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i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind · 2 years

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My Life in Your Hands

Summary:

Geralt gets hurt on the Path and tries to hide it from the Bard. Inevitably, Jaskier finds out and has to try keep the Witcher alive with a very limited medical knowledge.

A small part of him told him that he could trust the bard. He had been following him around for months now. He had written songs that had definitely lifted his morale - although if he ever heard Toss a Coin again, he was going to throat punch whoever was singing it. Geralt had to admit that Jaskier had proven to be a worthy enough travel companion. He barely complained about camping under the stars if contracts were scarce - only playing for longer in the evenings to build up his coin purse, or playing to pay for their rooms and supper.

When it came to any form of animosity, that's where his usefulness fell short. They were travelling down the Path, Geralt atop of Roach's back, Jaskier traipsing slightly behind him, jabbering on about his latest fling with the Countess de whatsit.

Geralt grunted, only half (quarter) listening to the bard. He had a sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up. He scanned the mountainous rock face they were passing, scenting the air.

"I've never felt this way before, and I shall never feel this way again." He continued dramatically.

"Quiet." He growled, pulling Roach to a stop.

Jaskier blanched, his eyes widening. "Well now you're just being rude!" He said, placing a hand over his heart. "Here I am - pouring my heart and soul out to you and -"

"Shut the fuck up!" Geralt interrupted. His belly clenched painfully, a sure sign that danger was near. His eyes flicked around, his ears listening for any untoward sound. Jaskier thankfully, had quietened, finally realising that something was wrong. A flash of black caught the Witcher's attention. He pulled his sword out of the scabbard tied to his back.

Bandits.

Fuck.

Geralt hated dealing with bandits. He hated taking human life at the best of times, really not wanting to live up to his butcher reputation. But now that he had the bard to protect, taking life was inevitable. Jaskier was about as useless as tits on a bull when it came to defending himself.

"Run!" Geralt called, dismounting quickly as the first wave of bandits appeared. They were skinny and filthy, probably just trying to get their next meal for their families. Geralt felt sick as he sliced through the first man, nearly vomiting as his body hit the ground with a lifeless thud. He tried not to take too many kill shots, but the bandits were fighting dirty. Geralt had no idea where the bard had gone at this point, he had lost sight of him in the rocky terrain. He just hoped that wherever he was, he was unscathed. Their own coin was running low, they wouldn't have enough money to afford a healer should he be injured.

Geralt disposed of the group of bandits quickly. They were too weak to put up much of a fight. Geralt curled his lip back in distaste as he wiped the blood off his sword. One of the men had managed a hit to his abdomen and it pulsed in time to his slightly quickened heart.

"Geralt?" Geralt heard the bard's voice, echoing slightly off the terrain.

"You can come out now." Geralt called, his gravelly voice scratching against his parched throat. He walked back to Roach, patting her neck softly. She blinked in concern at him, her eyes rolling. He grabbed his waterskin, taking a few sips of the tepid water. His abdomen throbbed again, causing him to wince. He placed his hand over the worst of the pain, slightly surprised to find his fingers painted a crimson red when he pulled his hand away.

"Geralt… I need help." Jaskier's voice came again. Geralt frowned, his own injury momentarily forgotten as he made his way over to where the bard's voice was coming from. He quickly wiped his hand on his pants, thankful he was wearing all black - easier to hide the blood that way. He found Jaskier hidden behind a rock, sitting on his arse in the dirt. "I've hurt my ankle." The singer complained. "Twisted it trying to get away."

Geralt glowered down at the bard, his heart rate picking up slightly. "Can you stand?"

"Ah… I'll try." He crawled over to a boulder jutting out from the path, pulling himself up onto his good foot. He gingerly put down his injured ankle, yelping slightly before falling. Geralt caught him, grunting as the added weight tugged on the wound on his abdomen. He stood the bard back up, leaning him against the rock. "Geralt… I can't walk."

"Fuck." Geralt growled. He sat him down on the rock, bending down slowly to inspect the injury. "Can you move it?" Jaskier flexed his foot slightly, not able to hide the wince, but the foot moved. Geralt gently removed his boot, inspecting the foot, prodding softly. "Hmm." He turned and walked away, bringing Roach back towards him. "The next town isn't far." He said, helping Jaskier up into the saddle. The next town was at least a day's ride away, if they were lucky they would make it before nightfall. He brought his hand to his side, hiding a wince as a sharp pain ripped through his gut.

"We don't have any money for a healer." Jaskier complained. Geralt just frowned up at the bard incredulously, subtly wiping his hands on his pants again. Jaskier didn't notice, too caught up in trying to keep his sore foot in the stirrup.

"You think I don't know that?" He growled. "You've just twisted it, Jaskier. You just need rest. We have enough coin to stay in the tavern." Where he would be able to patch up his own wound, he thought. He didn't need the bard knowing about his injury until they were safely in their own room. Jaskier would only fret and make the situation worse.

They started down the beaten track, Geralt leading Roach, she had nickered in protest at Jaskier riding her while Geralt led. They carried on that way for a couple of hours, the terrain changing to forest. Jaskier prattled away about this and that, occasionally whining about his foot.

If Geralt was honest, he was starting to feel quite unwell. His vision had started swimming an hour ago, he was dizzy, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool. His belly had started gurgling with nausea and each step sent tendrils of pain shooting through his abdomen. He was cold, so very cold, but when he reached up to wipe his brow, his hand came away wet, sweat glistening on his face and soaking through his shirt. He shivered, crossing his arms across his chest. He snuck one of his hands down to the peak of the piercing pain, biting his lip when he felt how saturated his shirt and waistline of his pants were.

"-Geralt? Did you hear anything I just said?" Jaskier asked from atop of Roach. The Witcher ignored him, not turning around. "Geralt?" Jaskier called again.

The world was spinning, a vortex of colours, flickering sickeningly, dark spots dancing in his periphery. His heart was fluttering dangerously fast, blood roaring in his ears. Jaskier urged Roach forward, anxiety growing in his chest. He was starting to suspect Geralt wasn't ignoring him, but more so that he couldn't actually hear him. Geralt stopped suddenly, bringing a hand out to brace himself against a tree. Jaskier carefully dismounted Roach, using the mare to support himself, as he made his way over to the Witcher.

"Geralt?" He whispered again, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Geralt felt Jaskier touch him, just as the world tilted dangerously, his vision greying. He swayed, trying to take a couple of deep breaths. His nausea increased, roaring in his belly, before his eyes rolled back in his head, darkness swallowing him.

Jaskier yelped, diving down to catch Geralt's head before it hit the ground, his sore foot long forgotten. "Geralt?!" He exclaimed, laying the unconscious man gently on the ground. Jaskier gasped when he finally saw Geralt's face for the first time in hours. He was pale, practically grey, and his skin was clammy, glistening with sweat. When the bard reached out to pat the other man's face, he realised with dread how cold he was.

What the fuck was going on?

He started patting the Witcher down, trying to work out what the problem was. He placed his hand over his stomach, pulling his hands back with a disgusted grimace as he touched something wet. His heart stuttered as he looked down at his own trembling fingers, glistening red blood coating his hands.

"Fuck… Geralt!" Jaskier called, desperately trying to get his friend to answer. Geralt's face twitched, but he didn't wake. "Ok, ok, ok, ok… don't panic…" Jaskier muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. He brought his attention back to Geralt's abdomen, reaching out to carefully pull the Witcher's shirt out of his pants. Both bits of clothing were drenched in blood, and Jaskier realised with trepidation how much blood the other man had actually lost.

Why hadn't he said anything?

Guilt set like lead in his belly. Geralt hadn't said anything because they had been too worried about his stupid ankle.

"Fuck!" Jaskier cried, frustrated with himself and their situation. The stab wound itself was a couple of inches thick, blood still oozing steadily from the wound. Jaskier reached up, pulling his pack off of Roach's back, thankful that she had stayed by his side the entire time. "Good girl." He whispered, patting her leg. He quickly started rummaging through his pack, not even caring that he was getting blood over everything. He pulled out a clean shirt, bundling it up into a ball, before pressing down on Geralt's wound. That elicited a response from the Witcher. He groaned, weakly trying to bat the bard's hand away. "I know. I'm sorry I'm hurting you… but I need to try and stop this bleeding." Geralt's eyes fluttered, rolling in their sockets, but he never returned fully to consciousness.

Jaskier looked around, noticing a small clearing not far away. He needed to get a fire going. Geralt was freezing cold and the dimming light meant the sun was setting. The days were still warm, but the leaves were changing, the nights growing colder. If either of them stood a chance surviving the wilderness, he desperately needed to light a fire. He pressed down on Geralt's wound, this time the Witcher waking, grunting in agony.

"Oh thank fuck." Jaskier exclaimed, holding the bloodied shirt down on Geralt's abdomen. Geralt's eyes found the bard, blinking heavily to try and clear his greying vision. "Geralt… I need you to hold this down. I'm going to light a fire."

Geralt looked at him confused, but brought his hand down to replace Jaskier's, pressing down with a grunt. He shivered, his breaths coming out short and fast. Jaskier pulled his own cloak off, draping it over the other man's body. "I'll be right back." He whispered, before he quickly fished his other shoe out of his pack, pulling it on with a whimper. He swallowed down his own pain, pushing it to the back of his mind, before carefully placing his foot on the ground. He cried out, but managed to put his full weight on it. He looked back at his friend, offering a shaky smile, before limping off towards the clearing.

The clearing was thankfully well sheltered. Jaskier got to work, quickly gathering sticks and bits of wood for the fire. He mostly crawled around on his hands and knees, trying his best to keep the weight off of his foot. It took a bit of time, but eventually he had enough kindling to light the fire and keep it going for a good few hours. He could gather more once he had Geralt settled. He lit the fire quickly, so thankful he had purchased a decent steel and flint at the last town. Once it was going enough that he wasn't worried it would go out, he carefully got back to his feet, limping back to where his friend still lay, his horse still by his side.

He approached the Witcher, thankful to see he was still awake. He crouched down beside him, clasping his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you by the fire." Geralt nodded, taking a deep breath before sitting up, groaning as the movement pulled at his wound. He felt the blood drain from his face, blinking rapidly as his vision threatened to blacken again. "Quickly." He muttered to Jaskier, worried he was going to pass out again. Jaskier took his advice, promptly helping the Witcher to his feet, using Roach to purchase himself. He hung his now bloodstained cloak over the Witcher's shuddering shoulders, before draping his friend's arm around his neck and biting back a cry as they started towards the clearing. The added weight of the Witcher nearly sent them sprawling back into the dirt, his injured foot spiking in pain. They limped to the clearing, practically collapsing in front of the fire. Roach following behind, snorting in concern.

Jaskier quickly pulled the rest of their packs and bedrolls off of Roach, laying them down beside Geralt. He helped him shuffle onto his bedroll, before he pulled out another clean shirt, pressing down on the wound again. "Fuck… it just won't stop bleeding." Jaskier lamented desperately.

Geralt moaned in pain when Jaskier pressed down harder, trying with all his might to get the blood flow to slow.

"Cauterize." Geralt rasped. Jaskier's eyes widened in horror.

"Melitele's tits Geralt… I-I can't do that." Jaskier stuttered.

Geralt grunted, reaching out to grab Jaskier's collar. "Please." He murmured. Jaskier swallowed, nodding softly. He wiped his bloodied hands on his trousers, pulling his knife out of his boot. He placed the blade in the fire, before returning his hands to the wound on Geralt's abdomen. "My pack… potion." Geralt slurred, the blood loss weakening him to a point where he could barely think straight.

Jaskier scrambled to Geralt's pack, bringing it back to the Witcher. With the aid of the other man, Jaskier finally located the potion Geralt needed. He uncorked it with his teeth, allowing the bard to help him sit up as he swallowed the concoction with a grimace.

The Witcher eyed the heating blade. "I'm probably going to pass out… when you -" He shrugged, not really wanting to think about the pain that was in his near future. "You'll need to wrap the wound tightly… I'll be unconscious for a while… the potion I just took will aid in healing the wound, as well as restoring my blood volume." He was tiring quickly, but he could see how scared the bard was. He had never had to deal with something like this in his privileged life. He reached up, taking Jaskier's bloodied hand in his own. "You can do this." He slurred.

Jaskier blinked, willing himself not to cry. His friend needed him. He would seal the wound, Geralt would sleep and then it would all be ok… right? Geralt held his gaze, squeezing his fingers, before nodding slightly. It was time.

Jaskier removed the blood soaked shirt off of Geralt's injury, wiping away as much of the blood as he could to try and find the small, yet deadly wound. "Okay." He muttered. "Here goes everything." He reached out, grabbing the hilt of his knife. He looked at the Witcher's pale, clammy face one more time, before pressing the red hot knife straight onto the wound on his belly. Geralt yelled out, a gutteral scream emitting behind clenched teeth as his skin sizzled and steamed. Jaskier had to clamp his own mouth shut to stop himself vomiting from the smell of burnt flesh. Geralt let out another haunting howl, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body going limp.

Jaskier pulled the knife off of Geralt's skin, gagging slightly as the heated blade stuck to his skin. The threw the knife to the side, inspecting the wound again. The skin was an angry red and raw, alreading beginning to pucker and blister, but the bleeding had stopped. Jaskier quickly sat the other man up, holding his limp body against his own as he quickly wound the bandage around his abdomen. Once the bandage was secured, he gently lay the unconscious man back onto his bedroll, softly wiping his silver hair off his face. He covered him with a thick blanket, pulling it up to his chin. Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief, falling back onto his arse. He had done his part, Geralt's potion just needed to do the rest.

Jaskier spent the next few minutes gathering a bit more firewood, and filling up their water canteens from the nearby stream. He took a few extra moments, carefully washing the blood off his hands. He felt nauseous, watching the water turn pink as it carried the blood downstream. He returned to camp quickly, not wanting to leave Geralt alone for too long should he wake. He packed the camp up a little, setting his own bedroll right besides Geralt's so he was able to keep an eye on his friend. Now that his adrenaline was starting to wear off, Jaskier's foot started throbbing like hell. He slowly took his shoes off, hissing in pain as he wiggled his toes. A deep purple bruise was blossoming up the side of his rapidly swelling ankle.

He sighed, stretching out his leg, trying to keep the limb as still as possible. He would wrap it later, right now he just needed to nurse his own ego for a short while. Images of Geralt collapsing, to the bright red blood and the stench of burning flesh, had Jaskier trembling. He knew he was going through a particularly rough adrenaline crash, possibly going into shock. His grandmother had always taught him "If someone's upset, offer them a good cup of sweet tea." So that's what he did. He pulled their kettle out of one of the packs, setting to work boiling some water.

While he waited for the water to boil, he quickly wrapped his injured foot, sighing slightly at the relief the stability brought. Once the water was ready, he made himself a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it would help soothe his frayed nerves. He sipped at his cup, eying his friend wearily. The Witcher hadn't so much as twitched since Jaskier had lain him back down. His face was ghostly white, dark rings shadowing his eyes, making him look more dead than alive. That thought had Jaskier scrambling back over to the Witcher, tentatively placing a hand on his chest. The soft rising and fall of his chest, made Jaskier nearly pass out in relief.

He placed his fingers on Geralt's forehead, sighing at how cold his friend still felt. He added a few more logs to the fire, before making a quick decision. He pulled his own blanket over, before crawling onto the bedroll, carefully wrapping the ailing man in his arms. He could feel Geralt's muscles trembling, small shivers wracking his large frame. He pulled the blankets up, covering them both securly. Jaskier hummed softly, running his fingers up and down Geralt's arm, hoping that whatever he was doing, was helping the other man.

Geralt groaned slightly, his face contorting in discomfort, as his eyes fluttered open. Jaskier crawled back to his side, bringing his water canteen up to his lips. Geralt took a few mouthfuls before pulling away. "How're you feeling?" Jaskier asked, reaching out to place his hand on Geralt's forehead again. His temperature was normal.

Eventually his exhaustion won and he fell asleep, not waking again until the early hours of the morning. He woke, groaning slightly at the weight pinning him down, but was relieved to find that the other man was warm, and not overly so. He shuffled out from under him, squinting in the growing light to try and see his face better. A little colour had returned to his cheek, his face a lot more relaxed.

He crawled out from under the blankets, wincing as his foot throbbed at the movement. He ignored the pain, poking the embers of the fire, before adding a few small dry sticks, trying to get it to catch again. After a few minutes, the fire was crackling merrily again, lighting up the small clearing.

"Alive." The Witcher replied, shuffling slightly to sit up. He brought his hand to his midsection, grimacing at the movement. "I passed out?" He asked, though the question was mostly rhetorical. Jaskier nodded, helping his friend get comfortable by placing one of their packs behind him.

"Pretty promptly." Jaskier murmured, filling the kettle from his own canteen and placing it on the fire to boil. Geralt frowned, looking at the bard in concern.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gravelly. The question took the bard by surprise. Geralt wasn't usually one to show care this forthcoming. He just nodded, poking the fire with a stick. "You… ah… you did good."

Jaskier looked up at the Witcher, frowning slightly at the other man. Geralt looked uncomfortable, clearly out of his comfort zone. Jaskier chose to smile, not wanting his friend to suffer any more than he already had.

"I… ah…when you're well… when you're feeling better… would you teach me some basic skills? Like how to stitch a wound properly… what your potions are and what ones I need to know to save your life… I just… I felt so helpless yesterday… I didn't know what I was doing and if you hadn't have been able to talk me through what to do… I don't know what would have happened." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

Geralt frowned at the bard. All these months he had tried and failed to get the other man to leave him alone, but it seemed now he had definitely proven more useful than not. It wouldn't hurt to teach him the basics. The Path was dangerous, and while Jaskier might not be able to defend himself, he could definitely help patch the Witcher up should the need arise. "Ok." He said, choosing not to make too much of a fuss.

Jaskier looked at him in surprise, but schooled his features quickly, nodding. "Thank you." He murmured, his voice cracking slightly. The water started boiling, and Jaskier got to work, quickly making Geralt a cup of tea, adding a generous amount of honey. He knew that the sugar would help with the blood loss, though from the looks of things, the Witcher was well on his way to healing. His potion and his Witcher mutagens, both working to get the other man back to full health quickly.

"Your foot?" Geralt asked, gesturing to Jaskier's awkward crawl as he handed him the cup.

"It's alright." Jaskier muttered. He didn't want to talk about his injury. If he didn't hurt himself, Geralt wouldn't have ended up as sick as he did.

Geralt chose not to comment, though he would find a way to get a healer to look at it when they made it to the next town. He took a sip of the tea, nodding his approval at Jaskier's watchful eye.

They decided to stay in the clearing another night, Geralt's body not quite recovered enough for travel. He had asked Jaskier about the sleeping arrangement, and Jaskier had quietly mumbled about how he had kept the Witcher warm during the night, hoping not to embarrass his very proud friend. Geralt kept his face impassive throughout the explanation, though inside, an unfamiliar feeling was clenching in his gut. The bard had kept him alive.

Yes.

He was definitely proving to be more useful than not. He could definitely trust this man. He had already saved his life once, with absolutely no experience, and he would definitely put his life in his hands again.

#badthinghappenbingo #the witcher #fanfiction #fic #geralt fanfic #jaskier #whump #geralt of rivia

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fuyuesu · 1 year

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finally the ending to the birb au!!! first, here's an excerpt from eichi iv interactions i think are so funny:

eichi: so, do you accept? a duel to the death between your champions, and mine?

iv, sick of him in more ways than one: for the last time, eichi. no one typically dies in battles of the bands.

anyway eichi and iv met up to discuss how to turn their boyfriends back into normal. but ofc it was like 75% eichi monologue and 25% iv contemplating their friendship. eichi admits in the end that according to what intelligence he gathered, the only way to undo the birbification was with "an act of true love". iv groans, giving up on his maybe overdramatic friend. unfortunately ft4 managed to very clearly hear the word "true love" and this is the point where they attack iv with the power of love ig. hijinks ensue, eichi closes the whole thing by saying he has no interest in iv bc one hes a terrifying force and two

eichi: i've already sworn to spend my life with another, as they have sworn the same to me. (he brings out a picture of a horribly misshapen bird thing)

ft4: hes a bird too?!

iv shoos eichi away before he goes on for two hours about wataru hibiki so he can have a talk with full throttle4 properly. ft4 are still sad bc they cant perform anymore and that means iv no longer has any reason to be their manager and the dream theyre all so desperately pursuing is practically impossible to reach now and knowing that iv, the person who carried that dream on so passionately knowing the risk he was taking just to achieve it. they wouldnt blame iv at all if he chose to replace them. iv just laughs at them as they arrive at home where iv settles them in their birdhouses. iv mentions how although performing might be harder, birbs have notably good singimg voices, so he offers to sing with them the new song he wrote. as the melody begins to wrap around the room and full throttle4 allowed themselves to be consumed by the beauty of iv's song, they could barely notice how their forms reverted to becoming human. happy days :) the end

funnier conclusion:

a few days after the birb ordeal

ft4: iv, why did you build five birdhouses?

iv, remembering how eichi said the second possible solution to the predicament would be turning into a birb himself: no reason

and

ft4: have you told your friend about how to turn from bird to human?

iv: i doubt he needs it

iv opens his phone to a picture taken by yuzuru of eichi and wataru, now both in birb form, enjoying their time with each other. iv shakes his head and averts his focus onto his boyfriends who were already twice as loud as when they were birds. home sweet home :)

bwauritufl. beautiful . stunnign amazing a showstopper . 10/10 im enamored w this au . love how eichi just chooses to accept the birb life

#melty answers #haniwaposting #enstarsposting

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zuffer-weird-girl · 3 years

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I may be hella afraid of birds but that wont stop me from making this.

