#the unsteady feet. the struggling to keep eye contact. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reve-writes · 4 months

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— a rush, a glance ; dan heng.

╰‧₊˚✩ॱ˖ honkai: star rail — dan heng — 3k words. ╰‧₊˚✩ॱ˖ summary — you might have fallen at the first kiss — well, technically, CPR — and you couldn't grapple with the fact. but perhaps the struggle went both ways. ╰‧₊˚✩ॱ˖ content — awkward pining for each other, like a lot of being awkward, trailblazer reader, lots of blushing, allusions to dan heng's past, reader is such a simp, kissing.

When you came to, you felt a foreign weight on your lips — soft, warm, and candy-like in that it was sweet. Your eyes fluttered open and you were gazing into a pair of blue-green irises, harbouring a ceaseless depth you could see yourself getting lost in. In a rush, your senses fully came back to you and you inhaled sharply, felt his nose graze yours, felt the heaviness of his palm on the side of your face, tilting it towards him.

When you tried to speak, your lips brushed against his. His body tensed, and like you, his limbs were those of a statue, stubbornly still, cast in place.

So, this was what a kiss felt like.

A higher-pitched voice shocked you back into sobriety. Drunk on the feel of him against yours, everywhere he had not touched felt colder, and the points of contact were molten. "You're awake! Dan Heng, your CPR actually worked!"

The second figure pulled him off of you, air rushed into your lungs immediately and you let out a sigh. Dan Heng cleared his throat, throwing his gaze to the side. The apples of his cheeks burned red.

He was beautiful, almost otherworldly so.

He sighed often.

You picked up on it early on. Dan Heng sighed a lot when March uttered something outlandish, before tasting Himeko's coffee, or as you barged into the Archives to browse through his notes. He didn't have to be in a certain mood to sigh and you began to be able to differentiate between exasperation and contentment and neutrality. Sometimes, he sighed affectionately, out of amusement.

And sometimes, you were the root of it, and it had you feeling like a feather, like you could be a pair of wings soaring through the star-littered cosmos.

"You would think—" A sneeze. "—that with a Stellaron in me, I should at least be immune from a cold."

He sighed, shaking his head. Was it empathy? No. His lips were pulled into a tight line, an attempt to conceal — Amusement. You pouted even as your insides felt warmer, lips tingling with the memory of pressing against his.

"Let's go back to the Express for now," he said, supplied with a worried glance. "We'll find something for your ailments."

Jarilo-VI was a snow-blanketed planet, showered by constant snowfall. The perpetual cold was biting and cruel on the Trailblazers, particularly you. From the moment you landed, you hadn't been able to breathe through your nose.

"We shouldn't," you protested. "I'll be okay once we get to the city. With the stellaron crisis, I should be the least of our concerns."

Unconvinced, Dan Heng lingered even as you had already trudged onwards, snow crunching underneath your boots. You abruptly came to a halt, tilting your head back and he assumed you were anticipating another sneeze, but you continued to follow through, falling backwards. He dashed to catch you before you fell to the ground, calling your name in a low, worried tone.

"I'm alright," you said, even though you were fully leaning against him for support. His hand was warm and solid as it held your shoulder, pressing you to him to keep you from lurching as you were unsteady on your feet.

"Can you hear me?" His voice sounded far away, as if you had a film over your ears. You could barely open your eyes, the white brightness of everything was a blinding stab to your vision.

You hummed in confirmation, but the next sentence he spoke fell as incoherent mumbling in your ears. Dan Heng's face scrunched as he took your temperatures, his cold hand stung by the heat of your forehead. "You're burning up."

"You're just really cold."

Then there was nothing. You didn't remember much — if anything, you had no recollection of what happened after. When you came to, there was a familiar weight on your hand and a familiar scratch of your sheets against your skin. Your eyes, though bleary, could gather that you were back in your room on the Express. You moved to pull your hand to rub your eyes; all it did was stir Dan Heng's sleeping form, sitting at the side of your bed. His grip tightened, long-fingered hands locking around yours.

"Dan Heng?" Your voice scratched against your throat, coming out in a hoarse croak. "What happened?"

Dan Heng buried his face into the crook of his elbow, letting out a soft hum. Not fully awake yet, he stayed clutching your hand, which was getting sweatier by the second. It was too casual; you didn't touch each other this way. Every time you did, it felt as if your stomach was flipped inside out, bleeding acid into your veins.

Your free hand reached to touch his head, nudge him awake, but the moment you made contact, you couldn't resist brushing your fingers through the black strands. So soft, too soft. To your delight and horror, he leaned into the touch, like a nuzzling cat. With a content sigh, he slipped into a shallow slumber once more.

You sat up, leaning closer to let your gaze rampant on his features: the long lashes fanning his cheeks, the hook of his nose and his lips. His lips.

"We're back!" March's voice echoed from the other side of the door. You jolted backwards, falling over the other side of your bed to the ground with a loud thud. Dan Heng sat up, startled. Your door slid open as you were scrambling to get off your butt. "___. Dan Heng. How has it been without me?"

"___?" Dan Heng's voice had deepened into a sleepy rasp. "What — Have you recovered? You are on the floor because...?"

March chuckled, muttering something about your silliness as she circled around your bed to help you up. Your cheeks flushed, going lightheaded from standing up too fast and being throttled by acute embarrassment.

"I was startled and fell down," you protested. "Thanks to you, March."

"How is that my fault?" March pouted.

"I need to check your temperatures," said Dan Heng. He paused, clearing his throat, hand hovering hesitantly. "May I?"

You leaned your body forward, over your single bed, and he reached over to press the back of his hand on your forehead, on your neck, before dropping back to his side. His phantom touch remained, causing you to crease your brow. "Hm, I think the fever has gone down."

"That's good news," said March. "We were all worried sick. Dan Heng hasn't been sleeping much. He won't even leave until Mr. Yang dragged him out."

You turned to look at Dan Heng. He stared back, like he was caught doing something he shouldn't, and briskly looked away.

Clearing his throat, he said, "March, is everyone back? I need to talk to Mr. Yang about the... mission."

March waved her hand. "I'll go! I'm glad you're all better now, ___. The Express was too quiet without you."

"That's not—" Dan Heng started, but March was already retreating, the door slid shut behind her. "—necessary."

You wrung your fingers together. "I'm sorry for causing a lot of trouble. Thank you for taking care of me."

Dan Heng hummed as he stretched his neck, tilting his head towards his left shoulder, and then right. "I would not have let you freeze down there. March is correct in that it has been a bit quiet since you fell ill."

"She's livelier than the both of us combined. She doesn't need me to cook up a ruckus," you joked.

"You're not wrong." A fond smile appeared on his lips.

Out of curiosity, you asked, "Did you carry me all the way back?"

"To the best of my abilities, yes," he replied. "I'm just glad you are well. It was quite a scare. You've been in-and-out of consciousness for two days. Himeko, Mr. Yang and March had gone ahead to investigate the stellaron disturbance."

"I'm sorry," you apologised again. "Why do I always fall unconscious when you're around?"

"There's no need to apologise," he reassured. "And as for your question, I have been wondering as well."

His sighed, lips quirking into an amused smile. You were a feather, you were soaring.

"Do you have an entry about me?" You wondered, face hovering over his shoulder as he navigated the Data Bank, tapping and swiping at the screen with his long fingers.

"It is a work-in-progress," he replied. He was skimming through the data he had gathered about the Xianzhou Alliance, but you were hardly paying attention. You tilted your face to the side slightly, taking in his profile, noticing the smudged red under his eye, the intricate swirls of his earring. Oblivious, he asked, "What else would you like to see?"

"What's your favourite entry?"

"Well—" A mistake. He turned his head to the side, ending up face-to-face with you. Breath ghosting over your face, he stiffened, hand gripping the edge of the desk. You were stunned frozen in place, not unlike the ice statues littering the snow plains of the Jarilo-VI.

His eyes were blue and green and clear, the unbroken surface of a lake.

"You're really pretty," you blurted out. Your eyes widened as you straightened up, placing your palm over your mouth. Dan Heng pursed his lips, pink dusting his cheeks. "Shit—sorry. I don't know why I said that. Sorry."

"No, it's — it's alright," he said, quelling your sputtering. "That was flattering."

"Oh."

"I do find you... to be 'pretty' as well."

"Oh." What does that mean? You laughed, the sound off-kilter, borderline disorienting. The stuffy atmosphere in the Archives must be getting to your heads. "I think I need some air, don't you?"

He frowned. "We can leave the door open, if you wish."

"It's okay!" You were already stepping backwards, stumbling over the steps. You pointed at the door with your thumb without turning around. "I'll just—I'll check on everyone at the parlor."

Desperate to leave, the small square of his room was closing in on you. Your chest constricted, squeezed by a slither of not-so-unpleasant emotions. You felt full. You felt empty. You felt like lurching out of the window to gaze directly at the stars, or running to your room and scurry under your bed.

You found yourself face-to-face with the door and tried sliding it open, failing to do so.

"Is it locked?" He asked, chair scratching the flooring as he stood. Before you could reply, his long legs carried him towards you in an instant. You felt him behind you — around you. The brush of his arm was electric through your clothes as he pressed the dial of the door to unlock it.

You could have done that yourself.

The door slid open smoothly, but you stayed rooted in place for a beat or so. Until he called your name and your entire form seized up, like a startled squirrel ready to bolt. Everything was warm, your face, your neck, the tips of your ears.

As you dashed out of the Archives, you thought you might be coming down with another fever.

The night before your planned arrival at Xianzhou Luofu, you were unable to sleep. Trailblazing expeditions had a way of lighting your nerves, turning you into a bundle of nervous energy and anticipation. Sleep evaded you, or perhaps you were driving it away with all the tossing and turning.

To your surprise, your phone lit up — an unmissable flash in the dark interior of your room. You stretched your hand, reaching out to your nightstand. Your heartbeat thumped wildly at the name which appeared, hand sweaty as you tapped your screen.

Dan Heng

Are you awake?

Should you ignore it? You had been avoiding being alone with the Xianzhou native as of late. Not to his fault. You were the weirdo, this much you were aware. Gnawing at your lips, you typed out:

yes

Would it be an inconvenient time to talk?

not at all

should i find you at the archives?

No. Give me a moment.

A moment passed, there was a knock at your door. You called out for him to come in. Your door slid open with a loud rumble — perhaps not so loud during the day, but the early dawn hours had a tendency to distort one's senses.

"Hello," you greeted. He was briefly illuminated by the light flooding in from the hallway before your door slid back to a close. His hair — usually a perfect fall of jet black strands, had pieces sticking up. His bangs were swept up as well, revealing his forehead. He had shed his robes and tunic for a sleep shirt and trousers. It was the first time you'd seen him so unkempt, as if he was peeling back a layer of himself, showing you a part not meant for just anyone.

"Hello," he said, not knowing what to do with himself as he stood by your bed.

Obviously you were not going to invite him to bed. You didn't have that kind of friendship where you could lie side-by-side on a bed too small for two and be fine. At best, your palms would sweat and shake just from your shoulder being pressed against his. At worst, your heart might palpitate and burst.

"We can sit down," you suggested, pointing at the window seat, a few steps from your bed. It wasn't like March's, crowded with stuffed toys and yards of blankets. You hadn't had the time to find things to fill it, only a cushion with a couple of pillows in one corner.

He hummed and followed you as you sat down, crossing your legs, facing out towards the glass. He joined you, leaning against the backrest, legs stretching across the floor as he looked into the darkness of your room.

You could hear him swallow.

"You wanted to talk?" It was so quiet that you spoke in hushed tones — as if the whole universe was asleep, and you were the only ones awake. A thrill sizzled in your blood. The air was crackling with something like potential.

"Since you're departing in the morning," he said, sighing — Distress. "The Xianzhou... I'm afraid you will discover things about me that would alter the way you, and everyone, view me."

You could feel his gaze on you even when you were so intent to avoid it, opting to trace patterns connecting the stars outside.

"Alter how?" You asked.

"Who knows? At worst, you might find me abhorrent."

"Whoa, that is a strong word." Naturally, you were curious. What had he done? Theft? Mutiny? Murder?

"Appalling? Horrid? The adjective hardly matters." He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. His voice was unapologetically bare, a vulnerable thing. "I find myself dreading that prospect."

Finally, you turned to look at him, studying the far away look he had. It tugged at your heartstrings. You reached for his hand, which was pressing against the cushion, propping himself up. "I could never hate you."

His head swiveled, there was bewilderment in his eyes, either from your admission or the sudden contact. You couldn't tell.

"There is little truth in that."

Despite his skepticism, he sat up straighter, turned his palm over to hold your hand in his and squeezed.

"You underestimate just how much I like you, Dan Heng." His eyebrows hiked upwards. Abruptly, cautiously, you added, "Just how much everyone likes you and appreciates you for what you do here."

He sighed — Unreadable, this time. "I guess we will know when the time comes. I suppose I should leave you be now."

He withdrew his hand and with it, his vulnerability, as he stood up, brushing himself off. You scrambled, turning around to face him fully, hands desperately clutching around his arm before he could leave. During the day, you weren't sure you could be so daring. But it was past midnight, the world caught between dreams and truths. Your breathing picked up as you spoke, trying to seize the chance before the moment passed. Word after word tumbled out of your lips in quick succession.

"I mean what I said. I think whatever it is you did, I will somehow justify it in my head. I like you too much, in a way that's foolish enough for me to do everything I can to keep liking you. If that makes sense. Even if the entire world makes an enemy out of you, I'll always have an excuse for you."

He looked at you — really looked. His scrutiny was so intense that you averted your gaze to the floor. It didn't last long before he placed his fingers under your chin, coaxing you to look up gently.

"And that is the truth?"

You nod. "Nothing but the truth."

"You like me," he repeated, breath fanning your face. The closeness with which you were staring at each other was thrilling, like the disorienting lurch of the Express during a warp. "In what way?"

"Whichever way you would accept."

His hand was shaking as much as yours. "Then what would you accept from me?"

It felt like a cresting wave, like the ringing silence between an explosion and the sound, the empty seconds between lightning and thunder. You held the key to let it crash and strike, indulge yourself in it.

And so you did.

"A kiss, for starters."

The floodgates opened, waves crashing, a pleasant relief in your heart as he leaned down and gave you what you asked for. His lips — warm, soft and candy-like in that it was sweet — moved over yours. You were full and heady, the simultaneous familiarity and unfamiliarity gave you a rush. He did not let up, pressing forward, hiking a knee on the cushion, between your thighs. His hand slid up your waist, brushed the side of your ribcage, settling at your jaw. The other braced himself on the windowsill as he hovered over you. Your hands tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck. You felt him sigh into your mouth — Content.

You wanted him, all of him, and you knew that you needed to only ask, and he would give it.

dan heng maybe makes me a little breathless. maybe a little bit. just maybe a tiny teensy bit. i tried to keep him in character as much as i can but i kinda suck at that so im sorry. thank you for reading ♡ im trying to build my ruan mei nowadays bc i impulsively pulled for her

#—ki writes #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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writemywaytoyourheart · 6 months

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Bedeviled | FINAL- Chapter 15b: Morior Invictus

warnings for this part: strong language, strong religious themes throughout, confusion, anxiety, JK is struggling help him, blood, mentions of torture, physical pain, heartbreak, despair, grief, loss, pls kindly let me know if I left anything out ty

WC part 2: 15.7k

read 15a first...HERE

JK sits a few feet from where you lay, biting the nail on his thumb as he glances at you every once in a while before looking back out of the mouth of the cave you’re in.

He isn’t sure how long it takes for you to begin stirring, face scrunched in pain as you once again become all too aware of the state your body is in.

Your face looks sickly, but there’s still a soft warm inner glow in your skin that he begins to realize has been there the entire time, he just never bothered to notice it.

He was too distracted figuring out ways to trick you into giving him your soul before you even reached the Flame, to save himself some time.

To keep moving up the ranks..

JK’s gaze is on a bloody stone sitting just outside the opening, when he hears your weak voice.

“You came back.”

He turns his head to see you still lying where he placed you, but this time your eyes are open and looking at him. Fresh tears linger there, waiting to fall.

The look you’re giving him makes a pit form in his stomach so he breaks eye contact and looks at the stained rock again, not responding to you.

“Where are we?”

“The fifth circle,” he mumbles, still refusing to look at you.

You blink slowly, feeling the ticklish tears slide down your cheeks as you gaze at him.

Despite the effort behind them, your next words crack as they fall from your chapped lips, “Why did you come back?”

It takes a moment and he still doesn’t look at you, but he answers.

“I don’t know.”

A tiny smile spreads on your face as your gaze runs up and down his form sitting against the rocky wall, long legs bent in front of him.

“I do.”

That finally makes him turn to look at you, confusion written all over his handsome face.

“Why?” He whispers.

Your reply is so soft he almost doesn’t hear you.

“Because you love me.”

His eyes lock on yours, unable to look away for a moment. Then he tears his gaze from yours and back outside.

“I told you that I don’t. I don’t know why you-”

“You told me that you can’t.” You correct him gently, watching carefully as he swallows and lets out a small breath.

“You’re an angel.” The way he says it is tinged with disgust. It doesn’t surprise you, but it does hurt, “I’m a demon.”

Silence falls between you for a few long moments.

Then he finally looks at you without darting his gaze away seconds later. There’s a hard look in his eyes, “What the hell did you think was going to happen?”

JK watches your eyes fill with tears again and chest stutter as you take an unsteady breath.

“I need you to trust me,” you whisper, bottom lip trembling slightly before you bite it.

His brows furrow.

“I already know you’re an angel, I know your secret. What is the point in trying to fool me now?”

“I’m not, I’m trying- I-…I wasn’t always an angel.”

JK takes a deep breath and shakes his head as if to clear it, then he looks back out of the opening in the mountain, “You angels speak in riddles, just like Him.”

You open your mouth to say something but he cuts you off.

“We can’t stay here long, we need to keep moving or-”

Struggling to sit up, you watch him carefully, your brow creased in worry, “Or what?”

He glances at you briefly before clearing his throat, “Nothing- be careful.”

You smile at the way he flinches to get up when he sees you moving into a sitting position. Then a pained hiss leaves your lips when one of the small stones that surrounds you digs into one of the several deep gashes on your palm.

“Are you okay?”

You look up to see him walking over to crouch by you.

“You look like shit,” he mutters as he takes your hand to look at the fresh blood oozing from the cut.

You can’t help but stare at him as he inspects your palm closely, mumbling something about the stone getting in it and how he’ll need to get it out.

“It’s going to hurt,” JK whispers before gently removing the stone.

At your lack of reaction to the undoubtedly painful process, he looks up to see you much closer than he thought. There’s a tiny smile on your face but a sadness in your eyes as you look at him like a pet you found after losing it years ago.

You lean a little closer until your noses are only a few inches apart.

Despite the dirt and blood on your face, the rattiness of your hair, and the pain radiating from you, your eyes are shining as they look into his. There’s an elegance about you that equally terrifies and intrigues him.

“Why?” He asks quietly.

“Why what?”

You watch his gaze drift along your broken body, the gashes and burns that decorate you, “Why didn’t you let me help? I could’ve made it easier for you.”

The look you give him is one he doesn’t understand.

You lean forward and whisper softly, “It was never meant to be easy.”

He watches as you blink slowly, clearly exhausted. You lean back again, your eyes full of a deep sadness.

“You weren’t always a demon, JK.”

His dark brown eyes look between yours a few times, trying to figure out what it is you’re saying.

A strained sigh leaves his mouth but he doesn’t back away. He shakes his head slowly, “Stop messing with me, I’m not stupid. I chose-”

“To trade your life for someone else’s.”

You see his eyes water a little in confusion before he blinks it away.

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because it’s true,” your voice breaks.

“It’s not, and I don’t understand why you-”

“Please just listen to me-”

“Why should I?” He snaps, “You’re an angel and a liar. Not to mention the last soul down here I’d ever trust.”

When the hurt is evident in your expression at his harsh tone and choice of words, his eyes fall to the ground between you and he gulps.

“I’m not a liar,” you say quietly, voice full of hurt, “I just didn’t admit that I’m an angel.”

“So everything else is true? You’re here for the Flame then.”

You bite your lip, then after a moment of silence you whisper, “No. That I did make up.”

JK scoffs and backs up a little so he isn’t so close to you.

“You’re the one that lied to me,” your voice gains a little more strength and you lean forward with furrowed brows, “You acted like you were going to keep up your end of the bargain but all you could really think about was deceiving me in any other way you could.”

He doesn’t look at you but you see him gulp.

“All you cared about was taking my soul,” your voice cracks due to the previous torture you endured. You can feel the energy steadily draining from you, “You never actually planned on getting me out of here-”

“That’s not fucking true,” he hisses, leaning in and glaring at you as he finally snaps, “I offered to let you go. I got your ass through Hell and don’t you dare say I didn’t. You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.”

His dark eyes flicker between your own. It takes him by surprise when he doesn’t see the irritation there that he expected to. Instead, there’s something that looks almost like relief.

He swallows thickly when he sees your eyes drift from his down to his lips.

There’s a faint smile on your lips when he glances down at them briefly before looking back up.

“You’re right,” you whisper under your breath softly, “Thank you.”

Your faces are only inches apart, you can feel his cold breath fanning over your cheeks.

“You look exhausted,” JK sighs, changing the subject.

You shake your head with a tiny smile.

“No more than usual.”

He knows you’re joking, but he can’t find it in himself to laugh. Even aside from the torment your body went through, he can tell that this exhaustion is something entirely different.

An angel in Hell is against all rules of nature.

“You should get some sleep.”

You shake your head again even as your eyes blink slower from the drowsiness that won’t let up. The faint smile on your lips doesn’t fade as you gaze at him with something he can’t decipher in your eyes.

Saying nothing, you watch as his brows furrow a bit when something occurs to him.

“You’re an angel…” he says quietly, almost to himself.

When he doesn’t say anything more and begins to look a little lost in thought, you hum gently to encourage him to continue.

“...shouldn’t you hate me?” He finally finishes, looking back into your eyes.

You stare at each other for a moment, then you lean in just a little closer, until your noses are a few inches apart.

