare lest your words fail you completely, “Maybe, if I’m such a liability, you should just leave me to find my own way home!”

His head snaps properly in your direction with such velocity, you let out a gasp, flinching backwards and shrinking in on yourself again, your eyes darting to his lips that curl just the slightest in one corner, and the little bit of gall sitting on your tongue shrivels up and dies at the back of your throat.

Oh well. It was nice to have your guts back while it lasted. Just a pity they’re probably about to get ripped out of you for raising your voice.

For a number of unpleasant seconds, War merely regards you like you’ve just completely thrown him for a loop, neither raising his sword nor his fist to send you spinning off your mortal coil into the aether.

Finally, just as you’re beginning to fidget under his inspection, he quirks his brow at you and slowly states, “If you leave… you will die.”

You were expecting him to lose his temper again, to shout you down or put you down, not remark on your chances of survival.

“Oh, as if you give a shit about that,” you huff guardedly, curling a palm over your marred forearm and eyeing the Horseman like he’ll tear you in half for daring to call attention to the injury he caused.

War’s stance and expression don’t change in the slightest. He only continues to observe you coolly from inside his hood, ignoring the frequent looks Strife keeps flicking between the pair of you.

After a further spell of silence in which you seem to grow impossibly smaller, he at last gives an appraising hum and straightens his shoulders, jerking his head towards his brother and declaring, “You will stay close to Strife.”

Wait… You will?

“I will?” you say aloud, sending the other Horseman a distrustful glance. Strife, for his part, looks conversely pleased with the verdict, his head tipping coltishly to one side as he gives you a little wave.

… Well, you suppose if you have to choose between the two, the less time you spend near War the better. You assume he feels the same about having to be close to you, at least until he adds, “If we run into trouble, his guns allow him range. He will not let anything to get close to you.”

“They’re welcome to try,” his brother says cheerfully, thumbing the stock of a revolver.

Wilting like a helpless flower plucked from its patch of earth, you weakly ask, “Do I have a choice?”

Giving a hearty chuckle, Strife takes an exaggerated step closer to your side and pivots on his heel to face the same direction, cheerfully replying, “Ah, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I thought you humans were social. Safety in numbers, and all that?”

Disconcerted by his proximity, you lean away from him, cupping your elbows. “That’s not true for all of us,” you mumble.

You hear his intake of breath and prepare yourself for yet more inane chatter, but at that moment, you jump as another howl – distant but hair-raising – comes drifting into the chamber from some unknown offshoot deeper in the keep’s depths.

“Fucking hell,” you quake, your voice shaking like glass on the verge of shattering.

At your side, Strife mutters, “My sentiments exactly.”

Raising his head to catch War’s eye, he swings his chin towards the only visible exit; the apex of a wide, stone staircase that winds down away from the chamber, disappearing into a tunnel below. “You wanna take point?”

War’s response is a rich, throaty hum, accompanied by a decisive nod. “Indeed, we have wasted more than enough time here. Let us find Vulgrim’s troubling demon and pry the artifact from its cold, dead hands.”

“Ohho-okay!” Strife grins, suddenly gleeful as he claps his hands together, “Now you’re getting me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, War turns away and makes for the stairs, swinging his arm up to clip Chaoseater into its usual place on his back. Blankly watching him leave, you give a start when something metal and solid nudges at the small of your back, prodding you to stumble forwards awkwardly until Strife’s knuckles drop and he falls into step beside you, one stride for every two and a half of yours.

“I love it when he gets like this,” he remarks.

Begrudgingly, you resign yourself to trail after his brother and ask, “What? Murderous?”

“Oh yeah. Even he can be fun.” Tilting his head to the side in thought, he adds, “On occasion.”

Sweat has been steadily gathering on your forehead, and as you finally begin to move, a tiny droplet breaks free of your brow and trickles slowly down the side of your face. Of all the days to get swept up in a Universe-spanning caper, it would be the day you elected to wear one of the most awkward and cumbersome dresses known to man.

“So far none of this has been fun,” you huff, reaching up to flick the sweat drop away with a finger.

Strife’s boots hit the top step and he twists his helm sideways to shoot you a mock-offended smirk, “Not even me?”

You don’t bother to respond to that, instead throwing nervous glances around the room as you lift the front of your skirts and start to descend the staircase, your heels clacking noisily against the hard stone underfoot and echoing off the high walls. Somewhere nearby, you can hear liquid lava squeaking and splintering as it hits the marginally cooler air, though the heat only seems to grow more stifling the further you venture.

Absently, you wonder if you remembered to put your setting spray in the bag.

The staircase spirals down into the depths of a tunnel, twisting out of view and giving you no concept of what might lay ahead. To your left, you note the presence of tall, metal spikes jutting from a pit that runs alongside the stairs, like a wrought-iron fence whose purpose has been retrofitted into an inefficient and hostile railing. From the corner of an eye, you spot something round and ivory impaled halfway down one of those spikes. A single glimpse is all you need before you immediately avert your gaze to the stairs ahead, heart thumping in your chest. Behind you, a pair of dark, unseeing eye sockets seem to sear into your back as you continue your descent.

As you move lower, more signs start to appear that you aren’t the only visitors to this keep. Sconces line the wall, roaring with open flames that cast the path ahead in an orange glow. Two, iron firepits stand on either side of the staircase at its base, and it’s here that War has paused. It strikes you that in spite of his size, he’s slightly more camouflaged in this place than he was in the void, his scarlet cloak and dark grey armour blending well with the rock and heat around him.

As you and Strife come to a stop behind War, you lean sideways and find yourself peering tentatively into the space beyond his bulk.

The tunnel has opened up into another spacious chamber, and the path beyond the stairs has opened up too, into a vast, circular area with no walls or boundaries, nothing but another deep pit that sweeps around it, carrying a river of flowing, basaltic lava to somewhere further into the - as Strife had called it -‘dungeon.’

Maybe you really are in some kind of volcano. The urge to find a way out of here increases dramatically, but with Strife watching your back a little too closely and War cutting off an escape from the front, your options, at the moment, are quite limited.

At last, War takes a step out onto the level ground, then another and another, stalking forwards with his head on a constant swivel, vigilant. Strife, in the meantime, walks out with a confident swagger, ensuring to walk slightly behind you to keep you moving up in front.

Tearing your eyes off the pit, you focus instead on the behemoth stomping ahead of you. He’s already on the other side by the time you and Strife make it halfway across. For a split second, you almost let yourself feel a pinch of guilt for wearing such inappropriate shoes and slowing the Horsemen down, but you’re just as quick to take the feeling and grind it up under said heels, curling your lip distastefully. You weren’t exactly given a chance to pack for this ‘excursion.’

“Y’know,” Strife says abruptly, breaking you from your thoughts, and just in time too. You glance down and see the lip of the platform’s edge rise up to meet you. It likely would have tripped you if you’d remained lost in your head. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Death will be pleased to hear it,” War remarks from up ahead.

The back of his hood receives a simmering glare, but Strife is quick to brush the dig aside and continue, “If Lucifer is as dangerous as the Council says he is, why’d they send just the two of us?”

If the uneven ground didn’t manage to trip you up, his comment definitely does. Stumbling on the heel of your foot, you hurriedly try to right yourself, swatting irritably at Strife’s hand that reaches out to steady you. There’s that name again. Lucifer. Would it be naïve of you to hope that their ‘mission’ doesn’t somehow involve the Biblical Devil? You’ve managed to survive for the better part of an hour, but you don’t like how the odds are quickly stacking up against you with every step you take.

“Death and Fury attend to other matters,” War responds simply, “It is not our place to question the will of the Council.”

Apparently unable to let his brother’s earlier tease slide after all, Strife rolls his eyes and quips, “It’s not my place to question your wardrobe, but I still think your armour could use some more creepy faces on it.”

You’re not sure how much you like trailing in between the sizeable men, especially when the more sizeable of the two slows his gait to aim a vicious snarl over his shoulder. “Must everything be a joke to you?” War snaps, “The Council-!”

“-Ugh!” Cutting his brother off with a pompous groan, Strife throws his helm back. “You really need to lighten up.” Then, lowering his voice to a deeper pitch, apparently for the sole purpose of mocking the far scarier Horseman, he taunts, “The Council this, and The Council that! You wanna hear an actual joke?”

Facing forwards again, War responds with a firm, flat, “No.”

Strife, of course, doesn’t seem to have the same reservations as you do about antagonising someone with the name ‘War.’

In fact, you carry yourself so rigidly in fear of being caught in the middle of a scrap that you almost have the wind knocked out of you quite literally when Strife chimes in with a phrase so familiar to you, you just about choke on your own spit.

“Knock knock…”

The classic setup, so universally understood that you almost wonder if humans are born with an inbuilt recognition system designed to identify two simple, unassuming words.

The three of you pass beneath an open portcullis, but you barely notice the jagged bars of iron looming above you because you’re so busy trying to pick your jaw up off the ground.

You can’t see Strife’s face, and you don’t dare turn around to gape at him in case you end up taking a painful tumble. Instead, numbly, you continue to stare ahead with unblinking eyes, vaguely taking in the narrow path ahead of you, and the apparent end of it fast approaching.

War makes a dismissive sound, an irked mutter of something too low for you to make out.

Clearing his throat when he doesn’t receive a response, Strife prompts, “You’re supposed to say, ‘who’s there?”

You can’t quite believe you’re hearing this. Perhaps the idea that you’ve been drugged isn’t so unlikely after all because this isn’t something you could ever come up with sober.

Ahead of you, the stone pathway falls away in an abrupt drop, and the ceiling of the tunnel disappears, both opening out into yet another cavern, this one more spacious than the first two.

Or, you continue to muse to yourself, maybe you really did die in that church graveyard, and the chemicals released in your brain have conjured a hallucination of this pair of giants to serve as some unconvincing reapers who will guide you into the afterlife.

War comes to a stop at the edge of the escarpment, and unseen by you or Strife, his expression scrunches up in confusion and he asks, “Why would I give away my location? I would simply smash through the door and face my assailant.”

Oh. Wow. That’s…

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Strife complains as he draws to a halt just behind you and his brother on the rocky ledge. For a second, he’s distracted with casting his keen eye over the chamber, so he doesn’t notice you lower your face to the floor, your lips pursed like you’re trying to keep a cough in.

He does, however, notice straight away when, instead of escaping through your mouth, the sound you’re desperately trying to hold in finds its escape through your nose instead, and out jumps a sharp, unbecoming ‘snort!’

It’s unexpected. So much so that you’re just as surprised to hear it as the Horsemen. At once, you slap a palm over the lower half of your face in horror, a cold rush of dread trickling down into your stomach.

Eyes blown wide open, you stare at the ground, only too aware of the heavy silence that settles over you like a blanket, thicker than the heat pressing in all around you. You’re not even willing to raise your head because you can feel two sets of eyes watching you from above.

For too long, all you can hear is the ringing in your ears and your own pulse throbbing just beneath the skin of your temples. The silence swells, tuning up like an orchestra, deafening you to every sound save for that accursed, high-pitched ringing caused by the crushing grit of your teeth.

“Did…?” Strife’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a headsman’s axe, “Did you just… laugh?”

Your jaw eases apart, and the ringing fades.

The telltale ‘clunk’ of War’s boots alert you to him turning from the ledge, pointing himself in your direction instead.

Suddenly and appropriately alarmed that you just snorted at someone nearly three times your size, you instantly shift from freeze to flight and throw your head up, only to find yourself blinking apprehensively into War’s face, etched with his signature frown.

“I-I wasn’t laughing at you,” you rush out, backing away from the scowling Horseman a little too far and ending up colliding right into Strife’s torso.

With a tiny yelp, you leap forwards again, tossing glances back and forth between them whilst they continue to stare you down. “It’s just-! I haven’t heard a knock-knock joke in so long, it… It just surprised me.”

A pause ensues, and then quietly – eagerly – Strife asks, “You know what knock-knock jokes are?”

Wondering why that’s his first question, you offer him a timid nod. And then you’re immediately flinching away from him when he barks out an abrupt, disbelieving laugh and straightens up, his chest swelling proudly.

“No kidding. Y’know, not to brag,” he brags, jabbing a thumb into his sternum, “But I practically invented knock-knock jokes.”

Well, who are you to argue with the man carrying two guns? “O-oh?”

“Brother,” War complains, “We do not have time for your-“

“-Here! Here, try this one,” Strife rushes out, leaning towards you a little too fast for your liking, “Knock knock.”