Injured wing

The poor thing was in the balcony of the apartment. Making sounds and flapping their wings at ferocity to try to take flight again as you watched in pity.

Taking a warm towel from the dryer, your boyfriend's one since it was the comfier to be exact, you picked up the squirming little brow winged creature and took inside. You didn't had the heart to leave it out there, especially due to the snow.

While taking things out of cabinets, you didn't noticed your phone buzzing with the notifications of a certain... top hero calling you.

"A nightingale." You mused as you read on the internet what type of bird was now having fun on bathing on q small pot of water and singing to its heart content "How adorable!" You gushed as it shock out of the droplets of water as you carefully put a sorta of a tiny sling on a popsicle stick to mantain its feather that seemed to be broken stood on place.

"Sorry buddy, guess you're gonna have to stay like this for some time." The bird seemed to calculate your words before tweaking as you giggled at its cuteness.

That is until you heard the door opening and clicking shut.

Fuck. Keigo.

You grabbed the bird delicately and put it on a box filled with a soft towel and placed on your bed before going to open the bedroom's door to see a soaked wet, hair flat and worried hero with a frow.

"Is this some sorta of revenge or what? I was worried sick (Y/n)! You weren't answering your phone so I thought something happened." You picked your phone in confusion.

"You did?" Shit "oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" He crossed his arms before sighing cupping your cheeks "Why did you stood me up? I thought we were going to have dinner together on that restaurant."

"God!" You face palmed "I totally forgot! I'm so sorry Kei!" You whined as he let out a chuckle.

"Is fine. Although I would like if you compesate for m-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you both froze when a couple of chirps were heard. You analyzed his expression and soon giggled in nervousness at seeing his wings puff up in alarm.

"Was that.. was that a chirp?" He yed you, his pupils dilated as you took a step back with a smile.

"I.. I dont know? Maybe they are out there singing." You rolled your eyes and sweated when he towered over you as you kinda protected the nightingale inside the box with your body.

Yet the chirps intensified...

"There is a bird in here." Hawks more accused than asked as you giggled in nervousness once again.

"A bird? Why would a bird be-" the nightingale manage to escape the box and tweaked at both of you "...here."

"What is he doing in here?" He asked, if you didn't know Keigo enough, you could assume he was... unpleasant.

That's why you were so hesitant on showing the little nightingale to him in the first place when he showed up. You werent blind, and knew Keigo had some bird attics that showed up here and there. It wasn't as frequent as it would be however he was resting if the commission hadn't somehow put their hands on it. But Keigo didn't hold much strings around you. So... you could clearly see that your boyfriend wasn't happy when another one of "his kind", especially a male, he could tell somehow it was a male by the chirping dont ask why, was beneath the same rooftop as him with his partner alone.

"Is here because he is injured Kei, he needs some treatment." You cupped your hands together for the nightingale climb in it as Hawks hlardd holes at the little thing.

"Take him to the vet or something kid, this ain't a clinic." You flinched at his words but still remained strong.

"No I am not." You said "I dont know if they are going to sacrifice him or not Kei, I cant take chances."

"Do you even know how to take care of a bird in the first place dove?!" He asked, hands up as his wings puffed even more which made you snort and arch an eyebrow at him as the fella in your hands chirped.

"Well, I do have some knowledge of wings. And have to take care of one on daily basics." You giggled at the expression of shock and insulted Keigo did before walking off and leaving him groaning and sulking at knowing you wouldn't get rid of that street bird...

"Keigo Takami." He froze when he heard his full name coming from your mouth "Put that phone down. That little bird is going to stay until it gets better." He did just as you said with an eyeroll before pouting in anger at seeing the bird at your shoulder.

That's his place to put his chin on and snuggle your neck with his face. His.

"And you have to carry that thing whenever you go now? That must suck." He tried to joke, leaning with crossed arms on the kitchen counter as before his face completely fell as you simply chuckled and said it didn't bother you at all.

"Seriously?" He asked in disbelief before grabbing his mug taking a few gulps before you widened your eyes and giggling "What are you laughing at?"

"Is just that mug was full of water early and maybe our little friend may have took a bath in it." Your boyfriend stood up so fast and soon you heard disgusting noises of vomiting .

"For god's sake KEIGO I WASHED IT!"

"I DONT CARE THAT THING SHOULDN'T BE BATHING ON MY STUFF WHAT THE HECK?!"

You sighed, waiting for your boyfriend to be back as you feed the little bird with some seeds carefully, soon being met with Keigo, still brushing his teeth.

"Drama king." You chuckled as he groaned "You know he is not a thing Kei, is a nightingale."

"Great knowing it." He said with a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting into the trash, saying something about not dirtying his bathroom with other birds germs or something.

He looked at you a bit in defeat at seeing you feeding the bird as you noticed his wings drooping a bit.

"What is wrong now bird brain?" You giggled at his expression.

"You should be feeding me ... your boyfriend." You snorted before picking a sunflower seed and showing it to him.

"I thought you didn't liked this stuff?" Yoh asked cheekily as he groaned.

"There is chicken, takoyaki, nuggets heck everything that I eat!"

The bird chirped and you nodded thoughtfully as he stared at you in confusion.

"Cannibalism. I agree."

"Oh cmon I thought we were over this..." he sighed before getting something from the fridge as he scowled at the chirps following after.

He glared at the bird chirping a song as you hummed in delight at the sound, staring lovely at the nightingale.

"Oh cmon Kei!" You poked his cheeks which was puffed "You have to admit is a amazing sound! Nightingales are famous for that!"

"Hawks are famous for other things too y'know?" He grumbled before widening his eyes at seeing you werent giving him attention, instead grabbing your phone and recording the nightingale's chirping.

"Hm? What did you say Kei?" You looked up at him with that smirk which made him scoff and stood up with crossed arms and going to the kitchen.

You stiffled your giggled, going to your pouting boyfriend and hugging him lovingly after putting the injured bird back to safety.

"You're really jealous huh?" You carresed his chest as he breathed in and out, cheeks red at being so obvious about his feelings.

"Is a form of flirting birds singing to their mates. That little shit." He mumbled, earning you a laugh that made him smile as feeling you peppering kisses all over his neck and jawline before he caught your lips with his.

You broke apart with a goofy smile as he chuckled before deadpanning at hearing chirps before puffing and straightening his wings on all glory before shouting at the nightingale:

"GO GET YOURSELF A PARTNER! THIS ONE IS TAKEN YOU PIECE OF CRAP!"

You never laughed so hard in your life. A sound that, for Keigo at least, was far more beautiful than any chirping, singing or melody on this whole world.

After a few days you saw Keigo's hatred for the nightingale easing slowly but surely. Yet you never thought that coming home late on one of Keigo's day off, you would see your boyfriend, layed on the couch with a finger up holding the bird he claimed to hate it and whistling some similiar tone along with the nightingale's chirping.

You stared in shock yet awe at the look of your boyfriend directed to the bird as the sounds came out of his lips before chuckling.

"Your wing soon will be better by the looks of it. Isn't (Y/n) a great nurse?" He mumbled, a sadness deep down on his gaze as he saw the bird clapping the wing that wasn't wrapped up "You got freedom and my dove's attention bud, how could you and (Y/n) not expect me to get jealous?" He chuckled sadly as you frowned, walking slowly towards him, pretending to not overheard his monologue.

"Hey pretty thing, back already?" His cheeky smile was back as you looked at it in awe before kneeling in front of the couch he was layed on and kissing him deeply, making him close his eyes in bliss and pull you closer with his free hand by the neck.

You broke apart as he panted with a glossy yet pleased look. Ignoring the chirps for a bit, you carresed his golden looks as he closed his eyes with a smile.

"Redeeming yourself for giving attention to this bird and not me for these past few weeks?" He murmured happily yet drowsily as you giggled and kissed his forehead softly.

"You could say that bird brain." You stopped for a bit, hearing him whine miserably for you to get back, cupping your hands for the bird to get in.

"Cmon..." he whined, arm dropped over his face as the other rested on him until he felt you tugging on his shirt.

"Just get up lazy, I'm giving you all the attention you want." At this, you saw his golden eyes practically glow in bliss as he stood up as fast as he could.

He stretched his arms as he sitted up on the bed. Hair untamed and eyes unfocused until they dropped on the bird that had exited his box and was flapping both of his wings. Both.

"Huh. You look all better." He smirked as he felt you shift and rest your chin on his shoulder with a drowsy look.

"Who is better?" You mumbled before he pointed at the bird jumping and trying to take flight.

"Your friend there." You squealead as hs chuckled, grabbing the nightingale in one hands as he unwrapped the the made up sling as he waited patiently for the little fella to flap its wings and fly just a few centimeters above his palm.

"Cmon dove." He ushered you to follow him on the balcony as he had a gentle hold on the nightingale "Go little buddy, being stuck on a unknown place forever isn't goog for anyone."

And with a little movement of his hand, the nightingale took flight with beautiful chirps that made you smile but soon look at your boyfriend with a sad smirk as he watched the little bird fly away.

It wasn't sadness because he got attached to the nightingale. It was because that, even a small bird as he, could be free and not him. A grow up man that had a partner but was still caged by the comission...

You carresed his arm before hugging it and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek which brought his attention back to you.

"How about some hot cocoa my handsome? You still got some minutes stuck with me until you go to work." You said softly in Hope's to cheer him up.

He looked at you in some sorta of shock before chuckling and bringing you close enough to him to hear his heart beat and feel his warm yet chapte lips on your forehead.

"Being stuck with you is the only way that keeps me going to be honest."

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks #keigo takami #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfics #bnha heroes x reader #zuffer writings

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ithinkilikeit-reactions · 3 years

Text

Siren Song (Song Mingi)

Ateez Masterlist Group Masterlist

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINGI!!!!! I hope he has an amazing day

I wrote this being incredibly inspired and I quite like how it turned out so please let me know what you think

Tags: Pirate au! Mingi x Fem siren! Reader, death, nudity, alcohol

Smut tags: Quite soft, explorative, Mingi is curious, oral (reader receiving), passionate sex, body worship, a lot of kissing, cumming inside

Word count: 6177

Sirens, they were a beautiful myth. A story that sailors told to convince themselves they weren’t going mad at sea. A legend... if that’s what you believed in.

But they weren’t a legend, they were very real. Some pirates and sailors would tell you that, tell you their stories. That they had heard their beautiful songs at sea and were almost lured in. Although not many, if any believed them. Being a pirate or at sea for a long period of time makes a man lose his credibility. However sirens, were very very real.

Mingi was new to the boat, a fresh faced, wide eyed, young man who was ready to see the world. Becoming a pirate wasn’t something he had planned, it’s not something anyone truly plans. But society had failed him, because of his status. Being accused of something he didn’t do and found guilty, he didn’t have a choice but to run. Mingi feared nothing more than death, if he was caught he’d surely be hanged.

No, becoming a pirate was never what he had planned. After running, he stowed away on a goods ship and somehow found himself in a pirate hotspot. Surrounded by pillagers, murderers and some things even possibly worse, he was terrified. Until a cheery man approached him named Kim Hongjoong, had a proposition for him, an offer to get Mingi out of there and give him a family. A man in his position could hardly say no.

Now he was here, staring over the rails of the ship as they sailed slowly over misty water. He hadn’t been on waters like this in his entire life. They were filled with mystery, so much so it gave Mingi the feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach.

“Carefull, lean over too far and you might fall in.” Yunho joked as he placed some crates on the deck. “I could’ve sworn I saw-” “You saw something in the water? Not uncommon in these parts.” Yunho told the younger, watching his expression shift. Mingi was a bit paranoid, you had to be when you’re life took a turn the way his did.

“It’s common here?” Mingi asked, feeling a wave of security flow over him. He was just relieved to know he wasn’t the only one seeing things. “Very common. Don’t scare him Yunho, you were just as scared as him the first time you came here.” Captain Hongjoong’s voice startled the both of them, making them whip their heads around. “Sorry captain, I couldn’t help myself.” Yunho apologized and the captain shook his head with a smile. “Go bring those crates down to storage, Yeosang is waiting on them.” Yunho wasn’t one to disobey orders, so he grabbed them and left.

“Don’t let them make you crazy. Or this part of the sea. I’ve known plenty of men who’ve gone crazy in these parts. I like you Mingi, don’t let yourself become one of them.” Hongjoong placed his hand on the younger’s back and watched as he smiled at him. “I won’t, Captain.” Mingi laughed slightly, feeling more at ease by the second. Hongjoong smiled at him in return before going to walk away, only to turn back at the last moment. “If you hear the sweet song of a woman, ignore it.”

All that ease Mingi felt suddenly disappeared at those words, because well he didn’t quite understand what he meant. Siren’s weren’t common knowledge or a local myth in the town he grew up in.

Scared, the man backed away from the railing and carried on with his tasks. Ignoring any sound that came from anywhere other than the ship. He was so immensly paranoid now , but there was also something in the back of his mind that his crew mates were just messing with him.

That evening, he found himself drinking with Wooyoung and San, admittedly his first mistake. He didn’t know how it was possible but with those two, he found himself drinking way more than he normally would. At least he was a happy drunk, cheery as ever this way and almost forgetting the reason he was there in the first place. The crew felt like real friends however, similar to one’s he had before running away so he didn’t quite have the right to complain.

Mingi placed his bottle down on the deck and swayed over to the side of the boat. He felt like he was going to be sick, not that Wooyoung and San would’ve noticed. No they had long fallen asleep like the rest of the crew

Leaning over the deck, he looked at the black water. It was terrifying to him because of how deep it was. He couldn’t see anything, just a sea of black surrounding him. If he wasn’t nauseous before, he most definitely was now.

When he looked back at the water, he wasn’t expecting to see eyes looking back at him. Let alone warm eyes, full of life, blinking at him from the water. It was a woman seemingly bobbing along and just watching him. He could only see her face and he wasn’t even sure he was actually seeing it.

“It’s the alcohol.” He mumbled to himself, blinking and rubbing his eyes. But she didn’t disappear from sight. As a matter of fact, it seemed like she had swam closer. “Are you a pirate?” Her voice was smooth, warm in contrast to the brisk air and it made her all the more real. Mingi was frozen, just staring back at her with wide eyes and taking in the details.

It seemed like she was surrounded by light, it reflected off of her damp skin as she raised her head and body more. Now exposing her bare shoulders, he realised she wasn’t wearing any clothing and averted his eyes, but only for a moment. He had caught something out of the corner of his eye, something silver that reflected the moon light.

It was a shiny, silver tail that practically glowed. The closer he looked, the more he noticed that it was attached to her and well the more his fear rose. Though he wasn’t sure what the fear stemmed from, if it was not knowing what this creature was, or that he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“What are you?” He asked, staring at her with an intrigued expression. Mingi couldn’t help but get goosebumps as she laughed, throwing her head back and expelling the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “That’s not a very kind question... though in hind sight I asked you the same thing.” She said, lifting her hands to move her long wet hair from her face. This left her body even more exposed to him, as she bobbed along the water. Though she didn’t seem fazed by it one bit.

“How about this, you answer my question and I’ll answer yours?” She rebutted and Mingi stood with his mouth agape. “Alright.” He barely choked out and watched as she disappeared under the water, only to appear closer to the ship again. Now that she was closer, he could see her face better and he felt himself get nervous. She was beautiful, an ethereal being.

“Are you a pirate?” She asked again, a curious smile on her face as she looked up at him. “I am.” Mingi responded, watching as she clapped her hands in joy. “Oh I do so much like pirates. So much more interesting than fishermen.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke and Mingi was lost, as if she had cast spell. “Their stories are so much more interesting.” She added on before locking eyes with him once more.

“Your turn.” She smiled at him and Mingi dried his hands on his pants, the situation had caused a cold sweat to form. “What are you?” His question was simple, yet still made the woman laugh again. “Surely a pirate knows a siren when he sees one, though if that was the case you probably would’ve tried to kill me.” She rambled as her tail splashed the dark water lightly. “A siren?” Mingi asked, not quite having heard the word before. “A siren... surely you’ve heard of them. You must be quite new to sea.” She said softly, the young pirate intrigued her.

“Tell me your name, handsome pirate.” She asked softly and Mingi felt himself doubt whether he should tell her. She somehow managed to see right through him, however she called him handsome and that made a feeling bubble in the pit of his stomach. “Mingi.” He said it softly, merely a whisper, one he didn’t think she could hear. “Mingi.” She repeated much to his surprise. “Mingi... I like the way that feels to say.” She added on and he leaned down a bit more, trying to get closer to her.

“Mingi, make sure to ask your crew about sirens.” She giggled before disappearing underwater, only to appear further away. Mingi’s heart sank, not wanting her to go, not yet. “Wait! Wait! At least tell me your name!” He called out to her, watching as she halted once more. She turned to look at him and with small laugh, she told him. “Y/N, my name is Y/N.”

Mingi couldn’t find sleep, not at all after that. There was question in his mind whether all that he saw that night really happened. He had drank a lot and he had been at sea longer than ever before. It must’ve been a dream, a vision even. You were a dream, a vision.

“Did you drink that much last night?” Captain Hongjoong asked, staring at his younger crew mate. He was gazing off into the distance, eyes small due to lack of sleep and hands restless. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Mingi admitted, not quite wanting to ask anyone about what he had seen. But if anyone would tell him seriously, it would be the captain.

“What’s bothering you?” The man could tell when something was bothering his crew and it was incredibly obvious that something was bothering him. “It’s just something San and Wooyoung said yesterday...” “I told you not to listen to their stories.” The captain laughed and Mingi shook his head. “No, I just- what are sirens?” Mingi choked out the question, the thing that had been on his mind all night. Hongjoong wasn’t expecting the question to lead here, he thought the man knew.

“You don’t know? I thought you did when I made my comments yesterday.” He watched as the younger shook his head. “Well, many think they’re legend. I suppose I understand why, the brain refuses to believe what it can’t see. But they are very much real.” He paused and Mingi was starting to become scared. Maybe it was his captain’s tone of voice, or maybe it was the validation that you weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“They’re beautiful beings, more beautiful than any of the other evil things put on this earth. Top half of a beautiful woman and the bottom half a tail. Not to mention their voices, they lure sailor men in with their song and beauty. Only to drag them to bottom of the ocean and drown them. Most sailors fall for it, they just want a kiss from the beautiful thing so that when they go back home they have a story to tell. Fools, can’t blame the creatures for doing it.” Mingi was mortified at his captain’s words. To think he found you to be the most beautiful thing in the world. The prettiest things were the deadliest, that was what Mingi was starting to learn.

Mingi took the words as warning, if you appeared again he wasn’t going to give you the time of day. At least that’s what he told himself. Despite the tale, he wanted to see you again. So badly, he found himself dreaming about you. His eyes deceived him as stared out at the sea, he could have sworn he saw the sunlight reflect off of your silver tail.

But he had to push the to the side, there was an island incomming. It was nothing more than a small island, no living thing in sight. Nothing but beaches and trees, good enough to hunt and good enough to make sure the men didn’t go crazy on board. Which meant everyone around was scrambling around and preparing to drop the anchor.

His eyes were glued on the water as they rowed to shore. Mingi was entirely sure he would never see you again, they had travelled quite far in the last 2 days and well it’s not like you had a reason to stick around. He was sure of it, but he didn’t want to be right.

The plan was to stay on the island over night, sleep in the tree line and then go back in the morning once they had gathered enough and hunted enough. Simple enough.

Well, night rolled around quickly and the crew was sound asleep. Everyone except Mingi, no he had hardly slept a wink since you visited him. He simply laid in his hammock and counted the stars through the tree tops. That was until he heard a song. An absolutely heavenly voice coming from the shore.

Mingi knew he shouldn’t have gotten up, he knew it. But there was a chance that it was you and he just couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see you again, despite what his captain had told him.

The sand crunched beneath his boots as he slowly walked over to the shore line, scanning the beach and looking for the source of the voice. Looking over, he could see a group of rocks and on top of the largest one, he spotted it. That familiar glow of your tail in the moonlight and the way you looked up at the sky and sang.

Waling slowly, he listened to your song and your beautiful voice as you stared at the night sky. The closer he got, the more he found his chest aching. He couldn’t tell if it was with fear or desire and that line got more blurred the closer he got.

“Mingi!” Your voice was cheery when you noticed him approaching you and it was accompanied with an enthousiastic wave. “Surely Y/N isn’t as malicious as Hongjoong told me.” He thought to himself as he stood in front of the rock. You were as beautiful as ever, sitting in front of him.

“I was hoping you’d be the one to come and find me.” She teased, a soft smirk on her lips as Mingi tried not to gawk at you. “You’re even more handsome up close.” She added on and he felt himself get nervous. “You told me to ask my crew what a siren was. I did.” Mingi told you, playing with his hands so he had something else to look at. “Hmm and what did they tell you?” You were staring at him, truly wanting him to look at you again.

When Mingi finally brought his eyes back to you, he noticed that your tale was gone, now showing a pair of legs and a very, very bare body. “How?-” He stuttered and you laughed, loving the surprise on his face. “They apparently didn’t tell you everything. if we’re dry and on land, we have legs.” You explained, watching as his eyes trailed over your body.