“Do you think I hate you?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip a little before answering, “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

The demon tries to look away but is stopped by a gentle hand on his cheek.

Instead of answering, he takes your hand in his and brings it down so that he can look at it. You watch the anger flit over his face as he scans the cuts and burn marks littering your skin.

He mumbles something that you don’t catch, so you lean down a little to get closer.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” he says it louder this time, his voice cracking a bit at the end.

Your heart aches deeply in your chest and you fight the tears building up as you watch him have an internal battle with whatever else is going through his brain.

“You came back…” It’s answer enough for his unexpected apology.

Then you ask softly when he seems distracted, “What’s going on in your mind?”

He chuckles breathlessly, “They never shut up.”

“Who?”

It’s almost like he doesn’t want to look at you as he says it, as if he’s ashamed. He keeps his gaze from yours when he mumbles, “The souls.”

A fresh wave of tears comes over you and this time you can’t hold them back. They trickle down your cheeks silently.

He must always hear them, whispering their desires to fall. Begging one of the demons to come along and grant them any wish for one simple thing in return.

“Most of them don’t know what it is they’re doing,” JK mumbles, “And some of them don’t care.”

“How so?” You choke out.

You know the answer, but you’re curious as to what he has to say, considering his role in these things.

“They play games, open doors they shouldn’t, mock the existence of all of us,” he’s staring at a dirty smudge on your torn skirt, “Most of them don’t understand, that if they go looking for us, we will find them.”

You’ve seen first hand the chaos and disaster that ignorance can bring, so you don’t disagree.

He’s right.

“And you can hear them?” You ask, “All the time?”

“It never stops.”

“That sounds pretty horrible.”

He swallows, then you see him shift back into that other state, the one where he doesn’t care.

“Not nearly as bad as being a miserable little puppet and bending to someone’s every will-”

“I’m not a puppet.”

He looks up at you at the strong tone of your voice.

“I am lucky that I ended up where I did and I would not change it for anything.”

JK squints at you, “Seriously?”

“I’m loved, and happy, and safe up there. I’ve never been forced into anything, I chose every second of it.”

You brush a strand of black hair from his face with your finger.

“Out of the two of us, I think we both know who the miserable one really is.”

JK gulps at your words.

“I can help you,” you whisper, “I can make them be quiet.”

You see his dark eyes flicker up to yours quickly.

“What?” His breathless question matches the bewilderment on his handsome face.

You nod, excitement clear in your shining eyes.

“I can help, if you’ll let me.”

“H-...how?”

“You need to trust me,” you give him a look, “Do you trust me?”

It takes a few seconds, then he finally nods slowly.

Before he has a moment to realize what you’re doing, you move forward and peck his forehead ever so softly before pulling back.

By the time he’s registered that you just kissed him, he’s also realized that his mind has become terrifyingly silent.

You feel a spark of warmth in your chest at the look in his eyes.

“Better?” You ask after a few moments.

When he looks at you, you think you see tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away quickly.

“I-...I don’t…”

“Don’t hear anything?” You finish for him and he nods.

His chest tightens painfully at the smile on your face that is positively radiating with joy.

It confuses him.

You look joyful…for him.

His eyes go from your face and drag along your form, taking in the damage for the hundredth time. Blood is dried and caked along most of your skin, the gashes still oozing bright red. He can’t see your mutilated wings from where he sits, they’re tucked behind you, but he has already seen them more than enough for him to stomach. Your hair is tangled and dirty, dark bags sit under your eyes.

There’s a slight tremble in your whole body that seems involuntary. Even as you shiver while clutching his silk shirt to your otherwise exposed chest, your eyes are still shining with relief and excitement for him being free of something that’s tormented him endlessly.

You watch in confusion but don’t protest as he reaches for the black shirt covering the front of you.

His eyes stay locked on yours as he gently takes it from your hold.

He doesn’t so much as glance from your gaze to look at your naked form as he brings it around your shoulders to put it on you properly. You let him slip it over your arms and bring it together in the front to button it up slowly.

He always wore it with at least three buttons undone, but he closes them all the way up for you, his dark eyes still staring straight into yours even when he’s finished.

The demon’s hands linger on the last button after doing it up as he stares at you. After a few long seconds he brings them down, looking at the ground before you see him swallow.

Your eyes flicker between his when he looks at you again.

“They asked me things,” you whisper, breaking the dead silence.

You watch his dark brows furrow and the anger cloud behind his eyes once more, “What do you mean?”

“They wanted to know why you mattered so much to me.”

JK’s eyes dart away from yours and he nibbles his bottom lip nervously at your candid words.

You don’t look away from him, just continue to watch him as he seems to try and figure out what to say to that.

Finally, he mumbles lowly, making you lean closer to hear him.

“And? What did you tell them?”

Your response is soft, “I told them I only asked you to lead me because you were the first demon I stumbled upon.”

You aren’t sure what you expected his response to be, but the way his face falls the slightest bit takes you by surprise anyway.

He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes locked on the ground as he nods slowly and sucks on his teeth a little.

What did he expect you to say?

A dark chuckle slips past his lips quietly, and he shakes his head to himself.

“I guess you were right.”

He looks at you at your soft spoken words.

You lean in closer, but he doesn’t move away.

Even when you get so close your noses almost touch, he doesn’t budge.

“Maybe I am a liar.”

The next breath gets stuck in his lungs and he gulps.

“What do you mean?” He finally chokes out.

The tiny smile on your lips makes his heart skip a beat and he finally pulls away just a little.

“I couldn’t tell them the truth,” you mumble, “They would’ve hurt you more than they had already planned.”

An anxious huff of air leaves him and he looks away from you, “Why-” he gulps, “Why would you care what happens to me? Why did you go back? Why didn’t you just run? You could’ve called your pathetic angel friends to save you. There has to be another way for you to save your stupid little best friend-”

“JK-”

“Is that not why you’re here? Or was that a lie too?”

“It wasn’t a lie,” you respond quietly.

“I fucking knew it,” he says under his breath, shaking his head and pushing his tongue into his cheek, “The one fucking thing that had to be true-”

“Can you just let me speak?” Your voice shakes.

After a few tense moments of silence, he nods, but doesn’t look at you.

“Just think for a second,” you whisper, “Why would I let them hurt me instead of you? Why should I care about a random demon in Hell?”

The demon’s look turns from silent irritation into one of disbelief as he glances at you briefly. It’s clear that he doesn’t believe you, but the realization of what you're saying is clear on his face.

“JK….”

He shakes his head, but is too confused to speak.

“You love me, Jungkook-” your voice breaks with emotion.

Clearing your throat, you correct yourself quietly, but loud enough for him to hear, “You loved me…once.”

When his eyes meet yours, you can see the complete and utter bewilderment and fear there.

You reach a hand out, but he flinches away, still staring at you in wide-eyed horror.

His chest moves up and down rapidly and he finally rips his gaze from yours.

Your words make no sense.

Nothing makes sense.

He chose this life.

His existence started when He made him, and he refused to be His little puppet. That’s why he’s here, that was all his own decision. You were created by Him and said yes to serving Him for all your sad immortal existence, you’ve always been an angel, that was your decision.

He never knew you and he certainly never loved you.

“I-”

Your eyes are full of sympathy as his voice breaks and he moves further away.

“Jungkook-”

“Stop calling me that,” he chokes out as he stands up.

“I’m sorry,” you reach for him, “Wait, please. Let me help you, I can help you remember.”

His panicked and disgusted look doesn’t change as he stares at you.

“Please,” you whisper, holding your hand out to him, “Please…just trust me.”

JK is fighting every single instinct to turn and run, to get as far away from you as possible as he stands there and heaves in breath after breath.

“…trust me.”

You can see the gears turning in his mind as he stares at your hand.

Finally, he takes your shaky hand with his own trembling one and lets you gently pull him to sit again.

“I know you’re scared,” you say gently, never letting go of his hand.

JK shakes his head, but can’t seem to meet your gaze.

“I’m not scared.”

You smile softly at him despite him not even looking at you, “Ok.”

Silence stretches between the two of you for almost a minute, then you ever so gently squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He finally looks at you to see you smiling sweetly at him, your eyes still shining and still a stark contrast compared to your messy appearance.

You scoot forward a little until you’re closer to him and leaning in.

He’s fighting every instinct inside of him right now. There isn’t a single thing about this situation that is normal to him in any way.

The way your gaze drifts between his eyes and lips is enough to have his heart racing and stomach twisting.

He doesn’t know why there’s such a deep desire inside of him to close the distance between you. He knows what will happen when he does and that terrifies him. It doesn’t stop him though, from leaning closer after you’ve stopped.

You let your eyes close as he places his mouth against yours timidly at first, then the kiss slowly becomes more desperate.

The feeling of his cold hand sliding ever so gently up your arm and then the back of your neck to move and cup your jaw sends chills shooting down your spine.

JK squeezes his eyes shut tightly when the images start flooding into his brain without hesitation.

The bright sun and gentle breeze are painful, but he doesn’t pull away.

The sound of laughter and taste of something sticky and sweet is overwhelming, but he doesn’t stop.

He can see the girl again, running ahead of him through the lush forest.

JK’s brows furrow as he deepens the kiss; anxious, for some reason, to pull you even closer than you already are.

The child breaks through a small hedge moments before he follows and stumbles into a small clearing with an apple tree sitting tall and strong. A swing hangs from one of its branches, moving gently in the wind.

The girl grabs it and is about to climb on, but she stops before doing so.

Then she turns to him and steps away from the swing, “You go first! I’ll push you!”

All he can do is watch through his own eyes without a say in his physical actions while he takes a seat on the swing and is soon going higher and higher.

“Look up!”

He does so at the high-pitched request.

There’s a bright blue sky with a few puffy white clouds above him.

A bright shimmer closes in all around his vision until the scene is gone and he’s pulling away from your lips.

“Are you okay?” You mumble, eyes drifting over his face.

He doesn’t speak but gives a small nod.

After he takes a few breaths, you’re about to offer to give him a break, but he leans in before you can, cupping your jaw and pulling you into another kiss.

Cold rain and the thick sweet scent of roses fills his senses.

“If either of us finds a way, we have to try. Deal?”

Those same voices that he heard in the seventh circle whisper faintly in a dark corner, barely audible as they echo around before fading away entirely.

“Ok, deal…”

“JK- hey look at me.”

He opens his eyes to see you scanning his face, concern clear on your own.

“Are you oka-”

“Who are you?” He whispers, cutting you off as his voice breaks.

Your expression softens and he watches silently as you smile gently at him, “Is that really the question you want me to answer?”

It takes him a moment, but he finally locks his gaze with yours. His next question is asked so softly, just a quiet breath, that you barely hear it.

“...who am I?”

You touch his cheek with careful fingers, warm and soft.

“Jungkook.”

His brows knit together and you can see the wheels turning in his head, just not going anywhere.

“You’re Jungkook,” you lean a little closer and drop your voice to below a whisper, “And you don’t belong here.”

“I- don’t understand.”

“That’s okay,” you assure him gently, “You will, I promise. I’ll help you remember everything-”

“No.”

Your face falls and you pull back.

“What?”

“I don’t want to remember it,” his voice has turned hard again, “So don’t bother.”

When he stands up, you reach out and grab his wrist, “Jungkook, wait-”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“But-”

“We don’t have time for this. Can you manage?” He gestures to your form sitting on the floor of the cave. After a few seconds to gather your mind, you nod slowly.

“Then we need to go.”

It takes every ounce of willpower for you not to burst into frustrated tears.

You waited so long to be able to help him remember. You wanted to open his mind more before showing him, because you knew he would shut it down like he’s doing right now. You don’t know how to get him to stop freaking out and let you help though.

You look up and see him holding a hand out to you. You take it and let him help you stand.

It doesn’t come as a surprise when you fumble and nearly fall over again.

JK wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady as you sway on your feet.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, feeling consciousness slipping from you due to the agonizing pain that shoots through your body at the attempt to walk.

“Don’t push yourself- stop-” JK holds your arms close to your chest when you try to fight him off to move on your own, “Really? This is what you’re going to be stubborn about?”

You nod, head bobbing up and down as a yawn slips from you, “I c-can walk.”

“Like hell you can walk,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You wince as the pain spreads the longer you stand there, even though at this point he’s holding all of your weight.

“Just let me carry you-”

“You said- you w-” you clear your throat, “You said you weren’t going to drag my ass through hell. You said that.”

JK’s eyes widen and he scoffs in amusement at hearing you curse for the first time.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips, “I won’t be dragging you anywhere.”

You nod sleepily, still trying to stay fully conscious when your body is trying its best to go under; to do anything not to feel the pain rushing through it.

“Look at me,” he says gently.

You shake your head, a small frown gracing your features.

He chuckles quietly and touches your cheek, “I know you’re mad, but just look at me.”

You finally do, squinting at him.

“Before I pass out,” you slur almost incoherently before he can say anything.

He looks down at your movement, seeing you pull something out from where it was tucked into the makeshift bandage on your wrist from so long ago, when he first hurt you.

It’s some sort of cloth that you hold tightly in your fist, biting your lip.

“I almost lost it,” you mumble.

He knows what you mean by that, as sick as it makes him.

When you were caught, you must have known they were going to strip you down to torture and humiliate you as much as they could. You must have tucked whatever this is into the bandage as a last act of desperation to keep it hidden. It was pure luck that they didn’t bother ridding you of the bandage before chaining your wrists.

You got it out of the chest in the shack and kept it successfully hidden until then, you weren’t about to let them ruin one of your last chances to prove it to him.

“What is it?” He asks gently as you press the cloth into his hand.

“It was a gift,” you whisper faintly, and he can tell you’re about to pass out.

Your eyes flutter closed and the rest of your body weight slumps to the side, making him tighten his hold on you so that you don’t fall over.

As he holds you upright, he glances down at the handkerchief in his hand, his heart stopping in his chest when he sees the messily embroidered initials in the corner.

JK.

________________

The next time you find yourself waking up, there’s a gentle rocking sensation that almost lulls you right back into sleep.

You fight it though and force yourself to open your eyes in a squint to take in your surroundings. It’s a forest that he’s walking through and you’re on his back, head lying on his shoulder as his hands hold your calves to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. Your arms are dangling uselessly over his shoulders and down by his chest. Your wings droop behind you, still aching terribly, but the blood has long since dried.

“Where are we?” You mumble, voice cracking.

“Still in the fifth circle,” he says back quietly, but doesn’t slow his pace, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, pulling your sore arms to hug yourself closer to him.

His breath hitches for a second, but he keeps his composure.

“We’re about to reach the river.”

You sigh and lay your head down on his shoulder, “Are you going to leave me to get across by myself?”

You hear him scoff gently.

“You wouldn’t make it ten feet, darling.”

You smile to yourself, no longer minding the pet names he uses with you and probably any and every other soul he’s come into contact with.

He isn’t whispering it into your ear softly for only you to hear as you drift to sleep, he’s not breathing it against your lips when he doesn’t want to pull away, he isn’t even saying it with a tinge of annoyance after an argument when he’s assuring you that he still loves you.

But at least it’s something.

“You’re crying.”

You reach up a hand and wipe at your eyes, “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

The way he whispers that word makes your heart tear in two.

He feels your arms tighten around him and you place your lips close to his neck but don’t touch him. Your warm breath fans across his icy skin and he feels a chill run down his spine.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whisper, your voice low and thick with tears.

He’s about to ask what it is you mean, but before he can, he’s stepping out of the forest and into the open where the river is not far ahead, the bloody sinners tearing at each other relentlessly as they have done for many years and will continue to do for the rest of eternity.

You lift your head to look, but only briefly, then you put your face back into his neck to hide from the horror in the only way you can think of.

The feeling of him walking again makes your stomach turn. Despite not seeing anything, the sounds of rage and brutal violence still ring in your head.

He must be able to keep them from approaching you, because as far as you can tell, he’s just walking straight through the bloody massacre and none of the sinners have noticed.

It doesn’t take long to get to the other side going straight through, but it’s long enough to make you sick from the sounds that surround you.

JK steps off the river and you feel him carefully hike you up a little on his back from you slipping unconsciously.

“Thanks,” you mumble sleepily.

This horrible exhaustion is really killing you, it’s hard to keep your eyes open for more than a minute. You would never have made it far without him.

“I’m not angry,” you say softly, eyes closed and head still resting on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“We’re in the fifth circle,” you take a shuddering breath, “but I’m not angry. I’m not even annoyed.”

“That’s good,” JK hums softly as he walks over logs and rocks strewn about the forest floor.

“Mhm.”

__________________

You once again blink into consciousness, your mind spinning with confusion.

After blinking a few more times, you see a multitude of blurry colors a few feet in front of you. Another few seconds goes by before you realize you’re lying down on hard stone.

Rubbing your eyes, you watch the colors start to come into focus before you can see that it’s quite literally a pile of treasure; gems and gold glittering in the light temptingly.

Good thing you have no desire for riches.

You sit up slowly, taking notice of the sinners rolling their giant boulders back and forth without acknowledging your presence.

The fourth circle.

“JK?” You look around, but don’t see him anywhere.

Your eyes land on the statue standing guard over the treasure, in the middle of the dilapidated temple you’re in.

The figure of the crouching naked old man still gives you the creeps.

He’s definitely looking at you.

“J-”

“You called?”

You gasp and turn to see the demon walking over to you, a small smile on his tired face.

“You scared me,” you whisper as he crouches next to you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” his eyes scan your figure, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you rub your eyes and yawn, the strange deep exhaustion no less than it’s been. When he gives you a look you clear your throat, “Really.”

A few seconds pass as you look at him.

He’s still as handsome and flawless as always, apart from the fatigue you can see that has begun to weigh him down.

“Are you okay?”

JK nods, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You press a little more.

His expression softens at your worried tone. When he lifts a hand to brush some hair from your face, you gulp, heart melting in your chest at the gesture.

“I’m not the one that was tortured for sport, little angel.”

A lump forms in your throat at the memory of what was done to him, and for so so much longer.

You reach up and take his hand, holding it in yours and noting how cold it is.

His hands used to be so warm against your skin, running up and down the length of your arms and legs and cupping your face to pull you in for a kiss. He would never hesitate to cuddle you into his chest and lift your night dress to put his hands under it and rest them on your abdomen while you were having painful cramps each month, the comforting heat from his touch soothing the ache.

Being unable to pull him into your chest and never let go is beyond the measure of grief.

You want to warm him, keep him close until all of the fears and pain have been erased. You want to look in his eyes and tell him how much you’ve missed him, hear him whisper the words back as he envelopes you in a warm hug.

“I’m sorry.”

JK’s brows furrow at your sudden apology.

“Wh-”

“I’m sorry I left first.”

He watches your eyes well up with tears, not knowing what it is you mean.

“Please,” you choke out, only one tear falling, “Please just let me give you everything, please-”

He shakes his head and moves to stand, but you grab his wrist, more tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I can help you,” you cry softly, looking desperately into his dark brown eyes.

The demon crouches again, letting you keep a hold on his wrist.

“I don’t want it,” he says gently.

“Please,” sobs are falling from your lips, chest shaking with each one as you keep a grip on his wrist.

“Hey,” he calls you softly, cupping your cheek so that you’ll look at him, “hey.”

You can’t see very well due to the tears clouding your vision, but you do your best to look at him anyway.

“I can’t, Apple.”

“Why not?” You whimper quietly, fighting the sleep that’s tugging on you relentlessly.

His eyes shift between yours.

“If I remember, I’ll never be able to let you go.”

“Let me go?” Teary confused eyes drift around his face. Your words slur as you blink slowly, “Wait…where are you taking me?”

He wipes his thumbs under your eyes to dry them.

“Get some sleep.”

____________________

Several times you wake up, but you can’t register where you are or how long it’s been before you slip back into the fog of endless dreams and nightmares.

The hundredth time you open your eyes, you see an orange glow surrounding you and feel a warmth that is trying its best to permeate the cold that has begun to settle in your bones.

You swallow and blink harder a few times before you can see the source of the glow.

A small fire.

Tears instantly choke you but you swallow them and clear your throat as you sit up, relieved that the exhaustion has taken a small step back for the time being.

The feeling of deja vu sweeps over you when you lift your gaze to see him lying on the other side of the fire; long legs stretched out in front of him as he messes with something in his fingers.

You don’t make a sound, so he must have sensed your gaze, because his eyes drift from the small object over to where you’re looking at him from across the flames.

“Second circle?” You ask quietly and he nods.

A small smile tugs at your lips.

“Should I expect you to order me to crawl to your feet and worship you?”

He chuckles lowly and looks back at whatever he’s fiddling with.

“Not unless you want to, little angel, but I won’t be placing my bets on that.”

You breathe a small laugh and look down at your hands, then start absentmindedly picking at the dried blood on your fingernails for a few quiet minutes.

“So it was me, then?”

You look up at the sound of his deep voice and lock eyes with him, a request to clarify his question in your gaze.

There isn’t even a hint of a smirk on his face as he speaks, “The one you gave yourself to.”

You blink a few times, letting the silence stretch on for a bit.

Then you swallow, “Yes.”

“And you were the only and first I gave myself to? Back then.”

You raise your eyebrows and make a face, “Well, yes. Unless you lied to me, which I doubt, considering how much more of a catch I was than you-”

He laughs at your words and you feel your heart lift at the sound.

When the laughter dies down, you see his brows furrow as he gets lost in thought.

After a minute he speaks up again, his voice so quiet you barely hear it over the crackling of the flames.

“What was it like? The first time.”

Your eyes lift to see him looking at you. Once again, there is no smirk or playful glint in his eyes. He is not asking this just for the sake of lustful conversation, you can tell. He is just genuinely curious.

“Well,” you shift so that you can lean back against the wall of the cave, “It was on our wedding night.”

He nods, but doesn’t speak to interrupt you.

“It-” you drop your gaze to the fire even as he keeps his eyes locked on your face, watching all the different emotions run their course.

The look in your eyes is faraway.

You are not here, you are somewhere else, somewhere so very very far away.

There’s a soft look there and a gentle smile on your lips.

“It was beautiful,” you finally say, voice barely above a whisper.

JK says nothing to break the sacred silence that has settled, he just watches your face. He watches the distant look of pure love slip away and slowly fade into one of deep sadness.