You start to get the impression he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for quite some time. Sparing his brother a nervous glance, you wet your lips and tentatively indulge him, “Uh, okay, who’s there?”

Taking a breath as if he means to brace himself, Strife says, “The interrupting War.”

Oh… Oh, for God’s sake...

You try to steady the muscles in your cheeks, sending another wary look over at the juggernaut clenching his fists by the ledge.

Still, with Strife waiting for an answer, you slowly and dutifully sigh, “The interrupting War wh-“

You knew it was coming. You knew the gist of the punchline if not the punchline itself, but you’re still wholly unprepared when Strife cuts you off by crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a loud, resounding growl.

“Grr! The Council~!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you immediately purse your lips, your cheeks aching with the effort of keeping a straight face. You wonder if this is the start of another emotional breakdown because the joke isn’t even particularly funny, but there’s just a familiarity to the formula that almost comes as a welcome relief, like Earth isn’t so far away after all.

A brother teasing his sibling… There’s something almost human about it, abating just the tiniest modicum of terror bubbling away inside your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you keep your lips puckered and inhale deeply through your nostrils in an attempt to compose yourself. Perhaps its Strife’s enthusiasm that lends itself to the humour of the situation, or perhaps it’s simply the absurdity of such a large and formidable brute doing something as innocuous as telling you a knock-knock joke at the expense of his brother, but whatever the case may be, when you open your mouth to tell him it wasn’t that funny, your lips spring up at their corners, contradicting you immediately.

“Think it needs some work,” you say, your voice wobbling.

“Needs work?” he parrots, his own mouth quirking into a grin as he clocks your expression, “Then why are you smiling?”

It takes no small amount of effort to wrestle your face back under control. “I’m not smiling,” you insist, “That isn’t how humans smile.”

Strife, naturally, isn’t fooled at all.

“Ah ha! It is! She’s smiling!” he gloats, jabbing his thumbs at his own mask, “I’m funny! And you-!” Swivelling his head up to War, he pokes a finger at his brother’s face and declares, “You were wrong.”

You make the mistake of glimpsing underneath the stoic Horseman’s hood, wincing when you find him sporting an expression of absolute thunder. He glowers down at you as if to say, ‘Now look at what you’ve started.’

Outwardly, he flattens his brows and exhales slowly through his nose, “Yes, you must be very proud that you’ve found the one, sole creature in the Universe who finds you almost as funny as you find yourself.”

Flapping a hand dismissively at his brother’s words, Strife blows a snort through his lips and tuts, “Ah, you’re just jealous she likes me better.”

You decide not to chime in with the fact that you don’t, in fact, particularly like either of them.

Besides, if War is at all concerned with his new ranking, he certainly doesn’t bother to let you know.

“If you are quite finished cheapening our reputation…” he growls, whirling away from Strife and stepping up to the very edge of the platform.

“Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.”

Before you can protest, the masked Horseman lays a hand on your back and nudges you forwards until you’re standing next to his brother, then takes up his own lookout on the escarpment to your left.

Snugly sandwiched between them, you squash your arms into your sides, grimacing at the sharp angles of their armour that threaten to snag your dress as you try to shuffle backwards, but you don’t manage to retreat further than a few inches before you happen to cast a cursory look out at the view ahead and promptly freeze in your tracks.

Eyes bulging, your jaw falls open and you let out a soft, incredulous breath, your brain racing to take stock of what it’s seeing.

“Oh god.”

The path ends abruptly, falling away just a few paces from the toes of your shoes. And waiting beyond the precipice is a rock-walled cavern of absolutely phenomenal scale, far larger than those you’ve already come through. At its centre, rising from a chasm down below, there’s a rocky platform large enough to fit your house within its dimensions several times over. From what you can see, there isn’t any conceivable way to cross over to it, save for sprouting wings and flying. You’re not even confident you could pitch a tennis ball across the gap and have it land on the other side.

Scalding heat prickles your brow, and when you glance down to see where it stems from, you give an audible gasp as you look past the toes of your shoes and over the pathway’s crumbling edge.

Far, far below you, a stomach-churning drop lays in wait.

Thirty… forty-something feet of shimmering air is all that stands between you and a vast lake of red-hot lava.

“Hey, look down there,” Strife’s voice twitches your ear.

At your side, he raises an arm to point at the platform and says, “See that grate?”

With no small effort, you wrench your eyes off the pit of death and lift it to the level of raised stone, blinking your eyes hard to moisten them again after staring at the lava.

At once, you spot what he’s indicating.

Right at the centre of the platform, set into the stone floor itself, is a large, circular grate, vaguely reminiscent of the bars of a prison cell.

From the darkness below it, you can just make out a faint, pink glow seeping through the metal gridiron.

War answers his brother with a hum that vibrates in your chest.

“What’d you think?” Strife prods, “Reckon that’s where they’ve stashed Vulgrim’s artefact?”

Studying it for a few seconds, War eventually nods. “Something is definitely down there…” he murmurs, “No doubt that grate is heavily fortified.”

Shooting him a sly look, the smaller Horseman adds, “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you to pick the lock though, right?”

It’s disconcerting to see War with any expression other than a scowl, so to witness him return a smirk over the top of your head sends a veritable shiver right up your spine.

Lifting his arms, he slams his fist into the palm of his gauntlet with a resounding ‘thwack.’

Amused, Strife turns to thrust his chin at the gut-wrenching gap between the path you’re standing on and the edge of the central platform.

“What about that? Think you can make that jump?”

“J-jump!?” you blurt out, whipping your head up to stare at him like he’s lost his mind.

Hell, maybe he has.

Briefly, War’s eyes flit down to you before he returns his gaze to his fellow Horseman, scoffing, “Is that a serious question?”

And without another word, he begins taking several steps backwards, away from the ledge.

“Wait,” you sputter, shooting him an incredulous look as he continues to back up along the path, “You’re not really going to-“

You don’t even get to finish your sentence.

Before you can blink, War pushes off on his back foot and lurches forwards, his boots pounding against the stone hard enough to send powerful quakes all along the path as he charges straight for the edge.

You think you let out an alarmed yelp, but there’s not much else you can do except helplessly gawk as the Horseman, laden down by his heavy, clanking armour, plants his boot centimetres from the crumbling edge of the path and unceremoniously launches himself, his sword, and all of his bulk off solid ground, soaring out over the lava-drowned chasm below.

With a comically loud gasp, you slap your palms over your eyes, yet you can’t resist peeking through splayed fingers to watch.

Why the Hell would he do that!? There’s no way he’ll make it, you tell yourself, not with all that weight dragging him down.

You wanted to get away from him, yes but… shit. You didn’t want him to get himself killed doing it!

It’s as if you’re staring at a runaway train, waiting in morbid fascination for it to derail. Something in the nature of a disaster unfolding keeps you rooted to the spot, unable to tear your attention away from it.

There’s power and grace in the way War sails over the gap, an impossible feat, further than any Olympic gold medallist would ever hope to achieve. And then, to your utmost astonishment, he makes it.

Metal boots hit the stone platform with an almighty ‘clang’ on the other side, and he dips his knees as he lands to absorb the impact.

You’re almost certain you can see the whole structure quiver from the force.

For several moments, you merely stand there with your mouth hanging ajar whilst War rises to his full height again and turns around, tipping his face up to see you staring back at him, your eyes wide with unconcealed awe.

“How. The fuck…?” you say emphatically, blowing out a disbelieving little whistle. You might not trust the man, but even you can appreciate a good stunt when you see one. Giving your head a shake, you briefly forget you’re supposed to be their kidnappee and gush, “That was incredible!”

Your voice carries easily across the sizeable gap and reaches the Horseman’s ears, erasing the hard line between his brows. Taken aback, War blinks, pressing his lips together bashfully in lieu of a response. ‘Perhaps it was rather impressive,’ he privately concedes, ‘from a human’s perspective…’

Back on the escarpment, Strife’s keen gaze makes out the befuddled expression warping his brother’s typically impassive face, and he sends several glances between you and War, pursing his lips at the glimmer lighting up your eyes.

“Oh yeah?” he huffs, “You think that was impressive?”

A loud clap rings out across the cavern, causing you to jump as Strife smacks his palms together. “Okay, little miss,” he announces behind you, “Your turn.”

Just like that, the colour promptly drains from your face. “My what?”

You don’t have time to spin around and face him, for not a second later, a powerful arm scoops your legs out from underneath you whilst the other snakes around the back of your shoulders, hauling you clean off the floor and pressing you to a hard, armoured chest.

“Oh for-! Stop grabbing me!” you complain, planting your hands on his clavicle and shoving yourself away as best you can, “Are you insane!? I am not jumping over that!”

Cocking his helm at you, he spares you an innocent blink. “You’re not?”

You don’t like how much levity is lacing his tone.

“NO!” you squawk, aghast, “Absolutely not! Let me go!”

One of the Horseman’s eyes narrows to squint at you before he angles his helm very pointedly towards the platform. “You sure?”

Something about his question gives you pause.

Hesitating, you snap your head in the same direction and follow his line of sight. It doesn’t take you more than a second to glean the bastard’s intent.

Now you really don’t like the way he’s looking at you, his upturned eyelids the clearest indication that he’s smiling quite broadly underneath his visor.

Your stomach gives an unpleasant lurch.

“Oh, if you dare…” you hiss.

Daringly, he raises his sizeable shoulders in a shrug and chirps, “Lesson one; Don’t ever dare a Horseman, kid. You’re always bound to lose.”

He wouldn’t…

Flashing you a golden wink, Strife turns his body sideways and swings you to the right, like a rugby player readying a forward pass.

It finally occurs to you that, oh, good god, he would.

“Wait-! WA-WAIT! STRIFE!” Issuing a high-pitched, wordless scream, you start to flail, but his ironclad grip on your legs and shoulders keeps you from launching yourself out of his arms.

Somewhere across the chasm, War’s voice drifts up to you, though you hardly hear it above your undignified shrieks. “Brother?”

The muscles around you bunch up, solidifying as hard as the stone underfoot.

“See you on the other side!” is all the cheery warning you get.

“Don’t you DA---AAAAARRRGGHHH!”

He’s moving before you can think to adhere yourself to his arm.

Sidestepping into a purposeful bound, the Horseman flings his arms to the left, with you in tow, and when they get to the zenith of his reach, they disappear out from under you, letting you go hurtling spine first out over the chasm like a screaming, thrashing blimp, dress and all.

You have several phobias that you were aware of before you fell into this godforsaken place. Phobias that, for the most part, have been quite avoidable in your day-to-day life.

Finding yourself suspended in the air over a pit without a safety net underneath you… add some lava to break your fall, and you suddenly realise as you’re flying through empty space that you’ve just discovered an entirely new phobia to add to the list.

Sailing in a none-too graceful arch, you stare in disbelief back at the silver Horseman on the ledge, your dress billows out behind you and the scorching air whips your veil over your face, tugging at your hair where the grips are heroically keeping it situated. Likewise, some subconscious part of you instructs your toes to grip like vices on the insoles of your heels, valiantly trying to stop them from plummeting off your feet.

Inevitably, as is the case with the laws of physics, you reach the height of your curve, and that’s when gravity seizes you by the heart and starts to drag you back down, sending your stomach crashing up into your diaphragm.

Time seems to slow as you descend, reaching back for Strife as if he could somehow stretch across the gap and catch you. You can’t see behind yourself, and it’s all you can do to hope that you pass out on the way down, so you don’t have to feel your body melt into a puddle in the hungry maw of the lava below.

It hurts your chest something fierce to think that the last anyone will see of you is your terror-stricken face and your raised hand closing into a fist, bar one choicely extended finger.

The hot wind screams past your ears and you screw your eyes shut tight, squeezing out the last tears you’re ever going to cry. Your father’s face flashes in your mind’s eye, and you wonder what you did to set off this chain of events.

Strife said he wouldn’t hurt you…

What a joke.

‘WHAM!’

Your mouth jerks open, wheezing out a gasp as something suddenly slams into you from behind, knocking the air violently from your lungs. Or rather, you crash into something with the force of a white, ruffled meteorite and nearly lose your heart through your open mouth.

At first, you assume you must have smacked into the hard side of the platform, but then the Something you’ve collided with grunts, and you hurriedly wrench your eyes open, coming to focus on a monstrous, metal gauntlet that’s secured itself under your knees, crushing your dress between prodigious fingers whilst something equally large presses across your shoulder blades.