“Are you going to kill me?” Mingi asked, finding it better to be straightforward from this point on. It’s better to have feigned confidence than nothing at all. “No. You fascinate me. I don’t kill the things that fascinate me.” You were so blunt about it, raking your hands through your hair. “Come here, pirate and tell me your story. It’s not every day a pirate doesn’t know the legend of a siren. Whether they believe it or not.” Mingi was caught off guard, not sure what to do. The sea was far enough away, which comforted him because he knew you couldn’t drown him on this rock.

He moved to sit across from you on the rock and tried to avoid staring at your bare body, averting his eyes before shrugging off his vest and handing it to you. “I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time concentrating.” Mingi stuttered, you smiled at him though and an odd feeling shot through your chest. “Most sailors would simply enjoy.” You said and slipped the clothing over your shoulders. Mingi shook his head, a small smile now forming over his own lips. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it.” He clarified and looked at you wearing his clothes. You were beautiful.

“You’re a different type of man, Mingi.” Why his name sounded so good coming from your lips, he had no idea. But it was absolutely addicting.

“How did you end up out here?” You asked, stretching your legs and leaning back. You loved a good story, where as your sisters didn’t quite like talking but preferred a siren’s typical methods.

“This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be, I wasn’t supposed to end up here.” Mingi had te delve deep for a moment. Sure some of the crew knew his story, but it wasn’t something he told just anyone.

“I lived in a town that was quite progressive, I worked under and iron smith as an apprentice. I did good, I was a good man and i just tried to make it by like anyone else.” You watched as he spoke, taking in his details and tone. He was sad. “I never tried to hurt anyone and if I did it wasn’t on deliberate. But my master, he wasn’t good. He actively tried hurting people, especially ones he hated and he didn’t hate anyone more than his own daughter. I never understood why, she was pretty, kind and well liked among the town but he hated her.” Mingi had to pause, remembering that time, remembering the sweet girl that was always so nice to him when he worked.

“I came into the shop one day and found her, dead on the ground, strangled. Her father did it and pinned it on me. Claiming that I ‘always watched her when she was around’ and that I was ‘just wait for a chance to be alone with her’. I-” Mingi was cut off when a tear dropped from his eyes. You had placed your hand on his chin, wiping it away with your thumb. “You never touched her.” You said softly, scanning his face. “I never did, They were going to hang me for something I didn’t do. I had to run.” You continued to wipe the tears from his face, moving onto your knees to get closer to him.

“And that’s how you ended up here.” You had heard many sad stories in your life, but none of the men had seemed nearly as regretful as Mingi did in this moment. Your hand moved from his chin to his cheek, taking in his handsome features. Even when he was upset, he was handsome. Sharp jawline coupled with a sharp nose and pillowy lips. Definitely one of the more handsome men at sea.

“You know in your heart that you didn’t do it.” You said softly, moving your fingers to thread through his hair. Mingi found himself staring at your face, taking note of your sympathetic face. Surely you weren’t the murderous creature he was told you were.

“My sisters aren’t fond of men, they kill them for sport. But I like hearing the stories, it takes a lot to drive a man out to sea.” You explained and gently pulled his face closer to yours. Mingi felt himself sink into your touch, allowing you to guide him into laying down with his face settled in the crook of your neck. Your skin was soft under his touch and his hands found your waist to hold onto as he relaxed. Your nails scraped over his scalp lightly, making him hum.

“You have a pure soul.” You said softly, enjoying his touch. Mingi didn’t know what had gotten into him, he had went from being scared of you to being held by you and well he was enjoying it. Your touch was comforting.

Your legs tangled with his, fingers still running through his hair. “Go to sleep Mingi. Dawn is almost upon us.” You whispered, kissing his forehead and allowing him to lul to sleep. Mingi had let his guard down fully for you and as ridiculous as it sounded, he was falling in love.

The hours in your arms, were the best hours he had ever slept. Being in such a deep dream that he didn’t think even an earthquake could wake him. He dreamt that he was underwater and absolutely weightless. Just floating under the surface of chrystal clear water. You were swimming circles around him, silver tail catching the rays of light from the sun as you did so. He felt as if he was one with the ocean.

It wasn’t until the feeling of something pushing him (quite roughly) woke him up and brought him back to reality. “Jesus Christ Mingi, we thought you’d be killed by something. What are you doing all the way out here?” Wooyoung’s voice was shrill as he yelled to wake Mingi up. “Huh?” He shot up from his position on the rock, looking around frantically for you. But you were nowhere to be found and well, neither was his vest.

“What are you doing out here?” Wooyoung asked again and Mingi shook his head, needing to come up with a response and fast. “I uhh couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk and then sat down here. Guess I fell asleep.” He cleared his throat and blinked at his friend. “You’ve been acting strange Mingi. Are you alright?” He asked, voice full of concern. Mingi never acted this odd, Wooyoung was worried.

“I’m fine, just haven’t been sleeping properly.” He admitted and ran his fingers through his hair. Your touch was still lingering on his skin, he could feel you everywhere.

“Captain wants to stay here one more night, founds some caves and a lake he wants to check out.” Wooyoung explained and Mingi nodded. “Alright, I’ll be around in a bit.” Mingi said softly, needing a moment to process some things. Where had you gone?

He had managed to pull himself together, rejoining the crew in exploring the island. Traipsing through the trees, he looked around the area and took it in. One thing he could admit was that he never would have seen half of the beautiful things he had if he had stayed in his village, you included. He couldn’t take that for granted, especially not as he was standing in front of a small waterfall that fell into a small crystal clear lake.

“Wow.” He said quietly, feeling Hongjoong clap his hand onto his back. “Not something you see everyday.” His captain said, a big smile on his face. Mingi couldn’t help but crack a smile himself, shaking his head. “Definitely not something you see everyday.” He laughed, looking over to the waterfall and laughing. The bad feeling he had had about you was gone, the bad feeling in his gut was gone. Airing his worries out to you made him feel better, things were looking up in his opinion. Maybe he would sleep properly from now on too.

The pirates made camp near the water and Mingi found himself once more staring into water. It was so clear but you couldn’t see the bottom. It was deceptively deep, someone could easily make the mistake of swimming too deep and not make it back up for air. It looked like the water from his dream.

The feeling of gentle fingertips gliding over his cheek woke him up that night. He knew his crew wouldn’t spare him the same gentle touch, it had to be you. “Wake up handsome.” Your fingertips moved from his cheek to his chin, stroking it gently as you took in features. Truly handsome.

“Where’d you go this morning?” Mingi asked, eyes opening slowly to see your face. He watched as your lips curled into smile and your eyes sparkled. “Come on.” You said softly, taking his hand into yours. Pulling Mingi from his bed, he didn’t even question it. He had decided that this island was his paradise.

“You stole my vest.” Mingi commented once they were further away from the rest of the crew. He watched you let out a hearty laugh and turn around to look at him. “I found myself quite liking it. I think i could get used to this clothing thing.” You smiled, before tugging him closer to you.

He felt his breath hitch for a moment as your chest met his, it was a natural reaction. The only thing keeping his body from yours was his vest, naturally he was flustered. Mingi pressed his chest against you, the weight of his body making you step backwards until your back hit a boulder.

“You keep calling me handsome.” Mingi remarked, his hand coming up to rest on your bare hip. It was the first time a man’s touch had made goosebumps form over your skin. “You keep calling me handsome and I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful I think you are.” His words made you almost shiver. Of course you had heard them all before, he wasn’t your first pirate or sailor. But surely they had a different effect on you than most.

You grabbed his chin again, this time with more force than any of the other times. Mingi flinched slightly only to find your lips not inches apart from his and he took the risk. He was going to kiss a siren.

He didn’t intend to kiss you so roughly, but need took over as he pressed his lips to yours. You moved your hands to his hair and gently scratched over his scalp as he kissed you. Deepening the kiss as you did so, you could feel him hum against your lips. His hand moved up, from your hip to your waist underneath vest and his grip tightened slightly.

Mingi moved his hands down to your thighs, lifting you off the ground to lay you down on your back. The vest had shifted, being useless in covering you up at this point, so you simply took it off. He sat on his heels as you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting his body to leave yours. You simply looked up at him as he looked over your body, his regularly soft expression having turned dark and intense. It made heat pool inbetween your legs.

Reaching up, you undid the ties on his shirt and tugged it off of him. The action made him laugh before he leaned down and pressed his bare chest to yours. His hands moving your hair out of your face before kissing you again. This kiss was so much more intense, teeth clashing and hips rolling into yours. Not to mention the feeling of his bare skin on yours, you were infatuated with him.

His pants didn’t do much for hiding how much he enjoyed you, bulge pressing directly into your bare core. You let out a gasp at the pressure, making him nip at your lips before trailing the kisses down your jaw. He wasn’t horribly experienced but he knew enough and well he seemed to be doing just fine. That gave him a confidence boost, not to mention every little sound coming out of your mouth, boosted his confidence even more.

“Mingi-” You hummed, feeling his lips over your neck. The kisses were gentle, soft praises being whispered inbetween them. “So beautiful.” He said softly and groaned as you tugged harshly on his hair. Mingi looked you in the eyes and flashed a smile in your direction. “Where did you learn how to kiss like that?” You asked, your fingers tracing over his lips. “I had a life before this.” He chuckled before turning his face back to your skin.

His hands moved to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples before latching his lips over one. Sucking at your skin and sending a wave of pleasure through your body and making your arch your back.

Mingi was absolutely straining in his pants now, your body was perfect to him as if you were made for him. Your soft skin, your precious lips and your gentle hands, you were everything he had always wanted.

Your fingers threading through his hair got a bit harsher the more he flicked his tongue of your nipple, you already felt like you were on fire. He moved his lips down over your stomach before stopping at before your core. This was something he had never done, but something he had always wanted to do.

Spreading your thighs a little further, he settled between your legs and wrapped his arms around them. “What are yo- Oh.” You moaned, feeling the light kiss on your core. It almost made you feel lightheaded and dizzy, as his tongue delved deeper. Licking up your juices, he couldn’t help but moan. Perhaps it was because of what you were, or maybe you truly were built for him, but you tasted sweet and addictive. He wanted more of you.

You raised your hips, guiding your core over his tongue and moaning out. “Mingi please don’t stop.” You moaned out, needing to feel that sweet sweet release. it was the way you moaned out his name, repeatedly like you were saying a prayer, he wasn’t going to stop until you came. He pulled you closer to his face, harshly and showed you that he truly wasn’t planning on stopping.

The coil in your stomach quickly burst, making your hips buck as you tried to pull away from him. The whines coming out of your mouth were music to his ears as he continued to lick over your core, lapping up every bit of your juices that he could and finally pulling away.

You looked at him as he sat on his heels again, lower part of his face glistening with your juices and breathing heavily. “Did that also get taught to you from your life before this?” You asked, sitting up to undo his pants. His arms hung at his sides and he simply let you do it for him. “Actually, I’ve never done that before.” Mingi admitted, making your actions halt. It felt entirely too good for it to have been his first time. You raised an eyebrow at him before pushing him back, making him lay on the ground.

“I feel like you’re lying to me.” You said, tugging his pants down and watching his cock spring up. “I don’t lie.” He said and you shook your head. You straddled him, your core right over his and you braced your hands on his chest. “All men lie.” You whispered, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on his lips. His hands moved to your ass and helped you sink down onto him. “I like to think I’m not like all men. Especially not what you’re used too” He groaned, finally being enveloped in you. You took a moment to let your body adjust to his, breathing through the stretch and feeling a warmth in your chest as his fingers laced with yours. It was a comforting action, to distract you from the discomfort however slight it was. Maybe Mingi wasn’t like all men.

You raised his hands over his head, pinning them there with your own as you started raising your hips. Allowing yourself to bounce on him, you felt so incredibly full. Filling you up completely and making your legs shake slightly but you put that to the side. It felt too good to stop.

Mingi was even more convinced than before that you were made for him with the way you squeezed him. You released his hands and placed yours back on his chest, needing more support as you continued to ride him. He was hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every little bit he raised his hips to meet your thrusts.

“You feel so good.” Mingi moaned out, hands pulling your chest flush against his. he planted his feet on the ground, fucking up into you and taking over. He was chasing his own high, needing a harsher pace and leaving you stuttering.

You watched his face, from his shut eyes to his clenched jaw. That alone was almost enough to make you orgasm again. You kissed his lips to hide your moans as you felt them getting louder, his crew still being only a small distance away. He kissed you in return as his own stomach filled with warmth. He was so close to release and just needed that little bit to send you both over the edge. Your hand found his hair once more, tugging it in response to a harsh thrust and that did it. His hips stuttered and deep groans left his lips as he planted himself deep inside of you. Orgasm coating your walls and sending you over the edge with him.

You lay there ontop of him, feeling incredibly full as he stroked your hair. “You are different from most men.” You mumbled softly, feeling a wave guilt come through you. “Most men don’t care the way you do.” Your words shrunk in volume even more, guilt and shame taking over you. Maybe it was guilt over your past actions, the men you had dragged to the bottom of the ocean, maybe it was about what you were going to do.

Mingi helped you get off of him, watching you lay down next to him. You rested your head on his chest and he stroked your hair. The few times he had been with someone this way, yes they had been special. But nothing quite like this, Mingi was overwhelmed with love.

“Y/N?” His tone sounded questioning, almost as unsure as the first night he had met you. “I think I might be in love with you.” He confessed, the feeling in his chest no longer being contained. He really couldn’t help himself, the last few days had been filled with you. Not just physically, but you were in his heart. You were speechless at his words, the guilt now eating you alive.

“Come with me.” You said, pushing yourself off of the ground. Mingi couldn’t care anymore, not if you were completely bare or if he was. No, he only knew he would follow you anywhere.

“Where are we going?” He asked, as you lead him towards the lake. “I feel sticky, I want to go for a swim.” You told him, hardly being able to look him in the eyes anymore. “Join me.” You added on, holding his hand gently, you stood before the water together.

“Hey.” Mingi said softly, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks and make you look at him. You hadn’t even realised it, but tears were falling over your cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He asked, those beautiful brown eyes boring holes into your own. You had never felt this guilty before. “Nothing’s wrong...” Your voice trailed off and looked to his lips once more. You started walking forward, making him walk backwards towards the water.

He stepped in slowly, leaning forward to kiss you as he did so. “Mingi... I love you too.” You admitted, deciding that that was where the guilt stemmed from. Mingi felt his chest get warm once more, not being used to this at all but wondering how your life together could be from this point on.

He kissed you, harshly and you sighed into it before diving forward. You both fell into the water, lips still locked and you gripped his wrist. You needed to get rid of your guilt and now was better than any other time.

Mingi wasn’t entirely aware of how far down into the lake you had pulled him. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as your silver tail brought you both down towards the bottom quickly.

It wasn’t until it was already too late that Mingi realised that this was his dream. Down at the bottom of a lake, the moonlight shining down through the surface as Mingi felt absolutely weightless. You let him go and swam around him, watching him blink under the water as he watched you.

He started feeling himself go lightheaded, dizzy as his lungs started to burn. He was starting to realise that his dream wasn’t a dream, it was a warning and it was now too late. Feeling his vision go dark, the last thing he saw was that silver glimmer of your tail in the moonlight and your beautiful face.

Despite being the thing that killed him, he still thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

A/N: Again please let me know what you think! This is quite different from what I normally write. There will most definitely be typos but please,ignore those lmao

#a&mlibrary #mingi #mingi smut #ateez #ateez reaction #ateez smut

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you-did-well-moon · 3 years

Text

Day6 Reaction to s/o learning their instrument while they're away

Type: Fluff, angst in Dowoon dont know what happened wasnt me

Word Count: 2.865

A/n: I took some creative freedom with why they were away but that is it. Keep in mind, I have no experience with instrument except for when I played the piano in 5th grade for like two weeks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! - Moon

TW: small cuts, fight, second hand embarrassment

Sungjin

Sungjin was absolutely and devastatingly exhausted. His own guitar case felt like it was weighing him down tremendously, and he had a huge headache. Jae and Wonpil arguing in the back of the car was not helping in any way. It has been going on since they left the airport. He rubbed at his temples tiredly pressing his head against the cool window from his place in the passenger seat next to their manager.

Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he thought about seeing you, probably curled up in the couch cheeks puffed from the snack you were inhaling. The pounding in his head lightened at the cute sight he would soon get to enjoy as he played with the loose threads of his old button up shirt.

True to Sungjin’s imagination, your form was sitting on the couch. Not true to his imagination, you were actually bent over something in your lap, lightly humming and bopping your head to the rhythm being produced by your still clumsy fingers. The guitar in your lap had gotten lighter as the days went by without your boyfriend, and in replacement of his touch, leaving your fingertips warm and tingling, it was small cuts you hadn’t bothered to bandage as it disrupted you when playing.

You missed Sungjin an abnormal amount. The cold spot in the bed or him making weird faces at you through the mirror in the mirror when brushing your teeth. You missed all of it. With a slight tremble in your chest you started playing the chorus to “You Were beautiful”.

You were so focused on trying to get it right you didn’t notice the door closing only to startle when you slightly looked up through your lidded eyes seeing the shadow looming over the coffee table. With a small yelp of surprise you jumped immediately looking up only to find your boyfriend staring at you with wide eyes.

His surprised expression made you shrink into yourself. You threw your head into your hands in pure embarrassment letting the guitar gently slide off your lap, hitting the floor with a soft thump. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see that I can’t believe I even tried learning all that by myself I” you cut yourself off with an un-pleased sigh shaking your head and looking at him with pleading eyes.

Your boyfriend continued in his frozen state for about five seconds before breaking out in the biggest smile rushing around the coffee table in which you panicked trying to get away from him with a squeal, but being too slow im the excitement that was usually in a much dormant state in Sungjin. The wrinkles near the corner of his eyes deepened adoringly, and his chest shook with soft laughter while he held you close.

There was a fond twinkle in his eye as Sungjin forgot any tiredness that clung to his bones and kissed the tips of your fingertips while maintaining eye contact. He kept your hands encased in his when scolding you for having such low faith in yourself and softly encouraging you. He would probably put little stitch band-aids on your fingertips and continue teaching you, sitting you on his lap and scolding you when you lose focus with a sharp poke at your ribs smiling when you giggled. This man just fell impossibly more in love with you.

“You shouldn’t say those things, look at you love, learning all alone and doing so well. I'm so proud. Would you rather have the elmo band-aids or the stitch band-aids… I don’t know about you but Elmo kinda creeps me out. Just five more minutes little love then you can go mug Young k with Dowoon. Don’t look at me like that! You finally have a teacher and you take him for granted. The audacity-”

Jae

Jae was a thin hair away from just ripping his hair out. He didn’t believe the kpop industry would take very kindly to him going bald, but he had come to a point where he didn’t really care about what people thought anymore. But thinking about you not being able to play with his hair anymore while he drifted off to sleep with his head on your chest severely upset him.

Jae had gotten stuck in another limbo, stuck in the studio and in his own head desperately trying to finish any of the unfinished songs left in his computer files. He missed you so much, he eventually called it quits, deciding to go home to you, who he hadn’t seen in days.

Just the thought about seeing you energized his previously exhausted self. He never could get sick of you. Every day, every week was a new adventure, a new chapter, all with his favorite person in the world. The night sky, although beautiful, seemed to mock him, reminding him of how late it was, meaning you were most probably asleep.

Opening the door to his apartment, he heard soft music. He briefly recognized “I Need Somebody”, and thought you were playing it from your phone. All his thoughts came to a halting stop when he saw you perched on the bed, in his shirt, playing the melody of the previously mentioned song.

You had hair falling into your eyes with your eyebrows slightly scrunched trying not to mess up and heavily focused. Jae had loudly yelled in surprise, causing you to flinch and look up shocked at the sudden surprise. When you saw it was just him, you had comically thrown your hands in the air yelling at him about how it was supposed to be a surprise.

The irritated look on your face vanished as you went up to give him a light hug with a kiss, softly smiling at him. Meanwhile Jae, was completely out of it, lovestruck eyes while he instinctively returned your affection.

“Come Jae, you look like you haven’t slept in ages, your eyes are so sunken babe”, you had softly whispered to him, rubbing the soft skin under his eyes, the way you were always soft with him when he came back from the studio. You slept in the same bed for the first time in what had been days, Jae tightly clutching on to you.

He may have not been completely there at the moment, but in the morning when he had time to process everything, he was a changed man. He wouldn’t stop laughing and giggling excitedly, eagerly wanting to hear everything you had learnt. He even poked fun at you when you made a mistake. But it was all lovingly as he also praised you non stop while looking at you with his messy hair and big smile next to you on the couch. He had so much inspiration now. To finish what had been left behind.

“Pop off queen who gave you this much talent, you couldn’t even tell me what bass was last time we talked, which was like a week ago. Might just make you play when I don’t feel like playing. Give you a wig and people won’t know the difference! Why are you booing me, I'm right?”

Young K

Young K’s foot tapping on the floor of the car was the only sound that filled the car aside from the soft sound of the car’s engine and tires. He was absolutely spent, having to have stayed in a different city for a show he was invited to that was filmed far away from his home.

Far away from you. Young K could tell his manager was starting to get irritated, but Young K was already massively annoyed and too far in his own world to really care. He missed the pine scent of his sheets, and he missed you.

It was not a good combination. When he got to his place he quietly thanked the manager, getting his bag before trying to ignore every urge telling him to run into the building and fall into his soft bed with you in his arms. When he opened the door, your keys were there, so he knew you were in the building. That thought filled him with more relief than it should have.