A grief he does not understand.

A grief he has begun to want to understand.

“Can you show me?”

Your eyes fly to his, your next breath getting stuck.

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” you choke out.

His eyes fall back to his hands, “I want to understand.”

You watch him with teary eyes as he stands up and walks around the fire to sit in front of you.

The demon that led you through Hell and back leans closer, “Help me remember…please.”

It only takes a second for you to jolt out of your shock and nod slowly, “Ok.”

You sit up on your knees so that you’re a bit taller than him, your throat closing when you feel his hands rest gently on your hips and ever so slightly pull you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from falling into his gaze, those big brown eyes sucking you in and filling your lungs until you drown.

“If I give it to you, I give you everything.”

He stares into your eyes for a few moments longer before nodding in agreement.

JK closes his eyes at the feeling of your hand caressing his cheek in a way only a lover would.

Then he feels your lips press to his gently.

You pull back almost immediately before moving back in and gliding your tongue along his bottom lip, pulling a heavy sigh from his lungs then once again diving deeper.

He can hear the sound of his own heavy breathing, yours mixing in with it as the two bounce off the walls of solid rock. Then they slowly fade away.

The walls of home glow with a warm orange light.

You’re lying on the bed, hair falling past your shoulders as you snuggle into the blankets even as they don’t cover you. Giggles fall from your lips and his heart jumps in his chest at the sound.

“What’re you doing?” Your sweet voice reaches his ears and he smiles as he walks over to stand by the bed you lie on in nothing but your night dress.

You get up on your knees and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and touching your nose to his.

When you pull back, the candle’s golden glow dancing around the room reflects in your eyes as you look at him with a love so pure and so unconditional he knows not a single soul on this earth could ever be as lucky as him.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Jungkook whispers, fingers brushing a messy strand of hair from your face.

Your nose and eyes scrunch up the way they do when you make a silly joke.

“You dropped an apple on my head. Right here,” you place a hand on top of your head and laugh quietly at the smile on his face.

“Here?” He puts his own hand there, “Are you sure?”

“Mhm!”

“Are you positive?”

“Yes, it still hurts.”

“Oh no,” Jungkook pats the spot gently before leaning forward and kissing your forehead, “I’m sorry, love.”

You pull him into a hug, “It’s okay, I forgave you a long time ago.”

He puts his arms around you and holds you close.

If only he could pull you into him and share his body with yours so that you would never again feel pain. He would give you his breath, the muscles that help him to move, the very blood that flows through his veins.

He would give you his own life.

The slight chill of your skin against his as you pull him onto you makes his heart break. You don’t get out much, can’t go long distances to get the blood circulating through your body.

Jungkook places his mouth against yours, his hot breath filling your lungs and warming you up from the inside out.

He can feel you shivering in his arms, so he pulls the covers around you both before leaving warm openmouthed kisses down your chest.

If you can’t breathe, he will breathe for you.

Soft sighs leave your mouth as he explores your body with gentle kisses and hands that leave a comforting heat behind wherever they touch.

If you can’t keep yourself warm, he will do it for you.

The whisper of his name from your lips pulls him back and he brings his mouth to yours again.

If you can’t walk, he will carry you.

His chest is pressed against yours, so close you can feel his heartbeat as if it is your own.

His dark eyes look into yours with so much love and adoration that you lose your breath.

“I love you.” He whispers.

You see the tears sliding down his cheeks in the orange haze as he looks at you.

This is the closest you will ever come to being one.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

Jungkook feels his heart break just a little more as he takes in your sweet face, locking it into his memory so that he will never forget. He focuses on the feeling of his best friend’s heart against his chest, pounding steadily even as it grows weaker than his own.

He pulls you closer still.

If ever your heart fails to beat, you can have his.

__________

Everything comes back quickly after that; your first meeting, days and nights in the woods and village causing all sorts of mischief, your first kiss, finding out that you were sick and looking for a cure, seeing you again for the first time after you were healed, your pregnancy, losing the baby, everything. He even sees the sickness take hold, the things that happened in his absence. All up until the day he lost you. The memories stop when he’s curled up in a corner of the shack, three days after you left him.

JK pulls away, his lips detaching from yours slowly as his breathing becomes a little less labored.

He opens his eyes to see your face not far from his own, wide eyes curious as to what his reaction will be.

“Jungkook?” You whisper gently, hopefully.

His eyes flicker to yours but he doesn’t respond.

There is no recognition there as he looks at you.

Your heart shatters into a million pieces and he can see that on your face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. Silent tears drip down your cheeks.

“You don’t- you don’t remember? You didn’t see?”

“I saw.”

Your red teary eyes lock on his, begging to understand.

“I know you came for the person you lost, but I’m not him.”

“What?” You whisper brokenly, beyond confused.

“He loved you, I could see it,” JK says gently, “And I’m sorry…but there is nothing left of that person, and I don’t love you.”

It feels like your heart is impaled, the breath being knocked violently from your lungs.

JK swallows the lump in his throat at the grief-stricken look on your face as you stare at him.

“Maybe it’s best that I forgot,” he whispers, “It will never be worth the pain it caused by losing it. Why would I want to feel and remember whatever amazing thing He supposedly gave me only to remember the fact that He took it all back? It’s just what He does, and I want no part of it.”

“You don’t understand what you’re saying-”

“Think about it,” JK interrupts you, “What the hell kind of fucked up shit was that? He asked you to be good and punished you for it!”

“What?” You cry, not understanding.

“The kid,” the demon’s voice has become bitter, filled with rage and resentment, “You helped that sick boy and fell ill because of it-”

“The boy didn’t make me sick.”

Your soft voice echoes off the walls of the cave.

JK stares at you for a moment, then he leans closer, “What the hell are you saying?”

“The child was not sick with typhoid,” your voice shakes and you keep your gaze on the wall behind him, “If he was he never would have woken up the next day. He was very sick, but not with what I caught.”

Silence weighs down on you for several long moments. Then he whispers darkly.

“Then how did you get sick?”

“The water,” you say faintly, “Our main water source was dry and I consumed contaminated water from the well in the village-”

“Why didn’t the entire fucking village die, then?”

Your eyes finally find his; your hard stare not backing down from his cold one.

“Why do you think?” You practically spit.

Your question is met with nothing but enraged silence.

“Why don’t you ask your leader?” You hiss, “Ask him why the ponds and river were dry, why I alone died from the water everyone drank, why he blamed it on the boy just to stir more anger and resentment into your heart. Why don’t you ask him?!”

JK’s mouth twists in rage.

He doesn’t know the pain from what happened, he cannot remember the feeling of loving you and the grief of losing you, but that doesn’t stop him from being angry at the one that caused all of this.

“I will ask him when you go to your Creator and ask why He abandoned me!! Why does He sit up there and play with us like dolls?! Why does He love to give and then take away, sitting back on His mighty throne and laughing at our agony because of it?!?”

You are about to snap back when an idea strikes you.

He can’t even register what you’re doing before you sit up on your knees and grab his hands, holding them to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you can.

“What the hell are you do-”

JK doesn’t finish his sentence before everything fades away, his sight, the feeling of your hands, the smells and sounds that once surrounded him.

He is in nothing but pitch blackness.

Then there’s a clear blue sky overhead, birds singing in the trees, and a soft breeze kissing his cheeks.

He sees a small boy climbing an apple tree, his short legs and arms causing a bit of a challenge for him, but he manages.

The child shimmies up one of the long branches and reaches for a bright red apple that hangs there enticingly.

“You can get it, you’re almost there!”

The voice belongs to a young teen boy that sits on a branch a few feet above the child’s head, his blue eyes that match the wings on his back and the toga on his body are shining with delight. Shiny blonde locks fall to the angel’s shoulders, not a hair out of place.

A laugh bursts from his lips when the boy makes grabby hands at the shiny fruit.

“Don’t make fun of me, Nehemiah!” The boy cries, but there’s a smile on his tiny pink lips as he reaches again.

The guardian angel beams with joy, then he flies over from his branch and grabs the apple, plucking it from the tree easily.

“Here Kookie, catch!” He gently tosses the juicy red fruit to the small boy, who laughs and stretches his hands out. He almost catches it, but it slips from his fingers at the last second and plummets to the ground.

Tiny Jungkook looks down to see that the apple has smacked another child on the head. He gasps and scurries down the tree as fast as he can to apologize.

Nehemiah watches with his hands over his mouth to hold in the giggles. His eyes meet the dark green ones of another guardian angel before his excited laughter breaks free.

There was never a friendship among angels and humans quite like theirs. Ever since the boy was born, he could see the angel that followed him everywhere and kept him safe. He learned his name and had complete and utter trust in him.

As Jungkook grew, Nehemiah stayed the same. He had existed for many many years, yet never appeared any older than fifteen.

When Jungkook reached the age of seven, Nehemiah realized with a sinking heart that the boy could no longer see him. He spoke to him sometimes, but that eventually faded away as well. The games and stories and laughter slowly fizzled out.

Nehemiah caught Jungkook’s tiny arm when the child tripped over a stone lying in his path. He righted the three year old boy and laughed as he thanked the guardian angel before breaking into a run once more.

That was one of the angel’s most fondest memories, the one he would always bring to mind during the hardest of days. The blue angel never left his side though.

He walked with Jungkook along the dirt paths and smelled the flowers the boy picked, sang along to the songs he hummed, and was quick to guide him to the dead rose bush that one frightening day at the river even though the boy couldn’t see him.

It was not time for Jungkook to leave Earth yet, for he still had so much to do.

Nehemiah cried with Jungkook the day he found out about your disease. His heart was aching just as much as the boy’s; if not more from just seeing him in pain.

There were many attempts to soothe his human’s heart as he traveled searching for a cure, but Jungkook only ever slipped further and further away from him with each passing day.

He could not hear his guardian angel’s voice anymore.

Nor did he want to.

---------

Nehemiah rejoiced loudly at the wedding and danced with Imelda to the pretty music that played, his bright grin never dimming. For that day was one of the most joyous he could remember, of course not nearly as joyous as the day Jungkook was conceived and he finally got to meet him in the womb after waiting for so long.

_______________

Nehemiah wrung his hands anxiously as Jungkook tied the bundle of herbs together in front of the fire.

“Jungkook please, please don’t do this. Go home to Apple,” his eyes stung with tears, “She’s alone, stop leaving her alone!”

He got no response.

“Jungkook, listen to me! If you go home now, Aera will be conceived before long. You will lose her and yes you will lose Apple too, but I promise you that it will not be the end. You will be there for her during death, to hold and comfort her to ease the struggle of passage. Apple will not die in agony if you stop this and go home to her now.”

Jungkook stepped back and looked at the fire, the bundle of herbs becoming wet in his sweaty hand.

Nehemiah flew in front of him and held his arms out to prevent him from tossing it in, “You will go with them soon, I promise! And we’ll all be happy together in Heaven, we really will!”

His heart sank at the way Jungkook looked right through him.

There was no memory left of the guardian angel, not after despair had sunken in.

The fire snapped and crackled when the herbs hit it and began to burn.

A cold breeze swept through the area and Nehemiah sighed deeply.

Jungkook turned and came face to face with Lucifer.

The Devil looked past the human boy’s shoulder briefly to see the young blue angel glaring daggers at him.

He smirked and went back to business.

Nehemiah tried, he tried his hardest, but Jungkook would not listen.

_______________

The blue angel practically tackled the brown angel, Nasya, who joined him and Imelda the day that Aera was conceived.

“Oh, you’re finally here, you’re finally here!!” He jumped up and down and cried tears of joy.

Nasya smiled, “For a little while, Nehemiah. I will go back soon, with Aera.”

Nehemiah nodded solemnly, knowing the time would come but that sweet baby Aera would be happy in Heaven and would not suffer long in her passing.

When the time came, Nehemiah cried all of his tears. He hugged Nasya, who cradled the infant Aera in her arms, before bidding them goodbye, then he was right beside Jungkook in his mother’s home.

You laid on the bed, face drained of color and eyes drained of life as you stared out the window. Imelda was caressing your face gently and whispering words of comfort.

Nehemiah laid his head on Jungkook’s shoulder and whispered his own words of strength and comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” he whispered as a tear slid down his porcelain cheek, “It will hurt for a long time. You’ll be strong for Apple though, don’t worry. I know you're scared you aren't strong enough, but you won’t let her down, you will get through this and you will smile again. Aera is safe and happy, I promise, I promise.”

____________

Nehemiah couldn’t watch as Jungkook bid you goodbye.

He locked eyes with Imelda, who nodded sadly at him and waved after he called farewell to her, then he followed Jungkook and his mother as they left for their journey.

The screams that ripped from Jungkook’s chest as Taehyung and Yoongi pulled your limp body from his arms broke Nehemiah’s heart into a thousand pieces.

He knew you were okay, he knew you were no longer in pain and would soon be filled with joy beyond measure.

But Jungkook did not know that.

Nehemiah sat and cried with him for three days, never leaving his side.

He knew Jungkook was dying, and he knew what would happen when he did; what he would need to do to protect him.

The guardian angel stood his ground, sword held out and ready to strike any and every miserable wretch that tried to come close to his human.

Jungkook was curled up in the corner of the shack and staring at the dead roses that had spilled from the vase, his breath slowing down and becoming more labored with each inhale and exhale.

He was fading.

Nehemiah locked eyes with the first demon to approach.

“You will not touch him,” he whispered, sword pointed at the demon’s gnarled chest.

The creature howled with delight and moved to get around the angel, but Nehemiah was faster. He swung his sword and sliced clean through the demon’s stomach, causing it to recoil and screech in fury before fleeing.

The young angel took a deep breath and backed up to be closer to his boy, ready to defend him until the end.

Many demons came that day, and Nehemiah held off every single one on his own. They came at him in swarms and he was beaten and torn at for hours, but he did not back down.

The demons could not reach the soul they came to claim. There was an angel between them and their prize, and he would not let them pass.

Nehemiah struck at demons left and right, his cheeks tinted with the slightest pink at the exertion.

That’s when he heard it.

Jungkook’s last breath; the final beat of his broken heart.

Then he was gone.

Nehemiah turned slowly and saw Lucifer standing there, a smug smirk on the demon’s despicable face.

The guardian angel dropped his sword and walked over to his closest friend, his heart breaking more with each step. He was not seen, but that didn’t stop him from sitting beside his boy and wrapping his arms around him.

He laid his head on Jungkook’s shoulder and wept. He heard Lucifer speaking and did his best to talk over him but to no avail. Jungkook was never going to listen.

The broken mortal closed his eyes and did his best to conjure up an image of you.

Nehemiah hugged him tight and whispered to him as he used to when Jungkook was little and wanted a bedtime story, when he would tell stories of a place so beautiful it couldn’t be imagined. Where they would be together someday.

“Apple is somewhere safe and warm, where the sun kisses her cheeks and dances upon her fingers. Somewhere the apples are sweet and crisp, where the water is never too cold.”

He heard Jungkook grimacing at the sting of the image being scratched into his bicep.

“Look at how ruined you are,” the Devil whispered with shameless glee, “All because of love.”

Nehemiah wiped Jungkook’s damp cheeks gently, feeling him slip further away.

“She is somewhere she can fly with the clouds, never alone.”

Lucifer locked eyes with the guardian and glared with undeniable hatred.

The angel did not back away from the harsh stare, he looked right back at the blasphemous traitor as he whispered to his most beloved human that would soon be taken from him.

“Somewhere the roses will always bloom.”

_____________________

You open your eyes to see JK’s shut tightly, his cheeks damp with silent tears.

He takes a shuddering breath, his chest shaking a little when he blows it out slowly.

You say nothing, not wanting to risk him shutting down again.

It takes a few minutes, then you finally see him blink open his eyes, a stray tear trickling down. He pulls his hands out of yours and touches his fingers to his wet cheek, confusion written all over his face. It appears as though he’s forgotten what it’s like to cry.

The silence stretches on in the small dark cave, only the soft sound of crackling flames reaches your ears.

The pretty boy in front of you looks lost in thought, his eyes still squinted in confusion as he slowly wipes the remnants of tears off of his skin.

There’s nothing you can think to say to fill the void.

JK finishes drying his face, trying his best not to dwell on the uncomfortable foreign feeling that overtook him momentarily. Only seconds before, he had been yelling about how he had been abandoned, only to see the strangest images of quite the opposite.

Nothing makes sense and it’s terrifying him.

You two sit there for another few minutes, the quiet not unwelcome as you each ponder the thoughts in your minds.

The demon takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, closing his eyes so that he can think clearly.

There is no time to learn more, to find out what happened that made things lead up to this; to understand the feeling of loving someone and losing them.

He does not know what that is like, though he has begun to wonder if it is anything like the constant ache in his chest, the feeling of his heart being ripped to shreds without pause.

Perhaps there is something more to the torture he has always tried to pretend does not weigh him down every moment.

But there is no time.

JK forces himself to look back at you.

The way you stare off into the distance with watery eyes and a lost gaze, makes that awful feeling in his chest happen again.

The color is draining from your face quickly, and the warmth that usually emits from you is no longer there.

You jump a little when he takes your hand, your eyes falling to where he grabbed you before traveling up to his face.

JK runs his thumb along your knuckles softly, noting how cold your skin has become.

There is no time…for anything.

You’re fading.

“We need to go,” he whispers, the soft spoken words still echoing around the cave.

He watches your face crumple and a few more tears stream down your cheeks.

“I don’t understand,” you mumble tearfully, exhaustion and confusion clear in your voice, “I don’t understand why it isn’t working.”

“I’m sorry.”

A broken sob breaks from your lips and you pull your hand from his to cover your face.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” you choke out, “But now that you have, I wish you wouldn’t.”

He says nothing for a few moments, then he whispers again, clearly regretful, “We need to keep going.”

The demon watches the angel in front of him check out for a few moments before wiping at her eyes and choking down a swallow as she breathes out a couple shaky breaths.

“I’m not broken,” he eventually hears you whisper, your voice quivering.

His eyes lock with yours.

“I didn’t say you w-”

“I’m not broken.”

JK swallows, knowing that he can’t hide the thoughts running through his mind.

“Good,” he finally says, “Because I’m gonna need you to do your best to stay unbroken, just for a bit longer.”

He shifts, moving onto his knees in front of you and leaning down to brush the tangled strands of hair out of your face, “Can you do that for me?”

Your eyes are locked on his, quickly getting lost in them.

You nod slowly.

The smile that spreads on his face makes your heart lurch into your throat.

You don’t fall asleep again, but you might as well have.

You are so disoriented that you can’t tell up from down or right from left. All you know is that you are on his back, holding on weakly as he walks.

Eventually the gentle bouncing indicates that he’s walking up a set of stairs, although it’s too dark and you’re too out of it to know where exactly those stairs lead to.

Then there’s suddenly the uncomfortable red light that pierces your eyes and you close them quickly. When you open them again, you see a dark forest just ahead and stone ruins strewn about just outside of the stairway the two of you came out of.

The same ruins that littered the ground outside of the seventh circle.

The conversation surrounding them rushes back into your brain as you glance around.

“The earthquake.”

“Earthquake?”

“The one that shook the earth at the time of His death.”

The sound of soft weeping reaches your ears and slowly begins to gain in volume. A forest of thin trees surrounds you when JK keeps walking, misty figures of souls dart in and out of sight.

Limbo.

The silence that stretches on between you and him is unsettling. Your stomach is in knots knowing what’s about to happen.

What you’re about to do.

The silence doesn’t end, it continues all the way through the long dark forest, making you sick with fear.

There is no distraction to help you in any way.

Give me strength.

JK sees the gate not far ahead and swallows thickly as he adjusts you to be more comfortable on his back when you slide down a bit. Almost there.

He feels your arms tighten around him and your cold nose brush against the side of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“I love you,” you mumble against his skin, the words making his stomach sink, “...it’s okay, you don’t need to say it back.”

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers.

“I know,” you whisper, “Me too.”

JK swallows, forcing his feet to keep moving forward.

He’s only fifteen feet away from the giant stone entrance to Hell, when a voice rings out through the forest and he freezes.

“Going so soon?”

A few more steps and you would have made it.

You feel the demon go rigid under you, then he turns slowly.

JK locks eyes with the blonde demon that’s leaning against a tree and smirking.

“Did you really think you could get her out? Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

You gulp as you watch Sav laugh to himself.

JK lets go of your legs and gently lowers you to the ground where you end up sitting uselessly. All the strength in you is gone, you can’t even barely hold yourself up as you watch your best friend straighten to his full height.

“No Sav,” his deep voice rings out, “I counted on it.”

“You’re in no position to threaten me,” Sav snaps, moving from leaning against the tree and walking closer.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Give us the angel and we’ll forget this little incident happened.”

JK chuckles darkly.

“You touch her and I will make you regret every choice you’ve ever made in your entire miserable little existence.”

You hold your breath as he stands between you and the demon that tortured you endlessly without restraint.

“Oh, I’ve already touched her,” Sav whispers, a seductive smirk on his lips as he glances at you. You pull your gaze from his, not wanting to revisit all that had happened.

“I’ve made her scream and cry.”

JK’s jaw clenches.

“Are you jealous?” Sav giggles maniacally, “Are you jealous I got to cut up her precious little skin until her blood coated my fingertips and she was sobbing for me to have mercy?”

You did nothing of the sort, there was not a single beg for reprieve from you. And Sav knows that.

“Are you mad that I was the one that got to strip the little angel-”

JK walks forward and grabs Sav by the collar, dragging him close to his face roughly and cutting off his sentence.

“You can try all you want to rattle me Sav,” JK seethes, his chest rising and falling with enraged breaths, “But we both know the bastard that resorts to that already knows when he’s fucking lost.”

Sav gulps, the fear in his eyes nearly hidden by the smirk on his face.

“Grasping at straws already, Savie?” JK chuckles, holding the demon in place when he tries to wriggle away, “How fucking pathetic.”

You watch silently, but can’t see much more than JK’s back, the way he towers over Sav is almost terrifying. You wouldn’t want to be in his place.

“I can’t imagine trying so hard to be important and failing so fucking miserably.”

Sav glares at JK fiercely, the words biting into his bones and nearly making him crack.

He’s about to snap back when a chill goes through the forest and both demons stiffen.