With a kick in the guts, you realise you’re being held aloft in much the same way Strife had been holding you mere moments ago.

He caught you… War caught you.

Finally, you remember to gulp in a noisy breath to refill your desperate lungs.

You’re not dead.

But you are, in fact, shaking.

And as the revelation that you’re still alive sets in, your limbs start to wobble in earnest.

“STRIFE!” You visibly flinch when War’s terrible, wonderful, abrasive, beautiful voice booms like a claxon right above your head. “You fool!”

Even through layers of solid metal and leather padding, the Horseman can feel you trembling under his palms. Propping your neck in the crook of his elbow, he lifts his head to level a snarl up at where Strife still stands on the escarpment whilst you unclench your fists from your lap, heaving air in and out of your lungs in hysterical little bursts.

“What were you thinking!?” he bellows.

Leaning over the side to look down at you and your unwitting saviour, Strife throws his arms out wide and argues, “She said to let her go!”

“You knew what she meant!” A deep thrum rolls around in his chest, spreading up his throat and spilling out in another growl so deep it rattles the teeth in your skull. “You could have damaged her!”

“Oh relax, I wouldn’t have tossed her if I didn’t think you’d catch her.”

War slides his lips back to reveal his inhumanly sharp canines, but at that moment, something tugs very lightly at the fabric of his cowl.

Faltering, he angles his chin down and nearly gives a start.

Tiny hands have wandered towards him, found the scarlet material hanging from around his neck and latched onto it with possessive intent, fingers twisting themselves into his cowl and getting lost amongst the folds, as if you fully expect him to toss you over the side as well. The strange, white veneer lays draped across your face, so he can’t see your expression when you unexpectedly twist about in his arms and pull yourself a little closer to his chest.

Caught off guard, War remains stock-still, seriously contemplating whether or not he should drop you right then and there to spare himself from Strife’s potential teasing.

His bulging arms give a twitch, which in turn causes you to cringe, letting out a quiet bleat and further entangling your fingers around his cowl.

This, War decides, was not in the job description when the Charred Council made him a Horseman. Still, whatever he might think of you, he can’t bring himself to drop you in a heap on the ground.

For once, he might be out of his depth.

As soon as the notion occurs to him, he brusquely flicks it away with a toss of his head.

Taking a large step back, he slowly ambles himself about until he’s facing away from Strife and the platform’s edge, then stomps several paces towards the central grate, only stopping once he hears the loud clang of metallic boots hitting the stone behind him as his fellow Horseman leaps to the lower level.

Gingerly, almost as though he expects you to shatter if he moves too quickly, War bends down until he’s almost on a knee and starts to withdraw the arm that’s wrapped around your legs, a stoic frown tugging his brows towards the centre of his forehead when you refuse to let go of his hood.

Grumbling, he lowers you until your shoes click on the stone floor, and then he slips his hand out from under your knees, moving it up and taking both of your wrists between his gauntlet’s fingertips and thumb, mindful of the delicate limbs he’s handling.

He can still recall how you’d nearly crumpled to your knees when he got a little heavy handed trying to apply the poultice to your arm. He truly thought he had been correct in gauging the pressure he needed to apply to your flesh to draw blood. He’d only meant to take a little. Just enough to prove the validity of your claim. What an idea that had turned out to be. If War were being honest with himself, he’d been outright startled when your skin peeled open so readily to admit Chaoseater’s blade.

So, if he’s a little more careful in prying your hands off his cowl than he ought to be, well, that’s his own business.

It doesn’t take much coaxing before you seem to come back into yourself.

With a sudden jolt, you wrench your hands away from his hood and start to struggle valiantly with the veil on your face, flipping it back over your head and choking on a sob as your knees start to buckle.

Planting both of his palms on your shoulders, War hauls you upright again.

“Steady,” he murmurs as if he’s addressing a wounded soldier, not a frightened human, “On your feet.”

The sound of clanking boots drifts closer, approaching from his rear.

War bristles, but he’s not the only one who heard Strife’s footsteps.

“You okay, kid?” the gunslinger’s voice drifts over to you, and War watches your jaw cinch shut, the hands at your sides curling into fists as you attempt to stop them from shaking.

Whirling around, you tear yourself from the Horseman’s gauntlets, your dress twirling gracefully around your ankles to find Strife standing a few paces behind you, paused halfway between one step and the next.

Blurting out a delirious laugh, you shoot him a bloodshot stare, half tempted to rip your bag off and lob it at his head.

“Am I okay?!” you echo, “Have you completely lost your mind!?”

Peering down at you appraisingly, War makes a sound that might be affirming, and even his brother lifts a hand to tilt it back and forth in a ‘so-so’ motion.

Breathing hard, you resist the urge to scream and instead lower your head, massaging at your throbbing temples.

Slowly, through gritted teeth, you seethe, “I am trapped… inside a volcano… with two of the scariest people I’ve ever met…”

Strife shares a look with War, the former’s frame wilting as if he’s put out, while the latter, by contrast, almost seems proud of the achievement.

“I,” you continue, a humourless grin straining at your lips, “Just found out that demons exist! I also found out that Lucifer is apparently real…! It is my fucking wedding day!” Vitriol drips from your teeth like venom, and with each passing word, your voice grows louder and louder. “And! I just got chucked! Like a… like a fucking pigskin over a river! Of LAVA!”

All around you, the cavern echoes with the throes of your furious shout, bouncing off the rock walls and coming back to you ten times over before it fades into an uneasy silence.

Lungs heaving with the effort of raising your voice, you stop to breathe, finding, to your dismay, that tears are spilling onto your cheeks, only to start evaporating on your skin in the smouldering heat.

Clearing your throat, you sweep a few fingertips delicately beneath your eyes and wipe away the lingering evidence of moisture cutting tracks through your blusher. “So, no,” you sniffle, “For your information, I am not o-fucking-kay… I think I’m about as far from okay as it gets.”

It’s almost satisfying that the gung-ho Horseman can in fact be made to shut up.

Fidgeting idly with the gauntlet on his left hand, Strife shoots several glances at War, but finds no source of assistance in his fellow Nephilim’s cold, critical glare.

“Uh,” he starts, clenching his hands into fists and opening them again, “I mean… it was kind of funny, right?” He lets out a chuckle that falls painfully flat. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Your jaw begins to ache from grinding your teeth together like you’re trying to crush coal into diamonds.

“Knock-knock jokes are funny,” you say stiffly, turning away from him to scowl at the ground, “People don’t get hurt.”

Draping a hand over his hip, Strife lowers his voice and asks, “Come on, you really thought I’d let you get hurt?”

“OF COURSE I DID!” you suddenly bellow so loudly your voice cracks, “You threw me over a lava pit!”

“War caught you, didn’t he?”

“What if he hadn’t!?”

Strife doesn’t even hesitate before he offers his palms to the ceiling and says, “Then I wouldn’t’ve done it.”

“Why the hell would you-!? Why even take the risk!?”

“There never was any risk,” he shrugs far too nonchalantly, sending his brother a knowing look, “Besides, this is a good thing, right? Now you know you can trust War to keep you alive.”

Pulling a face, you allow a spiteful scoff to burst out of your mouth, arms folding sternly across your chest. “Oh, so that was all so you could prove some point to me, was it? Jesus, what is wrong with you?!”

“Now there’s a door best left unopened,” War chimes in.

At last recognising that there’s some, invisible line he’s crossed, Strife holds his hands up placatingly. “Look,” he concedes, scratching at the back of his head and disturbing the thick spines of ebony hair growing behind his helm, “After what happened back in the Void, I just thought, if we proved we could keep you safe, you’d… maybe start to trust us a little more, y’know?”

You have to take a moment to stare at him, waiting for his words to sink in for you, and hopefully for him as well. “So… you thought you’d show me you can keep me safe by… launching me over a lava pit, and expecting me to know your brother would catch me?”

The Horseman doesn’t speak for several seconds. When he eventually does, he crosses his arms over his chest and huffs, “I mean, if you’re only gonna focus on the first part, sure the plan had holes.”

“Well,” you say haughtily, “No offence, but I trust you two about as far as I could throw you. Which, you’ll be shocked to hear, isn’t very far at all. And unlike you-“ Here, you jab a finger up at his silver visor. “- I’m not strong enough to go around throwing people off the edge of cliffs!”

Once again, Strife remains silent, rapping his fingertips on a metal bicep. Soon enough however, he lowers his head and peers up at you from beneath the lip of his helm’s sockets, prodding, “It was a pretty good throw though, huh?”

“It was a very good throw!” you agree sharply, blowing out a rough exhale as your heartbeat finally begins to ease off the throttle, “Neither of you even had a run up. You two are like something straight out of a comic book… Except without the charisma… and altruism...”

“Comic…?” War asks, frowning, “Then… you are amused?”

“No, not comic like-…” You inhale. You exhale. “Never mind. Weren’t you guys supposed to be looking for something?”

Just like that, the pair of titans straighten up with a start, and you wonder if their ‘mission’ really had slipped their minds for a while.

Rolling his shoulders back, War just grumbles something inaudible and begins moving purposefully towards the grate.

You stand back to let him pass, chewing thoughtfully on your bottom lip as you mull over what you’re about to say.

“Hey, big guy?”

At once, War stops and swivels his head sideways, silver hair spilling out from underneath his hood.

Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you avoid the pale, unblinking eye that’s trained on your face and call, “Thanks…. For catching me.”

You won’t thank him for healing your arm when he was the one who cut it in the first place. But this? You can swallow your grudge for this. At least for a little while.

Several seconds tick by without a response, and the only sound you can hear is the heavy clanking of boots on stone as Strife ventures up behind you.

And then at last, War’s head falls and rises in an almost imperceptible nod.

When he turns away, you suddenly feel like you can breathe again.

How can one man be so intimidating just by standing still and saying nothing?

You’ve already deduced that the two Horsemen are like chalk and cheese, with one half of the duo serving as the strong, silent type, and the other, a smart-mouthed chatterbox.

… Speaking of whom.

Just as you start to trail after War towards the centre of the platform, an enormous shape sidles up next to you, easily keeping pace with your diminutive gait.

“Hey…” Strife tries, actually sounding hesitant for a change, “Knock-knock.”

Ah. There it is.

“Strife…” His name still sounds foreign on your tongue. “I’m… look, I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“…”

Scoffing quietly, you give your head a defeated shake and sigh, “Fine… Who’s there?”

“Eyes wear.”

… Okay?

“…Eyes wear who?” you venture, hesitant.

Swivelling his helm towards you, Strife bends his neck down, chasing after your face even as you try to ignore him by staring straight ahead.

“Eyes wear to… never throw you across any more chasms,” he offers, tipping his helm upright again, “Lava filled or otherwise. How’s that sound?”

Your lips quiver. “Wow,” you drawl, “I think that was even worse than the last one.”

“Oh yeah?” he replies coyly, “Then why’re you smiling?”

You jerk to a halt mid stride, taking stock of your expression.

Damnit. You are smiling.

You’re a little too slow to force the corners of your lips back down into a straight line, and of course, Strife sees it, tipping his chin back to peer at you triumphantly. You may not be able to see his mouth beneath the visor but judging by the upturned curve of his golden eyes, you just know the smug son of a bitch is grinning from ear to ear.

“I was not smiling,” you insist.

Quick as a whip, he retorts, “Well now you’re lying.”

Stuffing your teeth into your bottom lip, you kick yourself into gear and speed up, marching up to where War has stopped by the grate. “I am not lying, I’m leaving.”

The Horseman’s chuckle haunts you all the way across the platform.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #strife x reader #war x reader #bride reader #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #Strife being Strife #Fear #Bad Knock knock jokes #Reader has had enough

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moodymisty · 8 months

Note

Hi! Can I request someting NSFW with Strife and a female reader please? Maybe with body worship involved? Thank you!

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Hey anon. Sorry for making you wait so long, here's something that's far too long and verbose to not be the musings of a madwoman. I dearly hope this is close enough to what you had in mind, I had to fight it every second of the way.

Summary: Strife will never understand how you can possibly love someone like him, but he’ll greedily eat you up anyways.

Relationships: Strife/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Some light body worship, A bit of praising, This is way longer than I thought it would be please send help but I like writing Strife

Word Count: 5160

Over time you've gotten so used to being the one off-scale in places like the Maker’s Realm, that having your own human sized things in the Tri-Forge seems almost, off-putting.