He did have to admit, hearing “I smile” this early in the day was odd as you usually saved the more mellow songs for later in the night. Young K told himself he had many euphoric moments in his life, but seeing you staring at a sheet of paper with so much determination and a bass guitar in your arms came pretty close to the top.

The absolute warmth that exploded in his chest was a feeling he would not forget in a long time. He could feel his lips slightly curl up in fondness as your hands shook while your eyes wavered unsurely between your hands on the strings and the video on your laptop sitting further on the edge of the bed. Your face scrunched up before you sighed and stared dejectedly at the instrument on your lap.

“Why so sad love?" His voice made you instantly sit up, pushing the instrument gently off your lap. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Young K had already gotten closer where he met you tenderly running his hand through your hair, and he curved his hand around the back of your head bringing your forehead to his abdomen.

He brushed his thumb over where your hairline met the sensitive skin of the back of your neck immensely enjoying being back at your side. Your hands were clutching the back of his shirt, and your simple touch brought a warm feeling to his chest. You both leaned back as Young K’s chest started to rumble with laughter “You should have waited for me, it would have been easier if I could teach you”, he softly said, pushing your hair back from your face causing you to lightly laugh.

“I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t get that far anyways. Can’t become a prodigy in one day I guess”. Young K smiled again, promising to himself to help you as much as he could as he put his hand fondly on top of your head.

“You’re doing so good, just move your finger up a little, you’re plucking the c chord instead of the e chord during the chorus, don’t look at me like that i’m trying to help?! I wouldn’t put you on my level, but I think you’re doing really well. I’m hungry now, what do you want? No- What do you want? I am okay with anything just tell me-”

Wonpil

Wonpil was trying his hardest not to think about you. From the way you got excited when you got to see the moon in the cloudy sky to the way you smiled when you saw the neighbor’s cat while getting the mail.

He was happy to be on a trip with her sister, he hadn’t had much time to be with her in recent, well forever really. While you had been invited, you hadn’t been able to attend due to work. Wonpil did his best to keep his mind off you and enjoy the trip, he just hadn’t spent this long without you in a while.

Even so, he still had a fun time with his sister and her boyfriend creating many memories. He didn’t regret it, but he was extremely happy to come back to you. Opening the door to your apartment, he dropped his suitcase by the door, an excited smile tugging at his lips as he traveled through the apartment with his arms spread knowing you would embrace him as soon as you saw him. He felt so giddy, he didn’t even notice the broken keyboard sounds ringing throughout the living space.

His smile fell in a comical way, his face morphing into one of confusion instead. He recognized a broken rendition of “Mary had a little Lamb”, and tilted his head as he opened the door to your room seeing you with really big headphones on your head staring down at the keyboard with the most offended look on your face.

How dare this keyboard not give you its secrets! Wonpil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his chest, not mocking you, but he just thought you were so cute. He lightly touched your shoulder causing you to jump, and the slight movement of your head caused the headphones to slide off your head. It didn’t matter much. You instantly dove into his arms, pressing the side of your face against his chest.

He felt warmth flood his chest as his hand encased the back of your head while he pressed his lips to the top, closing his eyes in bliss enjoying having you in his arms again. He leaned back from the brace as his eyes flashed with amusement and yours with slight embarrassment. He lightly laughed, eyes crinkling. He cradled your face in his hands, a teasing lilt to his voice, “What were you trying to do, hmm?” He could feel your face grow hot under his finger tips.

“I was just trying to surprise you. I felt bad for not being able to go with you”. He shook his head, hands playfully pinching your cheeks as you whined. “You shouldn’t act that way, I understood from the beginning. It must have been hard for you. Here, come, your lovely boyfriend will make this easier for you”.

“Y/n the keys will not bite prEsS dOWn, no, no keyboards do not have to be oiled, this is a musical instrument not a mechanical vehicle. You are so cute. What am I gonna do with you? No, you can not play the keyboard with your forehead, DO NOT put your foot on the keys. I don’t care if it’s for the vine.

Dowoon

Dowoon was beating himself up. Looking back at what happened a few hours ago made his chest tight. He couldn’t help but wince at the words both of you had thrown at each other. You had been with each other for so long, and when his lovely mother asked him when he would propose, although with good intentions, it put pressure on him.

He was still young. He had mentioned it to you in a joking manner, but there was a misunderstanding and you thought he was blowing it off as he didn’t see a future with you.

Somehow feelings were hurt, and the fight escalated. And Dowoon decided he was a coward because it was when you had started stuttering through your words and avoiding eye contact, he knew. He knew he had pushed you across a line that might not be able to be crossed again.

He panicked. He was really good at doing that wasn’t he? He left. He took a bus and went to the nearest hotel he could find. There he was sitting on the edge of the too perfectly made bed with his head in his hands.

Had he just ruined his precious relationship because he was scared of what the future could or could not hold? Why did he have to run away? Why couldn’t he just stay? Most importantly, how badly had he hurt you?

With a sigh he stood up, and he got on the bus back to your apartment. Staring at the door, the fact you were just on the other side and hurting is what pushed him to open it with the key you had given him. Opening the door, he was met with silence and darkness. Have you already gone? He walked through the apartment, hope dwindling with every step.

Then he heard a soft thump thump thump. His heart seemed to match with it, and as he walked to his studio which held his spare drum set, he thought of what he could say to make it better. Opening the door, he saw you softly hitting the drum with one stick, as if testing the waters and humming along to “When you Love Someone”. Dowoon couldn’t fight the sad smile that broke out on his face, and the absolute warmth that filled his chest.

Why did he ever even doubt your future with him? There was no person more perfect for him than you. He stood next to you, softly taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the right beat, although a bit broken. When your sad eyes looked up into his, forgiving in nature but still frustrated beyond belief, he knew he could still fix things. You were you, and Dowoon was Dowoon. You always somehow found your way back to each other.

“No no, put your hands higher on the stick, no lower, now higher...a bit lower. No, Y/n drum sticks do not belong in my throat. What do you mean I have no room to talk, I thought we were over the fight. I would marry you in this life and the next! Why are you looking at me like that? I am not cute, I am handsome and overflowing with testosterone. Oooh are those gummies?

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kingsuckjin · 4 years

Text

Ungodly Beast 2

⸸ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader, Priest! Namjoon x reader

⸸ Rated: M (18+)

⸸ Genre: smut, horror, fluff?, angst?

⸸ Synopsis: You’d rather go to hell yourself than let the devil take your baby, even if he helped create him… even if your little boy is beginning to sprout horns.

⸸ Warnings: (may contain spoilers) death, kidnapping, kind of depression and some heavy feels, satanic symbolism, voyeurism, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (please wrap your ding dong before playing ping pong), more sinful shit, male masturbation, dom-ish reader, strangulation (like also not in a sexy way), dom! Jungkook, spit kink, the most dirty talk you've ever seen, fisting, fingering, dick size kink, daddy kink, degradation, impreg kink, pain kink, devil kook still looks wild, spanking, branding, choking, hair pulling, biting and scratching, blood play/blood eating, tattoo kink, really rough sex, a very jealous Jungkook, more death/murder, a very brief mention of drugs, fluffy sex, gore, a fight scene, it's just graphic and awful.

⸸ Words: 15k

⸸ Note: I’d link the first part in this fic here, but tumblr has been doing this cute little thing where if you insert a link in something then the fic won’t show up in the tags. So I very sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but you’ll have to go through my masterlist to find part 1. Also, an anon told me that this fic goes really well with the album Too Weird to Live too Rare to die by panic at the disco, specifically the song Far too young to die, so if you're looking for something to listen too while reading this, then that would be perfect.

"What have you done?"

Those were your mother's first words after telling her you were pregnant. You had no idea how she knew, perhaps it was the worried, troubled, tired look on your face that that told her. Maybe she just sensed it, sensed the seed of half evil already taken root and growing inside of you.

You stayed silent, confirming an unspoken conclusion between you. She clutched at the rosary around her neck as her shocked, open mouth quivered and glossy tears pooled in her eyes.

"You didn't…" She whispered, "please tell me you didn't."

Out of shame, you still didn't speak.

"How did you know?" You finally decided to ask.

"I've dealt with him before, I know the way his terrible presence feels, and now I feel it with you. I almost can't stand it." Her words both stung and made you have an unsettling feeling that crawled up your spine. Was it simply the baby she had felt? Had he marked you somehow and now it was you making her feel like this? Or was he with you? Silently watching and waiting.

"What did you give for the child?" Your mother was nearly in sobs now.

"He didn't tell me at first-" you began to try to defend yourself but your mother cut you off.

"He never does. What was it?"

"He's taking him…" you felt the prick of tears sting your eyes now too. You had to cover your mouth quite suddenly to keep a sob from escaping. It hurt to think about, to talk about. You were afraid. "...when he turns five."

She took your hands between hers and looked you in the eyes.

"We will do everything we can, I promise. We will fight."

You nodded and attempted to blink away the tears.

"Pray with me. We can pray. God will help us, I know it."

You nodded again as she gripped your hands firmly in hers reassuringly. She let her head fall slightly and closed her eyes prompting you to do the same.

As she started with her prayer, you began to feel a ringing in your head, the sound grew and grew until it was piercing, drowning out her words. A tsunami of nausea overtook your body so powerful you jumped up from your seat at your mother's kitchen table, knocking the chair back as you ran for the bathroom in a dizzy haze.

"Ah, they should call it all day sickness instead of morning sickness." Your mom had committed, seeming to brush it off, but you knew in your heart and deep in your soul that something was very, very wrong here.

From the moment you first saw him, you were in love. His big doe eyes, his chubby little cheeks, his soft little hands, and feet. Although he had no horns or black eyes, you tried hard not to see his father in him, which was difficult sometimes.

The worst memories for you were taking him to get baptized as a newborn. He had screamed from the moment you had entered the church and nothing you could do would calm him.

The moment the blessed holy water touched his skin, you watched as it seemed to burn and blister his infant skin in just seconds. You went out to your car in the church parking lot,

calmed him the best you could before strapping him into his car seat, and you cried.

You cried because while he seemed to be a normal little baby, your son, the baby you feed with your own body, sing to, bathe, and love, you were occasionally reminded of what he was and that you might only have him for a very short time.

He still whimpered in the back seat just as you did in the front. Guilt and sadness and fear prompted you to get out of the car and into the back seat where you unfastened him as his pout only worsted your feelings. You took his small body in your arms and held him to your chest. Your nose snuggled into his mess of fluffy dark hair.

"I love you. No ones ever going to take you away from me. I don't care what you are, you're my son more than anything." You let your tears fall onto his head.

That wasn't the scariest thing you had been through though. The worst was the nightmares.

The first was just under a month after he had been born. You had sat up in your bed covered in sweat, the house felt like an oven. Your heart was beating hard even before you had heard it coming through the baby monitor.

Singing.

It sounded high and angelic along with the happy coos of your son. As your groggy mess faded with the race of your heart you also realized it was in a language you not just couldn't understand, but had never heard anything like it before.

It took no time at all for you to practically leap from your bed, and dash from your room and down the hall to your son's room.

As you pushed his door open you saw him. You felt like your heart was beating in your throat now as you saw him with his back to you holding your son, bathed in only the moonlight that the sheer curtains of the nursery let in.

The singing had turned to a soft hum. You realized how wrong you were upon pinning his voice like an angel. You saw the horns sprouting from his wavy hair that dangled as he looked down at the baby in his arms.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to fight, you wanted to do anything to save your baby and keep him from being taken away from you. He was a newborn, it wasn't even time.

You couldn't do anything though, and you didn't know why.

Horrifyingly you found yourself yet again drawn to him, in awe at his presence.

"You can't…" you managed to choke out.

"I will." He didn't turn as he spoke to you. After he spoke, you woke up.

You couldn't sleep very long for months after that nightmare.

There was no denying by age two and a half that he looked more like his father. There was also no denying the little bumps you found while brushing his shaggy hair that sat on the top of his head under his skin. Most mothers would be concerned, wonder if their child had gotten hurt, and bumped their head a few times. But you just sat there frozen, feeling the bumps. You knew what they were, they were his father's claim to him, they were forming horns.

"Mommy okay?" Your son noticed your strange and oddly still demeanor as the hairbrush dropped from your hands onto the bathroom tile where you sat.

That's when it hit you the hardest. Your baby was halfway there. Halfway gone. All you had done so far was helplessly try to deny the fact that he was coming for him. He would take your little boy and drag him to hell if you didn't do something to fight this, find some way, something, someone to help you.

"Mommy?" your son had turned around and was now reaching for your cheeks to smush with his hands like you often did him. His face read of concern and question. Your heart melted at his little gesture. You took in his sweet little face again, his little two front teeth poked out just a little. You couldn't help but squish his face gently right back.

"Mommy's okay." You tried to reassure him the best you could, and it seemed to work. Lucky for you toddlers were sweetly gullible.

The moment you got free time you sent a text to your mom telling her you'd be dropping her grandson off at her house tomorrow, you didn't wait for a reply as you already knew she would jump at any chance to see her grandson whenever she could.

You then made a very important series of phone calls.

"Thank you, thank you so much for meeting with me today on such short notice father-"

"Father Namjoon or just Namjoon is fine." He interrupted. "And don't mention it, I'm here to help. You mentioned problems with your child?"

You took a deep breath and let your face finally show the worry you felt, your bouncing foot on the floor let out your anxiety. You sat there in his office at this tiny church. Worried he would throw you out the moment you told him the truth about what was going on.

Father Namjoon sat across the big worn wooden desk from you and waited patiently for you to further explain. Behind him on the wall was a massive cross along with pictures with him and maybe members of the church pinned to the wall.

" I'm afraid I didn't tell you everything over the phone because… well, every priest I've called said I was crazy and hung up on me after I told them." You admitted and watched as his body language changed with his growing attention.

"But father Namjoon, I swear on my son's life that what I'm about to tell you is the truth. My son is no trouble, but his father is. See, I would've brought my son in today, but he gets these… headaches and nosebleeds in churches."

You watched his reaction carefully, he curiously tilted his head.

"Go on…" he urged.

"Because his father… is… the devil."

Namjoon gave you a nod of understanding that was far too casual for the words you said.

"I have proof." You defended before he could even think to refute your claim.

"I believe you."

"What?" You asked thinking maybe you were only hearing what you wanted to.

"Listen," he leaned forward so that his arms rested on his desk. "He's real. I know he's real. The nervousness in your voice and you say you have proof… you seem perfectly sane to me. When can I meet with your son? Would your home be alright?"

"What are you doing right now? He's with my mother right now."

"Let's go." He said with sureness and no thinking time behind it.

He followed your car to your mother's home. You watched as he got out of his car and just stood there in the driveway, staring at the home.

"Something wrong father?" You asked as he brought forth the cross around his neck and clutched it tightly.

"I can feel him."

"My son? My mom says the same thing about him. We just assume he carries the same feeling as-"

"Not your son, the devil. He's here."

Your heart began to race at the thought of encountering him again. Maybe you had gotten in over your head by asking a priest to see him, but you had to do something.

"Your cross." You stopped father Namjoon as he started to walk towards the door. "I'm sorry but you can't have it near him. My mother had to take down all of hers when he was born."

His eyes seemed to shift around nervously before finally taking off his cross and putting it in his car.

"No worries." He gave you a reassuring smile.

You expected more upon entering the house, not just for your son to casually be sitting there watching tv.

You and your mother had exchanged silent, nervous glances upon her letting you in and seeing the priest.

"Hey buddy, someone wants to talk to you." You knelt down and told your son but he seemed to ignore you.

Your mom turned off the tv, but it didn't seem to affect him.

"Touch his head." You whispered to Namjoon.

He stepped forward and crouched on the floor.

"Hey, little guy! What kind of show were you watching?" He placed his hand on your son's head to pat it but quickly retracted it.

"Don't touch me." your son spoke clearly and firmly. His speech was nothing like his normal, broken toddler way of talking.

You looked at Namjoon who still looked shocked by something, it had to be the growing horns.

"Daddy said don't touch me." Your son spoke again perfectly as if he were a few years older.

Daddy said

"Oh my go-" you couldn't help but let out at his words. Had his father been around this whole time? Just watching him… and you?

"I won't touch you, I promise. Could you turn around for me?"

Your son did as he was asked and faced the priest, looking up at him with wide, almost terrified eyes.

“Can I show him your back?” you asked knowing he would let you touch him before he would a priest. Your son nodded but seemed confused.

You lifted the side of his shirt and showed Namjoon the mark spread along the ribs. The upside-down thick, black cross.

“Quite a birthmark you have there.” Namjoon joked with the boy.

“His father has the same one."

Namjoon stood to his feet which prompted you to do the same.

"Can we talk?" His eyes flickered towards the front door.

"Yeah of course."

"Possibly off the property?" He added and you gave him a nod.

“I'll be back” you assured your mother as you left with the priest.

He led you to his car before asking if you wanted to get a coffee and told you he needed it after what he had just seen and felt. You understood and agreed.

He continued to apologize on the short drive there, but again you understood his need to process this.

It wasn't until after you both had gotten your drinks and sat down in a quiet corner of the shop that he began to talk openly.

“I’m still not sure what to think of all this, but I know you're not lying. He looks like him. My…” he let out a sigh as he played with a pink packet of sugar. “My grandmother had a run-in with him once, never said why or how, but she described him and the way his presence felt. I just don’t think it's your child making me feel that way. I really need to ask what happened between you and...his...father.”

“I-um..I…” you too took a deep breath and decided to explain everything as detailed as you could from summoning him, to only having a few years left with your son. You felt ashamed as you explained to this priest how you had slept with the devil.

Namjoon didn't seem to judge you though, as a matter of fact, he looked sympathetic. He seemed so sweet, kind, and understanding.

“I’m not sure what I can do here,” he told you and reached across the table to place his hand on yours “but I promise to do the best I can. I will do what I can to help protect your family and son.”

You felt the honesty and sincerity in his words, it felt so comforting to you.

“It’s going to be hard, I can just tell he doesn't want me there. I don't know if it’s because I’m a man or because I’m a priest. Let me ask you a rather personal question, have you dated at all since your son was born?”

“No.” you shook your head “I don’t want anyone getting attached to my son because I just don't know what's going to happen. Also, I’m afraid…he might do something. I just… I don't want to put anyone else into this that doesn't need to be.” that part hurt you too, you just felt so lonely on top of it all. “I've had no one to turn to with all of this except my mother.”

“Well, you have me now, okay? You don't have to feel alone anymore. We can solve this together.”

Namjoon had come up with a plan to meet with your son every other day, and at the end of the week, he would meet with only you and talk over the progress, if he had made any at all.

Just a few months in, there was a difference. It seemed his method of slowly introducing god and holy objects such as crosses were beginning to work, he no longer got headaches and nosebleeds around them, and his horns while still little bumps under his skin, they had stopped growing. That also happened to be the month your mother got very very sick. No matter how many times Namjoon came and prayed over her, she still continued to just slip away until she was gone.

And now you had no one but Namjoon.

The day after she passed away was the hardest. Your son was still too small to fully grasp the concept of death, but he still cried about his grandmother never getting to play with him again.

You had waited until you had put him to bed and he had fallen asleep to pour yourself a glass of wine and just cry.

Nothing could distract you from the pain, from the heavy misery, not even the pouring rain and house shaking thunder.

You had turned off all of the lights, the only thing that would occasionally light the room was the lightning.

You felt so alone, more alone than you've felt in your life. You tried hard to sense him, but he just didn't seem there. The one time you felt so desperate and alone, his presence didn't loom over you.

“I hate you,” you spoke out loud. “If you can hear me I hate you. I hate that you've done this to me, I hate that you took her from me and your son. Are you really watching over your son or do you just love to see me suffer? Do you love to see me alone? Huh?” anger coursed through you as you talked to the walls “Answer me!” you yelled a little too loudly and worried that you would wake your son up so you decided to be quiet.

The desperation and loneliness felt like it was suffocating you, you had to do something.

You felt pathetic calling him up this late, but once you heard his voice you already felt better.

“Hey, how are you hanging in there?”

“Not good Namjoon.” you sniffled “I-I just feel so alone, so in over my head. All the things my mom has done for me I just…” you did your best to hold back tears.

“Do you want me there? Is it alright if I come over so you don't have to feel alone?”

“Please?” Your plea was squeaky and weak.

“I’ll leave right now okay? It's just important to remember that you're not alone. God is with you.”

“Thank you. I don't know what I would have done this past few months without you.”

“Please, don't mention it.”

You don't know how it got here. You had only had a half a glass of wine in total, and a two-hour deep conversation and now you had pulled him into your room and you were ripping off each other’s clothes as if they were tainted.

“Fuck me” you tossed your shirt to the floor and pressed your lips back to his with ferocity. He sharply exhaled through his nose at how turned on he was by your demand, although you could feel it through his underwear.

“You sure?” he mumbled into your lips. You let out a hum into his before sinking to your knees.

“Fuck.” he muttered, mesmerized as you pulled his underwear, letting it fall at his feet and letting his cock loose.

You let little time pass between the moment you saw his cock and putting it into your mouth. You were hungry for touch, for affection, for sex, for companionship, and you were sure to show that in the form of his dick in your throat. It was as if somehow you hoped it could fill that strange void that had existed in you for far too long.

He thrust in tandem with your head bobbing while letting out groans and sharp breaths of pleasure that just told you that it had been a while for him too.

Thunder rolled in your dark room as you suppressed a gag and let your spit dribble down your chin. You were dripping with need at just the thought of sex.