Your heart leaps to your throat at the sound of the gravelly voice that would not leave you alone.

“Really Sav, enough of this ridiculous humiliation you cause yourself constantly. How useless can you be? Can’t you see that you don’t need any more help to look so pathetic?”

All you can see of this new demon are large black wings and a looming figure.

No one says anything for a few moments, then the cold voice speaks again.

“Let go.”

You watch in fear as JK roughly lets go of Sav, making the smaller demon stumble back. You can see the dark-haired demon’s shoulders moving up and down with heavy breaths. It’s clear he had no choice but to listen.

It only takes one look from the newcomer to send Sav scrambling away into the trees.

You close your eyes after seeing the frighteningly beautiful devil in front of JK.

Lucifer glances at you over his minion’s shoulder and smiles.

“You’ve only just arrived in Hell, angel. Won’t you stay a little longer?”

You don’t answer him.

JK gulps, his whole body shaking.

“Kneel.”

He drops to his knees immediately, head hanging in shame as he stares at the ground and bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Lucifer chuckles.

“Look at you. You really thought you could make your own decisions, you thought I knew nothing of your actions and that you could slip away unnoticed.”

“I didn’t-”

“Shut up.”

JK snaps his mouth shut, grinding his teeth in order not to let himself scream profanities.

The Devil leans down and whispers, “I own you. Has that also slipped from your knowledge? Must I remind you that I am the one that calls the shots?”

You can feel sweat pouring down your bloody back, the pain beginning to increase with each moment that passes.

Only a few seconds pass before you realize something is happening to JK too.

He’s hunched over, breathing heavily and grimacing.

“Jungkook,” you gasp out, horrible pain washing over you and rendering you incapable of moving.

“Shut your filthy mouth,” Lucifer snaps, his glare turning to you and the pain surging up into new levels as you cry out and lay your forehead on the ground, prayers falling from your lips desperately.

JK can’t move, he’s stuck where he is; kneeling at the feet of Lucifer and shaking with agony.

You force yourself to lift your gaze and look at the Devil, locking eyes with him.

Lucifer’s eyes widen in rage at your defiance and he steps forward, reaching to grab the demon kneeling before him.

He stops though, when his path is suddenly blocked by you throwing yourself in front of him.

JK opens his eyes, his gaze lifting to see you standing between him and his leader. The blood streaking down your legs and torn dress is a strangely vibrant red. His eyes lift more to see your smaller wings, still ripped to shreds.

You look miniscule standing in front of the Devil himself, but you don’t appear afraid in the slightest. Your fists are clenched so tight that fresh blood drips from them where your fingernails dig into the delicate skin.

Lucifer takes a step back and chuckles, crossing his arms, his dark wings resting behind him.

“You think you’re very brave, don’t you?”

You say nothing, only glare at him with a burning hatred.

“He cannot leave. You already know this…why pretend otherwise?”

When you still don’t respond, he uncrosses his arms.

“You don’t know your place, do you child?”

His voice has become lower and his expression softens, now uncharacteristically gentle.

Despite his words, he suddenly seems empathetic, in a way. It’s startling.

Your brows furrow but you hold your ground.

JK watches in confusion from where he’s still kneeling on the ground, unable to move and jaw clenched shut as the pain evens out to a steady ache across his whole body.

“In mortal life, living in the village,” Lucifer whispers as he looks you over, “You never belonged there, did you?”

Your eyes narrow more but you remain quiet.

“You don’t belong up there either, do you?”

“I belong there,” you choke out, wishing your voice to sound stronger than it does.

A sad smile spreads on the demon’s face.

“Do you? Because I see the same look in your eyes that was in mine the day I found out I didn’t belong anywhere either.”

You’re about to respond, but he cuts you off.

“D-”

“You don’t belong anywhere, little misfit, you know I speak the truth. Why not join me? Why bother suffering uselessly just to follow His ridiculous will? I chose to belong here. You can choose to join me,” A smirk spreads on his face, “We’re not so different, you and I-”

“I am nothing like you,” you whisper fiercely, “And I do belong there. I have never belonged anywhere more.��

You take a step closer, your bare feet numb to the warmth radiating from the earth.

“Did you really think you could convince me otherwise, demon?”

His eyes turn cold and angry at the dismissive title you use, as if he is worth no more than any other wretch here.

“Did you really think you could give me a moment’s pause? Are you that foolish?”

He’s about to snap back but you keep going, stepping closer with each word.

“I suppose you are. You experienced what it was like, you were there. You belonged there and you knew it, you just wanted more.”

The Devil glares at you.

“You were there and you gave it up,” You get up into his space, your eyes glancing briefly at the dead white rose on his bicep being strangled by the serpent, “You are the biggest fool in existence and I would rather suffer ten thousand times more in order to bring others to be with Him than ever be compared to the likes of you.”

“Enjoy that then,” Lucifer hisses, “Enjoy paradise all you like without him.”

You hear a pained gasp from behind you and turn in horror to see JK doubled over and groaning from the indescribable pain consuming him.

You rush to him, but are grabbed and yanked back harshly before you can get there. The Devil has a strong grip on your upper arm as he addresses his prisoner.

“You are mine,” he growls, his glare trained on the demon kneeling before him, “Your soul belongs to me and it can never leave the gates of Hell.”

“He’s lying!” You scream, fighting against him, “He wants you to think he’s the one in charge. He’s not! Lucifer knows he’s lost, he knows that at the end every knee will bend to Him. All he can do now is bring down as many souls as he can before that,” You’re practically sobbing, “Jungkook, he’s desperate, you know that means he’s already lost!”

Lucifer chuckles, satisfaction sweeping over him at the feeling of despair seeping from the poor pathetic soul knelt in the hot dirt.

“You can leave, Jungkook, don’t listen to him!!”

He watches Lucifer smirk down at him, still holding onto your arm. Tears are streaming down your face as you look at him desperately, as if trying to convey something without words.

He doesn’t understand.

“You can’t both leave,” The Devil whispers, “Can you?”

He looks at you at the same time that JK does.

Confusion is swarming the lower demon’s brain as he stares at you.

The expression on your face doesn’t make sense.

Why do you look sorry?

“But you knew that,” Lucifer continues quietly, “You came here knowing that, didn’t you little angel?”

JK’s eyes dart from his master over to you, and he finally understands.

“I’m going to miss you.”

That's what you had said, that’s what you meant.

You can see the horror sweep over him and he shakes his head, never looking from your gaze.

“No.”

Lucifer chuckles.

“____, no-” JK chokes out in disbelief.

Your heart rips in two hearing him say your name for the first time in over five hundred years.

“I told you not to call me that,” you whisper, tears in your eyes but an encouraging smile on your face meant to reassure him that it’s okay, “I don’t like it when you’re serious.”

He shakes his head again, slowly.

He brought you to the gate to get you out, you’re not going to trade places with him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this-

“Why not take her up on her offer?” Lucifer grins wickedly, “If you do, all of this pain will go away.”

A breeze rushes over the demon kneeling in the mud, and with it the feeling of instant relief.

All of the pain that has wracked his body and kept him weighed down for as long as he can remember, is completely gone.

He looks up to see you staring at him, wide-eyed.

The sound of a bubbling brook reaches his ears, like music on the wind.

Tears brim in his eyes as the smoky forest around him fades away and he’s suddenly in a sunlit field.

The beams of light from the sun do not hurt him.

The sight of bluebirds flying into the clouds does not fill his heart with anger and resentment.

The sweet smell of rain does not make him sick with disgust.

JK looks down at the grass he’s kneeling on. He slowly reaches a hand out and runs his fingertips over the soft blades, a broken gasp leaving him at how silky it feels. Blue and pink and purple flowers decorate the field, and he could swear he hears them singing praises.

Who are they singing for?

Soft footfalls reach his ears and he turns to look at who is approaching, but he can’t see them. All there is, is a human-shaped light walking through the meadow towards him. His heart aches with more and more immeasurable longing with each step closer they take to him.

He doesn’t know why, but it feels like he knows this person, even though he’s never seen them before in his life.

He wants them to reach him.

He knows once they do, he will never hurt again.

The closer the person of light gets, the louder the flowers sing.

The demon’s chest rises and falls rapidly, excitement fluttering in his stomach at the prospect of coming face to face with this being.

Tears creep to the edge, threatening to spill.

He’s never felt so at peace.

Then it’s all gone.

It’s ripped from him mercilessly.

In the blink of an eye he’s back in Limbo and screaming at the sheer agony that takes root once again. JK grabs at the place where his heart is and cries out at the feeling of it being ripped from his chest and crushed into dust.

He can’t breathe.

The pain is more excruciating than it has ever been, it was unbearable before but he was forced to endure it, now it doesn’t feel like he’ll be able to.

After experiencing the soft grass, the gentle wind, the feeling of relief...he cannot bear it.

You cry as you are forced to watch in gut-wrenching grief while he sobs, his body shaking and curling in on itself to try and stop the pain.

He can’t breathe.

“You tasted the sweet sweet feeling of joy, of the eternal relief you will feel once you leave,” Lucifer whispers temptingly, “She can’t leave anyway, JK. She gave up the one thing she brought that connected her to the outside. She already paid to cross the ferry, she cannot leave.”

JK looks up at you, tears streaming down his face.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Once she takes your place, you are free to go. You will no longer be bound to me. If you stay, your punishment will increase due to this little act of rebellion.”

You smile at him softly, tears still falling down your cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

JK drops his gaze to the ground.

You close your eyes and conjure up an image of her as best as you can, the one thing that can bring you comfort in this moment.

Aera’s small arms wrap around you and hold you tight as she whispers how much she loves you in your ear.

“Nasya says you are brave, mommy,” the tiny child pulls back and smiles at you, “Are you really going to save daddy? Are you going to bring him home to be with us forever? Can I show him the Garden??”

You cup her supple cheeks with your hands and lean forward to kiss her button nose.

Her bunny teeth appear as she giggles. You smile softly and touch your forehead to hers.

“Yes, Aera,” you whisper, “I’m going to bring daddy home and you can bring him to the Garden, I know he will love it. Make sure you show him the roses, okay baby?”

She takes your cheeks in her hands as you did to her and leans forward to whisper, as if she’s telling you the biggest secret.

“I will, mommy.”

JK looks up just as you open your eyes. His gaze locks on yours.

Lucifer lets go of you roughly and you stumble, falling to the hard ground.

“Choose.”

He thinks of the field, of the flowers, of the blue sky and white clouds.

And he wants it.

It would be selfish.

He thinks of the smell of crystal rain and honeysuckles, and the mysterious ethereal being coming to join him, to love him more than any other could.

And he wants it…

He’s selfish.

Demons always are.

Demons can’t be anything other than selfish.

JK looks into your eyes, the next breath getting stuck in his chest.

It’s okay, your eyes tell him, this is what I want, this is why I came.

You watch as he crawls over to you.

Despite the grueling pain tormenting him, he stands and pulls you up with him. He scans your face, bruised and bleeding and sweaty with grime.

You feel him grab your hand, open it, then hold it tightly.

He waits for a moment, just a few seconds to take in the beauty in front of him.

It’s just so breathtaking he can’t help it.

He didn’t try to, but it was inevitable..

So he stands there.

Just for a moment.

A few seconds to admire the way your cheeks shine with tears, the way your sad smile spreads as you look at him, the way that even your dress that’s always filthy; only adds to your beauty.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, still holding your hand tightly.

Three little words are right on your tongue, ready to spill from your chapped lips, to assure him why it is okay, why you will gladly take his place.

But you don’t get the chance.

Before you can say it, you look down at what he’s placed in your hand.

A ring made entirely of grass.

Woven with careful fingers.

It’s bigger than yours was.

Realization strikes you too late.

He stands there, only for a few seconds, to admire the beauty in front of him.

Your eyes find his.

And everything is okay.

And he can love you.

“Jungkook-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, not before he grips your arms and turns with you, then he’s shoving you out of the gate.

You land with a harsh smack on the ground, but you’re up again in a split second and running back to the entrance of Hell, screaming at the top of your lungs.

“Jungkook!! No, no no no no!!” You try to go back through, but it’s like an invisible wall is preventing you. You smash your fists against it as hard as you can, but it doesn’t budge. You can see forest on the other side, but you can’t see him or Lucifer there.

“Jungkook! Let! Me! In! Please don’t do this!!” You’re screaming and crying and pounding so hard that fresh blood drips down your knuckles.

But you don’t care.

“Don’t you dare do this to me again!!”

JK watches you scream and cry and pound against the gates of Hell, he watches you slide down to the ground and start digging frantically, trying to find a way back in.

He watches your guardian angel come and hold you, pulling you back from the gate and falling to the ground while hugging your sobbing figure.

The demon watches you shout at him in anger and denial, in confusion and betrayal.

He watches.

But he does not follow you.

___________________________

Lucifer smirks wickedly, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“You never learn, do you? Not in that life and not in this one.”

JK doesn’t respond as he watches you scream at the top of your lungs, tears pouring down your cheeks. He forces his eyes to leave and fall to the ground.

“You could’ve been free, and yet you chose to stay.”

JK stays silent, but his eyes lift to meet the demon’s in front of him.

Lucifer grins maniacally, “Want to see what you missed out on? Since you’re so fucking obsessed with torturing yourself in love. You don’t even love her, you don’t remember her.”

The prince of Hell sees the internal struggle in his slave’s eyes, smile widening when he feels the resolve crumble.

He wants to know, despite the eternal pain it will cause.

He deserves it.

“Don’t worry, by the end you’ll be tortured enough to satisfy your addiction to agony.”

The smoke and the fire and the wails of the desperate fade away.

There’s soft grass underneath him as he wakes sleepily from a nap.

The warm sun caresses his skin.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Jungkook lifts his head to see a small child running full speed ahead through the field, giggles spilling from her lips and her long dark hair flying around haphazardly.

“Daddy!” She shrieks again, little legs going as fast as they can, “Save me, save me!”

A laugh bursts from Jungkook’s lips when he sees you come out from the forest behind her, growling and laughing as you pretend to be a monster on the hunt.

The small girl, who is only just about five, flings herself into his open arms and squeals as he envelopes her safely into his lap.

“I’ve got you baby,” he whispers into her hair as he smiles, “You’re safe.”

You run up, laughing your head off along with them.

Jungkook looks at you tenderly, the love he has for his best friend only increasing the longer he does.

Your hair is a bit knotted from running with it down and your cheeks are tinted pink with exertion from chasing the little one through the forest. Your simple dress has mud smeared across it in several places and there are a few twigs in your hair that go unnoticed.

“Mommy!” Aera wiggles off her father’s lap and wraps her arms around your legs.

“Hi baby,” you coo and swoop her up into the air as if she weighs no more than a feather.

Jungkook smiles as he watches you dance around and giggle.

Aera is exactly like the two of you put together. Her sweet face resembles her father’s but her personality is all you. She wears a dress that looks like a mini version of yours, her bare feet dirty with mud and pansies stuck in her hair from your flower picking earlier.

It reminds him of the way you looked when he first met you.

His eyes burn with tears at how much he loves you both. It should be impossible to be filled with this much love and happiness.

“Can you push me on the swing, daddy?” Aera is running back to him and cupping his face with her tiny hands, “Please? Mommy said you will say yes to me always because I’m too cute.”

Jungkook laughs and glances at you hiding your smile.

“Mommy’s right,” he whispers before kissing her button nose. Then he stands up and scoops her into his arms-

The cursed howls of souls damned to Hell come rushing back, piercing his ear drums and making him wince.

He hadn’t realized that he fell to his knees again.

Tears drip down his cheeks and fall to the dirt, mixing in with the tears of the lost souls starting their journey here.

“That is what you missed…because of Him.”

JK chokes out a sob and puts a hand to his bleeding heart, the ache of loss worse than it’s ever been.

“You would’ve had everything, if He had really loved you. It’s a pity, really.”

The demon grieving in the grime and salty tears of fellow damned souls feels his heart break even more, then that nasty feeling of resentment and bitterness begins to swell.

“Granted, you were happy with her, this Apple girl, for a decent amount of time I suppose.”

JK says nothing, just continues to stare at the dirt where his tears fall.

“It never lasts though,” Lucifer muses, “Can’t imagine why humans crave it only to lose it in the end, to feel the grief ten times stronger than the love ever was.”

JK glances back to see you sobbing into your hands, wrapped in the arms of your guardian angel, blood and bruises littering your skin.

“Look at that,” Lucifer tuts with mock pity, “That’s what love makes of humans. Nothing but misery. You had her, and you lost her.”

JK stares at you, watching you grieve for him in a way he had long forgotten how to relate to.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” Lucifer whispers, leaning down, “Was it ever worth it?”

He sees you lying in the field, your fingertips alight with the sun, a bird song falling from your lips. The smile on your face that he got to witness.

Just for a moment.

A single tear falls from his eye, sliding down his dirty cheek and falling to the ground as he looks at you.

Jungkook’s voice is broken, weak with the pain of loss, but the Devil hears him anyway.

“Yes.”

________________________________

Imelda holds you closely, keeping you together. If she wasn’t there you would be falling apart, scattered on the ground like leaves that have fallen from their tree.

Gut-wrenching sobs are ripped from you as you look at the gate to Hell, seeing nothing but the empty forest on the other side.

“Why?!” You scream at the top of your lungs, another round of sobbing rendering you incapable of saying anything more.

Nehemiah is there as well, crouched on the ground and crying into his hands, his baby blue wings shaking with each breath.

You grab Imelda’s hand and hold it to your chest, holding on for dear life.

You cannot handle this grief, you cannot handle it.

“I was g-going to s-save him,” you sob between choked breaths, “I was going to give my life for him!!”

A warm breeze sweeps over the three of you and your next sob gets stuck in your throat.

Then a soothing voice filled with a regalness beyond compare speaks, trembling the burnt trees around you and causing the rocks to quiver where they lay.

You can no longer see the forest. Now there is only a hill in front of you, the silhouette of a cross against the golden sunset.

“I already did.”

The ground quakes and you see a large statue depicting Lucifer in front of the second and seventh circles trembling before crumbling down until there is nothing left but rubble.

You gasp, grabbing your chest and trying to breathe.

You’re back by the gate.

Watery gaze locking back on the invisible boundary, your heart leaps to your throat when you see a hand come out and grab onto the dirt, fingers digging into it as they try to pull themselves out.

Nehemiah is up and running before you can even register what’s happening.

The blue angel grabs the boy’s hand, holding on tight before pulling as hard as he can, a broken scream bursting from his lips at the effort.

You watch in disbelief as the guardian angel drags his beloved human, your best friend in the entire world, out of the gates of Hell.

_______________________________________________

After much deliberation: an Epilogue will be posted tomorrow.

a/n: thank you so much for everything you guys, you mean the world to me. This has been one hell of a ride (no pun intended) Don't kill me pls, again, there will be an epilogue tomorrow for those of you with weak hearts 💕 ur welcome

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook demon au #jungkook smut #bts fluff #bts #bts reactions #bts angst #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts demon au #demon!jk #demon!jungkook #bts smut

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witch-hazels-musings · 5 months

Text

familiar

Warning -> comfort, SFW - sick fic! (reader is sick: aches and pains, sore throat, general sick descriptions | reader passes out | reader is carried | reader is taken to an unfamiliar location and wakes up a bit disoriented but is safe | Childe: reader is threatened but unharmed, fingers get cut off of random person)

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Thoma

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Your skin was burning. You breathed and the air felt like fire as it passed across your chapped, dry lips. Someone called your name and you turned, lifted yourself from a hunched position to look only for the action to make your head swim.

You smiled anyway.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The patron near the counter slid something toward you. What was it? You blinked and realized there were several items in a basket. You swore they multiplied as you pulled them out one by one. The transaction was the slowest you'd completed in your life but it wasn't the last as several more people stepped in line. You felt a bead of sweat run down your spine.

You smiled and greeted them.

Your head throbbed. Parts of your body you rarely thought about ached, cried out in pain as you rose from the chair.

Finally, you could go home. Could rest.

Unsteady, the world teetering as you made your way toward the door, you caught your breath near the entrance only to realize you'd left your bag and the shop key in the back office.

Coughing, you tried to clear your throat and push through the waves of disorientation as you meandered back down the hall. You labored in the doorway with ragged breaths trying to remember what you went back here for. Pressing your forehead against the trembling and clammy hand that held onto the door frame, you tried to focus.

"What did I ..." you mumbled, scanning the room. A flash of flickering light from outside caught your attention. Pushing forward you grabbed the key and made your way to the front door.

The outside air felt as refreshing as drinking a cold glass of water on a hot day. You gasped at the way it caressed your skin, at the way it soaked into the mist that speckled your brow, that clung to the edges of your hairline. You breathed deeply, welcoming the strain of your lungs before an inevitable cough tore you from the reprieve. You crumbled, caught your breath, then, with multiple uncoordinated attempts, locked the front door.

It was hard to concentrate, but you let your muscle memory carry you through the streets. You did your best to smile and keep a safe distance from those you passed, though most people didn't seem to notice you, even when you staggered and caught yourself on a beam for support.

I just have to get home, you told yourself. Eyes blurry, head swirling and disorganized. The stack of crates next to you served as a useful crutch. You did your best to catch your quickening breaths against them. All you wanted to do was sleep.

You made it through the day like this, what was a few more minutes?

A surge of strength rose in you as you pushed away from the pile of crates but as soon as you took a step your legs crumbled and you fell into a heap at the edge of the street. Your hands burned from the violent contact of the sharp, frozen ground. Puffs of steam exploded from your mouth as you struggled to take in as much air as you exhaled.

You swore you heard your name but when you turned your head to look, the world went dark.

Childe

His smile faded as soon as they left his office. The click of the door was the switch he needed to flip the mask he was so good at wearing. Just like he had learned - like a good boy.

He wiped his face with the palm of his hand and rose from his chair. At least they gave him a window - though perhaps it was more of a tease than a gift. A reminder that he was trapped in a room with suffocating walls. Like a caged animal, whose only desire was to feel the soil beneath their feet.

He hated when they made him do this work. Even if it was a pain, he'd rather be out in the field training new recruits than sitting in this stifling room signing off on peoples debts they'd never repay.