But with Strife now in your own room in the Tri-Forge, it was easy to see how off scale he was, in a little world meant for a human. The Makers had spent a short while clearing up one of the rubble filled rooms in the back of the Tri-Forge, and had given it to you as a gift after your status got upgraded to ‘semi-permanent’ resident.

It didn't take long to become your own space, filled with little trinkets and doodads that had caught your eye throughout your explorations. Or were given to you; As Karn was particularly fond of giving you small things he thought you’d like that he had found on his various ‘adventures’.

‘It reminded me of ye- I mean, I thought you might like it! Looks ‘bout your size!’

Those things have all been piling up, sitting on what might’ve been part of a flight of stairs at one point, but is now your little display shelf.

“I swear if I didn’t fight them on it every single day, I really do think the Makers would just put me in a little box to keep an eye on me forever.”

Strife doesn’t seem to hesitate even slightest before answering.

“They’ve always been like that. The ‘stuffy, always in your business’ sort. Kind of a mood killer, honestly.”

He’d only just arrived after unleashing a cacophony of clopping hooves onto the weathered stone path of the Tri-Forge, Mayhem snorting as he dismissed the horse and came inside your temporary home. At least, you’d like to think it temporary; As much as you adored the Makers realm and all of it’s inhabitants, Earth was your home. But things were still rubble and chaos down there even as the Makers helped humans pick up the pieces, and on the behest of both Ulthane, Karn, and Strife, you stay here for the time being.

But even if you’d just complained, you still speak up to defend them anyways from Strife's comment.

“Not like I can really blame them, after everything that's happened.” Strife seems to roll his eyes at your defense- you can’t tell with that Nephilim glow- before shaking his hand and speaking again.

“What, am I not a good enough bodyguard for you?”

It’s impossible to let out a nervous laugh at Strife’s response. Especially as it reminds you of an old conversation with Valus; Though it hadn’t been as much of a conversation as it had been a warning. His tone had been firm, the most serious you’d heard from him in the short time you'd known him.

‘Be careful with that one. All the Horsemen bring trouble right with them, but that one? He’s no good. Whatever you see in him, it’s just a trick of the light.’

It was never exactly a secret that the other Horsemen and the Makers are notably not fond of Strife’s attachment to you, though his siblings have somewhat mellowed on the idea somewhat over time. The Makers however, have done anything but. They may be grateful to him for keeping you safe during the moments they can't, but that's as far as their feelings go.

“So would you like an actual response, or an ‘Ohhhh Strife, you’re my hero!’ ?”

You’re kicking off your boots, before you rub a palm across your forehead.

Strife scoffs and watches you pull off the large shawl you have on that the Makers made for you to add to your pile of removed clothing. It completely swamps half your body to protect from the incredibly cold weather, and he finds the almost swaddled appearance adorable. Humans are always so small and delicate, and the Makers aggressive attempts at keeping you warm only make that observation even more obvious. His siblings sometimes remark that it makes Humans innately weaker than the other races; However to Strife, it only serves to highlight that uniquely human ingenuity.

And, he finds it cute. He likes the feeling of looking down on you, seeing you safely in his shadow looking up at him. He'll never admit it to you, however.

“I’ll take the flattery. It always sounds so genuine coming from you.”

Rolling your eyes at he’s so clearly smiling behind the mask, as the tone in his voice easily gives it away.

Strife’s eyes follow your movements as you move to sit upon your bed, and while he has clear interest in the little trinkets you’ve collected like coins and old relics, he ends up focusing on you in the end. Digging through your satchel of clothes to find more comfortable ones you glance to the side to see Strife’s armored shins, while he watches- having taken a spot leaning against the ancient stone wall close to you, arms crossed.

He’s clearly waiting for you to get into the bed, so he can follow shortly behind.

You remember the first time he’d done it; He’d been out of sorts smelling like iron and smoke, and the few words to come out of his mouth were far quieter and more sparse than any other time you'd heard him speak.

You never did figure out what happened, but ever since he always seems to find being close to you one of his only comfortable places. Meanwhile you figure Nephilim were lonely and starved for any non-violent interactions, and everything else only seeks to further that point. Alongside the fact that Strife absolutely melts under any sort of affection, be it verbal or physical. So him being a bit of a cuddlebug seemed like par for the course once he relaxed around you, and especially after that night, you’d never wish him to deal with whatever he’d been consumed by alone; Even if he never tells you what it is.

When this little ritual had morphed into something more than friendship you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, though you never minded.

But it did pose it’s own problems, to a degree. You didn’t have the traditional relationship that you would with another human, keeping you suspended in this weird space. You first kissed Strife awhile ago, known him longer- but this all felt like it was brand new, and nothing new at the same time.

It didn’t help that he’s been gone for a decent while thanks to some troubles; Horsemen business, is the way he likes to describe it when you know he’s uncomfortable saying the real answer.

Strife hates telling you those things and giving glimpses into what he has done, and is doing; As he’s deeply conscientious of you thinking of him the same as the other races think of the Nephilim. Of him.

He’s not a blood-thirsty killer or an old cutthroat for hire when he's around you; He’s just Strife.

“Today was a pain; Alya wouldn’t get off my back about staying inside the Forge because of a snow storm, and neither would Karn.” The scrunched look you have on your face makes him smirk, arms comfortably crossed.

“What, so you don’t like the Makers anymore now?” You shake your head.

“No- I mean, they’re nice enough,” His eyebrows raise beneath the helmet. “But coddling and the ‘oh you’re so small and helpless’ talk, on top of the fact that I have a neck ache from looking up so high all the time… I can’t even walk down a path without Karn being all worried I’m going to trip over a rock.” One hand gets casually thrown out in your direction, armored palm up.

“What you get for being so short, princess.”

You end up throwing him the biggest scowl you can muster, but he only ends up laughing more, finding it endearingly cute. It’s the exact same problem you have with the Makers; Though Strife is a tiny bit more subtle about it. You just wave him off and flop into the bed, face stuffed into the pillow. It feels so nice to be back here, to have the smell of a familiar bed and without a one or more Makers nagging you about getting blown over by a stray breeze.

Even if it isn’t Earth, it’s still become a home.

After you let out a large sigh of relief into the pillow, you manage to grimace and lift up your face; Ignoring the pain in your neck and watching as Strife looks down at you. You know damn well he's smirking by the way his eyes are being pushed upwards by his cheeks.

Not long after Strife strips away plate after plate of heavy armor, it clanking as it falls to the floor before he crams himself into your bed with the same lack of regard he's always had- attempting to nestle against you. The bed frame creaks and groans in a desperate plea for relief under the weight of a Nephilim as he moves to the same position as he always does.

That being curled around you almost completely, an arm laid across your middle keeping your back against his chest and stomach. It feels almost protective; Your much smaller size has always triggered this little feeling in him, wanting to keep you close and away from anything that could possibly hurt you. And for a time before all of this, that had included himself.

But now he has you as a port in the storm; A tiny little bit of sunshine. So he always greedily eats up these rare moments, and often times neglects taking part in such a rare treat as sleep to just admire you.

Though this time he has something else on the mind, seeing the way your clothing is wrapped awkwardly and revealing your shoulder; As you're falling asleep and don't notice how much it's shifted.

You look so soft, the fabric of your clothes laid against your skin. The delicate nature of your features are even more obvious when his left hand moves to even so gently hover just above your shoulder. He doesn't touch you- his hand just stays there his fingers twitching as if wanting to go the rest of the way.

Creator- he doesn’t know how to describe the way he feels when he sees the way his hand can so easily swallow your form like this.

It was a temptation too impossible for him to resist, to lean in closer and press his face into the crook of your neck and feel the warmth of your skin, smelling the faintness of things like pine needles. You always rustled around in the forest far outside the Tri-Forge, snooping where you shouldn’t be. That human curiosity that is the bane of the Makers protective nature.

His as well, however can’t fool himself into thinking that you’re ever completely safe; Not with him.

You’ve almost fallen asleep, incredibly close to fully drifting off until you suddenly felt a surprisingly soft movement on your waist. Strife’s hand had begun to wander back downward, trailing from your waist to your front. His hot breath fans over the crook of your neck, body curled around yours while his arm lays over your stomach. You could feel his hand ghosting over your ribs; Not quite close enough to touch your breast, but only just. It's tantalizingly close to crossing a line you haven't crossed with him before.

“Strife…”

He instinctively groans as if you’re scolding him, but it trails off into a chuckle. Almost as if he knew exactly what you were going to comment about.

“You’re going to start something, if you keep feeling around like that.”

His head rises slightly way from your neck, breath trailing along your cheek as he leans just enough to catch you eyes when you look up at him.

“Am I?”

The comment makes you lose some of your gusto, his lips against your body feeling as if they were making fire, spreading it all across your skin. Quickly your entire face is warm, and would be noticeably hot if you touched it. But even with only a few candles as light, you were still able to see the smile on his face as you turned to look over your shoulder. It was wide and teasing, those small fangs pressing against his lips.

You might’ve commented on how much of an ass he looked with that smirk, until his head lowered back downward and he began once more nipping at the crook of your neck and the desire to do so melted away. With his body now leaning against you it began taking the breath from your lungs -from his sheer weight and the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin. Hot breath rolls over your flesh as he speaks, lips still against you. You can feel them touch your skin right over the pulse of your neck.

“You're so soft, beautiful.”

He was almost nervous about it- marring your soft skin. He's always felt like he had to be so, so careful.

The weight of his body against yours eventually forces you to roll onto your stomach and he follows, now laying over and easily shadowing you. You turn your head just enough that his lips press against yours, before your neck begins to ache and you have to turn away. You feel one of his hands is trailing along your side, pushing up your top to reveal your back and leaving goosebumps on your skin. You sometimes forgot how tall Strife actually is, until moments like this feeling the way he can so easily cage your entire body underneath him like this.

With only the thin cloth he wears under his armor in the way it’s quite easy to feel him against the back of your thigh, while he lays against you. His hand starts drifting downward, pushing the waist of your pants down along with his wandering fingers. You quite eagerly move to take them off, kicking them down underneath the blanket to get bundled up and lost forever. But now his hand is against the side of your thigh, close enough that it has your cunt tightening whenever he drifts closer.

And closer it does drift, with a firm intention as it slips down between your thighs, fingers grazing against your wet outer lips. They drift and drag along your skin, slipping between and becoming covered in your own wetness.

Once they’re so soaked you can hear it, that it's nearly embarrassing, his fingers slowly push and curl around inside of you just enough that you bite your bottom lip; But even despite that, soft noises still escape anyways. You don’t want them too, but Strife wants nothing more than to hear them.

Slowly his fingers curl inside of you and press against your inner walls, grazing against a spot that causes you to gasp as heat blankets your face. Your thighs almost shake with how tense they quickly become.

“You don’t need to be so quiet princess, no one can hear you but me.”

The hand around your mouth loosens slightly, but you still don’t stop attempting to swallow each and every moan. It’s almost embarrassing how loud they are sometimes, enough so to even startle yourself.

Including the one you let out, particularly loud, as his fingers slowly pull from you. His hand's departure leaves you with the momentary feeling of emptiness, whining and adjusting your torso underneath him. But it is only for a moment, as his cock presses against you with a sudden and almost suffocating heat.

Just as he starts to push into you quickly you realize maybe you bit off more than you could chew, gasping at the feeling that happens just before the start of pain.

“S-Strife, slow down a second.” He could hear the shudder in your voice and quickly panicked, wanting to retreat from you.

“Shit, princess I’m hur-” you quickly raised a hand off the pillow to stop him from leaving. “Wait, just give me a second-"

Ever so slowly did you yourself move, eyes closed tight and brow furrowed. You were so cute, making these tiny little noises of effort and he wanted to just rail you. Strife groaned against his teeth- Creator, you feel good.

Strife hisses, feeling your back arch to press your bottom into his hips. Your body had finally started to relax, softly breathing as that stretch bordering on pain slowly wavered away.

“Strife,”

Strife wasn’t used to this, the way you were unafraid to call out to a horsemen, an unholy creation to warm your bed.

But this was, something else. Your body gripped him like a vice; hot, wet, and smelling so sweet. The way your hair moves, hands grasping the pillows, the cries and whines pleading for him. You were downright begging him, mewling like he was the only being you ever needed. Pulling from you and listening to you whine, before his hips snapped to press against the backs of your thighs.