As a brief flash of lightning lit the room, you swore you saw him in the chair in the corner of the room, legs crossed, watching you.

Could it have just been your imagination playing tricks on you? Could you have been just thinking about him? Was it what you wanted to see?

You closed your eyes as you took Namjoon deeper into your throat, letting the tip of your nose connect with his thin patch of pubes.

His hands tangled in the back of your hair.

"Can- can we have sex? Please? This feels too good to take this anymore."

You took him from your mouth and got into the bed on all fours. He took a moment to take your body and pose in for a moment, but once his brain seemed to function again he got behind you on the bed.

His fingers ran down the skin of your back almost making you shiver.

He yanked your underwear down around your thighs and ran his fingers along your soaking folds.

"No teasing, fuck me."

You heard an almost inaudible moan behind you before feeling his tip at your entrance.

The feeling of him slowly sinking into you, filling you, felt so nice after so long.

"Be rough with me."

"O-okay." He stammered and grabbed the back of your hair to pull on as he began slamming into you.

The skin of his thighs slapped at the meat of your ass over and over, but it somehow just wasn't enough.

"Harder, call me names."

"I won't- I can't call you names." He panted his refusal.

Thank god he was behind you so he couldn't see you rolling your eyes.

"Stop stop, stop."

His hips quit moving at once.

"Lay on your back." You had had enough and wanted to take this into your own hands.

One he pulled out and played down you straddled his hips, reaching down to guide his cock into your entrance before sinking down on it.

The moment you slowly moved your hips with him buried inside of you he began to moan. You picked up his hands and placed them on your breasts.

"What do you think, father?" Your voice dripped with seduction as you clenched around him.

"You're so- oh god- so beautiful."

"Wrong answer." You stilled your hips making him scramble for the right words.

"Your pussy is so wet… just for me."

"All for you." You began to move your hips again with the answer that satisfied you. Possibly to make sure they didn't stop again his hands drifted down to your hips to move them faster on his own. You couldn't help the loud moan that slipped out of your mouth at him taking control just a little.

"You take my dick so well."

"Fuck fuck." You chanted, moving your hips faster, feeling so close to losing it. You couldn't lie, the thought of him being a priest was really about to get you off right now.

"Such a bad girl." He murmured. Maybe he felt the same.

"Does it feel good being in the same cunt as the devil has been?" You teased.

You swore you heard a very short, unamused chuckle from somewhere in the room.

"Fuck yes, fuck I'm so close." He aggressively moved your hips now, his fingers digging into your flesh and finally making you cum.

"Up up"

You got off of him fast and watched ad his hand went around his cock to give it a few short jerks. His thick cum spurted from the tip. Coating his hand and shaft.

"I'll get you something to clean that up with." You climbed off of him as he quickly nodded.

"Darliiiiing"

You felt a hand on your thigh that woke you from your sleep.

"Wake up, I need you." Your face contorted in confusion at Namjoon's words.

"Too tired." You muttered into your pillow.

"But I'm so hard for you." His deep voice whispered in your ear sending tingles through your body.

"All I can think about is your wet little cunt of yours. I'll do whatever you want me to darling." His hand ghosted up your back until it came around and reached your neck where he left it

"Mmm." You hummed in satisfaction as you rotted your ass into his once again hard dick.

"You like that? Hm?" His voice was so thick and rough with sleep. "What if I squeezed just a little?" His fingers tightened slightly around your throat.

You were more than ready now for round two, it seemed he had found some courage between when you fucked earlier and now.

"Who does your pussy belong to, darling?"

"You." You whispered mixed with a moan. You needed him back inside of you so badly that you ached for it.

"You lying whore." His grip on your throat tightened, so much that it became almost impossible to breathe.

You struggled against his grip and tried to pry his hand from your throat.

"Your body and cunt belongs to the devil. Evil courses through your blood." You could hear the hate in his voice through his gritted teeth.

You tried to kick at him, hit him, but you could feel the tightness in your face and brain from lack of blood flow and oxygen.

"Stop, please." You attempted to choke out as your vision grew hazy.

"You belong in hell too."

You thrashed until there was no more pressure on your throat, your hands and feet collided with nothing.

You sat up in your bed covered in sweat. You were alone and once again your room was as hot as the pits of hell themselves.

You picked up your phone from the nightstand, almost blinding yourself with the light from it as you checked the time.

Namjoon had left hours ago. He had left upon your request.

"What the fuck." You sighed as you flopped back into your bed.

As you laid there the weight of reality seemed to feel heavier and heavier on your chest, crushing.

Your mother was dead, you had fucked a priest, the devil wouldn't leave you alone, and you had very little time before your son was gone forever.

Your bedroom felt too large, too spacious for your lonely body just as all of your problems did. Would you end up sucked into it all? Eaten alive? Was there any point in fighting at all?

You swallowed down the lump in your throat but it was no use. You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and leaked into your hairline as you stared up at your ceiling.

"Please" your word brought forth your sobs in the empty room "make it stop. I'll do anything but give up my son, just make it stop."

You couldn't help it, for weeks after your dream you felt weird around Namjoon. The rational part of your brain knew he wouldn't hurt you, although you still denied any little advances he made. It did fade, and once he took you out to dinner and you let him put his hand on your knee, but he was careful not to overstep boundaries.

You thought about calling him one night as you laid there sleepless in your bed. You don’t know how you had gotten so turned on but your body felt so hot with need.

You tried to just roll over and go to bed, but your sensitive clit throbbed along with your heartbeat as if begging you to touch it. Sny motion you made at all only made things worse until you gave in.

You pulled up your oversized sleep shirt and shoved a hand down your panties. You paused a moment as you realized that it wasn't just getting off you needed, but contact with someone.

You went to reach for your phone on the nightstand, but your hand didn't even meet it before you froze.

"Don't." It was a command.

Your eyes flashed to him sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, just like you thought you had seen him a month ago with Namjoon.

You quickly pulled your hand from your underwear and sat up with your mouth agape.

"Did you miss me, darling?" His horns tilted as his head did.

"Get out of my fucking house and leave me and my son alone!" You growled, clutching your shorts angrily in your fists.

"Why? So you can fuck that priest again?" He held up his index finger, slightly shaking it making a tsk-ing sound.

"Why does it matter to you what I do?" Your voice was stone cold.

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned forward in the chair with a smirk. You couldn't stop yourself from thinking how regal and utterly beautiful he looked. He looked far more casual this time in a black t-shirt and jeans, but nonetheless majestic and powerful.

"You must've forgotten. That's alright, I wouldn't mind reminding you. I'm not here for our son, don't worry, not just yet."

"Then let's talk about that."

"Talk?" He gave a little smile "we can talk. Come here."

Although you wanted to, almost needed to, you stayed in your bed.

"Then feel free to keep going… unless you want some help."

"Tell me why you're here." You demanded.

"I'm here to save you. You called me."

"I didn't." You argued.

He beckoned you over once more as he stood from the chair. You got out of bed this time and stepped closer.

"You've done nothing but try to get my attention for months. Don't argue, you know I'm right. I can hear it again, that delicate little heart of yours fluttering when you see me." He reached a hand out for you, you took it, it was just so warm in yours. You let him pull you in until your back faced his chest with his hands on your sides.

"You called me, see?" You closed your eyes as he whispered to you, your bodies swayed together in a nonexistent song. It felt as though he was pulling you deeper into a trance, and you let yourself go.

"Does that heartbeat for me? Do you live for me? Do you want me?" You felt his nose graze your neck, the hot air from his worst trailing behind it. You had dreams of this moment for years. His whispers, his touch, the way he made you feel drunk and hypnotized you, the way he made you feel whole.

"Yes." You couldn't lie, everything but the truth had melted away, you couldn't feel or speak much else. You were weak for him, weaker than you remembered.

"Then are you mine?"

"Yes." You answered once more.

"I'll talk to you my love, about whatever your heart desires. First, tell me what it is you want from me." He whispered as you felt him grip the hem of your sleep shirt at your thighs. His hands brushed your skin. You continued to sway with him, eyes closed, worried that if you opened your eyes that this would all be a dream, worried that if you looked at him you'd fall deeper.

You didn't want to say it, you didn't want to admit you wanted him right now. He had done so much to you. Your internal struggle was hard, you wanted him desperately, yet he had done so much to you and your family. Even your closed eyes couldn't hold back the tears that escaped.

"Why did you take her?" A single son escaped but you shut it down, you refused to show all of your weakness.

To your surprise, he gently shushed you.

"Darling, I didn't take her. Her soul was never mine to take. I don't decide who lives and dies, it was just her time."

You were stunned, why was he comforting you? Why did it feel so good?

"Please don't take our son, he's alI have now, he-"

"I've thought about so many things. We can talk later, no tricks, no lies. You don't need to worry. Just let them all fall away and tell me what you want."

You bit your lip as you felt his cock begin to twitch beside you.

"You already know I want you." Your voice was a soft, weak whisper.

"Yes, but do you want me to hold and comfort you? You've been struggling so much with that. Perhaps you want my cock buried so deep inside of you that it hurts. Or maybe you just want me to pump that belly full of a second baby."

His hand slid into your panties as you let out a gasp of excitement. Every nerve in your body felt hypersensitive, so when he slid his finger over your slit you cried out for him.

"All of it. Please, I want it all."

"What a greedy, needy little bitch. Did that boring god loving freak not satisfy you?" He teased as his finger dipped into your folds and teased at your clit.

"N-no." You stammered.

"You didn't look like you were having much fun, not until you saw me at least." He seemed so amused by it. "I'm a little mad you let him poorly use you like that" he seemed to growl making slight fear go down your spine. "Who fucks you better? Who has a bigger dick?" His finger circling your clit picked up speed with the ferocity of his words.

"You." Your breath was already short.

"Tonight, prove to me that you're mine, that you're devoted, that you'll do whatever it takes for me, And I'll show you I'm yours."

This wasn't happening, you couldn't believe the words he had just softly said into your neck. Your disbelief was cut off by your quickly approaching orgasm. You let out a whine as your knees turned to rubber, you would've fallen had he not have been holding you tightly against him.

"That's it darling, let me have you, let go for me." Your orgasm exploded through you like a bomb and all you could do was whine.

"Such a good girl." He still held you tightly and placed light kisses on your neck and collarbone as he took his tattooed hand from the front of your panties.

You let out a small shriek when he picked you up and carefully set you on the bed. He could've broken you in half right then and there, if he wanted to.

"On all fours, ass facing me."

You hurried into position for him, and for a while, you felt nothing until you felt the fiery sting of a slap along a cheek.

You sucked in a breath.

"What's the matter baby, can't take it for me?"

He was so wrong, you loved it.

"I'll take whatever you give me." Your words were followed by the pleasure of another slap.

"Fuck it." He muttered and suddenly you were dragged by your legs onto his lap where he positioned you over it.

"Take anything for me, huh? We'll see about that." The slaps kept coming until your ass felt raw. You arched your ass up for him as you let out a needy whine.

"You're so fucking wet, it's everywhere. Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you're whining for?"

You let out another whine.

"Say it."

"Please touch me. I want you to touch me."

"I'll give you what you want." You knew that tone he used, it was the tone of having something else planned.

His fingers immediately sunk into your core.

"You're wetter than I thought, I could slide whatever I wanted into you so effortlessly."

You could hear the sounds of his coated fingers working you too.

"Whatever you want." You replied hoping it was his cock, but you knew better at this point.

"My love, I'm going to absolutely fucking ruin you."

You went to reply but suddenly felt the slight stretch and sting of more fingers entering you.

"Ahhhh." You let out but backed up further onto his hand, still wanting more.

"What a good little whore, look at you riding my hand and taking it all for me."

You loved the pain, and he gave it to you like no one else could. You were already ruined for anyone else, but he didn't know that.

His hand felt so deep inside of you that you swear you could feel it in your stomach.

"Harder." You begged, and he obliged.

"You like me filling you like this, slut? I'm going to stretch your pussy so well for my big cock."

You continued to rock backward in tandem with his movements, it didn't take long at all until you were almost there, panting and gripping the sheets.

He stopped and slowly pulled his hand from your cunt, leaving you feeling more hollowed out than a pumpkin.

You left his lap and looked at him just in time to see his shirt come off. His body was just as beautiful as you remembered it, something of pure art and fantasy combined. Tattooed, muscular, and smooth you just wanted to lick every single inch of him, you had to.

You climbed back into his lap and pushed him back while you leaned forward and placed your lips to the very warm flesh of his collarbone. Your lips made their way down slowly to his nipples and enveloped one in your mouth.

"Ah." A sound of surprise and pleasure came from him, and you loved it, you loved that you could make him feel that way, you wanted more.

You took your mouth from his chest and crawled backward until you sat between his legs.

You undid his pants and pushed his underwear down along with him. You had almost forgotten just how massive his cock was. It was veiny and the tip was a blushed shade of pink that made your mouth water.

You spit in both your hands and wrapped them both around his shaft.

You slid your spit slicked hands over his leaking head before slowly bringing then down to the base.

"Faster darling. Don't play with me." He threatened with a grunt. You did as he asked and even added your mouth.

His hands tangled tightly in your hair at once.

It was hard to take him even halfway into your mouth without you gagging around his size and thickness filling your throat.

As you sucked his dick, you stared at the three black sixes on his lower stomach and watched as they moved as his muscles flexed.

"What I wouldn't give to cum down your throat right now."

You moaned around his cock at the desperation and lust in his voice.

"So fucking good for me. You suck my cock so well with your little whore mouth." He gripped your hair tighter but still not enough to hurt.

Him lying there, moaning and groaning as you pleased him made you all the more impossibly wet, you could feel it as you squeezed your thighs together.

"Please come here." He asked as he released your hair and sat up.

As you let his cock leave your mouth and too sat up only for him to lift and drag you onto his lap once again. He reached down and guided his cock into your entrance.

As you lowered yourself onto him he made a noise that should've stopped your heart.

It was a moan and a sigh all at once, he combined that with dropping his head onto your shoulder. The fullness and warmth of his cock inside of you, every little move he made, he was all just too much. How could you survive something like this a second time, especially with being this close to him.

He didn't move even an inch for a moment, not until he lifted his head off of your body and peered at you with those inky black eyes through his just as inky dark hair.

His net movements were fast, rough, and hard. He grabbed your hair from behind, forcing your head as far back as it could go without breaking anything. Your chest was arched towards him and he used it to his advantage by taking a nipple into his mouth as he bucked his hips into you quickly. All you could do was grip his shoulders for dear life as he fucked into you, fingernails sinking deeper and deeper into his muscular flesh the closer he pushed you to your high.

You felt the little sharp sting of him pinching your nipple between his teeth. You couldn't help but fall completely apart as you moaned out the filthiest curse words that you could.

Once he let your hair go and you could properly look at him, you saw beads of dark liquid forming on his shoulders. Your nails and grip had drawn blood, real human blood.

All you could do was stare. He bled just like you, he was vulnerable just like you, just like anyone else.

"Hm?" He caught your staring but seemed confused.

"I-I hurt you. I'm sorry." You furrowed your eyebrows with guilt.

He laughed, it was a real laugh, not a teasing one, not an unamused snort. His nose crinkled and his more prominent two front teeth were made more visible.

"It didn't hurt, I didn't even know you did it." He tried to get a look at the little droplets himself before wiping one away with his finger to show there was no mark left, he had somehow healed.

Each fleeting glimpse of his humanity vanished as soon as you spotted it.

His dick was beginning to soften inside of you despite him not getting off yet.

"Did you want to kiss it and make it better for me?" His voice was seductively playful and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not until he brought his blood-smeared fingertips to your lips.

You looked him in the eyes as you took them into your mouth and sucked them clean. He looked satisfied and you could feel his dick twitch back to life inside of you, showing you how much he liked that. Without a second thought, you attached your mouth to his shoulder and began to lick and cuck at the blood droplets where the wounds once were. The moment reminded you of when you were a child and they told you that wine was the blood of Christ, except this was so much better. You wanted to show him you were willing to take him in any way possible, to submit to every desire he had.

He pushed his now hard cock as far as it would go into you.

"I want to do something to you." He whispered as he continued to slowly thrust.

"Do it." Your reply was fast.

"It's going to hurt you." He added.

"Do it."

“I will. For now, shut up and bounce on my cock, slut.” his tattooed hand grabbed throat “ and you better fucking ride it harder and faster than you did that stupid Jesus loving freak.” his face read of disgust.

“Yes daddy,” you replied trying to hide the smirk at the satisfaction on his face from you calling him that.

He dropped his hand from your neck and you began to move your hips as he laid back. You would normally start slow, but you let him have it. Everything about him was incomparable to anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Fuck, like that baby.” His hair was messy, his eyes were squeezed shut and his tattoo that looked like a snake that wrapped around his torso almost looked like it was slithering.

“You like that daddy? I took every inch of your big cock just for you.” you loved the power over him that he was letting you have and you were going to make sure you got to enjoy it.

His hand shot to your hip and he squeezed.

“I swear If you fucking make me cum right now you’ll fucking pay for it,” he grunted obviously trying to hold back seeing as his hand was digging into your skin as if it was the last lifeline between him and losing it.

“Don’t you want to cum in my pussy daddy? Fill it full of cum and watch it drip out of me?” you continued to tease him and bring him even closer as you jackhammered up and down on his rock hard dick.

“Fuck, this is your last damn warning bitch.” his jaw was clenched, but it was too late, you were already falling apart on top of him, once again saying the dirtiest shit you could as he shuttered under you, barely hanging on as he watched you cum.

You paused, breathing heavily for a moment of rest, but it didn't last long. He was pulling out of you and throwing you face down on the bed, holding your hands by the wrists behind your back.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I?”

“Sorry, dadd-”

“Did I say you could speak bitch?”

He wasn’t even inside you anymore but you’re empty walls clenched as you let out a small moan onto the bed sheets.

“Now let’s see just how fucking much you’re willing to take. Be good for me darling.”

You were scared but excited at the same time, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins was nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

“Yes daddy.”

“Don’t fucking move.”

You listened and stayed completely still.

You felt his hand cover the back of your neck. It got warmer and warmer until it felt searingly hot, it was burning your skin. You bit down on your lip so hard it had to have left a bruise just to keep from screaming. There was no way of stopping the whimpers that came from you in the few seconds that his hand was on your skin.

“There,” he said and sounded as though he was admiring his work before releasing your body and letting you sit up. By the time you sat up though, the pain was entirely gone as if it had never even happened.

“It’s the mark, to match.” you knew he meant that he had just branded you with an upside-down cross to match his and your son’s. You were too busy noticing the wetness on your cheeks and wondering where they had come from to concentrate on this strange sentimental moment.

You felt something warm roll down your cheek and lifted a hand to wipe away what you now realized were tears, but he gently grabbed your wrist.

With his other hand went to your chin and guided your head to face him.

You were met face to face with him, his dark eyes peering into yours and also assessing your wet cheeks.

Both hands now went to your cheeks and his thumbs wiped over the wet mess on your skin.

He was trying to dry your tears.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” his voice was quiet. It was a glimmer of sincerity, a splinter of sweetness.

“I didn’t even feel it.” you joked but he didn’t buy it or laugh, instead he just continued to stare into your eyes with both hands on your face.

He leaned in so slowly, head tilting slightly and his lips met yours so gently. Your eyes closed and pressed your lips harder into his.

It was a sweet kiss but it held the strength and intensity of being punched in the stomach.

Your hands came up to roam the back of his shaggy, dark hair but your mind was elsewhere.

You imagined him as an average man, your son as a normal little boy, you imagined a family. Cuddling on the couch, touching him whenever you pleased, your son being able to play with his father, your life with him would never grow dull. However, your daydreams were dashed as your hand accidentally met with a horn.

What was wrong with you? You knew these things were stupid and unattainable, he was unattainable. Although you had known this fact from the start, here you were sleeping with him again. He fucked you over so hard, he was pure evil and you knew it, but yet here you were falling for him even harder. To be fair though, was there a soul living or dead that could resist him, that ever has been able to?

You pulled away, his hands left your face.

He looked at you with wide eyes, he looked almost shocked, scared. There was some kind of very deep feeling moment between the both of you, some kind of wordless exchange of revelations.

A million things you wanted to say to him flooded your mind at this moment. There were so many things you wanted answers to ”Do you know how miserable I was? Do you know what it felt like waiting for you in fear the entire time? Do you know how much I hate not being able to hate you? Do you know how bad it hurts me seeing your face in my son’s? Do you know how badly you ruined my entire adult life? Do you know how hurtfully perfect you look? Do you know how lucky and cursed I feel all at once? Do you feel any weight for the things you've done to me and my family?” but you were too scared this moment would end, that he would never come back, that he would take your son and leave. You wanted to cry, but you pushed the entire internal war out of your mind, you boxed it all away just to not ruin this moment.

During your thoughts and your stares at one another, his face had softened and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/n” you realized that it was the first time he had ever spoken your name out loud, and as beautiful as it had sounded coming from his lips, you didn't want to hear it spoken so guilt filled. “I’m so sor-”

"Are you going to make me cum again or not?" You broke the silence, and he seemed thrown off for a moment. You didn't know what he was apologizing for, but you didn't want to know. Not only did you want to shut this sad moment down just to have the fun back, but something inside of you hurt to hear and see him like this.

An expression you were familiar with him having flickered onto his face, a smirk. It relieved you and set the fire in your body back alight.

He tackled you with his hands wrapped around you. You were flesh to flesh, his lips moving to the space above your breasts, sucking hard before moving onto another are.