Childe sighed and leaned against the window. He scanned the passersby, hoping, wishing one of them would give him an excuse to leave this cramped office. Though, it was unlikely - Liyue rarely had anything fun. He missed the days before the Archon fell. At least then he had toys to play with.

A knock rattled his thoughts, "We've got three more for you, sir."

"Tell them to come back tomorrow," Childe called without looking at the massive and decorated door.

"I'll be sending in the next one shortly," they replied, clearly ignoring him. He rolled his eyes and looked back down to the street. In the corner, just out of view, he saw someone stumble through a back alley. He would have passed it off as a drunk if there wasn't an air of familiarity to the figure.

Childe pinched his brow as drifting voices spilled in from the hall.

He turned to head back at his desk but gave one last look to the alleyway and saw a small group taking the same path the stumbling person just walked.

"Childe will see you now," the voice said as they opened the door to Childe's office, head bowed and eyes closed as their arm escorted them inside.

"Um - who will?"

The voice snapped their eyes open to see an empty office with an open window and billowing curtains. "damn-it", they cursed and ran down the hallway.

Childe stayed in the shadows. Curiosity leading the way as he stalked the group. Further down the alley something crashed onto the stone ground but he had a hard time making out what it was. The group turned a corner and he could hear their voices echo off the tight buildings. He leapt onto a nearby walk-way hoping to get a good view of whatever was about to happen below, but when he saw who they were stalking their way toward, he finally understood why his body leapt out the window on its own.

Rage filled him as he launched forward so he could land between your gasping body and the oncoming group.

"What did I tell you guys? Easy pickins -- woah!" The group raised their hands as a wave of water splashed against them. They all stumbled, but one fell to the ground. "What the-"

"I suggest you leave."

"Huh?!" The one in the middle stepped forward, clothes soaked, hands fumbling for a knife. "T-this was ours first. So b-back off," he tried to puff out his chest but looked more like a drenched toad than anything to be frightened of. It would have made Childe laugh it he weren't currently seething, and if he hadn't looked back to see you shaking, terrified as you barely held yourself off the ground.

"If you're looking for a fight, I'll happily provide you one," Childe threatened, his blades appearing in his hands and sending out a high pitch whine as they danced in his grip, "See I've been cooped up all day and could really use a good workout."

"H-hey man, let's just go," one of them quivered, grabbing the 'leaders' arm.

"No, this is ours - we need thi-" the leaders voice died out as a slash of water cut through the fingers that had managed to grip his feeble knife in the first place. The man screamed, doubled over while his friends held onto his shoulders to keep him from falling to the ground.

"I must not have heard you correct. Because, I'm pretty sure you just called something of mine, yours?" Childe took a step toward them, his body raging, his blades growing at the thought of them calling you theirs. "So, I'm going to give you another chance to repeat yourself."

The group scurried like rats down the drenched alleyway and though he was half-temped to chase after them, to teach them a lesson, he barely made it a step when something burning grabbed his pant leg.

In an instant, his blades faded into nothing and he turned to scoop you into his still trembling arms. You were on fire, and even though he could tell you had near to no strength, you still managed to wrap your arms around his neck and hide against him.

With a possessive hand cupping the back of your head, he held you close and made his way to where he knew you'd be safe.

You could finally breathe without a protest from your lungs. Only a few areas ached instead of everywhere, and though you were still warm, you felt surrounded by cool waters.

Shifting, you tried to sit up, to open your eyes, but something covered your eyes and you fell back into satin.

"Sleep," a voice told you. It felt stern, but warm. Your tried to push the darkness away but found it hard, even when you curled your fingers around the palm of someone's hand. "You're still sick. So go back to bed."

"Where -- where am I?" you croaked, your voice dry and scratchy.

"You're safe." The voice felt so familiar. You breathed and though your nose was stuffy, you caught a whiff of something that made you turn your head toward the dip in the bed.

"... Childe? What's happening?"

"Don't worry your head over it. You're alright, that's all that matters."

You listened to his voice, felt his palm against your skin, sensed his presence next to you. You weren't sure how you got here, honestly you weren't sure where you even were, but Childe was here - he was right here and, as you moved closer to him and let your forehead press against his side, you felt safer than you ever had in all your life.

Childe turned his head from the book in his hands to glance at the sleeping figure next to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen you so relaxed, so at ease. The first time you'd ever been this near to him - the first time you'd ever been in his bed.

Carefully, he ran his fingers over your ear and let them know the taste of your skin while you slept.

He sighed and wondered how he was ever going to let you go now.

Diluc

The cold air reminded him another season was passing, changing. He'd stopped trying to measure the passage of time years ago, but there was something about cold, night air that felt like a ticking clock. Or maybe it was the reliable pocket watch he kept with him while he worked to help him tell when he could 'respectfully' request everyone leave so he could do more, important, work.

"Master Diluc," Charles said as he slid a heavy wooden box onto the back counter, "I think we've got another in the back."

"Great," Diluc held back a sigh but not the heavy roll of his eyes, and stashed the cup he had just pulled down for a customer. "Finish this up. I'll deal with it."

"Sounds good. What can I getcha?" he asked the drunk patron who didn't seem bothered to repeat their order to the new, friendlier, bartender.

Diluc reached for his jacket as he passed the back office. His hair snagged the coarse fabric as he pulled it from underneath. He adjusted the collar before opening the door to the back alley.

He hated dealing with drunks in the first place, but a sick one throwing up behind his establishment was somehow worse.

Scanning the immediate area didn't reveal anything to him. So he took another step into the chilly evening. Off in the distance, near the stairs that lead to the small docks on the lake, he saw a silhouette hunched over a stack of crates. Ones he had just assisted in unloading earlier that day.

"Hey, don't make it other people's problem if you can't hold your ---" Diluc froze when he saw the blob of dark shadows turn into your shape and likeness. He blinked, thinking he had made it up, but as he drew closer he knew his eyes didn't lie. Normally, you would have waved to him, called out to him - brightened his day - but right now you looked terrible. When he called to you, you didn't answer.

His pace quickened when he saw you stumble away from the crates and he was practically running when you fell to the ground. He let out a breath when he was just in time to catch your head before it careened into the cobblestone.

"... are you ok--?" Diluc turned you toward him but he didn't need to feel your brow to know you were burning up. He could see it in your pained expression, in the moisture of the night as it drifted toward him. When he realized you didn't have anything on you, he took actions into his own hands. "Hold on."

Diluc hoisted you into his arms, made sure you rolled into him as he carried you swiftly back toward the bar. With every groan and whimper he became more concerned. His muscles tensed when your fingers weakly grasped his clothes. Even though it made you whine, he held you closer to him and picked up the pace.

There were only a few sounds in this world that made his heart stop.

He took no time carrying you up the stairs to the third-floor apartment he used on nights he didn't want to make the long walk back to the Winery. As he passed by the confused, and rightfully worried Charles, word was already on its way to the church to bring a healer.

You were so hot. Your back hurt to the point you wished someone would rip it from you. Every breath was agonizing but you couldn't convince yourself to stop breathing.

You felt somewhere between dead and alive, and though you didn't understand it, you found yourself in a bed you didn't recognize, in a room you'd never been in before.

The shapes came and went. A halo of light bloomed in the corner. You coughed, pulled back the sheets but froze when a figure now stood where the halo once was.

"Who --"

"Don't get up," a voice, a familiar voice said. The figure moved closer to you. You tried to lift your hands in defense but they were weak and in your uncoordinated move, you slipped from the sheets. "I got you," the voice comforted you. Gentle words that floated into your ear. Something sturdy and wrapped around your stomach.

The figure, which smelled like barrels of sweetened fruit, carefully helped you back into the bed. Strands of red filled your senses and brushed against your cheek. Kind fingers caressed your jaw as they slipped to the back of your neck and eased you onto your back.

"Try to rest. I've called on a healer." The figure spoke, their deep voice like the rustle of leaves in the morning sun. "You're safe. I've got you," they said like a mantra as their fingers soothed your weary eyes closed. "I've got you."

The warmth of their touch against your skin was soothing, but suddenly it was gone and you cried out, reached out your hand to find it again. "Don't go," you pleaded.

Their touch returned to your fingertips, then your palm as they took your shaking hand in theirs. "I'm right here," the voice soothed and let you hold your captured treasure close to your parted lips.

You found it strange that your sickness would concoct such a vivid and realistic specter in the shape of the man who held your heart.

Thoma

"Hah, not a problem," Thoma waved them off for the third time. "It really wasn't that difficult. So don't worry about it." He took another step back and let out a playful laugh even as the person bowed for the tenth time in front of him.

Eventually, after many more reassurances, he managed to be on his way and - surprisingly - was only ten minutes behind schedule. With speed, and restraining himself to only courteous waves and passing smiles, he hastily walked down the busy Inzuma streets. To save himself more time, he dipped into a less traveled alleyway and doubled his pace.

It wasn't uncommon to see random and sometimes unsightly scenes in the back alleys. Inazuma was safe, but it wasn't immune to crime. So, as he spied a figure hunched over a stack of crates, he debated if the person looked like they did, or didn't, belong there. When he got closer, he started to recognize bits a pieces of the blurry figure.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and growing with each second. When you didn't answer him, and he saw you stumble away from the crates and fall to the ground, his joy shifted to fear.

He swore he'd never run so fast in his life.

When you didn't answer him, or react to your name, he wasted no time in lifting you from the dirty, cold ground and into his arms. He wasn't far from the estate, but he also wasn't close. Normally you had a bag - one he remembered because you'd purchased it with him the last time the two of you went to the markets - but right now you were empty handed. Something was clearly wrong.

With you in his arms, Thoma rushed through the alley. His heart raced at the sound of your labored breathing, at the way your face scrunched with every jostle of his movements, at the trembling hand that gripped his clothes.

"Hold on," he soothed, "Just hold on." Thoma burst through the alley and ran through the crowded streets toward the Kamisato Estate.

Something cold touched your forehead and you let out a gasp at the contact. Instinctually, you tried to push it away with weak hands.

"I know its cold," a voice said. A comforting, familiar voice that called to your heart. Whoever it was took your hand and caressed your skin with a gentle thumb. "You have a fever, this will help."

You groaned, tried to open your eyes but found it hard. Your body ached and though you didn't want it to, it moved uncomfortably under plush sheets.

After a while the covering over your eyes lifted and you heard the sound of water falling. Turning your head, you pried open your burning eyes to capture blurry and unusual shapes. Your heart raced as you tried to figure out where you were, but the longer it took, the more concerned you were.

"I ha --- to go," you tried to push yourself up but swift footsteps met you before you could.

"Easy, you're sick. You need your rest."

Why was this voice so familiar?

You looked up, even though the action made your head throb. Squinting your eyes, the blob of yellow and red in front of you started to take shape.

"T-Thoma?"

The blob made a smile and pushed strands of your hair out of your face. "It's me," he reassured you, his hand cupping your cheek. Like someone who opened up a door to a dark room, his contact breathed new life into you.

He caught you You fell into him He ease you to rest You were finally at ease

"You found me," you said weakly with a thankful smile. His hand brushed the top of your head and the cold returned but, this time, it felt soothing, refreshing.

"I always do," he hummed and soon your uneasy breaths slowed and faded into healing slumber.

#genshin impact #hazels works #genshin impact sfw #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact childe #childe x gn reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc x gn reader #genshin impact thoma #thoma x gn reader

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triassictriserratops · 5 days

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I think if peeta even got a sniffle Katniss would go fucking feral, drop everything and take care of him (and get sick herself)

ABSOLUTELY SHE WOULD.

She'd call her mom like, "he's dying, what do I do?"

Peeta's in the background like, "Hi Mrs. Everdeen, I just have seasonal allergies, I took some Zyrtec, everything is fine!

"YOU'RE DYING, SHUT UP AND GO TO BED BEFORE I KILL YOU."

BUT NOW

Now, Anon? Now i get to talk about what I think happens when KATNISS gets sick. And spoiler alert, it's GREAT.

The first time Katniss gets sick after the war, she doesn't tell anyone. She just locks herself in her house, puts a note on the door saying that she's fine and to come back tomorrow hoping that Sae sees it and doesn't bother with cooking anything for her. She grabs some remedies, a box of plain crackers, a blanket, some water, and trudges her way upstairs back to bed.

A few hours later she hears a loud crash in the kitchen. She waddles and sniffles her way downstairs to the sight of a cursing Peeta, sprawled on the kitchen floor, while his prosthetic is dangling from the open window above the sink.

"What are you doing?" she says in a congested voice, "I left a note on the door." She moves over to the window to unlatch his prosthesis from where it got snagged on the windowsill.

"This," he says, brandishing the crumpled paper in the air, "is NOT enough of an explanation. People were worried. Haymitch was worried..." He glances away at that.

"Haymitch? Bullshit." she snorts as she bends down to reattach his leg. She stays down when she's done, realizing that she's feeling a little unsteady on her feet.

"Fine. FINE! I was worried. What's going on? Did I do something wrong?"

"No! Of course not. It-it's fine. I'm fine. I'm just sick. Thanks for stopping by. I'll see you tomorr-." She's struggling to get back up when she feels the air whoosh around her and realizes that Peeta has picked her up to carry her over to the couch.

"Sick? What's wrong? Have you taken anything? Let me make you some tea, or do you want soup? I can make soup." he's rambling as he presses the back of his hand to her clammy forehead.

"I really am okay. I got this. I'll be fine, Peeta." she says, pushing his hand away from her face and regretting it immediately at the loss of contact.

"Katniss. Please let me do this, okay? This is what you and I do, right? That's what you said. Now, tell me where you keep your bouillon. I'm making some chicken stock and a good soup for you."

That's when it hits Katniss. She hasn't really been taken care of like this in years. Maybe since she was 11.

For years now, her mother would do her best to take care of her during the occassional cold, of course. But for the most part Katniss struggled to accept any softness or warmth from her mother. Feeling caught between that desire to be held and comforted and the anger she still felt towards her - they instead both settled for the distant, clinical detachment her mother had with her other patients.

But, really, the last nearly 7 years of her life have been dedicated to the care of her family and her loved ones. She learned to stop asking for things and began instead to meet all of her own needs, without relying on others.

After the games she'd begun the process of extending that branch and allowing herself to lean on her mother a little more. But now? Now her mother isn't here. And here she was right back to what she knew. Taking care of herself.

Looking up at Peeta, blue eyes shining in earnest. Ready to do and be anything that is needed of him. Anything that SHE needs of him. She wipes her nose on her sleeve and smiles.

"Pantry. Top shelf. On the right. Thank you, Peeta."

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #hunger games headcanon #thg headcanons #thg #thg series #the hunger games #thg fic #thg fanfiction #love is a verb #hunger games sick day

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kissingghouls · 8 months

Text

If You Remember This Tomorrow

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader - Fluff, Tipsy Kissing, 1700 words

Heard a song, had an idea, wrote some fluff. I don't even know. Thank you to @ramblingoak because you're always so dang supportive. 💜

fic list // ao3 // Little Ghost (pt2) // A Late Night Call (pt3)

The room is loud, almost unbearably so. There are bodies everywhere, some paired off and some not, but all of them are illuminated by lights that flash in a wonderful rainbow of pretty colors. The dancefloor is full, and you feel as though you’re floating after that last drink that tasted more like red than anything else.

A smile spreads over your face as Swiss sways a little too excitedly and stumbles over his dance partner. None of this is new, not even the multi-ghoul falling over his own feet. He barks out a hearty laugh from his new spot on the floor, his whole body shaking. Somehow, he manages to get back to his feet without spilling a drop of his drink. It’s an impressive feat that earns him a kiss on the cheek as a prize before the pair spins off together to get better acquainted.

The success of the Ghost project meant that a good portion of the Ministry was on tour more often than not anymore. While the Ministry parties had always been wild, the more recent homecoming celebrations left most of the congregation with little to no memory of the night before.

A thick fog rolls over the floor, that sickly sweet smell of chemical syrup pumped out from the machines filling the air. Phantom materializes in it, a vapor turned solid shape that now blocks your path. You bounce off him, unsteady and unable to correct your course in your current state. He grabs your elbow, keeping you upright and off the ground with a soft smile. His teeth have a red tint to them, much like your own, but it’s too bright and too loud to make out what he’s saying.

He leans in to repeat himself, his grip a little tighter on your arm. He smells like strawberries and some kind of alcohol. But under the top notes of what you guessed was the last drink he had was the soft smell of a cologne so nice you wanted to bury your face in it.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with the newly summoned ghoul—time was a luxury neither one of you had. But the pull had been there from the beginning, ever since he clawed his way out of the Pit and locked eyes with you. It’s a dance, one with several complicated steps and neither one of you had felt compelled to lead.

He says something else, words that taste like fruit punch and candy. You grin lazily and pat his shoulder, allowing yourself the first intended contact from you to him. His breath hitches, grip tightening once more. He’s so close now you can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes. A uniform you dare to imagine, for a split-second, rumpled in a pile on your floor.

It’s clumsy at first and your teeth clash together more than your lips, but the two of you are in such a stupor that you don’t stop. His hand moves to your back, pressing you close as he adjusts and kisses you properly. Behind you someone whistles—most likely Dew or Cumulus—but it doesn’t distract the ghoul from the task. He brings a hand to the side of your face, fingers splayed over your cheek and neck as he pulls the breath from your lungs.

You grab handfuls of his collar and break away, keeping your forehead pressured to his as you struggle for air. Kissing him is like drowning and you want nothing more than to be underwater again.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles against your lips. He draws a line over your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and moves in again.

The next kiss is dizzying, knees buckling under the pressure and the flick of his tongue. He keeps you upright with a firm hand on your back and the one on your face slides into your hair. He tugs lightly, a smile hidden between you as you let out the tiniest moan.

Someone clears their throat nearby and the pair of you split apart like you’ve been caught behind the bleachers at a school dance. Papa offers Phantom an almost fatherly smile and pats him on the shoulder. He suggests the two of you get some air to avoid the cluster of ghouls watching nearby. Phantom is flustered, a pink tinge highlighting his cheeks as he stares back at his captive audience. Mountain and Rain each give him a thumbs up paired with toothy grins.

Your own cheeks heat up as you realize at some point you had been the topic of discussion between the ghouls. Some lonely night had passed between them on the road, maybe on the bus or in some dingy greenroom, and you were the reason he asked for advice from the others. The revelation makes you feel too warm in your clothes, a blush now spreading over your entire body.

You press your face against his shoulder, hiding a shy smile. He slides his hand down your arm, fingers brushing as the lace with yours. He asks if you would like to go with him and yes is the only word you know for a moment.

You don’t miss the smile on his face when the two of you start moving toward the exit, hand in hand.

“Wait!”

Sunshine, ever the perpetual dealer of chaos, approaches carrying two large cups filled with that same red drink that now tastes like Phantom’s kiss. She drops a wink in your direction that is the opposite of subtle and tells you both to have fun before sending you away.

Outside the night is unseasonably cool, a rare break from the heat of summer and the abbey’s sweltering ballroom. You both close your eyes, enjoying the gentle breeze that blows over the grounds. It’s quiet as the wind stills. No one else has made their way out from the party yet. In a few hours the lawn will be filled with your friends and his, but for now it’s just you and Phantom and maybe a curious spirit or two.

You sip carefully from your cups as you walk, the red dye staining your lips and teeth. It doesn’t matter to either of you anymore.

Phantom trips over a gnarled tree root, his drink spilling sticky red liquid over his fingers as he drops to the ground. You can’t help but laugh, the alcohol in your system doing you no favors. He pouts beneath you and wipes his wet hand across your thigh, smearing juice and dirt into your clothes. As you move to help him up, you catch the same root with your own feet and land in the grass next to him in a fit of giggles.

“You ok?” he asks through his own laughter, smiling wide when you nod. He settles on the lawn propped up on an elbow as he watches you.

The minutes pass, the pair of you splitting the remainder of your drink as you sit together in the grass. It’s a clear, beautiful night—a lot like the night he was summoned and pulled from the ground by Papa himself. You smile at the thought, the memory now a tiny movie in your head.

“I think I’m stuck,” he tells you and sinks into the ground a little more.

You shuffle closer, the space between you reduced to maybe half an inch. He drapes an arm over your waist, closing the gap even more with a soft sigh.

“You’re nice to look at,” he admits happily, a small hiccup breaking the sentence.

“Am I?”

“Mmhmm. There’s a word for it up here—I can’t remember it now, but in the Pit we’d say,” he pauses for a moment and brings his mouth to your ear before making a noise that sounds like a dryer full of gravel. “There’s not a word for word translation, but it’s close.”

You do your best to imitate the noise, giggling at his surprised face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he teases, clutching a hand to his chest in fake shock.

You laugh harder at his stupid joke than you mean to, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“No,” you finally manage as you dare to reach for his waist. “Kissed you with it, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says thoughtfully. “We should do that again.”

“We could. Or you can tell me more about how I’m nice to look at.”

He buries his face in the space between your neck and shoulder with a tiny whine. “Words are hard, ok?”

“So you’re not going to kiss—mmph!”

He catches your lips in another slow, passionate kiss that leaves you lightheaded. Your legs tangle as he pins you against the soft ground and you can’t think of anywhere you’d rather be. He tastes like heaven or maybe hell, syrupy sweet from whatever the ghouls had put in those cups.

He sounds smug as he mumbles something about being right to want to kiss you again, not quite pulling away enough to be fully understood. It doesn’t matter because you’re both smiling, completely drunk on fruit punch and each other.

Minutes become hours, but Phantom keeps you warm through the night. You talk about everything as you slowly sober up. He tells you about his time on the road, stories about mischief and misbehaved ghouls and the thousands of happy faces that he’s seen. You explain what he missed while he was away, like the time the hell hound puppies escaped their crates and dug up part of Primo’s garden and the day Cowbell fell into the fountain.

The two of you rest against a tree—the same one with the root that had taken you both down. In the comfortable quiet you fall asleep on his shoulder, his arm draped around you to keep you close. When his eyes begin to feel too heavy, he presses a kiss into your hair and rests his head on yours.

It won’t be long before your friends find you and tease you while you all nurse hangovers and swear never to drink that much again. There will be stories about what you missed and who came searching for you, who fell in the pool and who taught Papa the latest dance. You’ll listen to all of it while Phantom holds your hand and you will know you were right where you were supposed to be.