He feels like he's being too rough, but the way you sing for him makes him forget that worry for a moment. If anything you keep begging him for more, pushing your body back against him each time he drives himself deeper into you.

One of his hands grips your hip and pulls them almost impossibly closer, making your back curve ever so slightly. You feel the way it makes your toes curl and teeth hook on your bottom lip.

"I thought, you were cute before, but Creator-"

Strife never thought in his life something would be able to make him snap like this. He’d kill every Angel and demon in the world for this- for you. The way you writhe underneath him and keep whispering his name, to go faster; He thinks once he hears you say you love him.

“Strife, please,” The way you say his name sets him aflame, it laying on your lips and tasting incredible. You've dreamt of this moment before, to have him finally here with you like this...

Fingertips clawing at the sheets you hear the sounds of your bed struggling and creaking underneath the weight.

The bed might not be able to, but you can handle a Nephilim, and God; Does he feel good.

At least, you think you can handle a Nephilim.

There might be a moment or two where you doubt that as you gasp, him brushing against a million little nerves all at once. The way your stomach is tying itself in knots and your face feels almost hot to the touch says otherwise, along with the shaking moans and whines that manage to slip from your lips. You're not going to last much longer in this state, as you feel the weight of his chest against your shoulders and back. The weight is all most too much, but the feeling of him being there, palpable against your is something you'd never wish to get rid of.

You can’t help but cover your mouth, feet kicking and feeling for any sort of purchase as you finally cum, crying out behind your fingers. It’s hard for him to even move with the way your so tight around him, it forces him to slow down to not hurt you.

It’s better than any sort of thought he’d had about you, any dream any memory, to finally feel you like this. He’s thought about it more, and for longer, than he would ever admit to you.

The noises he makes much quieter, a surprise; You’d thought originally he’d be much more loud than he actually. Though maybe it's like when he'd first been hesitant to even touch you, and he needs to warm to the idea. To know that you want to hear him. But he only lets out a soft groan and a muttering of your name, as he finally finishes inside of you.

Him sounding out of breath almost surprises you, but it’s more so the overwhelming heat that lays in his chest than fatigue that has his breathing slightly labored. Even if only for a few moments. Despite his cocky, skirt chaster attitude, Strife hadn't indulged in something like this in a long, long time. Never had someone like you.

He only moves a little after, before stilling completely and listening to the way your breathes gently slow, your groaning at the feeling of being utterly wiped out. Strife gently pulls himself from you but never once stops touching you, feeling his lips against your skin.

It’s after that high, as your heart rate begins to slow and Strife nuzzles at your cheek that you lift your head enough to look around, and see the state of things.

Not only are your blankets pulled awkwardly, there’s two places-where Strife’s hands no doubt were- that were absolutely torn to shreds.

You’d just, deal with it later. The middle of the night isn't a time to begin doing laundry.

You feel so sleepy but something, maybe a noise ,makes you turn your head, and suddenly you notice light bleeding through cracks in the Tri-Forge’s walls; A soft orange.

How much time had passed? It hadn’t felt that late when Strife had ridden up to the Forge during the night; Granted you no longer had a clock to use as a bearing. It was only the rough location of the moon, though you're sure that there's some sort of device that could be more accurate, you've just never bothered to ask for it.

“Shit, is it- Is it really that late?” Strife of course, ever the source of constant and unnecessary comments, attempts to pull you closer to him and turn you away from looking around.

“I think ‘is it really that early?’ is what you should say instead, princess.”

It was a bit of a struggle to avoid the temptation to smack him, so instead you move to just lay against his arm.

But beyond all of the light-hearted humor, there’s a thought floating in the back of your mind; Reminding you only have hours, minutes, before you lose him to his siblings, or to the faceless entity you only know as the Council from Strife’s lips. And much of it you're going to spend sleeping, as unlike Strife, it's a part of live you have to indulge in. Very much so now, as you feel incredibly tired and ready to almost pass out at any moment.

“I’ll miss this, when you leave again.”

Strife finds himself without words for a moment, feeling the way your hand lays against his skin as you sleepily mumble.

Damnable Death; Damn him and his errands.

He should just toss the idea and hold you for a day longer, but he knows in the end, it benefits the realms and their balance. Which in turn protects you as well.

“You won’t even notice I’ll be gone; I’m that quick.” Your smile comes back, he feels it against his skin as he relaxes at your mood improving.

Just after thinking that he waits for a split second before he dares to close his eyes; As if listening for the ghostly whinny of Despair or the thundering hooves of Ruin to come and destroy his moment before it even begins.

But neither happen; The world isn’t crumbling and the Council isn’t calling so he can just lay back, while you lay asleep against his shoulder.

You wake up the next morning sore and limp, muscles almost completely refusing to move. Strife was either still asleep or at least pretending to be, his head tucked tightly into the crook of your neck. His body overtook most of the bed with one leg overflowing off the side, even more so when you ever so slowly moved; Slipping from him and sitting up.

He was still asleep for sure, thankfully. Strife at first had been a very light sleeper, but once he’d gotten used to the idea that you were safe, it’s like all the defenses shut off and he knocks out like a light. With his body weight no longer holding you down, you raise up slightly in the bed and look over you arms and shoulders, noticing the soreness and little marks decorating your skin in the soft light pouring from the cracks in the ceiling. It was like you’d almost been mauled, the way your skin was covered with marks and sore from little bruises. If you could see your neck, you’d imagine it was the worst of it all.

But before you can examine any further, Strife is awake. Raising up on one arm he looms over you, eyes giving a once over. He instantly spots your arms and in the light, notices your disheveled state. “Princess, your…” Strife takes in a breath, and you swear you can almost hear his thoughts in it.

“Shit.”

Even as you look at him his eyes avoid your own, instead focusing on the peppering of hickies on your neck and shoulder. Eventually his hand takes your wrist, and you notice how easily it gets swallowed. He seems to notice as well, if not by the way he’s cradling it as if he’s too nervous to let his hand fully wrap around it. “Sorry ‘bout the battle scars.”

He sounds like he’s joking, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s more than a little bit upset with himself. You attempt to grip him and keep him from falling down that whirlpool of self-loathing before he sinks too deep.

“They don’t hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Strife is still holding on, letting out a breathy laugh.

“That’s what everyone says.” They aren’t deep, not nearly enough even bleed, and so Strife eventually lets your wrist gently fall from his hand. You take it back and look up at him.

“Want something to eat?”

You see a momentary glance of his bright eyes as he looks over his shoulder at you while sliding off the bed. Picking up pieces of armor off the ground he slowly began putting it back on, metal clinking against metal as each piece gets tightened into place.

It’s a rare moment to be able to take it off, and have a rare moment of relaxation, but in the end it’s only a moment.

Being a Horsemen, he wasn’t supposed to have these sorts of indulgences anyways.

“Can’t stay any longer; Hell, I’m not even supposed to be here right now.” That catches your interest.

“And where are you supposed to be?”

He’s buckling the belt that holds his gun holsters as he lets out a breath, sounding more like an exasperated sigh. Apparently it was a loaded question.

“Somethin’ Death wanted me to do. Figured he wouldn’t mind if I took a little detour.” It wasn’t like Death hadn’t been expecting it.

I know where you’ll be going first; Make it fast, will you?

The look you end up giving Strife isn’t the most approving, but it’s a bit too late to tell him not to do that now. Though it wasn’t as if you would’ve really meant it, given that would involve Strife not being here. If he’s going to shrug off his duties, you’ll take the few more moments you get with him without complaint.

“S’on the way, anyways.”

Standing upright you move to step in front of Strife and look up at him; Managing to catch one last glimpse of his face before his helmet is secured back in place.

“Then you best get it done, before Death realizes you shirked out.” Strife lets out a decently loud laugh knowing well that Death already does, and hates that fact more than almost everything else about him.

“Let me at least walk with you out of the Tri-Forge, before you disappear.”

Strife wouldn’t have the heart to refuse you, so he waits until you’re dressed and walks with you, all the way down the long pathway out of the Forge, and into the wide stone path towards the plains outside.

He assumes you aren’t able to feel it, but Strife knows well that the Makers are watching him with you, and distinctly are not pleased.

He’s not surprised; He knows quite well the Makers aren’t fond of him, putting it in the nicest way possible. They especially aren’t now, knowing that he’s within arms distance of you. They’ve become exceedingly protective, over the short time they’ve known you. And a Horsemen is a thing you protect from, not get protected by. At least in their eyes.

But he refuses to let it bother him, getting past where Valus would be had he not been talking to Muria, and outside onto the lush grass. Avoiding an unsavory encounter is good, but sometimes Strife feels that in the end, they have it right to worry about you being so close to him.

It’s here that he finally whistles to summon Mayhem from thin air, the horse appearing from a cloud as if a ghost. He knows well you adore the steed and gives you a minute, smiling behind his helmet at the way you perk up as the horse comes towards you. The minute he’s close enough you pet the amount of hide you can reach in between the seams of plated armor, watching the way the horse’s ears twitch as big eyes stare you down.

You know that Mayhem, much like his rider, is the most fickle of all the Horsemen’s steeds; So you get a little bit of pride knowing the horse lets you touch him.

“Mayhem! How’s Strife been treating my favorite horse?”

The horse whinnies at you, snorting as his massive body shakes at the shoulders and rustles his mane. The chains of his reins and armor clink against each other, the sounds of metal ringing loudly over the peaceful quiet of the realm.

“You know enough horses to play favorites?” Strife crosses his arms and watches the way you look up at him, hands cupped around Mayhem’s snout.

“I've met Ruin once. So technically, I can play favorites with otherworldly horses.” It makes Strife laugh, but, he also can’t help but get the tiniest bit of pride.

But either way, he has to leave you.

Moving to grasp at the saddle-horn he easily throws himself onto the heavily armored horse’s back, sitting himself aloft far higher than you are. You barely reach his knee, on a horse this tall.

To think you used to be petrified of him, of both of them, and now you can easily rub Mayhem’s snoot and coo at a horse meant to symbolize eternal chaos and unrest.

“See you soon, princess. Don’t miss me too much?” He watches you smile up at him.

“I’ll try.”

He gives you a wave and you smile back watching as Mayhem begins kicking up dirt, running off and leaving you alone again.

#strife x reader #darksiders strife x reader #Darksider/Reader #darksiders strife x you #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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jacksonlywife · 6 months

Text

Does This Look Good On Me?

(Making Your Final Fantasy Partner Look At Your New Outfit)

(GN!Reader)

TW: Suggestive

Cloud Strife:

“Cloud Cloud!” You repeat enthusiastically, throwing your hands up and down trying to get your boyfriend's attention.

“Yes? What's so important that you're this excited?” He says tilting his head confused.

“I got a new outfit I want you to see me in!” You smile clapping your hands together.

“Sure. Go change.” He motions with his hands. You nod and then he grabs your shoulder. “You're not gonna change infront of me?” He gives a slight pouty look which you fluster and slap his hand away.

“You're not that lucky today.” You head to the bathroom to change into your new outfit. You come out in the beautiful garb and Cloud’s pupils dilate for a split second as a small blush lathered his face.

“You look pretty.” He averts his eyes trying not to show his blush to you.

“Thank you! I love this outfit so much~!” You twirl a bit.

“You look better in my arms though.”

Sephiroth:

“Sephiroth!” You pop out from behind trying to get your boyfriend's attention.

“What is it this time?” He says looking at some paperwork clearly agitated from the amount.

“I got a new outfit and I want you to see me in it!” You say excitedly.

“As you can tell I’m busy.” Sephiroth flaps his hand away.

“Please Sephiroth?” You say pleadingly with puppy eyes. He sighs as his mouth parts.

“Fine. Make it quick.” He rubs his temples while you nod and rush to the bathroom quickly coming out in the outfit.

“What do you think?” You smile cheekily as you see Sephiroth flinch at the sudden change. His ears go a light pink which he covered with his long hair so you couldn’t see.

“It’s alright but. You’d look better without it on.”

Tifa Lockhart:

“Tifa!” You say hugging her from behind excitedly.

“Oh! Yes darling?” She says with a sweet smile surprised by your sudden enthusiasm.

“I want you to see me in a new outfit I recently bought!”

“Oh? I’d love to! Though you look good in anything really.” She smirks while playing with a strand of your hair.

“You're one to talk.” You say back making her blush while heading to the bathroom to change. You come back and give her a full view. “Well what do you think?” You smile excited for her response.