“Dont fuck anyone else.” it wasn't sharp like his normal demands, it was almost as if he was asking you not to without making it into a real question.

You almost snorted as he continued making an army of marks that continued to trail lower and lower.

You almost snorted sarcastically.

“Then who the Hell am I supposed to fuck?”

“Me, fuck me.”

You did sarcastically laugh at this one.

“Don't laugh at me.” he said defensively before sucking a new place by your belly button.

“What? Every few years you’ll swing by and I just have to wait until then?”

“No. Are you even enjoying this anymore or have you now set your focus on calling me out?” he looked up at you with an arched brow.

“Calling you out seems more fun right now.” you were only half joking, all of that hurt hfrom earlier was now festering back up to the surface upon hearing his stupid lies.

“I told you I’d talk, and I will. Trust me.” he sat up and looked down at you.

“I’ve trusted you before and that was shitty.” you argued.

“Then why the fuck are you fucking me now? Why the fuck are you letting me mark you? Why the fuck are you telling me you belong to me?” he shot back.

“BECAUSE I WANT TO PRETEND YOU'RE NOT… NOT...I DON’T KNOW...THE ACTUAL FUCKING DEVIL!” you whisper yelled at him through clenched teeth.

He came down over you and looked you in the eyes for a moment with such a look you thought he might kill you, but instead his voice was quiet and calm.

“If you think I’m incapable of feeling then you’re wrong, you're dead wrong. If I didn’t feel, then why would I want my son? Why have I been watching him grow, watching you love and take care of him and doing my best not to interfere with your time with him. I may not be mortal but I have feelings, I have empathy. Do you understand the shit I have to see and be in charge of? Do you know what it feels like to just want something so pure in good while living in something so fucked? Watching you and our son has been the only sliver of heaven that I’ve ever been able to have.” his arms were shaking as he held himself over you. You had never seen his body show any signs of tiredness or weakness, even his wounds had healed right up. He was shaken talking about this and it was obvious.

It hit you hard. Why would he want to take him? Why did all of this just make sense?

“So please, don’t take this away from me right now. Let me make you cum again, let me just have this for a little longer and we can talk.”

You were stunned. He had felt the same way, he wanted to drag this out just as much as you did, he wanted to cherish this. The question now in the air was, if you both wanted to be together, then why couldn't you?

You yanked him by the hair, forcing his lips to collide with yours. Your tongue clashed with his split one, but it no longer surprised you or made you nervous. While little about him was normal, what was normal anyway? From the moment you saw him as he really was you had thought he was perfect, so why until now had you been wishing for him to be the man you first saw at the bar? Was it because the puzzle piece of his humanity had been missing in an otherwise perfect puzzle?

Your teeth gnashed together as if you were young, new lovers blooming with anticipation, as if you had never touched before now, despite fucking for god knows how long already.

He bit at your already sore lip you had bitten down on, but he wasn't harsh.

“I want you.” you told him meaning more than just how he took it. He reached between both of you and pushed himself into your already abused core, you winced from the ache and the sensitivity.

“Close your eyes” his voice was so quiet you almost didn't hear his instruction.

You closed them though.

“Now imagine me like you.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Humor me.”

You did, you imagined him like he was the night of the bar, like you had thought of him earlier.

“Now run your hands through my hair.”

With your eyes still closed, you felt for his hair before coming them through the soft, wavy strands. Your eyes opened just to make sure what you were feeling was correct. As you looked at his hornless head, his brown eyes looked down at you. Now you properly looked him in the eyes and now that you could see his irises, you knew now that he was looking right at you, not just at you though. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen with a small smile of amusement.

“I just wanted to have this moment with you, like you. I thought it would mean something to you to not have to look into cold, black pits.”

The man looking and speaking to you right now was not the devil, he wasn't horrible or evil but neither was the man he was before but you were yet to know why he did the things he did.

You lifted your neck this time to kiss him and his lips chased yours as you laid back onto the pillow. He once again slowly began to thrust, short breaths and quiet moans escaped you both. Your legs entangled around his hips, angling your own body so he could hit just the right place.

“Be with me.” his voice shook as he continued to thrust “I’ll do anything.” he sounded just so weak as if he were pleading.

“I’m already yours, don't pretend you don't know that.”

“Let's have a family then, I’ll stay.” he rested his forehead on top of yours, his eyes were closed, hips still moving hard cut slow as if with each powerful but passionate thrust was a chance to convince you to be with him.

“As-” you could feel yourself coming closer and struggling harder to catch your breath. “As long as you stay.” You knew it, if he went away, if you lost him tonight, nothing would ever feel this good again, you'd never feel this complete for as long as you lived.

“Let's start now on expanding.” you could see his slight smile before his voice turned serious and sultry.” want me to put another baby in you?”

“Please, fuck I’m so close.”

“Come on baby, cum for me one more time.” he picked up the pace with his hips up just a little more. “Let me get you pregnant again.”

He only thrust into you a few more times before you were coming undone underneath him.

“Fuck, I love you fuck fuck fuck.” you moaned as he also let go, burying himself deeper than he already had been.

“I love you, I love you too.” he messily kissed your lips as you felt his last few pumps slow.

Only when he had said it back did you realize you had said it at all.

You were still breathing heavily as he pulled out and laid down next you. There was silence between you, for a while as you both recovered.

"I said I would talk so here it is."

You decided to just lay there and listen to him.

"I've always known we were supposed to be together, always. There are things I just know, I can't explain it, sometimes I just know destiny and sometimes I don't until certain events happen. Ever since I became the king of hell I've always known that eventually there would be one woman that would bring me to my knees. They call her Lilith, although that's not her name just as satan, the devil, whatever, isn't mine. There have been stories and mythology written about you that just aren't true, much like everything else in my life. When I met your mother, I knew I was fucked. So I stopped you from being able to conceive, how was I supposed to know I was only helping destiny along? When you summoned me I was nervous, although curious as to what you would be like, I never watched you until you began to work on summoning me. I developed a plan. I thought if I just gave you what you wanted and then took it away from you then you would hate me, you would never want to see me again, but yet again I plated into destiny. The moment I saw my son… when I watched you care for him and love him, I-I felt this longing. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to be with you both. I kept my distance and fought against the urge to just drop in and tell you how I felt. I resented you for the power you held over me, but at the same time I wanted to give you your space and let you have your time with him. I was still going to take him but at that point it was out of love. I knew you were still angry with me anyway, rightfully so, I also thought… that you couldn't love someone like me anyway, you were better off with a mortal and I wanted to let you live your life. I watched your pathetic attempts to protect our son from me, at least you thought you were only trying to protect him. You're a good mother, just like yours was. When our son was really little I used to sneak into his nursery and just hold him and stare at him, I could see you in him. The point where I knew I had to step in was the priest. Not only did he treat my son like his, not only did you fuck him and make me jealous but-"

He abruptly wet quiet just as the anger in his voice seemed to pick up.

"I'm sorry." You replied.

"It's not that, it's not any of that that makes me hate him, it's not my jealousy." He still didn't say what it was, but instead he got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" You sat straight up.

"I'm going to shower if that's okay." He replied as he shuffled for the bathroom attached to your room.

"Sure." He was already in there by the time you uttered out your dumbstruck reply.

He had said he would stay, you don't know why him doing average things in your home just astounded you.

You laid back in the bed with the reassurance of him planning to stay and you thought about it all.

At first you asked yourself what your mother would think of this, what she would say. Maybe if she knew everything that he had just told you she simply wouldn't say anything at all. She had been able to love the devil's son and see him for just the little boy he really was, so maybe she would've done the same for the devil himself had she really known him.

You were beginning to feel uncomfortable with the stickiness of his speed leaking out and smearing all over your thighs.

Some part of you was nervous to go into the bathroom with him showering in there, but it was your house.

You ran to the bathroom as fast as it could to keep the cum from dripping everywhere and making a mess on the floor.

You paused as you caught a glimpse of his silhouette through the shower curtain.

His horns had returned, but you didn't look at him as much as his overall shape, you could help your staring.

"I hear your heart again, are you looking at me?" He chuckled and your eyes went wide with the horror of being caught.

"I…"

"Do you want in here with me?"

"...y-yes?"

"Get in, I promise to just let you shower, no funny business." He offered.

He kept his word though, he did his own thing in the shower and so did you. He did look jarringly beautiful with the water beading on his tattooed skin and muscles, but you didn't know how much more your body could physically handle of him so you kept your hands to yourself.

He got out of the shower before you, you were a little concerned at the silence so you got out soon after.

You found a fresh towel and pajamas waiting for you on the bathroom sink so you quickly dressed.

He just sat there in a white t-shirt and black sweat pants at the foot of your bed. His head was down and he looked to be in deep thought as he stared at the floor. He looked a little sad.

"Have you seen him since you've been here?" You asked curiously, making him finally look up and shake his head.

"Would you like to?"

He seemed shocked by your offer.

"I wouldn't want to wake him…"

"It's alright, he's a good sleeper, he'll go back to bed… if you want to that is."

"I really really want to, I haven't seen him person to person since he was a newborn."

You led him down the hall and pushed open your son's cracked bedroom door.

His night light dimly lit the form of his little body snuggled in his toddler sized bed.

You let his father take a few apprehensive steps into the room, slowly approaching him before he knelt on the floor by the bed.

You just looked on at the little moment.

He gently pushed his son's shaggy hair from his sleeping face, but caused him to stir.

"Daddy?" You heard your son's sleepy voice ask. You had no idea how he knew it was his father, and from the look on his father's face, neither did he.

"Hey buddy."

Your son sat up and threw his arms around his father's neck, who promptly picked him up and stood. He wrapped his arms around the little boy, holding him close.

"How did you know it was me?"

Your son unwrapped his arms from his father and looked at his face.

You saw his lips begin to quiver and his eyes fill with tears as he started to break down.

"Oh no." You whispered as you saw your boy stare at the horns on his father's head.

"Your horns are scaring him." You whispered.

Your son patted the top of his own head as he sobbed in his father's arms.

"Me too, I too."

"Oh." You said as you realized that your son was answering his dad.

"You have them too? That's how you knew, huh?"

Your son nodded to his father and began to cry harder. His dad pulled him back into his body, lightly shushing him and patting his back. He buried his head in the little boy's hair much like you had the day in your car after he was horrifically baptized.

The moment hit you like a train.

He had missed his father all this time, and you had no idea.

"you know I'm always with you, right? You and mommy both."

Your son nodded into his father's neck, soaking his shirt with tears although his father didn't seem to mind at all.

"I know you hear me sometimes. You know I'm here."

Your son pulled away from him again to look at him.

"Daddy-" his words were cut off by upset hiccups from crying so hard "no leave."

"I'm not. I'll stay, I promise."

His father knelt back down on the floor and attempted to lay the boy back in his bed, but his little hands stayed locked around him.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and all of the rest of the days when you wake up from now on, you can let go, I'll be right here."

Your son finally relinquished his hold on his father who pushed more hair from his son's face.

"And mommy?" Your son's eyes look at you now.

"Mommy has always been here, silly." His father then spoke something in a strange language, it might've been the one from your dream after your son was born.

Your son gave his father a nod not just as if he understood, but he did understand this very strange language. You had never heard your son speak it, and you had no idea that he even knew a whole other language, until he spoke it back to his father.

He sat there knelt beside his son's bed until he drifted off to sleep. You watched as he gave him a kiss on his forehead before standing and turning to face you.

You walked into the hall and closed your son's bedroom door when he looked at you with a look of concern.

"There's still more I have to tell you, it's the most important thing."

"You're going to have to trust me, okay?" He asked from his seat on the sofa beside you. "There are things I know and things I don't, you have the power to change destiny, and right now what I'm seeing is someone is going to try to take you away from us, from your family."

"Okay," you tried to patiently follow, ready for him to say anything.

"Namjoon is going to kill you."

"Why's he going to kill me?"

"I had this deal with his whore grandmother… she wasn't happy with it, it wasn't my fault. It's not my fault mortals are idiots."

"Hey." You firmly snapped at him.

"It's just what I do, I teach lessons. Anyway, I believe Namjoon is going to hurt you and maybe even our son. He can't physically harm me, I'm immortal, but he can hurt the things I care about. Unfortunately, I can't kill him either, I can't kill humans, God's rules. So I can't stop him, there's nothing I can do but pass this to you. It doesn't matter what you do, Namjoon will hunt you down."

"Okay." You simply just sat there looking calm on the outside but terrified on the inside.

"So, y/n… I think it's kill or be killed in this case. If you die, I'm not sure how much I can do to protect our son but take him with me…"

To hell was what he meant.

You let out a sigh as you stared at the floor and scraped together some kind of plan.

"Take my soul." You offered.

"Why?"

"In case something happens to me, take my soul." You were sure of your decision.

"I'm not taking your soul." He declined.

"Why?" It was your turn now to ask.

"Do you want to go to hell? Do you realize how many eternities you would be tortured down there before I ever found you?"

"No." You answered both questions and seemed less sure of your offer now.

"I'm not taking your soul. Our son could come and go with me because he has that power, but you, a pure mortal… you would be in more pain than you could ever imagine."

"But if I killed a man… wouldn't I go anyway?" You pointed out.

"Not if it was out of self defense for you and your family."

"What the fuck am I saying?! I can't kill father Namjoon!" You realized.

"Y/n, I know he's going to kill you, and I don't want to lose you, I'd do anything not to lose you. What about our son? What about our second child?"

Your mouth dropped open.

"Second child? It-we…?"

"It's not just you living in that mortal body anymore. I know, just like I did the moment I gave you our son. You have to live, you have to do this, you have to trust me." He reached for your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. "I love you and I need you here with us."

"How do I do it?" You gave in.

You were terrified as the phone rang.

You had just left your son with the babysitter and you sat in your car. You were alone but you felt him near you.

"Hey!" Namjoon's voice came through cheerfully and it made you feel sick.

"Hey, I'm not doing so great tonight. Everything is a bit heavy and I kind of want some fresh air. Would you go for a walk with me at the park? I know it's late but…"

"Of course. The one closest to where you live, right? I'll meet you there in a few."

You thanked him before hanging up.

"I'm sorry you have to do this." He appeared right beside you in the passenger's seat now, but you didn't look at him, instead you spaced out while looking out the window at the dark park. You were nervous, you were trying to ready yourself, you were trying to wrap your head around this situation.

"What happens after? What do I do right after?" You asked.

"I'll take care of everything. No one will know." The grim thought of what that entailed was shadowed by reassurance of only having one task to do. "You just wait in the car, I'll drive us home. I'll take care of you."

"What if he sees this opportunity to kill me like I do with him?" You asked with your hands shaking in your lap.

"I think he would wait for a moment when our son is with you, pick you off at the same time."

Your mouth was dry, but you still tried to swallow down the weight of his words.

"But what if I die? You said you don't know all things." You continued to think your worries out loud.

"I also said people can change destiny, they do it all the time."

"You haven't been able to." Your point made him go silent a moment. It was true, he had been fighting against his destiny with you since before you were born only to end up with you.

"Part of me didn't want to change it, even if I hated it at first. I've always wanted you. The first time I saw you I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away from you. The first time you saw me, I just wanted you to look at me that way forever, I didn't care about anything anymore and that was scary. You're my Lilith, my eternal soulmate, there was never any fighting you. There's nothing more powerful than what we have, not me, not god himself."

"What if you're tricking me?" You asked abruptly.

"You really think I would?" His voice sounded hurt and you could feel him looking at you as you said nothing "of course you do, of course you'd think that after what I've done and because of who I am." His voice was soft now like he had accepted that option "I wish I could take back what I did to you, everything I've done to you. I wish I never would've made that deal with your mother, I wish you would've had a family with a normal man, a normal life… what have I done?"

"Like you said" you sighed "it was supposed to happen anyway, it's not all on you. I've suffered for you, and now I'm going to kill for you. Would I be doing that- any of this if I really thought you were tricking me?" You admitted. "Maybe I'm just blinded by you, so in love with you and wanting a family with you that I can't see anything else, you're the devil, it's probably what you do, but what other option do I have anyway?"

"We could go home." He offered softly. "We could have our family and play pretend until it's ripped away." You could hear him swallow louder than his soft words."Then I'll have nothing, but at least I would've had everything for just a fraction of a moment in my eternal life."

"I'm not going to live forever anyway you know, our son might, but I'm human. I die, and when I do I'm destined to be tortured in hell for eternity."

"You're not going to hell."

"How do you know?" You asked partially out of curiosity "I'm in love with Satan, I bare his mark, I bared his child. How much more sinful can I be? You can't sit there and tell me Satan's soulmate is going to heaven."

"God has never let me have anything. If he decides it's your destiny and your time to go, if you're taken from me and I can't have you in life, he's not going to let me have you in death." He explained.

You sat there thinking about what he said and came to the very real conclusion that you were most likely going to die tonight. God wouldn't let him have you, he had already seen that Namjoon would kill you, you were going to die.

Your eyes began to fill with tears as everything finally began to sink in.

"Please take care of our son."

"Don't." He snapped at you "Don't you say that shit like I'm going to lose you."

You began to sob, you weren't listening to him.

"You're going to go out there and fuck him up and that's going to be the end of it." His voice was stern, but you were falling apart. You let your head fall onto the steering wheel.

"Why wont you just take my fucking soul?!" You cried in despair and frustration "you have every single fucking thing in my life but that, just take it god damn it! Take it and let me burn until you find me. I will obviously go through anything for you and our son at this point. Just fucking take it."

"You don't deserve it. I don't deserve you, okay? I've fucking destroyed your life, I'm not dragging this into the timeless afterlife, no matter how badly it hurts. We have one single shot, and this is it. I'm fucking horrible, I'm the worst of the absolute worst, but there’s no way I'm going to be that selfish to let you rot in hell because of me."

"Please?" Your voice was a desperate squeak as you finally turned to him. "Fuck." You uttered at what you saw.

There was a dark liquid running from his pitch black eyes and down his cheeks.

"Is-is that fucking blood? Are you crying blood?"

You watched as it pooled at his chin and dropped onto his white shirt.

"Please do everything you can tonight." He ignored your question and begged you.

If you had a doubt that he loved you before, you didn't now. You watched as he closed his eyes.

"God," he began, he didn't seem as though he was talking to you at all "just let me have this, please? I'll do anything. Just let me have my family."

The dark car was suddenly illuminated by headlights coming from behind. You turned to see a car pulling into the parking lot.

"I'll be with you." He spoke as Namjoon parked beside your car.

The passenger's seat was empty when you looked back.

This was it.

You felt for the pocket knife you had put in your pocket upon leaving the house and your adrenaline began to rush through your body.

You willed your weak legs to get out of the car.

You forced a half-hearted smile but did your best not to look him in the eyes.

It was quiet at first as you both started down the dark trail.

"Don't get offended, but you look terrible."

You hadn't slept since you had gotten your mission yesterday night, your mind felt fried and stressed and tired.

"It's been hard." You were honest about how you felt.

"Why is your lip bruised? Did you get hit?" He pried as you thought back to how hard you had bit it the other night.

"No, I did it, by accident." Although it was the truth, you wouldn't have believed it either with the way you had said it.

"Are-are you seeing anyone? It's been a few days since we talked and-"

"No." You lied quickly.

"If there's anything I can do to help you or your son… I know things are still rough for you…"

"We'll be okay."

He gave you a strange look.

"You're not still worried about… him?" You could hear the suspension in Namjoon's voice and you knew you had to say something to extinguish it for now.

"I am, I just don't know what's left to do, I feel so hopeless." You said as you saw the path begin to lead into a more wooded area ahead.

"Don't you feel him right now?" Namjoon asked.

"He's always just… around, I'm used to it. Maybe it's just me at this point."

"What's that on your neck?" He reached out to see.

You had to do it now, you felt like your mark had given you away.

You stepped back out of his grasp as you quickly took the knife from your pocket and flipped it open. You didn't know if he had time to see it or not before you lunged at him.

He had put his hands up to stop you but the force you had come at him sent him toppling backward.

You went to plunge the knife into his neck only to feel his hand around your wrist stopping you.

He yelled for help but there wasn't another soul at the park, you had been here awhile waiting, you would know.

You used your other hand to help overpower him, but he was still stronger even with all of this adrenaline and chemicals coursing through your body, even with the image of your family in your mind.

"Stop!" Namjoon yelled at you, but this was too far gone to stop now, your mind was already made up. You knew that if you stopped now then you would be the one who died.

Your arms were beginning to grow tired and your strength was weakening and because of that he was able to shift the point of the knife towards you.

In one last burst of strength you tried to switch the knife's direction back towards him but your muscles just gave out.

You didn't feel the pain of the plunge into your chest at first, but you felt the crack of your ribs at the sheer force. You were in shock, it didn't feel at all like you had just been stabbed. You let go of Namjoon and rolled over onto the cool grass as you tried to process everything.

You could hear Namjoon panicking, sitting over you, trying to help you, it was confusing.

Why was he trying to help you? He wanted you dead.

"Please? Where are you?" You choked out. It was hard to breathe, you felt like you were drowning as you looked up at the stars.

"Get away from her." It was the only voice you wanted to hear, it had brought you some kind of peace.

You saw Namjoon look at something with wide eyes before leaving your line of vision. His quick footsteps on the ground you lay on got further and further away.

You continued to choke and gasp.

Jungkook watched in the distance as the knife was turned on you and the blade disappeared in your chest.