#my fics #my writing #phantom ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul x gn reader #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #ghost band fanfic #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls fanfic

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440gallery · 1 year

Text

-Till tomorrow, my love

Synopsis:: Training combat with Neteyam and his dad, not everything seems easy. But as always, the day turns out to be just fine. Pairing:: Neteyam x f!omaticaya!oc

Authors note: Neteyam and OC are aged up, around twenty

Content warning:: idk, like not mature i guess?

Word count:: 2216 words

General tags: fluff, combat training, competitive, praise, evening with the Sully family

“Itotia, watch your back!” Jake Sully called from a distance, watching over me and his son sparring. I snapped quietly, knowing he was right the second Neteyam pushed his body against mine, making me lose balance and toppling forward. Able to catch myself, I whipped around facing Neteyam, sending him a glare as he grinned smugly at me.

“Come, attack.” Jake muttered, watching the two of us circling each other, observing the movements and waiting for the other to make a move, a mistake which would gain us the upper hand. I knew Neteyam was way better than me already, having practised combat fight with his father a million times and it made me frustrated to see how much I did not know about this. But after Jake insisting I should know as well, because I was nearly as much of a Sully as the rest of them, I forcefully agreed learning how to throw a punch and not only kill sky people with arrow and bow. Watching Neteyam move on light footing, I copied it, making me interact with him faster.

Keeping my eyes on his feet, I noticed the second he turned his body weight, creating a fast step towards me, trying to grab onto my body. His hand pushed against my chest, making me unsteady on my feet, but I instantly grabbed onto his fingers, wrapping my hands around them, pushing the fingers downward, knowing it would cause pain and stopping Neteyam’s attack. Neteyam groaned, dropping to his knees shortly, before putting weight into his body, pushing forward into me, making me lose contact with his fingers, therefore letting him go altogether. Using my disoriented state, Neteyam jumped up, grabbing onto my neck, forcing the air out of my lungs. I struggled under his grip, before remembering what Jake had thought me. I put my hands on his forearms, gripping them before taking a step backwards, out of his reach, hoping he wouldn’t expect it, whilst bringing my knee up to his stomach. Neteyam let go instantly, cough escaping his throat as he clenched his stomach for a second before going into an attack again, so fast I barely noticed and couldn’t escape it. His hand connected with my throat with a flat hit, taking the air from me, before grabbing onto my shoulder, twisting me in his grip, lodging his arms around my neck in a headlock.

Patting his arm twice, he let go, leaving me to bent over my knees and catch my breath.

“That was good work from both of you.” Jake said, nodding along before explaining further.

“Itotia, make sure to never take it easy on him. Even when you landed a hit, it might only takes seconds for a fighter to come back at you. Neteyam here was out of breath after your hit, but used his crouched stand to make you believe he was still recovering whilst actually planning ahead, catching you of guard.” He said and I nodded, still out of breath, trying to take the advice to heart.

“As for you, Nete” Jake said, “should have seen that hit coming.” He finished, laughing at the face his son was showing. I knew that Neteyam had been doing this trick for ages and it was rare to catch him so off guard that my knee could actually connect with his stomach. But I was glad it worked anyway.

“Alright another round.” Jake said and I nearly groaned because I was tired, chest moving in irregular patterns and nearly out of moves to pull. But that didn’t stop Jake Sully and neither his son. Neteyam grinned, flashing his canines, challenge in his eyes before, digging his heels into the dirt beneath us, ready to take off. I moved forward, trying to hit him in the chest but he gripped onto my arms, slashing trough them with his elbows, before hitting the side of my shoulder with his flat hand. Freeing myself I escaped the next move of his, dodging his fist, swirling around him, hooking my foot underneath his, making him tumble to the ground. I smiled, looking down at him, feeling pride swell in me at the fact that I took Neteyam out, at least once. At least I wasn’t completely useless.

“Good one, Itotia.” Jake remarked and I wiggled my brows at Neteyam, making him shake his head, smiling. Turning around to face Jake I didn’t expect Neteyam to grab onto my tail, stopping me in my tracs and swooping his leg underneath my limbs, resulting in me falling onto the ground.

“Kurkung.” I muttered, rubbing my side as I leaned back on my elbows. He just couldn’t let me win once.

“Ah come on, ma fyole, no need to get vulgar.” He said, lowering himself onto the ground, hovering over me for seconds, making a blush rise in my face as his fingers ghosted along my jaw and over my lips, before he pushed himself up, offering me a hand. Swatting it away, I stood on my own sending him a glare. He laughed swinging an arm around my shoulders and even thought I was mad at him, I longed after his contact, his body against mine.

Sighing I leaned into his side, my hand sneaking around his middle.

“Well.” Jake said as he came closer, watching both of us with a knowing look. “Never turn your back on the enemy knowing he is not knocked out.” He finished, gazing at me and I nodded.

“Next time, I’ll kick your ass.” I said to Neteyam and he chuckled, a deep sound from his chest making me feel warm all over. His eyes fixed on mine and he dipped down to kiss my forehead.

“Sure, you will.” He muttered, knowing full damn well I could hear the sarcasm in his voice. I pinched his side, making him yelp, sending me a glare but I just shrugged. His own fault.

“Alright kiddos. We’re done here. Good work.” Jake said smiling as he passed a hand over Neteyam’s head, winking, before leaving us alone. I sighed again, turning fully in his arms so my front was pressed against his.

“You think I’ll ever be as good as you?” I asked, inhaling the familiar, musky smell of Neteyam, as his arms wrapped around me.

“Of course, my fyole.” He said without hesitance, arms tightening around me. His breath was close to my ear and I shivered. “You’re already better than Lo’ak.” He whispered and I laughed, peeling my face away from his chest to look at him again. He was so breathtakingly pretty. I stared at him, memorising his features and his body under my fingertips.

“Don’t tell him I said.” Neteyam murmured, sending me a crooked smirk before leaning down, capturing my lips with his. Humming into the kiss, I opened my mouth, letting my tongue clash with his, loosing myself in the contact and warmth of his body and the feeling of his mouth moving against mine. Neteyam broke the kiss, disconnecting our lips for a moment, smiling down at me with loving, patient eyes whilst ignoring my whine for more, before bringing his lips on mine again, fingers coming around to tug at my neck, pulling me closer as his hand fully wrapped around it.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my lips, moving them hot and heavy against my own, breath hitching, heart fluttering in my chest.

“I love you, Neteyam.” I said, smiling into the soft kiss that followed.

“Oh, great Eywa, not again.”

“Lo’ak.” I greeted, not even hiding the smirk that stretched across my lips. “How lovely to see you here.”

“Mhm. Not like you’re kissing in the middle of the fucking village for other people not to see.” He snorted, rolling his eyes but the small smile twitching at his lips told another story. Detangling myself from Neteyam, who was reluctant to let me go, I turned to Lo’ak, Neteyam’s hands still gripping onto my hips from behind as he pressed himself to me once more.

“Mom said you’re invited for dinner. So- “He shrugged clearly waiting for an answer. I nodded, smiling.

“Yes, I would like that.” I voiced out, stepping into the familiar path to the nest of the Sully family with Lo’ak and Neteyam. Bumping my hip against Neteyam’s, I intertwined my hand in his, smiling a he bumped his hip back against mine, forcing me to balance on my foot anew.

“Gosh, you have it bad.” Lo’ak mumbled and looked away from us, shaking his head.

“Come on, bro, you’re just jealous.” Neteyam said, letting go of my hand bringing it to clasp on Lo’ak’s shoulders, pushing him forward a bit in a familiar manner that was shared between the two.

“Whatever you say, big brother.” Lo’ak said, slapping him on the back, mischief in his eyes. He danced away from his reach and into mine, sneaking an arm around my waist, pushing into me. I laughed as I saw Neteyam’s disapproval.

“But let me tell you, Itotia already likes me more than you.” He said to his brother, as I put my arm around his shoulder, pressing my cheek against the top of his head, with him being a little tinier than myself. Humming in approval I grinned at Neteyam who was still glaring at Lo’ak’s arm around my waist, clearly not liking it.

Reaching the Sully nest, we stepped inside, Lo’ak only detangling ourselves because Tuk rushed forward to him, clinging to his calf. Smiling at me, she pushed away from him, coming to my outstretched arms.

“Tuk, my love.” I whispered into her hair, kissing it multiple times, which send her away giggling.

“Itotia.” Neytiri voiced and gestured her welcome, resulting in me doing the same.

“Thank you for having me.” I said, grateful they were so accepting of Neteyam and me.

Neytiri smiled, but it was her husband who answered.

“You’re always welcome.” Jake said, just entering the hut behind us, greeting his children and wife. His eyes locked with mine and I dipped my head to show him my gratitude. Seating ourselves around the fire and food, it didn’t take long for us to dig in. Neteyam’s hand came to my leg, draping it over his lap, his fingers playing along my thigh every once in a while, whilst making conversation with his parents and siblings.

Kiri and I were in conversation about the flowers she brought today and how she wanted to braid them into Tuk’s hair, as Neteyam leaned his head onto my chest, pressing his ear to where I was sure he could hear my heartbeat. My hand came to his braided hair, fingers combing through them slowly whilst asking Kiri if she thought the flowers would also be enough for her own hair, as she always had looked beautiful with them in it. Kiri nodded, voicing that Neytiri would braid it for her, declining my offer to do it. After she went over to her adoptive mother, I turned to Neteyam, his face buried in my chest, eyes closed.

My fingers skirted over his smooth face, drawing along the features and over his closed eyelids, his jaw and his lips. A smile formed on them and it made me smile, too.

“My love.” I murmured, fully aware that his family was still in the room with us, choosing to not interrupt us but still pointing out their presence in the background. “I should probably go for the night.”

Neteyam sighed against my chest, before opening his eyes, eyelashes so thick and dark it made me jealous. “I’ll bring you.” He said, knowing well that it was better for the both of us to stay apart for the night. Saying my farewell to the Sullys whilst thanking them again for the dinner, we went off to the nest of my family. Closing his arms around my waist, Neteyam pulled me in a warm embrace.

“See you tomorrow.” He whispered against my lips, movements ghosting over them before kissing me deeply, his arms tightening around me as if he didn’t want to let me go. After a couple of moments, he did let go, tapping my butt, his fingers brushing along my tail, making me flustered.

“Go now, babe.”

“See you, Teyam.” I said, kissing his lips a last time for the day, already missing the feeling of him beside me. Moving out of his arms I slowly walked over to the nest of my family.

“Atta girl.” Neteyam said, grinning smugly at me, knowing damn well what kind of effect that name had on me. Biting my lip I stopped, looking back at him one more time, deciding that one more kiss wouldn’t hurt. Foot moving fast, I captured his lips with mine, bringing my hands into his hair, tugging. Neteyam hummed into the kiss, nibbling at my bottom lip before releasing it with a soft groan.

“Knew you would come back.” He replied smugly and I smiled, laying my hand on his chest, moving my foot behind his soles, pushing hard, leading to Neteyam falling onto the ground without so much of a resistance. Smirking I turned, my tail swinging trough the air, hips swaying.

“Till tomorrow, my love.”

And his laughter warmed my chest for the whole night.

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x oc #neteyam x f!omaticaya!oc #neteyam headcanons #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #neteyam fanfiction #fluff #kisses #fighting #combat #sully family #neteyam fic #neteyam avatar #neteyam atwow

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jennsterjay · 9 months

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Clawcode Vigilante Enemies To Lovers (head canon/short fic)

Ok so I'm married to the head canon that Ganke M Lee becomes Miles G Morales' hacker, coder, engineer, sidekick, and ‘guy in the chair’ But imagine vigilante enemies to lovers clawcode where Miles encounters a guy with a similar mask and suit similar to him during missions and their motivations are similar but oh so different, so at night they fight each other, sometimes crossing paths, sometimes working together, sometimes learning things about each other, coming to an understanding about each other in a way no one else would, but they still keep their cards close, and keep their weapons closer, because at the end of the day a job is a job, an enemy is an enemy, and it's my story against yours And then at school Miles is hanging in there, struggling to juggle it all. And he meets this guy. Taller than him, a wider build than him. A genius, jokester, observant, asshole that Miles can't get out of his head. Only showing up when Miles needs it, giving him test answers, looming over bullies when Miles gets cornered, making Miles laugh when his thoughts run too deep, and then always disappearing in the crowd... like a ghost in the night.

And Miles' eyes can find him anywhere when he walks the hallways alone in school. Miles keeping to himself, holding up his walls, never revealing his hand, speaking only when spoken to, but when the two lock eyes across seas of people... his cards fall, his walls, crumble, laid bare as it all falls down and Miles lets it happen. Then Miles can't take it anymore, he needs to know who this guy is, who has been keeping him up with thoughts of him at night, who he's been letting sink into the darkest and most vulnerable parts of his heart at night, and it drives him crazy. So when he finally runs all over the school trying to find him, a guy that is easy to find until he never wants to be found...and Miles turns around when he hears the voice of the guy, saying Miles' name even though Miles never told him, Miles whips around in surprise...walks towards him... grabs the guy's wrist...and looks him in the eyes with everything as he asks him, "What is your name?" And the other boy looks back at him, staring back at him in the same way, an open book and a force of nature all at once, and Miles feels unsteady on his feet because there's no one else, Earth-42 population: 2, no one else exists but the looks in their eyes, the staring contest between two souls, the tension of wanting to know someone you feel like you've known forever...and then... "My name is Ganke..M..Lee..." And Miles looks at him like he's given him the keys to their ruined city, and he can breathe. He can finally breathe. And then Ganke walks a step closer in Miles' space, never breaking eye contact, his footsteps make earthquakes to Miles when his heart is already racing and he's so close. And then Ganke reaches out with his other hand, and purposely, but oh so gently wraps around Miles' other wrist, breaking the silence before it begins when he asks "What's yours?" And Ganke frames it like a question. With the easiest answer in the world. As if Ganke didn't already know the answer. But Miles knows that's not the question he's truly asking.

Ganke is not asking for his name, he's asking for who he is, what motivates him, what he's made of, what makes him launch across buildings in the dark of the night. Who he is. And all Miles can do when Ganke looks through him is answer. "...I'm Miles...Gonzalo... Morales" And Miles can see Ganke's gaze turn from skeptical, to unreadable, to soft, to understanding as he just looks at him for a moment before pulling away from their world, shoving his hands in his pockets before he says, "Cool"

And Miles recomposes himself, settles everything back into his heart, resuming something like normal when he says, "Cool" And then days pass, weeks pass months pass, getting closer, hanging out, treading on secrets, being close enough and just out of arms reach. And Miles tells Ganke he has to skip out on Movie night at his dorm, not telling him he has a patrol to run. A mission to do. And Ganke gets it. And then Miles leaves Visions in the dark of the night to scour the city, relaying information about the mission from his uncle, mask up, claws out, swinging through the air with urgency even though there is no rush at all. He infiltrates the abandoned finance building, relays information to his uncle, then attacks from the shadows, and solos a small army. Big men hitting the floor with a groan, threatening to get revenge next time, just another Tuesday night. And then he makes it to the roof through the fire escape and dammit there's more of them, too many and he tries to escape but one has caught his leg and slammed him to the ground and he's outnumbered and one has a rocket launcher and all Miles can think is Ay dios mío, why didn't I make my mami’s mofongo my last supper. And then, Crooks start falling to their knees left and right and Miles is trying to zoom in with his mask to see his savior but it's too dark and Miles' own vision beyond the mask is beginning to fail him. He blinks once, 13 men down, he blinks again, 30. And Miles uses his strength to get back up after fighting the men that had pinned him down and then he's there in the moment, fighting his enemies with the unknown figure in the shadows and suddenly they're fighting the last of them, back to back, covering each other's six until the last guy falls and groans, and the two warriors of the night finally turn around to face each other. Masks up, walls up, cards held, cold air whipping through the night. The Prowler and... "You saved me...why" The Prowler asks the masked vigilante in front of him.

Silence fills the air as the two regard each other, unmoving, waiting...and all Miles can think about is how this guy has fought against him, tricked him, outplayed him, worked with him, saved him, and now fought side by side with him...and then. "Because I know you would do the same for me". And the Prowler doesn't react, but Miles feels like he's gotten the wind taken out of him and a weight has been lifted off of his chest...because- He's right. And then there's a blast on the rooftop right where they stand and the two tumble and slide away from each other. Rubble is everywhere and the impact makes the other vigilante’s head spin. Then he's coughing behind the mask, struggling to crawl on the ground and his mask is running protocols to scan the scene and the sniper has fled like the coward he is, and he doesn't care because he is trying to find someone more important as he crawls forward...and then he spots him. The Prowler knocked out on the ground, not looking good, and now he feels frantic. He musters up all his will to get up, to run and kneel next to him, checking him for injuries, worrying why the Prowler's mask won't turn on. Then Miles registers that he's being held in someone's arms, his vision is blurry and his head is spinning, and his mask is cracked and his comms are down. He doesn't even know his left from his right, and there's a distorted voice telling him he needs to take his mask off to breathe and Miles wants to protest, keep his walls up, his identity hidden, his family safe, but he feels himself slipping in a dangerous way...in the arms of someone who's a coin toss away from a foe or ally, and he's got nothing left to lose so he says, "You first..." A moment passes, and time stands still as Miles sees the moment where the other man does...exactly that. The moon shines down to reveal familiar black hair, freckled skin, and brown eyes full of worry, resolve, acceptance, and everything all at once. Ganke M Lee And suddenly Miles understands everything, as he raises his clawed hand carefully to rest on his friend's cheek,

And taking this as a sign Ganke moves to take off the mask of the one he burned for so much, both lives intertwined with for so long, hoping to see the face he already knew he would find. The Prowler's mask falls the side and Ganke's heart soars because he knew it all along. It's Miles, looking up at him like he's the only thing in the world, with a small smile that says so much at once before he says, "It was always you..." And then Miles lets his hand fall from Ganke's face as he lets his mind slip into darkness, the last thing he hears is his name on Ganke's lips. When Miles wakes up, he's in the hospital with a few broken ribs and a concussion. He squints from the bright hospital lights and thinks about two missions ago when he redistributed medical supplies to this exact hospital. The irony. His mother plays the role of his nurse again and treats him, being a force of love and also a force of maternal fury as they cry, argue, laugh, and hug, and Miles feels so so loved. Miles is then left to his own thoughts as he remembered everything that happened prior, and everything it means… [10 months ago, at night] 'You're not the Prowler' 'Yes, I am' [8 months ago] 'Why are you doing this?' 'Wouldn't you like to know' [6 months ago] 'How do I know if I can trust you?' 'You can't' [5 months ago] 'You know if you worked on your acrobatics and upgraded the firmware on your suit, maybe you wouldn't lose to me all of the time' 'Shut up' [4 months ago] 'In another life do you think we're friends?' 'You don't know me' [3 months ago] 'You don't understand, I have to do this. If you stand in my way then I won't hesitate!' '...I know that you will' [1 month ago] 'The one you're looking for is eastbound on 42nd street' '...And why would you tell me that?' 'Well...' [2 weeks ago] 'I met someone nice' '...are they good to you?' 'always'

[1 week ago] 'We're enemies!! Cut from different cloth, don't you get that? You sharpen your claws and I blast you with electricity. I could never be what you want me to be, and you could never do what I won't hesitate to. So leave now before I remind you what believing in fantasy really gets you, Prowler' 'I'm not scared of this...I’m not scared of us...and I'm not scared of you...' [3 days ago] 'You saved me...why?' 'Because I know you would do the same for me'

And Miles plays every scene, every encounter in his head, and every moment…

Day to night, good to evil, water to fire, light to darkness. Peace to war, sun to moon, soul to soul, heart to heart, and all the lines between them vanish as if they were never there at all.

And then when the door to his hospital room opens, and Miles turns his head to the noise...he gets caught in dark brown eyes looking back at him with everything. "Ganke" And Ganke rushes to his side, in all his urgency, but being careful oh so careful when he slowly reaches out to hold Miles’ face in his hands and looks deep into his eyes with relief, love, torment, and everything in between, as a lump catches in his throat when he says... "Miles" And even though they both know this complicates everything, they finally feel... that it's all fallen right into place.

#clawcode #milesganke #earth 42 #prowler miles #miles g morales #ganke m lee #miles 42 #ganke 42 #ganke lee #clawcode headcanon #clawcode fanfiction #across the spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse #atsv #Atsv AU #jjs-writing

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thefuseoftemptation · 1 year

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requesting a reader masking maybe? I struggle with it sometimes since I haven't really experted it I guess

I see you and I got you. It’s not much though. Thanks for the request!!!

—TO BE THERE FOR YOU

EDDIE MUNSON X AUTISTIC GN!READER

A/N: But because this isn't too thorough and masking is quite complex to try to type because it's the reader being 'normal'. Plus everyone isn't the same when it comes to masking and some don’t even do it so—I put what could be seen or included when it fluctuates based from my own self. If it’s not what you were looking for, lmk or resend it.

WARNING(S): cussing, hurt/comfort? not sure what else to put, lmk though. Not proofread.

. . .

It took so much out of you. Even if it wasn’t to the full extent. You could only keep up with a little at a time before you felt yourself fluctuating. Masking wasn’t a constant for you— only really doing it when you were with others. It just depended on who you were with and where you were at.

The usual stims weren’t as repetitious, they were subtle, and much smaller when you masked. You kept eye contact for lengths of time, and when you spoke it was much more than what you were used to. Sometimes less if it wasn’t really necessary.

But as time went by, you felt yourself failing at keeping it up. Your clear speaking turned to stutters, your tone too changing, eye contact was everywhere—looking to the floor than the one you were speaking to, and you weren’t so still. You felt yourself fumbling with your sleeve, pulling the loose thread which was now turning into a huge hole.

And with all that, had come the looks. Oh, the fuckin looks. Nothing but them prying and questioning ‘why you were like that?’

By then you went quiet, not really feeling like putting up with them and excusing yourself. You knew how to handle times like these, but sometimes, it was relieving when you had someone else there to help you through them. Like Eddie.