“Woah.” She says softly eyes widened blushing. “You're so beautiful.” You blush at that statement and rapidly shake your hands in denial.

“Tifa!” You say flustered. She smirks and opens her mouth.

“I just wanna kiss you all over.”

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oven-thermometer · 2 years

Text

Request: “ Hello I have a request!!! How about a story with Strife x reader. Strife and reader spend the day together with reader making Strife an amazing human meal. It starts to get late as the two get ready for bed, reader says it’s alright for Strife to stay the night. He gets his own room, but he can’t sleep. He already has a huge crush on reader (reader has a crush on him too). He makes the decision to wander into their room to snuggle in reader’s bed. THEY SHARE A FIRST KISS!!! …I love me some pining and first loves!!! Sorry about the lack of new Darksiders games, that sucks, I was hoping for something new too. ”

A/N: THQ did announce that they’re working on some other unnamed games, hopefully Darksiders 4 is in there somewhere lol. Tysm for the request, I’ve been struggling with ideas – hope you like it <3

Word count: 2.1k

Warning: literally just a vague kissing scene

Another day well spent. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence: spending your off days with Strife that is. Hours of banter, games and simply spending time in each other’s company was an easy way to wind down. Your friendship with Strife had always been one filled with cherished memories – and today was certainly no different.

The sun had set about an hour ago, laying a crisp feeling of cool over your home. It was a nice contrast to the stuffy spring day. Not that you were complaining, getting to spend the day under the protection of the AC meant you could both continue your shenanigans. Shenanigans which included board games, movies, reality TV binging and your personal favourite – teaching Strife to cook.

Teaching Strife small little skills made him feel normal, and you didn’t particularly mind either. It meant you got to stare as the glint in his eyes showed the curiosity etched onto his face. The sheer joy he experienced from learning how to bake cookies, or how to make a good cheese sauce meant he could prove to himself that maybe he wasn’t such a monster. The monster the council and the entire of creation had plastered him as. He could choose who he was.

Setting the spoon down, you looked to Strife. That same glorious smile crept it’s way onto his face, igniting an odd feeling in your chest. The way his eyes met yours for a second made you both laugh quietly. You grinned as you poked his chest playfully, “You told me you’d never made mac and cheese before – quite the quick learner.”

He chuckled, his warm laughter pouring out into your kitchen. He took the spoon from the counter and began stirring the pot once more, “I have some tricks up my sleeve.”

You leaned over the stovetop next to Strife, the smile never leaving your face, “You know, if you’re already this good at cooking, some would say you’re just trying to spend time with me.”

He scoffed, “You wish. I really am just using you for your cooking skills and then I plan on leaving as soon as possible. Never know when a demon out there might need some killer dinner.”

Your laughter rang clearly through the space. You buried your face in your hands, attempting to stifle the giggling. “I hate you.” You joked, the words muffled behind your fingers.

“Oh c’mon dollface,” he leaned closer to your face, “you know you love me. It’s undeniable.”

“In your dreams loverboy,” you scoffed, turning away to hide the blush dusting your cheeks, “the food should be ready now anyways.”

Dinner was full of the usual teasing and banter. Being friends with Strife also meant constant harmless bickering and playful jabs. Snarky comments about the current situation or about each other took their comfortable spot between you two. It meant you could get under each other’s skin. And as far as you were both aware, the harmless flirting meant absolutely nothing. Yes, the pet-names and compliments definitely had no effect whatsoever. The quick head turns and quicker glances at each other did not mean anything odd – and the yearning for each other’s attention meant nothing. You hoped it did at least.

You sat across from each other at your dinner table. As you ate, you felt those yellow eyes on you again. A sarcastic comment was made about how he couldn’t stop staring, which was returned with silence. Strife was many things, but silent was not one of them. Your brows quirked in curiosity as his eyes continued to bore into yours.

“What? Do I have something in my teeth?” you joked, but still, he wouldn’t say anything. You studied his features. He didn’t look upset or angry. He looked lost, like he was in a daze. You actually felt yourself being pulled into one of your own. His dead stare captured your focus – mac and cheese was forgotten. You had admired Strife’s handsomeness before, who couldn’t? But now, with the light above you shining down on both of you and dipping into the curves of his face, it only accentuated it. The sharp angles of his jaw flowed with the warm glow of the light. His neon gold eyes seemed to strengthen the height of his cheekbones set against his face. You knew Strife was handsome, but you had never really known how pretty he was – only the word awe-inspiring came to mind.

A crack of lightning startled you awake. Your head snapped to the window. As quick as it had appeared, the electricity filling the sky was gone. And so was your own daze. You shook your head. Strife had come to as well, coughing before promptly returning to his abandoned meal. You couldn’t bring your gaze near him again for the rest of dinner. Even as more lightning shook the sky and rain thundered down onto your roof. You did not once look at him or share another glance.

The dishes were done in silence as well. It would occasionally be broken by a single word or the clashing of dishes, but nothing was said. A quiet agreement was made with the both of you to not speak about what had happened. Denial filled both of your minds. What was the harm in it? You both just happened to stare into space at the same time. While facing at each other. While admiring each other. While evidently not getting lost in thought but getting lost in each other’s eyes.

Oh.

“You can’t go home with the weather like this! It’s pouring outside.” You pleaded.

“I appreciate the concern, dollface, but I’ve been through worse,” he patted your shoulder reassuringly, “thanks for dinner – it was great.”

You grabbed Strife’s hand as it was lifted from your shoulder, the words muddling in your throat as they ran to get out. After a few tries you managed to sputter the right words out. You tried to laugh before saying it, to play it cool, “I don’t think um, I don’t think Mayhem would uh, would really agree.”

“Uh-huh,” he tilted his head and smirked in a teasing manner, “sure you don’t just want me around, lovebug?”

You scoffed, “New nickname? Aren’t I special.” You said in a mocking tone.

Strife quickly freed his hand and poked your cheek, “Yep.”

You huffed, crossed your arms and promptly began walking towards your room with an unamused look on your face, “Take the couch or use the spare bedroom. There’s linen in the hall closet.” Is all you said before closing your bedroom door and shutting him out.

You paid no attention to any noises beyond your door. You simply lay on your bed with your face buried in the pillows, a raging blush burning your cheeks. You groaned as you turned over. The memories from the day ran past your eyes as you kept landing on dinner. Everything had just bottled up till you couldn’t take it anymore. Why did he have to be like that? You just asked him to stay over. Nothing else. Damn him.

The idea that maybe your friendship with Strife had turned into a crush made you scared. Scared? Nervous. For so long you two had been comfortable and content just with how things were. You loved Strife’s friendship. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Maybe anything. Maybe you also wouldn’t be apposed to being something else.

You stopped your thoughts right there. The rose tint on your cheeks seared across your face and spread to your neck and ears. You sighed, smothering the pillow on your face. Just then, a knock at your door alerted you.

A few minutes before, Strife sat in the guest room of your home and was having the exact same predicament. He sat on the bed, hugging the pillow, trying to sort through his racing thoughts. All he could think about were the days you two had spent together. This burning feeling in his chest tore through him, settling on his skin, making it burn unpleasantly. He was pretty sure he had romantic conquests before in his life, trouble was he couldn’t remember many of them. He was at an utter loss for what to do. Strife had accepted his feelings for you long ago, but that didn’t make it any easier. If anything it made it worse. He wanted to protect you. To hold you. To love you.

For so long he had blocked off his emotions and held them back with a broken string of jokes and denial. But now his feelings for you had made a crack in that dam, and the dam was beginning to break. He was terrified of what might come loose if everything broke free, so he had kept everything to himself. He tried on many occasions to leave you, to abandon your friendship – so that he could keep you safe. He wasn’t only concerned about what might happen to him with the dam breaking, he was scared for you. Creation told him he was a monster, an abomination, and that is what he was. No abomination could ever love something as gorgeous as you. Your presence basked his life in warmth, and so every time he tried to turn away from you he could never bring himself to fully cut you off. This was just another thing he hated himself for.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to tell you. And if that meant losing you forever, so be it. His life could no longer be riddled with this aching pain of self-loathing.

The gentle knock at your door was so soft it could have been easily mistaken for the wind. You swiftly threw the pillow from your head and made your way to the door. You opened it slowly, seeing Strife’s tired eyes glued to the floor.

A sheepish smile spread over his lips, “Would you believe me if I said I was afraid of the lightning?”

You smiled, “Not really,” the tired look strewn across his face still concerning you, “what’s up?”

Strife shrugged, still obviously avoiding eye contact, “I was…” –‘spit it out’- “You know if you’re ok with it!” –‘say it’- “Uh, I mean-“

You leaned on the door, visibly confused. Strife struggled to let the words out. Eventually you caught on, your eyes widening with realization.

“Oh!” you gasped, “You wanna sleep in here?”

The boldness of your statement struck you the moment it left your mouth. You laughed quietly, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly.

Although he seemed relieved. An invisible weight lifted from his shoulders as he let go of a breath he didn’t know was there.

He nodded quickly before you could take it back, “I’d like that a lot.”

Neither of you questioned it. And both of you were thankful for that.

Silence dawned over the two of you as you sat in your bed. You both sat upright against the headboard, with you leaning your head comfortably on his shoulder. A content sigh left you as you snuggled further into Strife’s arm. He chuckled and lay his head atop yours in response. The vibrations of his laugh ran through you, infecting you with your own outburst of smiles. Only the sounds of breathing and airy laughs could be heard, with even the dull sound of rain on your roof rushing away. The fury of the lightning no longer concerned either of you. Your shared comfort seeped into your surroundings. Strife slowly inched his hand closer to yours and wormed his fingers in-between yours. You squeezed his large, calloused hands with yours and intertwined your fingers further. He brought your clasped hands to his lips and lightly peppered kisses over your knuckles. A smile danced over your face as you cupped his face within your palms and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. You both got lost in each other’s eyes, but this time neither of you shied away.

At this distance you were finally able to study his features closely. The speckles of scars littering his face and the tiny wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled entranced you. Your noses brushed together as you subconsciously leaned closer. Strife could feel the dam breaking, as well as his resolve. He surged forward, the final crack in his wall bursting with emotion. He could no longer deny himself or you. His mouth ghosted across yours in an attempt to silently ask for permission. Your eyes fluttered closed. You moved forward to close the gap. Rough lips met your soft ones in a tender kiss.

Sparks of pure happiness danced across the world. Everything seemed to melt away. The rain was a distant echo, the lightning a forgotten memory, the storm getting farther away the longer Strife’s lips moved against your own. You two were the only ones in the world at that moment. Joy shook you to your bones. The glow of unaltered and honest feeling spread through both of you, replacing the aches in your chests. A warm embrace was shared in silence.

Maybe the universe had told him he was a monster, but he was your monster.

#darksiders #darksiders strife #strife #fanfiction #darksiders fanfiction #strife x reader #darksiders strife x reader

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ghostfacesvalentine · 1 month

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Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

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ariseur · 1 month

Text

ffvii jealousy headcanons 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

✧˖*°࿐ includes cloud strife, zack fair, sephiroth, reno, genesis rhapsodos, and angeal hewley

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

just a little something to satisfy you guys while i continue working on my requests!! already did a dmc one so might as well do a ffvii one too lol

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

jealousy (obviously), some possessiveness, intended lowercase, like one bullet point about post-nibelheim sephiroth, just a couple of guys who love the reader??, lmk if i missed anything !! 🎀

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓒LOUD — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ cloud is the type of person who will swear up and down that he doesn’t get jealous, but truth be told, he does. however, he doesn’t recognize it as jealousy at first.

❥ although, he definitely tries to shove his feelings down once he realizes that he’s somewhat upset. cloud won’t upright and confess that he’s jealous or go up to you when he sees someone flirting with you.

❥ cloud’s pretty understanding if you needed space or if you were just talking with someone else, he’s not gonna immediately resort to his insecurity.

❥ but once it’s a reoccurring experience, or if they know what they’re doing— or worse, if they’re actively flirting with you or touching you, then he’ll definitely start to get a little jealous.

❥ instead of actively confronting you or getting up in the flirt’s face, he’ll only watch afar at first. he’ll observe the conversation, the light touches, checking to see if you look uncomfortable or not.

❥ when it begins to become too much though, cloud’ll come up to you, saying something along the lines of how he needs you or needs your help and that it’s so urgent that you have to come with him asap.