It hadn't hurt until now. It was as if you were his voodoo doll. He had never felt pain before, but once he felt the sting, he knew exactly what it was, although his pain came from the inside. Until now he had been watching coldly, waiting for this to happen, knowing you would die.

You had to die, there was no other way you'd let him have his son, there was no way you'd let your son end this world. You were too compassionate, too human, too emotional. You were all the things Jungkook never thought he was. Perhaps you completed him in many ways he only was now able to realize.

He was able to fool you so well, tell you all the sweet things you needed to hear to lead you to your own demise. But why did it only now hurt him? Had it been so easy to lie to you because maybe somewhere deep down in his unbeating heart he knew that maybe you really were the one? He felt as though that as you laid there dying, that you were forcing your most human parts into him, you were cursing him.

He had never actually thought you were his Lilith, his soulmate, not until now as he watched you bleeding out and physically felt it. He felt the weight of every sweet thing and lie he had ever told you pressing on his chest. Your face, the sweet moments, holding you, the guilt of never telling you his name, everything flashed before him. He wondered for a moment if he was dying too.

"I have given you a gift, the gift to feel.Your heart is broken, child. Go to her, be with her in her last breaths before I bring her home."

It wasn't even a voice that Jungkook heard, but it wasn't in his head either. He knew who was speaking to him. He suddenly felt enraged. He wasn't going to let God take you away from him.

"Get away from her." Jungkook boomed making the silly mortal that was panicking over you run at the sight and power of his voice.

Jungkook knelt down beside you and watched as the blood flowed from the corners of your mouth and tears streamed from your eyes.

"He's not going to take you from me! God damn it! Please don't take her!" Jungkook knew you wouldn't go to hell, god himself had said so. You did nothing wrong, you had been fooled by him just like Eve had been, and Eve still went to heaven when she died. He would never see you again and it hit him harder than anything ever had before.

Jungkook lifted his hand, the one he hadn't unknowingly slipped through your fingers, and produced a flame which gave way to a scroll of paper.

He pulled you into his lap as you continued to choke. He put your hand to your wound and dipped your fingers into your blood.

"It's okay, it's going to be fine, please just sign it, you have to move, sign it." He let go of your hand but it was limp. There was no more choking, only a faint rattling coming from you now.

"Please please just sign the paper." He begged. "I'm so sorry, I was wrong, I did this and I'm so sorry. It hurts so badly, sign the paper, I need your soul, I need to find you."

Silence.

There was no hummingbird heartbeat, there was no heartbeat at all as he looked into your empty eyes that still looked back at him. Your body lay in his lap with the mark he had given you, but you were gone.

“But I love you...” it was the first time in his existence that he had said it and meant it. You had never known he didn't mean it, you had never known everything he did was a lie, maybe it was best that way. Despite not feeling any of it before, he felt it now, all at once. If he could do it all over again just to mean it, just to experience those feelings along with you he would. He would have held you longer, cried more, he wouldn't have ever let you do this, he wouldn't have fed you those dreams and lies and he would have protected you. Namjoon never wanted to hurt you.

All Jungkook wanted to do now was hold you, so he did until you grew cold. It wasn't fair he only got to feel this after you were gone as punishment. He wanted to go back, he wanted to start over, but it was too late. What kind of cruel god would gift him with his now?

His chest continued to sting, as his anger continued to fester. He hated everything, God, Namjoon, himself, this horrible fucking mortal world.

He was going to burn it all. He never wanted to make another deal with any human ever again.

Whilst he couldn't touch these stupid fucking humans, his son could, he was half human.

This wasn't supposed to happen for another few years. He didn't think his son was old enough just yet, but it would have to do, he was still naive enough to destroy humanity on his father's command. All he had to do was show his son what he was capable of, fill him with rage for his dead mother, and watch the world burn. All Jungkook knew was fire and destruction, now his son could learn as well, both of them with a bitterness in their hearts.

Jungkook let out a loud scream of anger and frustration and all of these new feelings that he didn't want that felt like they were internally ripping him apart.

The entire park was sent up in flames, including your body.

The end was coming early for this world, it was over. He was going to destroy every last one of God's precious creations for making him feel like this.

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Good 4 u - The Darkling x Reader

Here’s a draft I found, I remember quickly writing this on the train home from college, listening to Olivia Rodrigo’s song on repeat until I got sick of it. Enjoy bahahahah 😂😂

Alina this, Sun-Summoner that, Sankta Alina the other. It was annoying to constantly hear her name on other people's lips, Aleksander's especially. You should have known his obsession with her would turn into love but you were blind.

He said she was nothing worth his salt, Alina is the key to more power, he would say before he proclaimed his eternal love for you, showering you in love and pleasure. When your relationship fell apart and your heart broke, he took a piece of you with him, the temperate part, the side of you that was calm and rational. For now you were the walking form of resentment. He never cheated but this was much worse.

Aleksander didn't seem fazed, at all. No tears for the death of so many good memories, no sadness for the end of a chapter in his life. Maybe he experienced time differently from you because who in Saint's name pursues somebody so quickly after a breakup? Somebody who's already sure of their feelings long before they change their life around.

You held back your gags as you watched the two fawn over each other at the Winter Fete. She wore his color, black, and you had to admit she looked half decent in it too. You didn't hate her, she never did anything to you. But him, Oh saints you would kill him where he stood if you could. He looked happy, unlike you. It's like we never even happened, what the fuck is up with that?

There was a time when he looked at you like that, eyes full of adoration and love. Now he looked right through you, treating you like a stranger. 'He took out the trash' Zoya shrugged when you drunkenly told her what happened. Maybe she was right, maybe he never even loved me, maybe I was there to pass the time.

He was so unaffected by your break up it made you livid. Every glance spared in his direction radiated anger and disgust. You didn't even try to hide it anymore.

Your demonstration was about to begin. You were helping the Inferni twins show off your fire skills before Alina would end the show with a bang. You didn't care for parties shared with the Grand Palace and were guaranteed to leave right after your little firecracker of a performance, but some part of you itched to stay until the end.

You could see Polina get up on a small pedestal, signaling for you to get to yours. Aleksander stepped to the side, Alina at his arm. Gross. The power beamed off of him, he was doing good without me. What a shame.

You played around with the twins, completely forgetting the room of diplomats and even Aleksander, who never spared you a look. The fire felt good on your hands, swaying from side to side as you molded the element in your hands before splitting it in two, shooting it at the twins. Using your powers gave you a sense of calm and peace, but it never rid you of the rage you felt. Maybe you were too emotional.

You got down with a smile as the claps eased out. You went to leave, eager to leave the stiff atmosphere of the room. At least you showed up. But his voice made you stop at the door. Instead of it giving you a shiver of pleasure, it straightened your spine in defense.

'Her name is Alina Starkov' Someone pass me a bucket. His hands came together, submerging the room into darkness. Alina began her show, the light letting you catch a glimpse of him. As opposed to the entirety of the room, you only had eyes for him. He looked at her as if she was a goddess, he worshipped her. Fury rose in you. He looked at me like that first, or was it a lie? Maybe he never cared.

You wished for nothing more than for Alina to reject him, see him for the man he truly is. If he could play you the way he did then Saint's knows what he'll do to the poor young girl. You were headstrong and stubborn and he still managed to screw you over despite your built-up walls.

But what if they last? He'll have more power, the Sun-Summoner by his side and Ravka under his rule. And you'll still be you. An Inferni with a grudge.

Before you knew it, the room returned to its previous state and the diplomats were bowing down to their Sankta. You missed the whole thing brooding over Aleksander, who still stared at Alina like she was the air he needed to breathe.

You scoffed and walked away, not wanting to be in the same room as him anymore. What a dick. You strode around the Little Palace trying to cool down. One champagne glass turned into two then five. Still you felt the nagging tickle of anger. You suddenly heard shouts and signs of a fight, racing over to the room it was coming from. Even tipsy, the soldier in you replied immediately.

'This is for Zlatan' You ran through the door seeing an oprichniki slicing Alina's throat open. Oh Saint's no. You pounced on the man, quickly catching sight of Genya already on the floor tending to Alina. Apparently, you weren't the only one who heard the scuffle as the General's guards flooded the hallway, taking the rogue soldier from you. Your mind snapped back into reality, searching for Alina but finding a young Inferni in the black kefta. A double for security. Smart.

'Inform the General' Genya spoke, leaning over the body. Your blood ran cold, he would probably ignore you. But you did as she asked, running to where you saw him last. You searched for his black kefta in the sea of extravagantly dresses diplomats. You spotted Ivan chatting in the corner with Fedyor, 'Ivan where is the General?' You hid your blood-stained hands behind your back in an attempt to prevent unnecessary panic. 'In his quarters' He nodded his head towards the big double doors.

You walked away with a mumbled thank you. In his quarters. If Alina's absence was any indication of what he was doing, it would be a miracle if you didn't slap him the second you got the chance.

Your knock was sharp and loud in contrast to your shaking hands. Then you heard it, her laugh. You've got to be kidding me. Your bloody hands braced themselves against the doorframe, clutching the wood for dear life. Better the door than his face. As his face passed in your mind, the door opened just a tad, his body towering over your own. The smile he wore quickly washed away, replaced with a stern look.

'Y/N what are yo-' You stopped him with a signal of your hand, you didn't have the patience.

'Marie got attacked in the fitting room. She's dead. He's detained.' He looked at you passively, obviously wishing it was anyone but you knocking on his door right now.

'Wait here'

He shut the door again. But you could make out his conversation with Alina in the dead quiet of the hallway. You sent a silent prayer to the Saints about your previous argument. Let her see him for what he is.

You slowly backed away from the door, not wanting to hear anymore. You heard his boots step out into the hallway and took his silence as a sign to walk ahead to where the man was being kept. For you, the tension was awkward and insufferable but for him it was probably normal, although you knew he felt your pulsating rage.

There was nobody on this side of the Palace, his quarters weren't available to everybody and that made you thankful because what you were about to do would definitely be regarded as treason.

He didn't have time to register you turning around or the hand that slapped him across the cheek.

The noise echoed down the hallway, your hand stung, maybe that was too hard.

His jaw clenched but he didn't retalaite. Why was his ignorance such a trigger for you? It was what started this, him pretending you didn't exist caused you to fly off the walls.

You shoved his chest with all your might. Do something. He let you push him away but never looked you in the eyes.

'Are you going to say something?' You were furious, venom dripped from your words but had no effect on him. 'The big bad Aleksander lost for words? First I've ever seen it'

He turned his head towards you, looking into your eyes for the first time in weeks. It surprised you because you didn't miss it.

'What do you want me to say?' His voice was void of any emotion, no anger or pain, his composure never dropping. He was the complete opposite of you. Saints, you were the crazy ex.

You didn't reply. The truth was you didn't know what you wanted him to say. Nothing he could muster would fix this situation. His actions were irreversible and Alina was still in his chambers, the room where so many of your fondest memories took place.

'I wish to transfer to a camp. Permenantly.' You had been mulling over the decision for days now. You had put in a request with Ivan a week ago but never got an answer.

'I need you here teaching the students' So Ivan did send it on. Was this another one of his ways of ignoring you?

'Tough. I don't want to be here.' You faced your choices with logic. Your anger would never go away, the hurt of your first love betraying you soaked deep into your bones. Aleksander was immortal, he would never leave this Palace. You had no other option. He sighed loudly.

'Y/N let's keep our personal and work li-' You went for another slap, he deserved it, but this time he caught your hand mid-air, pushing you away gently. You walked backward, disgust turning in your stomach at the response your body had to his touch. He was an amplifier and the surety he brought you would always be there regardless of your feeling for him. You hated it.

'Good for you Aleksander. You got the girl, the power.... at least let me have something' Your voice cracked slightly. You wouldn't cry in front of him.

'I'll have Ivan sort it out'

With that, you left the hallway, completely forgetting about the task at hand, happy to finally have a day where he didn't cross your path.

Aleksander stood there watching your back as you walked away from him. You would never know the pain and anguish he felt every time somebody mentioned you, or when he thought of you. He loved you deeply, more than anything in this world, so he had to let you go. He would hate himself if anything happened to you in his fight for Ravka and Grisha, so he had to push you away.

He was selfish for ignoring you but also keeping you around. He knew it hurt you to see him around Alina, he knew all of it. He truly did. But he was too greedy. His own actions were confusing him. Push her away, make her hate you but keep her safe, keep her with you. It was impossible, either one or the other.

As you rounded the corner, he memorized you, all of you. It would be his last memory of you.

'Good for you Y/N, leave me and be safe'

My masterlist 🖤

Taglist ( tell me if you want to be added!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend

#shadow and bone #the darkling #grisha #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #alina starkov #general kirigan x reader

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kichous · 3 years

Text

✧･ﾟ:* our proper distance

summary. if sukuna notices the life growing within you, separated only by your flesh as he lays his head in your lap, he says nothing. series. history lesson. bonus scene ! pairing. ryomen sukuna x f!reader. warnings. mentions of miscarriages. childbirth. word count. 2922.

You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop. You had already asked much of him in keeping this liaison secret. That he was willing to compromise for you was a miracle in and of itself. You do not mistake his generosity for kindness. You are well aware that your safety and well-being relies on his good will.

You have been Ryomen Sukuna’s mistress for four years. You have been his lover for roughly half of your sons’ lifetimes, and you have shouldered this secret alone for four years out of fear for their safety. And although the King of Curses, whose power has only grown since he bested your father in combat, is known to sorcerers as cruel and greedy, he cares in some way for the lives of your children. He would not hold his tongue otherwise.

Twins are a bad omen because of Sukuna, after all.

For someone whose followers regularly burn your families’ crests, Sukuna goes to greater lengths than he needs to in order to protect you. You’re still amazed that he even wants to defend you at all. He is not exactly wanting for bedmates — and you have to admit that despite the inhumanity of his form, he is still just as handsome as he was when he bore the name Shun. You do not dare to believe that you are someone special to him. You do not dare to hope.

He comes to you under the cover of night, and you learn to recognize his silhouette in front of the screen door when the moon is at its highest. You light a lantern by your door when your husband is with his other wives, though Sukuna still comes even when it isn’t there. Some nights he is content to lounge with you. His predisposition to getting his hair stroked is exceedingly feline.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t lay with you. Such intimacy was how your relationship started, after all. From your first time in the fields beyond your father’s walls, to when he presses you into the futon in your husband’s home, Sukuna is no stranger to any inch, any measure of your body. You have come to know his as well, tracking every change with every moon. You are certain you are more familiar with him than he is with you, however, as you have never seen fit to tell them about the children.

Or, rather, the children that never came to be.

Over the years, there have been ten. Each one, you have hidden from the King of Curses. Your husband is not subject to such deceit. If anything, your infertility works in your favor. He does not come to see you as often anymore, unhappy as he is with the fact that you’ve yet to bear him any heirs besides Michimaru and Takechiyo. It gives you more time to spend with your sons — and more time with Sukuna, who does not seem particularly bothered that you have not granted him children either, despite the many times you have been together.

You wonder if you mistake his satisfaction for indifference. Perhaps he does not want the hindrance of children in his grand ambitions. He is not the most fatherly of men — although, thinking about it, you suppose you do not know any good fathers in the first place.

Sukuna’s warmongering is the last thing you would wish to subject a child to, and your sons are already afraid enough of him as it is. Your family does a good job at spreading fear and panic where Sukuna is concerned. You haven’t yet told the boys that they had already met him when he was just a man.

Regardless of his intentions, there was never anything to truly fear, as none of his seed ever took — that is, until this last moon.

You were so certain that it was impossible, that perhaps someone had cursed you. You had proved fertile enough not long after your marriage. It was strange to think that you would bear twins and nothing more. Spending the better part of your life valued only for your womb, your failure to produce more children was met with plenty of speculation, both by yourself and your immediate family. Sukuna, conversely, asked nothing of you but your company. You took solace in that fact, pitiable as it may seem.

And so, when he comes to you on a new moon, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he steps into your quarters, you are at a loss. He notices it too, as he remarks that you look like a trembling doe. It’s not the most flattering creature to be compared to, but you smile indulgently at him nonetheless. When you gesture for him to sit with you, he lays his head in your lap as always.

It is routine — you start by combing his hair away from his face, your hand tracing the familiar curve of his skull as you rub soothing circles into his scalp with the pads of your fingers. Sukuna’s eyes flutter shut at your motion, and your other hand wraps around his face to stroke his jaw. You could almost swear that he starts to purr, though you’re certain he would put you to death for ever suggesting it. At this angle, he is worryingly close to your unborn child. He says nothing to indicate that he knows of its presence.

“You look tired,” you murmur. “I could have Kinu bring us some tea, if you like.”

Sukuna lifts a hand. “Don’t bother. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” He exhales as you massage his temples. “Yes, just like that.”

“I insist.” He’s horrible to deal with when he’s cranky and you’re not in the mood. When you do not let him bruise your wrists, your hips, or your thighs, he turns to cutting words instead. He hasn’t shown any signs of displeasure yet, but you know that he is nothing if not unpredictable. It never hurts to be proactive. “Whatever you want.”

“Fine,” hums Sukuna, one of his lower eyes cracking open. “Fennel.”

Thoughtlessly, your smile drops. He notices, as the other three eyes are suddenly peering at you with suspicion.

Your servants don’t know of Sukuna — at least, that is what you are content to believe. If they have any idea that you have a lover, they say nothing to your husband and they say nothing to you. You do not want to know of their suspicions, of the knowledge that they may hold over you. You cannot spend every day looking over your shoulder from those you spend nearly every waking moment with.

But of your current predicament, they know every detail. Everything to do with your monthly blood, with the miscarriages, to the morning sickness, they’ve cleaned it all. And in doing so, you like to believe that they feel some loyalty to you. It helps you sleep at night. And because they know of the happenings of your body, they know that asking for fennel tea is asking for more blood to clean from your sheets. Infinitely more difficult than vomit, you suspect.

“Do you take issue with my choice?”

You blink, remembering yourself. Shaking your head, you try to move back, only to be pinned by the weight of Sukuna’s torso. You could shove him off, but that wouldn’t end well for anyone. “It’s fine, I just… remembered that we have run out of fennel tea, that is all.” You smile at him, and you notice through your mirror that it is too wan to seem genuine. Your heart sinks as the skepticism remains in his gaze.

“You are distressed,” Sukuna says plainly. “What have you done?”

You furrow your brows. What have you done to me? you wish to ask. You do not. “Nothing,” you hiss instead. Your scandalized tone amuses him; you can tell by the curve of his lips. He’s going to push you more. You place a hand over his mouth before he can, then yelp as he swipes his tongue across your palm. You wipe it on his kimono. “You’re disgusting. Who knows what I’ve touched?”

“It better not have been anything foul or I’ll sever these pretty hands myself.” Sukuna says the words so sweetly, they leave his lips like a song.

You run your fingers through his hair again in reply, and he chuckles.

“All right, I suppose I’ll spare you for now.” He tilts his chin up to meet you halfway when you lean down and kiss him, nibbling on your lower lip. He chases after you when you part, and he wraps a hand around the back of your head to pull you in again. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“I think I should be the one saying that about you.”

Sukuna relaxes in your lap once again, contentment flitting across his face. “That was a valiant effort at sidestepping my question, and for that, I shall reward you with leniency.”

There’s always some sense of serenity around him, even in the midst of carnage and peace alike. Like he belongs in this world, a curse that will never, ever, leave. He is tranquil in the midst of the chaos he sows — a figure of balance. That is how the commoners who champion him refer to the Two-Faced Spectre. You envy his level of self-satisfaction. Were that all the world felt as confident and assured as Sukuna, there would be a great deal less bloodshed, you think.

Rather — knowing mortals as they are, there would be infinitely more. But Sukuna would like that, you suppose.

He interrupts your contemplation by taking your hand and sliding it over his hair again. “Did I say that you could stop?”

No. He most certainly did not. With a weary chuckle, you appease him, and he takes your other hand to press a kiss into your palm. The two of you settle in silence until the candles wind down, and when they no longer provide adequate light, you lean over to blow them out and invite Sukuna to lay with you. He reads in your expression that your only intention is to sleep, and without protest, he climbs into the futon alongside you. He takes up most of it, though you are used to that.

Sukuna lies on one side. Given the excessive amount of limbs, you doubt that the position is very comfortable. He was steps and a couple of drinks away from conjuring himself a tail, though, so you suppose that most of the reason that Sukuna doesn’t sleep is because of the discomfort. Nevertheless, he likes to hold you when you sleep, his arms like a cage. As you settle into his embrace, you find that it is tighter than usual. You fold your hands over your stomach, pressing your back into his chest.

One of his hands rests on your shoulder, while his other arm on the same side winds around your waist. He lays that hand on top of yours. Though he isn’t pressing very hard, you feel every point of his nails like the tip of a blade against your belly. You roll over so that the pin-pricks are against the flesh of your back. As you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, you’re marveled by how… familial the embrace is.

Mother and father on either side, and the child sleeping soundly in the middle. It is a fool’s dream to ever think it could become a reality. But the thought still lingers in your mind — what if?

Would he run away with you? Abandon everything he’s ever worked for to raise your child (children, possibly) in obscurity. A fisherman like his father, who abandoned him as a child to be taken in by your family, ostensibly to give him a better life. You’d be a… gods, what could you do? Weave, perhaps? Something useful, at least. To show that you were not the spoiled little girl he always made you out to be.

And would your child be a sorcerer? Would they be a simpleton, like you, or would they be as powerful and fearsome as their father? Would ambition consume them, just as it had the man you loved?