He usually could tell when your mask was fluctuating, pulling you from the people or in some cases— turning the conversation from you so you felt more settled. But he wasn’t here with you. You wouldn’t see him until later so you just had to get through it without him.

. . .

When you pulled up into the lot, Eddie was on the steps waiting. Getting to his feet and holding his arms wide open in greeting. The gesture had you quickly lurching towards him, tucking yourself further into his form.

“Hello to you too.” Eddie’s usually met with you chucking back with some quick reply, but when there’s nothing— not even a little hum— his brows pull together.

The unsteady sigh you release suddenly letting him know it was that type of day. He knew lately you’ve been struggling, getting quite critical of yourself when it came to you masking because you haven’t experted it fully.

Eddie pulled you closer to his chest, not once loosening his hold on you.

“I see, it’s one of those times, huh? Well, Eddie’s here now. It’s just us, and no one else, you hear?” Him using the third person and then pulling the vowels out, had you muffling something that had couldn’t be understood.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the time we should be spending together. There is to be no talking ‘bout what happened until you feel ready and by how you still haven’t let go, that tells me you’re not ready. So—” Eddie backs you guys up as he speaks, losing his footing a little as he steps over the threshold.

“Watch your step.” You murmur as you feel yourself stumble with him.

“Shut up— ”

. . .

You guys were lying on the couch, you under Eddie who was between your legs, his head on your chest as he spoke.

He was talking under his breath, nothing generally in thought, just speaking whatever was on his head knowing you weren’t going to say much since you’ve done most of it already during your time away.

“So then when I was telling them ‘bout—” Eddie looked up briefly, checking to see if you were listening. “Still here, Eddie. M’not leaving especially with you on top of me.”

Eddie makes a face, pretending to be hurt by what you uttered. “You trying to tell me something, Y/L/N?”

“No, just finish what you were going to say.” You chuckle.

Eddie uses his elbows for support, “you feel like talking yet?” Tilting his head as he looks at you.

“S’just,” you sigh. “It took a lot out of me— too much.” You state, and he didn’t have to ask to know what you were referring to.

“Not everyone could mask, some could only go so long before they feel themselves struggling to keep it up, so s’not just you. Y’know how I get…” Eddie gestured to himself and you nod knowing what he meant.

“I know…” You murmur, threading your fingers through his curls. “Thanks for listening and being there for me, Eddie. And you know— just being you.”

“Not like I could be any one else.” He nudged, his lips stretching up as he leans into you.

You shook your head, shoving him before lying back again.

“Shut up and c’mere.”

. . .

A/N: feedback and reblogs appreciated.

#requests #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson one shot

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

Text

I will block you if you are minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

More inspiration from that Inside Seventeen video with the maknae line that I mentioned in my Dino post.

Okay but, imagine Awkward dad! Vernon trying his best with your son. He's entering the toddler stage which has caused a tonne of mixed emotions for both of you and, new hurdles as well. Now, Vernon loves your son with his whole heart but, understandably, these changes aren't easy for either of you. However, you can't help the warmth that floods your system when you watch him hover over your son as he walks, still rather unsteady on his little feet. You two have been extremely lucky though because despite all the changes that come with entering a new stage, your son is a happy little baby. Giggling at your husband when he eventually falls, Vernon picking him up to make sure he didn't hurt himself, a concerned expression painting his usually handsome face. You can't help but, smile at your husband's actions and, leave the room to let your favourite people interact with one another.

"I think we should try for another one," Vernon says, moreso whispers actually, to you once you two have settled in your bed for the night. Your son fast asleep giving you two time to spend together, your fingers interlocked over your stomach as Vernon spoons you from behind. You're surprised but, mostly confused by his words, "Try for another what?" You ask, shifting slightly to look at him inquisitively over your shoulder. To your surprise, your husband's cheeks are flushed and he's struggling to meet your gaze. Cute. Even after years of dating, marriage and having a child together, he would still get so, so shy and, you couldn't help but find it extremely adorable. "Another baby," he finally manages to mutter out, his eyes tentatively meeting yours while his fingers grip your own a little tighter. Oh. Another baby. You're quite taken aback by his broaching of this topic, if you're being completely honest. While you both knew that you wanted children, expanding your family hadn't really been a talking point in recent times with your son keeping you increasingly busy. You slowly turn in his arms to face your husband properly, wrapping an arm around him and rubbing his back to attempt to soothe his nerves from the minor bombshell he'd just dropped. "What brought this on?" You ask more curious than anything else. You feel his body relax marginally under your ministrations, his hand reaching out to eventually rest on your hip gently. He steels himself before finally finding the courage to speak, drawing random patterns on your hip with his fingertips, "I just- I just think that a new addition to our family would be welcome. Plus, y/s/n would get lonely, right? I think giving him a sibling would be a good idea too," he finally manages to get out. He's still studiously avoiding making direct eye contact with you and, the blush painting his cheeks is heading steadily into red territory. Before Vernon is able to blink, you've pushed him flat on his back and, straddled him. Your husband looks up at you in surprise, eyes wide while his hands instinctively fly to rest on your thighs. Taking him by surprise once again, you lean down to press a rather hard kiss to his lips, your fingernails digging into his chest lightly, leaving faint pink marks in their wake. "You're so fucking cute, you know that?" You utter against his lips once you eventually pull away, looking down at him through lidded eyes. Vernon was so confused. He's not exactly complaining, feeling his cock starting to harden and press against you but, he very much was taken aback. His confusion must be evident on his face because you say, "I mean, you're the one who suggested having another baby. I'm just jump starting the process. Plus, when you get all cute and shy like this, you know what it makes me want to do to you." You can't help the smirk that spreads across your face as you press down against his hardened cock and, your pretty babyboy whines in response, tightening his grip on your plush thighs.

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megslovesbooks · 2 years

Text

fuck it friday!

thanks for the tags @onward--upward and @messyhairdiaz!!

in true fuck-it fashion i've been writing the second installment of the Piano Player Eddie AU wildly out of order, but i realized I need to get this scene down in order to keep eddie's head space right in my own head for the back half of the fic. so. here we are.

if anyone cares this is pretty spoiliery for the fic??? i doubt that's an issue, but...just in case.

also since i've been tagged in so many of these lately and not answered any of them, here's a good long chunk.

They’re just stepping off the stage after a truly electric show, when Emily slides up to Eddie.

“Bobby needs to see you.” She says, breaking through the adrenaline fueled buzz of chatter around him.

“What?” he asks unhelpfully, his brain struggling to catch up, still caught in the pop and fizz of the stage. There’s something about the set of Emily’s shoulders he doesn't like.

“Bobby needs to see you.” she says again. “He’s in the office.” Then, as Chim takes a step in that direction she adds “Just Eddie.”

The others are clearly confused now too, he can feel Buck hovering just behind his left shoulder. He looks over and meets Hen’s eyes, and even though she smiles at him, he can see his own creeping dread reflected in her eyes.

“Sure.” He says, and his voice comes out unsteady. “Yeah.”

“Eds–” Buck starts, his hand coming to rest on his elbow for a moment. Eddie wants nothing more than to lean back into that touch but instead he steps forward.

“I’ll meet you guys back at the hotel.” He says over his shoulder but doesn't look back.

He makes the short trek to the cramped little touring office with his heart in his throat, there’s a feeling rising in his gut he hasn’t felt for years. Not since sand and blood and burning metal. Fight or flight. The ground giving way beneath his feet. Bobby is standing in the middle of the room when he opens the door, his face gray and pinched.

“Bobby?” Eddie says, and its all he can get out before his mouth is too dry to speak.

“Eddie.” Bobby’s voice is steady, but his eyes…Eddie has to swallow down his rising panic. “Why don’t we sit?”

“What’s going on?” He doesn't sit. He can’t. His manager studies him for a moment then steps closer, could reach out and touch him, but his hands remain at his sides.

“We just got word.” Bobby says “Your Aunt called. Eddie, there’s been an accident, a drunk driver struck the car Shannon was driving. I’m so sorry son, she didn’t make it.”

There’s no air. There’s no air and Eddie is falling. He can’t breathe and he’s falling and oh god oh god oh god it can’t be true. It can’t be true. He’d spoken to her yesterday, it had been brief and halting and painful. Just a check in before he spoke to Chris. He remembers afterward wondering how long it would take them to find their footing again after the divorce. He’d missed her painfully, had been hopeful they could find their way to something different, something better. Now they’ll never get the chance. Oh god. He can’t...

“Ok.” Bobby is saying. “Ok. Breathe Eddie, there you go.” Somehow he’s ended up in one of the chairs in front of the desk, Bobby crouched in front of him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his knee, the twin points of contact feel like the only thing keeping him from shattering. Shannon. Oh Christ. How–how–he should ask for details but he can’t do anything but suck ragged gasps of air into his too tight lungs. He isn’t crying, he registers dimly, he should be crying. How are they supposed to go on without her? He was just figuring out who to be without her as his wife, how can he live in a word now where she’s gone forever? What is Christopher supposed to do without his mother?

“Chris.” He rasps, reaching out and grabbing at the hand still resting on his knee in a desperate grip. “Christopher.” Bobby’s face tightens.

“He was in the car.” No. No no no no no no no no no no no. He must make some kind of noise because Bobby slides his free hand up to grip the back of his neck, forcing him to make eye contact.

“He’s alive Eddie. He’s alive. He got a little banged up but your Aunt told me he’s home with her and your grandmother now. He’s going to be ok.”

“I have to get to him.” He chokes out, everything else, all his horror and grief and sickness superseded by his need to be with his son, to hold him, feel his heartbeat. “I have to get to him Bobby.”

“I know.” Bobby says, his grip still firm, grounding. He waits until he’s sure Eddie’s really with him then says. “Maddie is booking your ticket right now. Emily’s going to drive you back to the hotel to get what you need then she’ll take you to the airport. We’re going to get you home as quickly as we can I promise.”

I promise I do actually write happy things sometimes too.

I'm not sure who's been tagged, already, but if you want to and haven't already I'll tag @spotsandsocks @paranoidbean @confetti-cupcake @ajunerose and @sibylsleaves

(also i know i'm real bad about doing these things lately, but if you like being tagged in things and i haven't tagged you please let me know and i'll add you to the list! i love being tagged and tagging in return!)

#fuck it friday #megs writes #piano player eddie au #911 on fox #911 fic

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spookyxmingos · 2 years

Text

Long Night part 2

de/gra/dation

light b/i/nding

or/ga/sm denial

f/in/ge/ring

sp/an/king

be/gg/ing

You arrive at his house. By now it is late in the night.

“Strip” he demands “I want everyone to know how filthy my little whore is.” You are shocked but you do as he says because you remember the hot pain from earlier. He gets out and comes to your door. He opens it and grabs your hand. “Leave everything in the car” you get out and the air is chilly on your exposed nipples and nether region. You keep your head down on the 15 ft walk to the door. He has never asked anything so degrading of you. The thought is cut short by the sounds of big paws on the marble floor. Oh no, The dogs. His two massive dobermans meet you at the entryway and he greets them with a pat per head. They sniff your feet. They look at Sykes to make sure you are welcome in their house. In an annoyed tone he bellows “Leave us alone you two.” They slowly walk into another room.

“Sir” you quietly say.

He grabs your arm and in an aggressive tone says “Don’t speak unless spoken to, Got it?” You quickly nod you head. He walks you up the stairs and to the master suite. your feet are cold on the floor. You can’t help but wonder what he has planned for you. You are astonished at how large the room is. Not to mention the California king bed. This is New York City houses at their finest. He orders you to sit down on the bed. You watch as he removes his jewelry, suit jacket and tie. “Gimme your hands.” you follow through. He takes the soft tie and binds your hands together. The silky red color looks good against your wrists. He moves you to the top of the bed and attaches your restraint to the headboard. “I’ve got something to punish my disobedient slut.” He gets something out of a box on the dresser. You hear a familiar buzzing. He places something on your clit in the sweet zone. You instantly feel the wonderful feeling of a low sucking and buzzing. He sits down in an armchair close by and undoes his pants. He pulls out his hard and glossy cock. It looks so gorgeous from the bed. Your face goes red and you whimper.

“Maybe if you’d done what I asked then you’d get my cock.” he teases. He is cruel and you know he won’t let up. “Now we’re going to try this again, DON’T CUM.” He instructs. He begins to stroke the girthy shaft. You look away to hide the embarrassment. “Look at me!” there is anger in his voice. You snap your head back at him. your breathing becomes unsteady and he knows you are struggling. “What? My whore can’t handle being teased?” He strokes slower and makes eye contact. You’d swear you were the color of a tomato now. He comes over to the bedside and says “open your mouth whore.” you oblige. He comes in close and spits in your mouth. You feel it running down your tongue and it makes your back arch. It tastes of cigar and lusty intentions. It slowly runs down your throat and you almost loose it. You regain composure. “good girl.” You’ve earned some credit back. He decides to make it even harder for you. He gets into the crook of your neck and starts kissing and nibbling. Again you feel flushed with pleasure. The nibbles become bites and the pain starts to set in. You thrust up into the vibration but no use. The need for more almost drives you crazy.

You are so overwhelmed that a faint and needy “Sir…Please” slips from your lips.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” He removes the toy And relocates you to his lap. He bends you over his knee. Wrists still bound as you try to Balance. “You ain’t earned all my trust back. Don’t get any ideas.” He gives you one good spank. You jolt on impact. He chuckles and you know he’s a sadist. He gives you a few more before using his spare hand to hover around your opening. You try to wiggle and push back towards his hand. “You want it?” You nod

“Yes sir. Please.” You whine. He inserts two thick fingers into your wet opening. You shudder from the sudden stretch. All that from just two rough fingers. He moves them slowly. Moisture accumulating with every pump. Eyes almost rolling back, you are enjoying every second. He draws back a free hand and CLAP. A hard spank on your soft ass. It jiggles and he seems pleased. He does this several times and you clench around him at each impact.

“You want more?” You nod slowly in pleasure. He removes his fingers one excruciating knuckle at a time. He positions you in the center of the bed. Head down, ass up, still bound. You hear clothing hit the floor. He gets behind you and you can feel the tip at your opening. “How bad do ya want it?” He coaxes.

“Please, I need your big cock inside me. I need to be used.” Then you were off to the races. The sound of clapping filled your ears. It felt like he was almost balls deep inside you. He grabs a breast

“You’re mine you little slut” he growls. You quiver. "You’re going to swallow every drop of my cum. If you neglect one drop I’ll see that you get severely punished. Do you understand?” He then grips your throat.

You whimper a “Yes sir” and prepare to collapse on the bed for repositioning. He rolls you over and places your legs around him. You don’t realize how large he is until he’s looming over you. His large arms at each side of your head. He thrusts deep inside of you. You feel small and vulnerable against this malicious man. Yet he indulges you with pleasure, fancy dates and gifts.

He grunts with the deeper thrusts and you know he won’t be able to keep up much longer. He makes one final grunt. He pulls out and grabs your head and throat. Without hesitation he shoves his cock down your throat. you feel him throbbing as the hot liquid pours down. Tears come to your eyes as you almost gag.

“Keep it in, girl.” He instructs. It feels like at least 10 seconds before it stops. he uses your mouth to stroke himself a few more times. He pulls out and a thick shiny string of saliva comes with it. He grabs your throat and says “swallow”. You gulp down every last drop and everything feels good. You’re practically floating. he unbinds you and brings you in for an embrace. He strokes your head “Good girl. I’m so proud of you.” You bury your face in his soft chest. As you lie in his bed you really wonder if he truly is as terrible as everyone says he is.

“You aren’t all bad” you say. He pauses in surprise. No one had ever told him that. In his line of work it’s far from the truth.

He sighs “If you knew what I had to do everyday you wouldn’t say that”.

#bill sykes #fanfic #fem reader #nsft #lemon

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47silverracingline05 · 2 years

Text

"I want to have lots and lots of babies with you.": M.S

Warnings: This is some tooth rotting fluff, with some mild suggestive language at the end

Word Count: 1.8k

“Please can we go ice skating, Auntie Y/N” your six-year-old niece, Belle, begged. She clutched at your t-shirt, her big eyes shining up at you.

You made the same face at your boyfriend, who had offered to help you babysit the youngest of your family. Mick snorted at the pair of you, before rocking himself off the couch.

“Okay, I’ll go get the keys.” Mick confirmed, making the little girl at your feet raise her arms and jump around in a circle. You clapped your hands, as she continued to shriek in a circle, laughing at her sweetness.

Grabbing her coat and a pair of little gloves, you watched attentively as Mick kneels down to help Belle tie her shoelaces. At first, he tried to tell her how to do it, but her little huffs and pouts indicated that a possible tantrum was imminent, and to help with her growing frustrations, Mick just did it for her, giving her little praises to make her feel better.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, Auntie Y/N, still gets me to tie her shoes up for her.” Mick jokes, making her giggle, you narrow your eyes and give a jesting glare, as Mick turns with a smirk on her face.

“Yes, I’m completely helpless without Uncle Mickey,” You chided, opening the door, “Now are we going?”

“Yay, yay, yay.” Belle jumped from the step, Mick steadying her as she wobbled slightly, before she charged out the door, you and Mick give each other a quick look, before following her.

Paying for your skates, you had to try and keep Belle’s bum on the wooden bench, long enough to fit her skates. The poor thing was so excited, as she bounced happily.

“Belle, you need to give me your feet, you’re going to struggle to skate without these on.” You dangled the tiny ice skates in front of her, her face was split in half with the tight grin that spread ear to ear.

Mick picked the little girl up and placed her on his lap, marginally restraining her so that you could slip the skates onto her feet. Finally, they were strapped to your feet, Mick continued to hold her on his lap whilst you quickly fitted yours. Once they were on, you made sure to hold Belle’s hand tight, the 6 year old was unstable on her feet, both from balancing on the thin blade and the excitement that was literally making her vibrate.

Mick sorted his own skates before taking Belle’s other hand, helping you guide her out onto the ice. You were a confident ‘enough’ skater, so stepped onto the ice in front of your niece and Mick.

The initial first step made you a little unsteady, but you soon tightened your core, bending your knees slightly so that you could keep your balance. You spin around to face Belle, she was still clutching Mick’s hand. Now that she was facing the ice, her excitement was slowly dwindling to nerves.

“Come here, baby.” You encouraged holding out both of your hands, but she turned away, hiding slightly in Mick’s trousers legs.

Mick manages to bend down, wobbling himself, on his bladed feet, one of his hands tentatively going to her back and gently rubbing circles. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Belle balls one of her hands up, and roughly rubs at her face, as she grows shier, leaning into Mick’s chest; “I just scared.”

Belle sniffles slightly, Mick gave her a back a few more rubs before softly talking to her, “It’s okay, Auntie Y/N and I, won’t let you fall. We promise, we’re going to hold your hands the whole time.”

The little pep talk seemed to do something, as Belle peaked at you from her hiding place in Mick’s chest, then turning to you completely, her fingers reaching for your hand that had remained outstretched.

Shuffling towards you, Mick’s hands now went to Belle’s waist, so she was steady when her little skate finally made contact with the white surface. Her eyes went wide, as her skate started to travel away from her, her leg stretching out, making you stifle a giggle. You quickly grabbed both her hands, so that you could pull her closer to you.

Belle flapped her hands, making you let go, as she wrapped her arms around your legs, clutching at your jeans so that she could keep her balance.

Looking up at Mick, the pair of you chuckled, Belle’s eyes squeezed shut, her head buried in your thigh. Mick joined you both on the ice, and you were able to pry her hands from around your thigh before she could knock you over.

Taking a hand each, you were able to slowly start to make your way around the rink. Soon Belle was able to drop her frightened and worried expression, instead exchanging it for a big bright smile.

You and Mick only needed to push with one foot, as that generated enough speed to keep the six year old entertained, and her feet near enough inline.

Every so often, she would forget to push with her own feet, instead letting you drag her around the ice, gradually leaning further and further back, as her feet would start to slip out from underneath her.

She would shriek as you and Mick lifted her back up, straightening her legs out again, and setting her back on track.

When Mick thought she had grown enough confidence, he let go of her hand, skating a little further ahead, spinning around, putting on a real ice show for you both. He started skating backwards, pulling faces at the pair of you, as he flicked his head over his shoulder every now and then, trying to avoid crashing into other people.

With Belle distracted, her subconscious kicked in, and she started to skate properly, she didn’t even notice she was doing it, as Mick made you laugh harder when he flapped his arms slightly, trying to maintain his balance, when he overshot a spin.

“Careful, Uncle Mick.” Belle giggled, when Mick had regained his balance, his face a little paler for a moment, that had been close.

You carried on in a few more circles, Belle had really come a long way. You took it in turns to let go of her hand and skate ahead, stopping around a metre away, and turn to face her. Outstretched arms, as you both encouraged her to let go of the hand keeping her up, and skate into your awaiting arms.

She would squeal the whole way along, then crash into the awaiting embrace, squeezing you both tight.

Soon your time ran out, Belle pouted the whole way around, until you got to the gate to step off, she tried to clutch at the side to keep herself on, but Mick was a step ahead, and had lifted her to his hip before she got a chance.

“Nooo, I don’t want to go yet.” Belle cried, her cheeks were rosy with cold, her little nose a light shade of pink to. You grab a tissue from your bag wiping at her nose, and then her cheek with your thumb to get rid of the little dribble of tears that had leaked from her sad eyes.

“We have to, princess, we can come back another time.” You soothed, she was just tired, it had been a long day for everyone, and you knew the moment you strapped her into the car she would be out like a light.

You leave her with Mick whilst you returned the skates, he had picked her up again, swaying tenderly, rocking her from side to side and rubbing her back, as she buried her face in Mick’s shoulder. You gazed lovingly at your boyfriend as he softly stroked her hair, quietly shooshing her and whispering caring words into her little ears. You couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy at the sight of your man being so gentle with your niece, to be frank it made your ovaries ache on the spot.

At this very moment in time, you would be too young to have a baby with him, but you didn’t think the time would be too far away, and you would get to see him like this 24/7, not just every other weekend when your niece got to stay over. Having your own little baby to care for, you knew Mick would be amazing, just by looking at the way he treats the smaller members of your family, even the way he treats Angie.