❥ if you even insinuate that he got jealous though, he’ll deny it to the moon and back and say that it never happened. he may act like he doesn’t care, but don’t let it fool you. cloud cares about you way too much to let you be slobbered over at a bar by a disrespectful dude.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓩ACK — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ i feel like zack’s semi into pda? as long as he’s not around the firsts or anybody important, especially angeal, then he just can’t wait to show you off. he can’t help it, poor boy loves you too much 😭 so because of the somewhat pda, i dont see a lot of people trying to flirt with you— especially knowing that your boyfriends a SOLDIER.

❥ i dont think he’d even notice at first, too busy talking to you to even notice that theres someone who has your attention also. i cant see anybody really trying to flirt with you though, zack’s like that one small dog who keeps yapping at your feet when you get to close to its owner.

❥ zack is very vocal!! if the person interrupts your conversation, he will blatantly call them out on it. he’d narrow his eyes at them and just say, “hello, i was talking to them??” because who interrupts people like that?? plain rude!!

❥ saw this in another post and i totally agree with it, zack’ll joke and joke with underlying messages behind these said ‘jokes’ and definitely has the mindset of, “what can they offer when you have me???” he just doesn’t see how they catch your attention or why they’re talking to you while hes sitting right there??

❥ will bend over backwards just for your attention, he will pout otherwise if he doesn’t get your full undivided attention after his attempts.

❥ will probably annoy the person after you’re gone by either passive-aggressively interrogating them or ranting about how in love he is with you. he’s like the cartoons where they hold their chin in their palm with heart eyes as they look up all dreamy with a giant thought bubble that’s just you. he can’t help it, he just loves you too much (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞!!1!1!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓢EPHIROTH — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ for pre nibelheim (because i miss soft and not crazy sephiroth), i cant see him getting all that much jealous? i guess he’d get more so protective if he sees someone all up on you— but otherwise, he’s pretty laid back about it. he puts a lot of his faith in you entrusting that you won’t break it, so i cant see him going crazy over it.

❥ i think sephiroth’s mature enough to not cause a scene even if he was jealous, though. he wouldn’t be petty or actively try to keep you away from anybody pre nibelheim, although he finds it amusing how they try to flirt with you.

❥ he especially has to have trust in you considering he’s a first class!! unless you are also a SOLDIER or you’re associated with shinra, you guys will spend semi-large gaps of times apart. he doesn’t think you’d betray him like that though, he’s mature enough to have a conversation if he’s really worried.

❥ sephiroth has his moments of insecurity, but usually when he’s off duty— he’ll be with you. i’m just imagining sitting at a bar with sephiroth as he’s literally right beside you while this persons trying to slide up next to you lol. i also don’t think sephiroth gets jealous because he knows his worth and know he can be intimidating when he wants to be!! even just his teasing makes people quiver in their fuckin boots lmao. i doubt anybody would wanna mess with a first class SOLDIER who’s fit and over 5’11” / 180cm.

❥ after they either get intimidated or realize their advances aren’t working and that you’re happily in a relationship with sephiroth and leave, he’ll chuckle to himself as he thinks aloud about how silly it was to even attempt to get with you, knowing who you’re with. on the off chance that he’s feeling a little possessive or something, he’s not one for pda but he might just give you a kiss after they leave and a quick murmur of amusement due to their foolishness.

❥ now!! post-nibelheim!! you’re not even gonna be out of his sight enough to be hit on considering he’s kinda like.. a war criminal in a sense 😭. he’s much more possessive in his little silly criminally existentially crisis insane arc, never letting you leave alone or even go out in public that often. he’s much more obsessed with you after his break, so if he finds someone even making advances on you?? ooh, boy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓡ENO — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ reno is one weird little dude, let me tell you that. every time i think of reno, i think of a cat. with a suit. suit cat.

❥ reno does get jealous a lot of the time, even if he is usually all up on you anyways. he still is a turk and also has to spend some time away from you, leading to overlapping thoughts of you while he’s away, maybe not even just possessive but also about if something happened to you. nothing could cure these thoughts better than a little phone sex, though.

❥ i’d like to think reno’s into pda as long as he’s not at work, poor rude having to witness wet kisses on your cheek with a lazy arm slung across your shoulder ever day. so i can’t really imagine anybody trying a bunch of stuff with you when usually— reno’s not too far behind.

❥ if reno happens to be not right next to you and he’s just doing his own thing and he happens to GLANCE AT YOU? AND HE SEES SOMEONE HITTING ON YOU?? instant slide next to you.

❥ he’s petty enough to start calling you all these pet names while he’s sitting next to you, wrapping his arm around you while he’s sizing the flirt up. he’ll look them up and down with a hard stare and maybe throw some passive aggressive comments every once in a while.

❥ he’ll probably make them uncomfortable (unless they wanna square up, because knowing reno, he might just charge if the person reciprocates his belligerent comments) so by the time they already leave, reno’s already whining against you as he asks what that was all about, acting all clueless afterwards. but you can tell just from the tone that laces his voice that he knows what he’s doing lol.

❥ he’s just a petty guy, maybe not so much possessive because i mean you can go out wherever you want wearing whatever you want (maybe after a small quickie at home if it’s something revealing), he can fend for you. he swears he’s your knight in shining armor no matter how much he teases you lmfao

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓐NGEAL — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ now here’s the real knight in shining armor™!!!! angeal is your savior if you’re ever in an uncomfortable situation, although he doesn’t really get jealous at all— he’s just very observant of you.

❥ angeal has a whole thing about how in a relationship you must have faith and he’s very comfortable with both you and himself. he’s happy in your relationship and he is secure with himself!! if zack ever sees you two together and he’s like “(」°ロ°) 」??”, bombarding him with questions as usual, then i can just see angeal giving zack a talk on how to treat women and the gentleman way of approach— although zack is very respectful, it’s just in angeals nature to lecture.

❥ he won’t think anything of it when someone you know sits with you, you guys usually know each others relatives and friends well enough to trust them. but he’s a little iffy when a random stranger starts chatting you up.

❥ angeal obviously trusts you!! again, unless you’re a SOLDIER (which he wouldn’t prefer only because he worries about your well being), then you guys will have to spend some time apart. he has a lot of faith in you and will always write you when he’s away, letting you know he’s always thinking of you while you’re apart.

❥ if anything, he’ll save you if he notices you’re uncomfortable or something along those lines. he’ll swiftly say he needs your for something and apologizes to the person out of courtesy that he interrupted your guys’ conversation, but oh it’s so urgent, we must retreat!! and i must hold you hand in hand while we run off and do totally boring SOLDIER duties!!

❥ omfg then he pulls you aside and asks if you’re okay and ugh i just want him so bad. like sephiroth, he’ll also explain how foolish it was to even hit on you when you’re clearly happily in a relationship with him. you two’ll walk along back to hq (?) or whatever while you talk about how odd the encounter was.

❥ so in conclusion !! angeal is a gentleman and doesn’t get jealous / protective unless he thinks you’re in trouble or you’re clearly uncomfortable. angeal hewley to the rescue!!!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓖ENESIS — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ this dramatic bitch.

❥ genesis is so petty that he’ll probably consider the possibility that you’re flirting back? and then proceed to ignore you or leaving you off with some esoteric poetry while he tends to his duties. he is first class, after all.

❥ if he’s sitting right next to you though, and he hears that you’re not flirting with them. he’s petty enough like reno where he’ll suddenly be throwing out all these dramatic pet names and throw longing glances towards you, except he won’t even spare a glance towards the other person— simply only paying attention to you.

❥ id consider genesis a jealous person, but i do think that most of it strikes a protective instinct within him. he does understand that he’s also a first class SOLDIER meaning he’ll have to trust you, but he has way too much time on his hands to think. also like angeal where he’ll write you as much as he can— except he’ll send you mindless poems he writes or favored quotes of LOVELESS.

❥ in the case that you leave to go to the bathroom or any sort of occasion, genesis would probably scare the other person or make them feel uncomfortable as well. but when you return and they’re gone, he’ll act so clueless. all, “whatever do you mean, dearest?”

❥ another instance where i don’t think anybody would try anything with you. like angeal and sephiroth, genesis is a first class SOLDIER. everybody knows these dudes are the real shit (well, mainly only sephiroths talked about, but it applies to genesis and angeal too!!) so hes all smug parading you around as he side eyes every person who gawks at you. of course he knows you’re beautiful, but your beauty is too much for these fools to comprehend. so yes, he must glare at every single of them.

❥ and yes, also like his companions, he will jeer and whine about how silly it was to try that with you when you two are alone. i can even see genesis pulling a cloud and just whisking you away claiming you need to do something and then act like nothing happened afterwards. either that, or he’ll overdo it and claim to be your angel— no in between.

790 notes · View notes

c0smoshit · 9 months

Note

omg since requests are open.. can i request a cloud x reader with like.. shy kisses? 🫣 IABSKSN LIKE either one of them gives the other a shy kiss and how would the other respond (if that makes sense)

AaaAAAAAHH omg this idea is so cute and It also fits Cloud so good

Thanks for the request!! <33

Shy kisses ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/Reader

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ do not read this if you don't like tooth-rotting fluff, kisses, cheek kisses, yeah that's it, not proofread

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ Cloud giving shy kisses it's so him and this really fits him so good. I seriously need to give him kisses until he forgets about that white haired man.

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 3.470

He had heard Aerith talking about her misterious partner, how they shared everything; hugs, clothes and even... kisses.

He was a busy man, he had a goal and he was going to accomplish it. He didn't have time for things like that.

But then you stepped into his life with steps full of grace and energy, your personality almost overshadowing his cold and quiet one, talking when he didn't know what to say or dealing with people he knew he would scare off.

He never would tell you this but he was so grateful you did the talking for him because, no matter how hard he tried to be the leader, you did a better job. He paid you off by taking down some enemies anyways.

Something about Aerith's happiness when she was talking about her love experiences made him curious about the whole thing.

What would a kiss feel like?

Would it be so electrifying that time would stop like she had described? Maybe it was a cute and gentle gesture, maybe it was full of passion.

He was lost.

What would a real hug feel like?

He had hugged people before (well, they had hugged him) but it didn't felt right. She said that the first time she had hugged her lover, she felt... what did she call them?

Butterflies.

How could anyone feel those winged insects inside of their stomach? It really amazed him how she explained those kind of feelings. It felt like an ethereal sensation, something that could only happen once.

Deep inside his stubborn mind, he wanted to feel that too.

He wanted to have someone by his side, someone he could talk to for hours without feeling embarrassed. Someone he could lay his head on their thighs while listening to whatever they were talking about.

But he'd rather die than talk about all those feelings.

"Shit"

His mouth opened before he could think, a burning ache lingered on his shoulder. A wipe soaked with alcohol deprived his mind from his daze.

Right... He was still inside his "house", but he wasn't alone, you were sitting by his side. A rushed sorry came out of your mouth, your hands gently wiping a not-so fresh cut from his shoulder.

He remembers your worried face when you both returned from the mission, how you ran towards him while asking him what happened. It really wasn't such a big deal, or so is what he thought, you were just very worried about him.

Well, maybe you were too worried about him, he didn't need someone to clean his wounds up after a long day. But his body told you a completely different story, leaning slightly into your touch and letting you handle him around.

If you had stayed for a little while with him, you'd be sure his head would be resting on your shoulder.

Meanwhile he was thinking about you, did you like him? Tifa always told him about how lucky he was, "a lot of girls like you!" She would say, earning a shrug of his shoulders in response.

He wasn't aware of how handsome he was, blonde hair, piercing mako eyes, sharp jawline, cristal skin... He was so dreamy for most girls. In fact, he thought he was an average guy, not to pretty not too ugly just, normal.

But he was clearly aware of how pretty you were. Everything about you was pretty, from your beautiful eyes and gorgerous hair to your intelligence and your mindset. He loved when you talked, he liked your voice and the way your lips moved.

How would they feel against his?

Pfft- What was he even thinking about, you probably liked another boy, not him. Besides, you were his friend and his partner at work, he figured out you didn't have time for love neither.

"Almost done"

You reassured him, placing some bandages on top of the wound. He now realised how close you two actually were, your breath trickling his neck and your knee touching his own one. What if you liked him?

He brushed off those thoughts, trying to keep his cool, your delicate touch whispering sweetly into his ear not to.

He took quick glances to your concentrated face, careful not to keep much eye contact with you. He didn't want to be weird around you, not when you were treatting him so well. His eyes drawed themselves down to your lips. He remembers the little peck you gave his cheek some months ago, he still feels the warmth of them lingering on it.

"Cloud!"

His head perked up as he searched your face, he was holding a rag in his hands that was full of soap. His other hand held a cup gently, not wanting it to slip off.

He heard the sound of the door closing, two pairs of boots and shoes entering Seventh Heaven. He was backwards, cleaning the dishes like you had asked him to while you were out. He didn't like taking off his gloves and soaking up his hands, but he would do it for you.

You told him about how Tifa wanted you to clean the dishes before you and Barret went to do some chores outside. He knew you weren't just begging him to do them just so you wouldn't soak your hands. You were in a hurry, it was clear and he didn't have to do anything that morning so when you begged for him to do them, he complied without any regrets.

He had to remind himself that he wasn't doing this for AVALANCHE, he was doing this for you. Those weren't some extra hours at work, you had nicely asked him to do it. It wasn't a big deal anyways.

Then he heard you walking towards him, the characteristic clank of your shoes coming closer and closer to him. Barret was there too, but he walked around for a bit before sitting down in a chair.

"Thank you so much"

Your words slided into his pierced ears, he didn't need to look at your face to tell that you had a big smile plastered on your face. And when you placed your hand on his unarmed shoulder he tensed up a bit, his hands stopped rubbing the sponge over the crockery.

He felt your chest pressed against his arm before something soft tickled his cheek. Although it was just a cute little gesture, he melted on spot, mouth slightly agape as his hand instinctively touched the affected area.

His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked at you, hearing your soft giggles when he retrieved his hand, leaving some soap on his face.

Although it wasn't as if you had kissed him on the lips with your arms wrapped around him, it still felt that intimate.

He spent the rest of the day touching his cheek, surprised to have recieved such a gesture from you. He also recalls how Barret shouted "Get a room ya' two", making his embarrassement grow even more.

Aerith also talked about how happy and relaxed she was in the arms of her lover, cuddling with him until the sun went down. She talked about how that relieved all the pent up emotions and stress she had inside of her "kissing him felt almost like touching heaven"

Did it really feel that good?

God he wanted to know, he needed to feel all the things Aerith was talking about. But he couldn't, he didn't have a partner or a really good friend to cuddle with ( or maybe he did but wasn't fucking aware )

But those feelings rested deep inside him, the agravating man with white hair floated on top of them. He needed to get rid of Shinra and the people who had harmed the planet.

"Is it too tight?"

Your voice spoke again, soft as ever. He shook his head lightly, silently telling you that he was alright. His back hit the sofa, sitting with his legs slightly apart while he saw you mimicking his actions.

He should be tired after what had happened today, but something about your company kept him awake.

The appartment had a sad aura enveloping it, maybe it was the fact that it was almost empty. But he didn't care, as long as he had a warm bed and a bathroom he was alright with it. He didn't think he was going to rest there for a while either.

The afternoon beams hit the floor through the window, creating an cozy orange glow, your eyes lingered there for a while, enjoying the pleasant lighting.

Midgar didn't stick out by it's nature or it's beauty, in fact, it was a pretty depressing place with all the pollution and dark lighting. But despite all that, you enjoyed how the sun striked the city by the time afternoon came.

Small details like this often caught his attention, meanwhile he hated how sad this city was because of the Shinra you managed to adore the smallest things. Well, maybe it was because you didn't have other option, you were stuck here with the group just like him.

"Thank you"

Your eyes looked at him, but he was facing the wall in front of you with his arms resting on his thighs. He looked calm, a sight you almost never got to see because of his constant fighting and working to take down Shinra.

You were happy to see him like that, so you told him that it was okay, you were here to help him. He liked the idea of that, having someone by his side when he needed them the most, someone to clean up his wounds, to look after him.

He was the one that did all those things most of the time, worrying about everyone's safety although he didn't say it, he did it. But he didn't want everyone's help, it would be just too much, he wanted you.

Your shoulders were mere inches apart, his breathing slowed down. You were sitting with both of your backs resting against the sofa, the med-kit you used placed next to you. Your clothes were a bit dirtied up thanks to the task the group had to do, you couldn't wait to feel the refreshing water trickling down your skin. You adored showers, you liked them even more after a long tiring day.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Your voice caught him by surprise, he turned his head to see that you were already looking at him.

"Yeah, been through worse"

And it was true, but he always picked his limp body up and fought with all his strenght. He really was a strong and admirable guy, no matter how hard he had fallen he was standing again before the blink of an eye.

He also was really stubborn so he would do anything and everything to pursue his goal, it didn't matter if he ended up worse than he was before and he surely didn't give two shits about what other people told him he should do.

He had a strong mindset, followed by his evident trauma.

He liked your company, you weren't as loud and active as Barret was so he liked it. His mind went back to Aerith, Tifa listened to her and they both daydreamed about her experiences.

"Do you think someone likes me?"

Tifa smiled from her standing position behind the bar top, she had her arms akimbo as she looked at you and Aerith. Both of them looked at eachother and laughed quietly making you furrow your brows.

"What's so funny?"

They glanced at eachother with sly smirks before looking at you.

"You're really oblivious, y/n"

You sent Aerith a confused look, what were they talking about? Did someone actually liked you?

"Wait, what?"

"Oh come on, don't you see how he looks at you?"

To be fair, no you didn't, It could be anyone. Your mind was soon flooded with questions about that misterious guy, maybe he was in your group, maybe it was some boy in Midgar.

As much as you had asked them who was that guy, they chuckled and told you that you should figure it out by yourself. But how? There were a lot of guys around here and you didn't even have a clue about how he looked like.

You had a pretty nice relationship with the girls, they often helped you pick out clothes and Aerith often gave you flowers saying that they look good on you. They made you feel loved and happy, you liked spending time with them.

You often went out to eat with them when you all could and those were your favourite meals no matter what the actual food was. You loved hearing Aerith speak about her past and her relationship with Zack, she picked up the sweetest words and spoke with a soft tone of voice.

"Yeah let's sit over there"

Tifa said while pointing to a table next to a window that faced a sunny stone path, people walked through it, some of them were fast and anxious while others talked and enjoyed their walk.

The ambience there was calm, there weren't many customers at that hour so the whole cafe was envolved in a pleasant silence.

You walked towards the table with a cup filled with warm tea in your hand and some chocolate chip cookies on the other. The aroma made your mouth water, and judging by the looks of your friends they were drooling too. You all had learnt to adore this place, it was small, cozy and they had the best confectionery.

Great for spilling some tea too.

You talked with them for a while about what was happening in Midgar and all the Shinra stuff. Honestly, you were so tired of them, you wished they could just dissapear and leave you alone with your friends. But they didn't, they just reinforced their security after some of your attacks.

You wished you could spend more time with the girls, with Barret, with Cloud.

God you would kill to just talk with him more often, the sound of his voice, how he talked with you. He amazed you, all the stuff Tifa had told you without him knowing increased your curiosity about him. He didn't share too much about his personal life, you wanted to ask him so many questions but he didn't talked too much either so you were kind of shy to talk with him about him.

"How was your first kiss like?"

Aerith's cheeks reddened at the question Tifa had just asked her, but there was a small smile plastered on her face too.

"Well... I didn't kiss him actually, It just kind of happened"

She paused, taking a sip of her own tea as you took a bite from the cookie you had picked up before.

"Our faces got closer and closer until his lips were pressed against mine, it was such a beautiful moment"

"He must've been a great guy"

You replied, breaking the small silence that was formed after what Aerith had said. Tifa nodded her head and the brunette closed her eyes with sigh before looking at you again.

"He was... He was my first love after all"

Another sip was taken from the cup placed on her hands.

"I miss him"

Tifa reassured her, telling her that there were a lot of good guys out there waiting for her. Meanwhile you stared dreamingly into the window, your mouth opening before you could even think about what you were saying.

"I wonder how my first kiss will be like"

You smiled at that memory, you all spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and daydreaming about relationships. Your head leaning against the black haired girl's shoulder as you talked with her about all the love stories you had heard.

"Thank you for everything again y/n"

Your head perked up until you met his side profile, you opened your mouth to speak, fisting your hands and placing them on top of your thighs.

"Don't worry about it, like I told you, I'm here for you"

Your sweet smile ignited something inside of him, it felt ticklish like some sort of fluttering in his belly. Were they... butterflies?

He nodded his head as he stared at you, you looked really pretty with the sun light hitting your face. He wondered if you found him pretty too.

"I'm glad you're fine, don't scare me like that again"

He chuckled as he looked at the floor. He lifted his back off it's resting position on the couch before speaking up again.

"I'll not"

He kept his responses simple as always, he wasn't a talkative one after all. Silence fell over the room, you repositioned yourself too, your hands falling down to rest next to your legs. He looked so good under the orange hues of the descending sun, hell, he always looked good.

"I think I'm gonn-"

Your words were cut off as soon as his lips made contact with your cheek. You quickly looked at him red faced, touching your cheek with wide eyes.

Did... Did Cloud Strife just peck your cheek?

Your mouth opened but no words came out of it, you were going to explode right there. You absolutely didn't expect him to return your cute gesture and make it even cuter. He smirked, his cheeks also getting a bit hot but he shrugged it off.

"What? I'm just doing what yo-"

You didn't know were your sudden move came from but it did. Your hands snatched themselves into his cheekbones, pulling his head towards you before crashing your lips against his.

The kiss was soft but quick, his slightly chapped lips on top of yours. It was really happening, finally you knew what it felt like, finally you both knew. It didn't last long though, you pulled off him saying all kinds of sorry.

"I shouldn't have, god- sorry"

He didn't answer you, instead he shifted himself closer to you on the sofa. He wasn't usually this affective with anyone, anyone but you. He had fallen head over heals for you, he tried to keep those thoughts away but you were just too much for him, too pretty, too good.

He placed his cold hand just bellow your neck and on top of your collarbone, the touch sending shivers up your spine. And before you could look into his eyes, he closed the gap again.

This time the kiss was slower and sweeter, your mouth moved with his as you trailed your hands up until they rested on his shoulders.

You wished time could stop so you could spend an eternity like this with him.

It felt just like Aerith had described... magical. Although it was clear he didn't have any experience in kissing anyone, his lips moving clumsily against yours and forcing a small smile from you, it felt really good.

His hands soon wrapped around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. You melted on spot, the quiet and angry guy that mostly talked shit about how everything was fucked up was kissing you with that mouth so gently.

You both parted from each other to breathe, the biggest and happiest smile plastered on your face as you leaned your forehead with his. You hugged tightly his shoulders, afraid to let go of him and he did too, squeezing your waist even closer to him.

You opted to just stay silent and enjoy the moment, the sky already darkening outside and the people starting to go home from work.

This was really a pleasant sight because this night, you weren't lonely.

Like two magnets would attract each other, you kissed him again, his lips becoming your new source of drug. You could never get tired of kissing him, feeling his lips on top of yours.

Like Aerith said, it kind of just happened and you couldn't be happier for this moment to be like that. Your breathing calmed itself down, enjoying the sound of his own heartbeat slowing down too.

When the kiss ended again you hid your face against his neck, hugging him. His strong arms kept you in place, his head resting on top of yours.

You stayed there for a while, a long while of laughing and kissing each other's faces until the moonlight replaced the sun on his window. You had lost track of time, but you didn't care as long as you were in his arms.

You soon found yourself at his door, ready to leave his house. He followed you, opening the door for you like he had done before, but this time you were leaving.

"So... see you tomorrow"

"Yeah, good night"

A few more words were exchanged before his lips found yours again, kissing you softly on the lips and giving you a last hug before you stepped out the door followed with a "be careful" from him.

He watched as you waved him goodbye through the window, keeping an eye on you. He closed the door with a quiet "thud", when he laid on the bed that night, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

The next morning you rushed yourself into getting to Seventh Heaven, opening the door with the energy of a dog whose owner had just returned from work.

Marlene was there, drinking a cup of milk that you imagined was her breakfast. You quickly smiled at her with the biggest smile she had seen you show off for months.

Tifa was cleaning some dishes on the sink and Aerith was yawning, sitting in front of her.

You couldn't wait to tell them what had happened the night before with Cloud. And when the brunnete had seen you place your hands on the bar top with a loud sound, she wasn't able to even wish you a goodmorning before you spoke.

"Y'all aren't going to believe this"

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