Just like you said the moment Belle was placed in the back seat, and Mick turned the engine over, she was out like a light, her head tilted to the side, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“She’s so cute.” Mick cooed, flicking his eyes to his rear mirror to see the little girl completely conked out.

“You’re so good with her,” you hummed, placing your hand on top of his, that was resting on the gear stick, “She loves you.”

“I love her too.” Mick agreed, moving his hand from the gear stick to your thigh, squeezing lightly, “I just wished I’d been there when she was a baby, I bet she was the cutest.”

“Yeah, she was, so tiny as well.” You sighed as you reminisced. You could feel Mick’s eyes flicking to you ever now and then, trying to make sure to focus on the road, and not get too distracted by you.

“Of course she was cute,” Mick grinned, “She’s related to you.”

Breathing a laugh, you looked back at the little girl, your heart skipping a beat as you looked at her adoringly.

“We’ll have one, one day.”

Mick surprised you, your head snapping back to his. Only you had thought about kids, but it had been just that, you thinking in your head, you hadn’t mentioned it to him before. In fact, this was the first time that he had even mentioned having kids with you.

“Pardon.” You stifled a nervous laugh; Mick’s cheeks had flushed, and he coughed trying to clear his throat.

“I mean like, way, way in the future,” Mick explained, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, whilst he waved the other hand out into the distance, “I want to have babies with you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t not laugh at his awkwardness, but you appreciated what he was saying regardless; “I want babies with you as well, honey.”

Mick breathed out a little sigh of relief, before he started grinning at you, “Well there’s one thing we might need to learn, if we’re gonna have babies.”

“Really what’s that?” you snort, noticing the way his hand slid a little further down your thigh making your breath catch a little in your throat.

“Well…I want to have lots and lots of babies with you,” Mick explained, his voice had dropped, his fingertips digging into your inner thigh, your body growing hot, “…and if we’re going to have lots and lots of babies, we’re going to have to learn how to make those babies, without waking up the others.”

You finally caught on to what he might have planned for you when you got back, and it made your centre pulse with anticipation.

“When we get back, I’ll take Belle to your spare room, I want you on the bed waiting for me.”

#sexy mick #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher

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lucytara · 3 years

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Yeah I get wanting some variation in your writing and whatnot. Hmm.

Gold. "I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her." Bumbleby.

Have fun!

it’s possible. that i went. a little overboard with this prompt.

"I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her."

All four candles are lit in the corners of the small room, wicks burning purple and melting black wax. Her offering sits in a dish at the feet of the small statue - an old, worn piece of paper, bent and torn around its edges - and she herself kneels in the center of the floor, her hands clasped.

“I’ve never done this,” she begins, “but my name is Yang Xiao Long, and I humbly request an audience.”

Nothing happens, though she isn’t sure what she would’ve expected even if it had; the flames flicker with her unsteady heartbeat, the blood in her ears crashing as if waves in a storm. For some reason it’s embarrassing, calling on a higher entity who decides to put you through to voicemail.

She tries again, and aims for theatrical exaggeration; maybe the gods like a bit of a show. If she’s making a fool of herself, she might as well do it brilliantly. “O, Great Goddess! I call upon thee - All-Knowing Ruler of the Dead, Empress of the Night, Most Holy Lady of Darkness, Reigning Queen of Entropy--”

“I think that’s probably enough,” a voice comes from in front of her, amusement evident beneath its tone. “What was that one in the middle? ‘Empress of the Night’? I might keep that.”

Her head whips up towards the sound, and a woman in a deep purple cloak is leaning against her own statue, arms crossed and watching her performance with a look that can only be described as shameless delight. Gorgeous black hair framing golden eyes, like the sky wrapping itself around stars; the statue doesn’t do her justice.

“Oh my God,” Yang says, sitting back on her heels. All the preparation and rehearsing she’d done isn’t enough to conquer the shock of a beautiful, unearthly woman appearing in front of her and--

“Yes, I get that a lot.”

--mercilessly mocking her.

“Well, Yang Xiao Long?” the woman continues. “Why have you called upon me?”

“How do you know my name?” Yang says stupidly.

“I’m a god,” the goddess replies, a smile pulling at a corner of her mouth. “I’m the all-knowing ruler of the dead or whatever. Also, you said your name when you summoned me.”

“Fuck,” Yang says, struggling to regain her composure and failing spectacularly. “I - yeah. Right. Okay. Is it rude to swear in front of gods? And what do I call you?”

“I’ll allow it,” the woman says. “And you can call me Blake.”

“Blake,” Yang repeats; her hands open and close like a nervous tick. The name is a heavy weight in her mouth, settling her into steadiness. “I’ve come to request guidance.”

“Guidance?” Blake repeats, and gently lifts the note from the offering dish, turning it carefully around her hands without opening it to read it - she doesn’t need to. Yang registers faint surprise in her expression; yes, she’d assumed the sentimentality would fetch a rather large price. “This is quite the payment.”

“It’s the last note I have from someone who loved me,” Yang says. “I figured it would be sufficient.”

Those bright, inquisitive eyes glance over to her, and now the playing field has been reversed: intrigue and curiosity outweigh Yang’s atrocious initial delivery.

“Stand, please,” Blake commands softly. “I want to get a good look at you.”

Obediently, Yang rises to her feet, and with an odd jolt realizes she’s a few inches taller than the goddess. It’s unexpected, and it seems to unnerve Blake for a moment, too. Or maybe that’s the candlelight, throwing shapes and colors, turning the room cavernous. Maybe Blake is shrinking and she’s growing. Maybe once she was so tall the entire world trembled beneath her feet.

“You already have power,” Blake says, circling her curiously, and now she’s seeing what isn’t visible, looking for handprints on her soul. “You have been claimed. Whom do you answer to?”

“I didn’t receive this power from a god,” Yang says quietly. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

“That’s impossible,” Blake says, and her gaze is piercing into Yang’s heart; she sees its strength, but she sees its scars, too. And its emptiness. There is plenty of that.

“Touch me,” Yang says. “You’ll find no prior claim.”

“I don’t need to.” Blake takes another step closer to her, the way you’d inspect a painting in a museum. Hands at her sides, cautious of glass and rope. “I can see your aura. But it’s impossible.”

“I’m looking for something,” Yang says, and Blake glances up, briefly meeting her eyes. “I don’t know what it is. But I’ve been looking for something for what feels like my entire life.”

Quizzical, now. One by one the candles are burning down. The room is collapsing in on them, or perhaps that’s simply the god in front of her, looking like she’d dive into Yang’s veins and unravel her if it were permitted.

“Why me?” Blake asks finally. “You know what I’m the goddess of, don’t you?”

“You guard death,” Yang says, her voice impossibly gentle; dusk flows river-like from her mouth. There is a world Blake can almost see. “But you can’t guard death without also guarding life, right? I don’t know what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, I imagine you encompass it.”

“Poetic,” Blake responds, and waits further. “I would like the truth, please. Our time is running short.”

There’s no point in playing games with gods. “The truth is stupid,” Yang says bluntly, and the corner of Blake’s mouth tilts again.

“Try me.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Yang says, and Blake’s eyebrows raise in amusement. Bold, reckless, and absolutely pushing her luck to the furthest corners it can inhabit. “Accept me as yours, and when the time is right, I will tell you the truth.”

“Is the truth that powerful?” Blake says, curious despite herself.

The last candle flutters, throwing shadows from Yang’s eyelashes to her cheek. “I think it is.”

“Welcome back, Empress of the Night,” Ruby says upon her return to the Kingdom, giving her an exaggerated bow. “I hope you enjoyed your summon, My Lady of Perpetual Darkness.”

“What the hell was that about?” Weiss asks. “I haven’t even heard you crack a joke for, like, a millennia, and suddenly you’re the court jester?”

“She was amusing,” Blake says, shrugging. “Usually people are so timid and terrified. I felt like having some fun.”

“You?” Weiss says dubiously.

“Shut up, Weiss,” Ruby says. “You mustn’t speak that way to Our Patron Saint, Duchess of Death.”

“Now you’re not even trying.”

“Don’t you both have work to do?” Blake says, ending the interrogation before it can really begin. She’s not sure she’d have the answers for them, anyway.

Yang journeys east.

Find me again, Blake had said. The closer you get to my temple, the more I can see of you. She’d brushed aside Yang’s bangs, touched a single finger to her forehead. It felt like a teardrop, or a meteor shower. It felt like digging up a grave, or chiseling into stone. It felt like the last explosion. It felt like the first breath.

You are mine, Blake had said, and something about it had felt far too right.

She crosses from Sanus to Anima, spends days traversing forests and mountains, fending off bandits and monsters. Eyes flashing red and fire licking up her skin. Aura glowing golden before breaking. There is something wrong with the trees, she thinks; there is something wrong with the sky. Like I’m looking at them from the wrong side.

Nobody is there to answer her, and not for the first time, she wonders how she came to be so alone.

Blake watches Yang’s power unveil itself from above. Yang is hers, now, and though she can’t make house calls to the world below without a summon, she at least has instant access to her claims. There aren’t many of them, and Yang is different.

It reminds her of the God of Vengeance, almost - how he absorbs power before returning it, strike by vicious strike - but Yang’s is personal, sacrificial. She feels the pain before she can utilize it, and her anger is never cruel, her actions never misplaced. And she doesn’t complain.

Sometimes, Blake wishes she would: she can hear when she’s being talked to, even if she can’t respond. Every prayer, every curse, every devastation, every hope.

She waits for the sound of Yang’s voice, but it never comes.

There’s a small shrine in a village called Shion, which is still weeks out from the docks where she can potentially get a ferry to Menagerie, but the locals are kind, and honor her far too greatly for being touched by their ruling god. They direct her to their place of worship deep in the woods, and leave her without looking back. It’s a sacred thing, a bond between a god and their chosen, and law forbids them from watching her ceremony.

Yang pulls the candle from her pouch, lighting it at the foot of the shrine. She kneels down on the stone, worn with the imprints of a thousand prayers, and says, “Blake.”

“I was wondering when I’d hear from you again.” The voice comes almost immediately, as if its owner had been waiting to be beckoned.

It’s still a bit of a shock, though she’s much better prepared for it this time. “Hi,” Yang says, and stops there before she can fuck it up.

“Hi,” Blake says, and seems to be amused against her will. More guarded, less open. Yang can read the warning signs, but she’ll cut them off at the source.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it, getting to her feet. “If I waited too long to contact you, I mean. I’m...not familiar with this area.”

“Don’t worry,” Blake says, lowering her arms. “It’s only been a few weeks. I won’t smite you until at least a month.”

Yang laughs, and unexpectedly to the both of them, Blake goes deadly still. Her body language says Yang’s done something wrong, but her expression says she’s hearing music.

The candle is burning. The moment can turn itself over gently, if Yang knows how to guide it. She keeps her smile on, but makes it quiet. “You know, I didn’t expect the Goddess of Death to have a sense of humor.”

It seems to work. “I like to surprise people,” Blake says, and moves closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You never talk to me,” she says, pretending to be in control of something she clearly isn’t. “Why not?”

Only the forest speaks for a moment, branches creaking, leaves rustling. And then: “Do you want me to?” Yang asks.

“It’s...something people tend to do,” Blake says slowly. “But not you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Yang says.

“It’s not a bother.” The words come out too quickly, tone too reassuring. Blake’s own want is what laces the conversation, rather than Yang’s uncertainty. That’s a new, dangerous line.

Yang takes a careful step forward, her eyes lowered to the ground as if in apology; they raise slowly, trailing over Blake’s form until meeting her gaze. Looking for lines she’s crossed, and should step back over; searching for lights that say go. Instead, she only finds an intense, hungry confusion - I want it without understanding what it is.

“You know,” she murmurs, “these statues - they never do you justice.”

And she lifts a hand to Blake’s cheek, hesitating over her skin - is that Blake’s catch of breath, or is it the wind? - before gently cupping it in her palm. She could lose an arm for this; touching a god without being explicitly asked is the greatest sin a mortal can commit, but Blake only stands there, unmoving, eyes wide and lips parted, the moon sitting in the hollow of her throat.

“Blake,” she whispers, and it can only be a god’s strength keeping her voice steady, “I’m never not thinking of you.”

The candle goes out.

Nobody is waiting for her when she returns. This is how gods give each other gifts - by saying, no, I see everything but I didn’t see you.

Yang starts talking to her, and changes her routes so that rather than taking the most direct path to Menagerie, she’s able to stop at some of the smaller shrines on the way. There are only two more, and she hasn’t called Blake since Shion. Yang hopes she’ll still come.

“Isn’t it strange,” Yang says, “how much easier it is to think about someone than to talk about them? I think about you differently than I can talk about you. I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

No response; not that she expects one. At this point, she assumes Blake’ll just kill her if she gets too annoying. Maybe a tree will fall on her, or she’ll do something embarrassing like trip over a rock and break her neck. “I can’t remember much about my life. I know there were people I loved, but I can’t see their faces. I must’ve traveled a lot; I don’t like sitting still. I don’t know how old I am, or even when my birthday is.” She’s never admitted this before; never admitted she came to lying on the ground, with only her name left ringing in her skull and a note in her pocket.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she tells the warm night air. “That’s what I was trying to say. Before. Blake, I think you’re beautiful.”

A star shoots across the sky, light trails leaving imprints against the swirling blue-purple-black of the galaxy, but it must be a coincidence.

Another shrine, another candle. This one burrowed into the side of a mountain, a dome of a room with a hand-woven rug for kneeling, several long benches behind. The statue sits against the far wall, centered.

“They’re getting better,” Yang says, getting to her feet. “This one, at least, gets your eyes right.”

“Hm,” Blake says, pressing her lips together. She moves to stand next to Yang rather than in front of her, and they both examine the statue together. “I suppose you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Were the compliments too much?” Yang asks, impressed with how light her voice sounds. She nudges Blake’s elbow with her own. Oh, she’ll see how much distance she can cross. She’s already walked miles - she’ll swim oceans, too. “You said you wanted me to talk to you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Blake denies unconvincingly, and then pauses. “And in regards to your first question - I didn’t say that, either.”

Yang could tease her - so even gods like being called pretty, huh - or she could be brave, turn to Blake, take her face in both of her hands and lean in--

“Yang,” Blake says, and does step one of that plan by turning to her. “What do you want from me?”

Maybe the idea’s overwhelmed her to the degree that she can no longer see its risks - its potentially horrible, literally life-ending consequences - and that's what drives her to do it. Maybe it’s that Blake is looking at her like a poem; something beautiful, not to be understood by anyone but the artist who made her.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Yang says, as if it were merely an interesting, hypothetical concept to explore and not the end of the world. “Is that possible, even if you wanted me to?”

This room is warm and close and silent. The clay is cracking where the floor meets the walls. A tunneled-through skylight is the only thing that keeps Blake from swallowing the place in shadows, instead coating them in an amber, dream-like glow. Like if you mixed the two of them together, you’d still be left with light.

“I think,” Blake murmurs, “we’re both going to have to find that out.”

Step two of her plan. Both of her hands cupping Blake’s cheeks. She’s strangely aware of her lifelines - do they mean anything to you, she wants to ask, does my life mean anything to you now and if it doesn’t, will my death - she leans in, their noses brushing, Blake’s breathing as if she needs to, Yang isn’t and she does; teach me about magic, teach me about memory, tell me how I knew you before I knew myself--

Blake kisses her, tired of her caution and hesitancy, lips parting and fists knotting around the fabric of her shirt. Yang expects them to crash together, like comets. She expects them to crumble and collapse under the impact, buried in the ruins of each other and suffocating. She expects them to decay there, reveling in their own destruction.

What she doesn’t expect is sunlight.

Her skin set aflame, Blake’s tongue in her mouth, hands traveling from her face to her lower back and pressing close - somewhere a rule is being written about the gods and desperation - Blake pulls away, gasps, her fingers begging for Yang’s heart.

“This power,” she says, mesmerized, staring at things only she can see, golden gossamer roots running up Yang’s veins. “Where did you get it?”

“I don’t know,” Yang breathes out, and kisses her one last time before the candle burns out. “But I swear I’ve never felt closer to finding out.”

Nobody attempts to stop her from barging through God’s door. Weiss and Ruby, Sun and Neptune; they all avert their eyes. I see everything, but I do not see you.

“What is she?” Blake asks, standing before them with her head bowed. “Please, God. I need to know.”

“If you weren’t already sure,” God says, “you wouldn’t be here.”

She hates it when they’re right.

Yang hits the docks; situated on the outskirts of a fishing village called Ito, and with constant transport to Menagerie, their shrine to Blake is the largest one yet.

“And this one?” Blake asks, before Yang has even begun to pray.

“How did you do that?” Yang says, staring up at her, startled. “Are we, like, super close now?”

“Shut up,” Blake says, but she’s smiling. She extends a hand, helping Yang to her feet. “Your soul calls me. You barely even have to light the candle, anymore.”

The sound of the ocean knocks on the door; the smell tackles the windows. Above, the seagulls are crying out, angry at all the fish they can’t have. Yang says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blake says, and kisses her. Soft and chaste. Something so human and so immortal. “I missed you.”

“I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” Yang teases, her fingers catching Blake’s chin in her hands.

“No,” Blake says, and for the first time, smiles with her teeth. Oh, this is happiness. “I do this with everyone who requests my presence. I’m very popular.”

“I can imagine,” Yang says, brushing a thumb across her bottom lip. “So what else are you the god of?”

“You had a few of them right,” Blake says nonchalantly, settling against Yang’s body. She could be taller, if she wanted to be, but there’s so much beauty to see when looking up. “Night, and all things within it. Darkness, shadows. Death.”

“What else?” Yang says, watching her mouth shape every letter.

“Forgiveness, and justice,” Blake murmurs. Oh, there’s a fine print for this, and she’s violating every word. “Promises,” she continues. “Seduction.”

Hook, line - a heavy wave rattles the walls; oh, the sea, the sea! - Yang shudders against her mouth, salt sinking into her blood. Leaves her bouyant and floating, the earth bubbling up beneath her. Rising and rising and rising.

“Shockingly,” Yang says, letting Blake press kisses into the crook of her neck, “I don’t find that hard to believe.”

“God,” Blake finds herself standing before them once again, hands clasped and head bowed. She speaks formally in the presence of God, as is customary of respect. “Please, God. I am supposed to be guiding her, but I fear all I’ve done is lead her astray. I need to know where she came from, and where she is going.”

“Blake,” God says, and touches the top of her head with their hand, “she is close to your temple. Look at her, and tell me what you see.”

Menagerie is a busy, populated island, and Blake’s temple is the primary reason for that. Pilgrimages are made from around the world to pray at her shrine and leave offerings at her feet. Protect me from loss, help me navigate my grief, let me fulfill my promise.

Yang is none of those things. And when the keepers of the temple ask the reason for her journey, she says, “I am in love with her.”

“You have been touched,” one says, and bows to her upon entry. “You have as long as the goddess is willing to give you.”

The heavy doors close, but the room shimmers, firelight glittering over golden-accented walls. A large moon is carved into the marble floor, crossing over a sun. Before her is the largest, most intricately carved statue of Blake she’s ever seen, and it looks exactly like her.

Yang kneels.

“You know,” Blake says from behind her, “you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“No,” Yang says. “But it - it’s been a long journey. And I’m only here because of you.”

Blake’s footsteps echo, her boots stopping at the north point of the sun. “How do you feel?”

It’s enough to make Yang smile. “I know you heard me,” she says pointedly, but her amusement is apparent. “You hear everything I say.”

“I thought I’d give you the chance to tell me yourself.”

For the last time, Yang rises to her feet. Blake’s eyes glitter, mischievous and playful. She looks as she always has, but clearer, somehow; defined and resolute. She carries the truth in the way she extends a hand, in the way she searches for Yang’s mouth. When they kiss, Yang swears she can see another world.

“I’ll tell you something better,” Yang says. “The truth.”

She leans down, bumps their foreheads together. Blake’s arms loop around her neck automatically. Oh, Yang thinks, if I were the god of anything, I’d want it to be habits.

“So what’s the truth?” Blake asks.

“The truth,” Yang says unshakably, “is that it was you. I woke up with no memory and a note, and somehow, I knew I had to find you. The only thing I’ve been searching for is you.”

It’s you, she says. It’s you. You. You.

“God,” Blake says, and this time God is ready for her.

“Blake Belladonna,” God says, and inclines their head. “Come. Show me what you have.”

In her hands is a small slip of paper, worn and ripped around the edges. “It is a note,” she says, and unfolds it gingerly. “It is a note, God, in my handwriting.”

“And what does it say?” they ask.

“Find me,” Blake recites, “and I promise I’ll bring you home.”

“Well,” God says whimsically, “you are the Goddess of Promises.”

Tears build in the corners of her eyes, shipwrecks gaining water. “Yang,” Blake whispers, and now that she is close, she can see everything. Meteors falling from their showers; the day the sun went out. “Yang. I’m sorry. I’m so, so--”

“Shh,” Yang murmurs, pressing her lips into Blake’s hair. “What are you apologizing for? I found you, and you brought me home.”

“Oh, this is exciting,” God says. “I so rarely get to come to Remnant on business.”

“God,” Yang says, and bows her head. The temple doors remain locked; Blake’s hand is clutched tightly in her own. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” says God. “You fell in the last war, over five-hundred years ago. Do you remember this?”

“Yes,” she says. “I was trying to protect my sister.”

“And what happens when a god falls?”

“We forget them,” Blake says. “Their power is forfeit; they are erased from our memories, and our world.”

“It is not a law of justice, but a law of reality,” God says. “Or it was, previously. Only you did not forget immediately, Blake Belladonna. I did not know it was possible for two souls to be so intrinsically bound that they leave traces in the other, but you did not forget, just long enough to leave her a message. It took five hundred years for Yang to fall to earth, and when she awoke, she did not forget, either.

“Gods are made, and this means that what we are gods of can change,” they continue. “Blake, you were not previously the Goddess of Death. You became it because you believed that Yang had died, and no god had as strong a connection to loss as you. Your power became a beacon, just as it now will be a beacon for Remembrance.

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” God says. “Goddess of the Sun, of Loyalty, of Sacrifice. You were many things. And now you are the Goddess of Rebirth.”

#Anonymous #bumbleby #rwby fic prompts #rwby fic

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