Alas, you are a fool to even dream it. The four-armed could-be fisherman traces a finger along your neck, a brow arched.

“Is my face truly so mesmerizing?” he whispers, eyes sparkling. The mirth dissipates when you don’t react, and he instead leans away from you and props himself up on his lower elbow. He watches you not as one would a lover, but the way a hunter stalks its prey — like he’s waiting for any misstep he could leap upon. “All right, come out with it.”

“What?” The word doesn’t sound convincing, even to yourself. Your failure at duplicity causes both disappointment and disdain to war upon Sukuna’s face. Quickly, you lift your hands to appease him. “I’ve just been feeling a little tired these days is all. I’ve already sent for a healer, surely they can figure out what’s wrong with me.”

“Is there any better healer in the province than yourself?” he scoffs. You are not sure whether to be flattered by the praise, spoken with venom, or not. “If there were anyone with a greater grasp on reverse cursed technique they may very well be a god.”

You stroke his jaw tenderly with the backs of your fingers, rubbing a thumb across his cheek. “Not every malady can be healed by my power,” you remind him. To be fair, you did actually call for a second opinion. You could simply be suffering through some foodborne illness — but you know your body best, and you know now that there is something dwelling within it. You have called for a midwife, just to make sure. “I will be fine.”

“I don’t like seeing you upset.” Sukuna’s lips form a scowl. “Tell me what to do to make it stop.”

His words give you pause, an incredulous laugh nearly bubbling out of you. You subdue yourself, but the wonder is still there. You tuck yourself into him to hide your mirth.

Is this the closest you’ll ever get to genuine romance from him? You know that you can never tell him anything. And while you’d think yourself a monster if he was anyone else, you know the child will be safer if they had never known of Sukuna at all.

How on earth would you tell the child their father was a beast? You could lie to them, pretend that your husband was the one that sired them. You could never tell them at all, and leave it until their adulthood before they found the truth. Then you would be no better than the family you tried to escape.

You had always thought yourself a decent mother, fair and loving. But a child of Sukuna could never know a world of peace, and with how irrevocably you have become intertwined with him, you could not give the child the peaceful, happy life it deserved.

Your brother’s wife has a sister in Mino. Perhaps she will raise your baby as her own.

“There’s nothing you can do,” you murmur into the side of his neck. You can feel a rumbling in his throat, a low growl in reply. When you stroke his back, he stills. There is virtually no space between you, and you can feel the mouth on his stomach shift against your midsection. Instinctively, you slide a hand over yourself as a barrier.

He doesn’t seem to notice the defensive gesture, and for that, you are thankful. Sukuna never sleeps when he is with you, only laying in a facsimile of it in his stillness and steadiness while you actively slumber. He is always gone in the morning when you wake, but if you are (un)lucky, you can still catch his scent on you. As you lean back to rub noses with him, you find him staring at you intently. Eyes like piercing daggers, you have no doubt he has watched you like this many nights before.

“Nothing at all.” It is not a question. It is said with malice, with suspicion.

Your little fantasy of a life with him seems ever further away. A fool’s delusion.

This man does not love you — he loves how much he can control you. He loves that you sit prettily in the palm of his hand, that you give him everything without protest. He loves that he always leaves you wanting for more. He loves that you lie for him, that you live a double life only for him. He loves the feeling of turning you against his greatest enemies, even if that was never true.

He loves that he is one of the only reasons you are ever happy. He loves that you are afraid of his moods, and that you do all that you can to please him. He loves that do as he asks in all respects but one. He loves that you are so small against him, so frail. He loves you most when you are at your weakest. He loves only as a monster loves.

You cannot — you will not ever allow him to sink his claws into this child.

You press a gentle kiss to Sukuna’s lips, a false promise. “Nothing at all.”

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #history lesson bonus.#history lesson tag.#jjk fic.#i think my writing says something about how much i fucking love sleeping and napping #considering how often the couples end up in bed

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Oʀᴏᴛᴜɴᴅ

Requested?: Yes. Contains allusions to sex and illness, non graphic.

Word Count: 3301

Eren has disappeared beyond the walls, finding refuge with a sick ex-soldier.

Orotund: (adj.*) speaking or singing with fullness, clarity, or strength of song or voice.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sickness had spread slowly, but surely.

You couldn’t tell where you had gotten it from. At first, you had assumed it was simply an intensified version of the flu. However, the longer you took care of yourself, the more you realized that this was far worse.

Dividing the time into five stages, you began keeping note of what was happening to you during Stage Two. During Stage One, you began to experience relatively short periods of a fever. They’d usually last for days at a time, with you lying in bed draping a wet rag on your forehead. So intense, you could not even get up to urinate or eat, it was difficult not to feel pathetic.

Stage Two had made the fever die down. You were more than thankful for this, of course, but it had come with it’s own crashing, crushing waves. Stage Two had begun to make you lose weight at a rapid and inexplicable pace. You often frowned at yourself in the mirror, observing how your torso was slimming and shaping around the form of your ribs. It came before the loss of appetite, which only made matters that much worse.

Stage Three, during which you had met him, was strange. It didn’t directly cause any physical changes to you, but it did indirectly. You grew restless in the night, and exhausted during the day. Riddled with fatigue, the daily chores you relied on for life became troublesome. Drawing water from the well strained your back, and because of what Stage Two had done to your stomach, you lacked the energy needed to keep yourself upright.

One day, in whatever season it had been, you returned to your cabin to find a stranger inside. Instantly on sight, your pail of drinking water fell from your fingers and splashed against the wooden floors. Your boots and socks were soaked. The knocking of wood against wood made your ears ring as if a bomb had gone off.

The boy was still, but his eyes were somewhat wide as if he was also surprised. He must not have considered someone was already living in the cabin. Yet, he was sitting at your dining table, watching you with open eyes and open ears.

Before you could scold, yelp, or simply say hello, you collapse over. The fatigue overpowers you and you crash against your counter in a heap.

The boy leapt forward on instinct. His right arm wrapped around your back to steady you somewhat, his left hand gripping onto your other shoulder. It didn’t help you too much, as your ankle was already rolling out from under you, but it did keep you from hitting the floor completely. Thus, the boy had at least saved you a head injury.

“My room,” you croaked with hazy eyes. The hand attached to the arm over his back weakly pointed in the direction of your bedroom. It wasn’t too far away. You were lucky that he craned his head to see where you were gesturing to, and understood. “I have to get to... my room...”

“Right,” the boy replied.

He hoisted you up, the both of you grunt quietly in unison. And then he practically dragged you across the floorplan of your home, stumbling and groaning all the way. The boy let you drop into your bed on your own, partially kicking him in the process.

You hum out a sigh of relief. Your head is immediately alleviating itself, and the room is ceasing to spin so quickly. The boy is confused as to the lack of yelling or anger. Instead, he is enthralled with the calm, tired, demeanor of your form. He’d broken into your cabin, eaten your food, and you hadn’t even looked mad. In fact, you looked almost sickly.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Stage Four brought depression. Yes, you already had that. But now your sickness was piling onto the chemical imbalances, adding to the lack of calories, nutrients, and sleep. Whatever strength you had before was dwindling away faster than before, although this time, things were different.

The strangers name was Eren. Eren Jaeger. He had large, piercing teal eyes, bold eyebrows, and dark hair. At the time of your meeting, it was the length of his shoulders. His palms were wrapped in gauze at the time, but it wasn’t permanent. He’d since removed them, and helped you work.

Eren was strong. He could repair things that were broken around the cabin and help you with the well upkeep. Sometimes he would go hunting and bring home venison or herbs for you, which was kind. He didn’t ask for much in return, other than you not tell anyone of his presence. Not like you had anyone to tell anyways.

Eren gave you a ride on his Titan once or twice too. That was something you loved. You were scared at first, but Eren didn’t let anything happen to you. He would lift you up in the palm of his hand so you could reach the fruits at the top of the tallest of trees. Then you’d go home and slice the fruit up for him in a small bowl.

He slept on the bench in the living room. You’d felt particularly guilty about that part, but your weak body needed all the relaxation it could get. Eren knew that, and he never forced you to share or give more than was even remotely necessary. Really, Eren was quiet most days. He seemed to do a great bit of brooding, but you’d grown accustomed to the presence of another human being, and thus, warmth. And Eren liked you. You weren’t obsessive, didn’t yell for the way he cleaned, didn’t rip up his clothes, or remind him of a fading dream.

Time blurs together when you’re living on your own in the middle of nowhere, but the boy was with you for more than two months, at least. He figured out that you were sick in that span of time, including that you didn’t deserve to be. There wasn’t much around your cabin to suggest much of past life. Eren didn’t blame you. That’s why he stayed in the cabin as well- hoping to leave the past for a blank space.

You took care of each other. Your favorite example was on a morning in Spring.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Eren wore a simple brown cloak. No shirt underneath, giving you a much appreciated view of the boys abdominal muscles. Though, you’d probably never get the opportunity to admit you found the boy physically appealing, you took it in. His hair was back in a bun today. The sun broke over the horizon, illuminating his eyes.

Jaeger held your horse by the reigns. His right bare foot was rubbing against his left shin, tired as the horse began to excrete last nights meal. Eren must’ve gotten up earlier than usual this morning for chores, because the circles under his eyes seemed more prominent. Not that it specifically mattered. He looked handsome all the same. You appreciated the view for a few minutes before starting towards the well.

First, you set the bucket on the earth where the water is sure to fall. Then, you place both hands on the pump, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. Stage Four has made you weaker than most people. This will take a lot out of you.

Pushing down, it takes all of your strength to get a single pump of water into the pail. It’s not enough, and sweat is already beading at your forehead. It’s not even hot yet, and something mediocre is nearing you close to death. Your heart strains against your chest, but you ignore it. You have to get the water.

You push down a second time. Now, the container is half full of the clear stuff. It ripples in the light of the sun like a rainbow. Your head feels like it’s on fire. A slow, dull fire. You have to push a third...

With a final great heave, your blistered hands scrape against the contraption. The water gushes out like a miracle, filling the bucket again. So crisp it makes your mouth water, you kneel to the ground to catch your breath.

Stop, your heart begs. Stop. Rest. But the responsibility is staring you dead in the eyes, and you can’t ignore it. And you can’t ask Eren to go a day without water. He deserves it. For Eren’s sake, you must do this.

Although your world is dizzy, you push yourself to your feet. Your blistered fingers wrap around the handle, ready to pick it off the ground without issue. However, water buckets are heavy. There is nothing you can do but struggle to raise it off the ground, tears and sweat pricking at the corners of your eyes and goosebumps appearing at your arms. It’s not even really that chilly.

Eren was like a God sent. You didn’t fully hear what he said to you, but you felt his arms slide around you to lift you up. “Y/N, do you hear me? You have to stand, alright?” You hadn’t replied.

Jaeger connected the dots. With one half of his body, he leveraged you up and to your feet. With the other, he grabbed the pail of water and began moving forward.

It was slow with you practically slumped against him, but he was a soldier. Eren wasn’t about to just let you drop in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn’t let you succumb to your illness that easily, if he let you succumb to anything at all.

Eren set you on your bed. You had a fever, so he laid a wet cloth across your forehead. He stripped you down to your undergarments as respectfully as one could, laying two more rags on your forearms for extra help. Then he drew you a bath, knowing the water would be cold for your lingering fever. He never asked for anything in return.

But, he had set a hand against your shoulder. His thumb ran in soft circles against your hot skin, a comforting, loving gesture. You could feel his long hair brush against your chest as he leaned down to make sure your heart was still beating. Aside from a slight palpitation, it seemed in working order.

His brushing thumb lingered a moment longer before he let you rest. Even in sleep, you missed it. You wouldn’t forget this.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This leads us into the final Stage. Stage 5. The one where you die at the end.

“Eren,” you call out softly, watching the curtain windows sheer in the sunlight.

In response, the boy bows his head to look down at you. His eyes are calm, but bright as always. His hair is half up, half down. Laying between his thighs comfortably, your stomach rumbles from hunger. Despite this, things are quiet.

“Yes?” he replies.

You swallow dryly. Then you reveal your desire. “Do you sing?”

His right hand comes to rest on your forehead. Yes, you have the fever again. But Eren knows you are in the right mind. His thumb strokes your temple, catching a few wisps of your hair as he does so.

“Not well,” he answers with the ghost of a smile. “You want me to sing to you?”

You shift, and one of your hand grazes by his knee. “Maybe,” you tease back. Then you frown. “You seem tired today.”

Eren exhales. His right hand lays against your forehead, a mix of concern and something like affection.

“Is it the Attack Titan?” you continue, gazing up at him through soft lashes.

It was. Eren’s history- the worlds history- was churning around his mind until it seemed like a bunch of mush. You were the only thing that was clear to him at this point. But you were silent. Calm, compared to everything else in the universe.

“No,” Eren decides to assure light heartedly. His thumb begins to circle around your sticky skin in the little way that it does. “It’s nothing.”

Silence again.

The warm breeze brushes against the window outside, but it’s not loud. It’s warm from the light of the sun, and the hills of emerald grass span for miles ahead. The sky is as blue as the birds that soar across it. Serene. That was how you would describe the life you currently lead. And blessed be you for leading it as peacefully and quietly as the loud and complicated world would allow.

“I think I’m going to die soon.”

The quiet was broken with another fracture of quiet. Eren’s heart gave a great, vibrating beat, and then paused. In contrast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d heard your heart beat.

All the violent death he’d seen, just for you to die of an unknown illness?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You knew you were going to die at the end. You knew it for a fact. You’d just gotten lucky.

Lucky, you think as you look up at the man above you. Yeah, I’m lucky.

His pacing is held back for fear of hurting you. His long, dark hair sways back and forth in time with his thrusts. His face is contorted, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure and determination. There’s a little clear, slick spot on the corner of his lips. It slips from between, drips down his chin, and onto your abdomen. Eren wants to apologize, but his teeth are gritted together and he doesn’t want to embarrass either of you with shaky words.

You don’t mind. There’s no need for Eren to apologize. Eren is and always has been a sight for sore eyes, especially for you. And, blessings onto your own soul, you’re getting more butterflies from knowing he’s one of the last things you’ll see and feel than what he’s doing with you.

Your eyes are glued to his. What color are they? Emerald, like the grass? Blue, like the sky? Could they be teal? Yes, that must be it. Though, sometimes you swear they’re gold instead.

Lucky.

You both end up finishing. He keeps himself from collapsing on top of you before asking if you’ll be alright if he bathes. You assure him it’s more than okay as he rubs his thumb over your temple. Some people might be upset at their partner for leaving after what you’ve done, but you understood. Physical contact is hard for soldiers. You know. But Eren promises he’ll be back silently, because he feels guilty about it.

If you had a bit longer, maybe this wouldn’t be the only time you and the boy could do this. Actually, what had even led to it? What had taken it this long? You’d had dinner. The light from the candles came on, and you’d met his gaze. The rest was all steam and blurs.

When your living mate returns, your back is facing from him. You’re watching the fresh drops of rain crash against the window, falling from under a dark grey cast. There will be a thunderstorm tonight. You wonder if Eren will want to stay in your bed tonight, or if he’ll insist on taking the bench.

You feel his hands, previously burning hot, touch your shoulder, now ice cold. The mattress dips under his weight behind you, and then you feel his toned torso flush against you.

His face brushes against your ear so you can hear him speak softly. “I’m sorry if I took too long,” Eren mutters. A few wisps of hair brush against your jaw, but he’s tied it back now.

In one fluid motion, a hand of your own comes to stroke at his cheek. “You didn’t.”

His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, before he pulls away to put his face in the back of your neck. His hand remains around you tight, so you know he wants you right where you are.

You didn’t tell Eren that your time was practically numbered. Maybe it would be weeks, days, or hours. You should’ve told him before you let him inside you, but you’d been a bit distracted. Anxious, too. The moment was worth ruining with something so silly and small. But now it’s done. The only sounds echoing around the cabin is the pitter pattering of the rain, and the oncoming onslaught of booming thunder.

You have to tell him, you say to yourself as his grip on you tightens. Before he tugs your body closer like a lover again.

Before you can speak, Eren mumbles something against the skin of your neck. “Follow my lead.”

What?

He hums for a few seconds. At first, you think it’s just the hum of insanity, random and undefined. The you realize the changes in pitch are too thought out to be random. It’s a song.

“...always picking a fight with me...”

It feels hazy, far away. Sort of heavenly. Even with his low, muffled voice, it’s easy to hear the musical tones oozing from the whole thing.

“...you know I’m bad, but you’re still spending the night with me.”

That line feels more like he’s speaking it into you. It’s personal.

“...what do you want from my world?”

If you had it your way, or his way, there wouldn’t be anybody else but the two of you and your cabin. Still, this also feels like a genuine question. Maybe it is.

There’s a dry kiss placed against your shoulder blade before Eren continues the tune. Humming. And then, “...every night I’m out... killin’, send everyone runnin'...”

Eren pulls you closer against him and inhales somewhat sharply. You crane your neck deeper into the pillow, silently wishing that you could feel his swollen lips against it.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he sings, a bit clearer now. “I have demon eyes.”

Eren’s hand creeps up from your shoulder to your throat, able to choke you if he so wanted. His thumb strokes over your Adam’s apple instead. Eren grants your wish, raising his face so his lips brush over the skin by your jaw instead of the back of your head. A soft kiss is pressed to the area, almost as if he was nervous.

“...they’re looking right through your anatomy...”, he seems to nuzzle against you lightly, though that feels somewhat out of character. “...your deepest fears, I’m not from here...”

Like before, he pushes his head back into your hair. He groans like he’s stretching before going on.

“...to me, you’re clear... transparent. You have a thing for me... it’s apparent...”

The rain is falling harder now.

“...you’re not so bad...”

Eren isn’t bad at all. He sighs against you, his fingers stroking your skin gently.

“...it’s not something I have to try... oh, for the table, as long as I am able... I’m not trying to be bad.”

I’m going to die soon, Eren.

“No... different.”

He doesn’t continue. Only his thumb continues on, circling round and round in an unknowing attempt to express comfort.

“I thought you said you didn’t sing well,” you whisper into the darkness.

“I don’t,” he speaks against you.

What a liar. And you, the lucky one for knowing the truth.

Eren doesn’t move positions until you’ve fallen asleep, at which point he eventually turns his back to you in his own slumber. And Eren knew that you were sick, but he also knew that you were capable.

You weren’t breathing when he woke up.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I guess that’s that. I think I like it but I’m not sure about the ending. Mine aren’t usually so simple. Maybe I should’ve made it less depressing. Eh.

591 notes · View notes

supremeinlilac · 3 years

Text

Greiving for something not lost

Sally Mckenna x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Canon death, mentions of suicide, grief, slight mention of nsfw activities but it’s literally nothing.

A/n: Here’s the exchange gift for @cissa-calls , and I hope it’s not too dark for you :/ I researched a lot of Greek Mythology because you said you enjoyed it so it’s based around a myth, although as always I got carried away so it ended up only being a small portion. I hope you like it :))

Instead of taking the direct route to the Cortez, you idled down the backstreets of LA, one hand stuffed deeply into your pocket as you scuffed feet against stones on the path. It did little to clear the fog in your brain after yet another argument with Sally, it was always too loud in the city and you seemed to never be able to silence it enough to think.

Sally had promised you, time and time again that the next job would be the last, and you clutch at the hopes that each time she’d be telling the truth. Each time you’d fumble with fingers against the hem of her jacket and beg her to stay, and she’d pry them off and tell you not to follow her.

“The Hotel Cortez is not a place for you babe,” she’d say, and then she’d be gone.

Usually, you’d accept that, and would wait by the window for glimpses of her silhouette along the street when she’d returned. Your heart would thrum in protest against your ribs almost painfully until you’d see her safe again. This time, you’d both cried and fumed. Neither understood the other, neither wanting to admit that they feared what that meant.

Your other hand held a small spray of white anemones, and an apology scribbled on paper. You had to rehearse it before you met with her again, she seemed to be able to sense when you weren’t genuine. You’d wanted flowers of a darker colour, they were more Sally, but had had to settle with that of purity and innocence. Not Sally at all, but you were still too proud and stubborn to stalk around more shops to find the perfect gift for her when you’d both been in the wrong.

The detour meant you’d probably find your girlfriend already high, stumbling aimlessly around rooms with that grin on her face that always made you want to kiss it off her. No doubt that tonight would end as it always did. Possessive and passionate in your shared bed. Sometimes you wouldn’t even reach it. Sorry with Sally was always spoken through sex.

The thought of apologising through kisses and softly idle fingertips had your pace quickening, and the guilt heating up within you. You didn’t like fighting with Sally, and you sure as hell didn’t like what you fought about, but you loved to bribe her back to you this way. But as you turned the corner to the hotel, the guilt in your stomach dropped into that of dread, and a lump formed so quickly in your throat that you felt you would choke on it with what you saw.

Aphrodite had warned Adonis about the dangers, just like you had Sally, and yet, here they both lay. It was as if her body blurred into two with your tears, two lovers, separated by the cruel twist of deaths knife in a hollow chest.

You seemed to be able to do nothing but stagger towards her, vision smoky and you prayed it was a dream. That you may stir in the sheets beside Sally, and she’d reach to still your tremors like the silent hand of a god against the rumble of an earthquake. Be still my love, do not fear what can not hurt you. I’m here, reach for me.

Now, you wished for something as merciful as a dream.

Her face paled to grey as you neared, and the world seemed to fall away. Passers by seemed unaffected as hurried feet carried them home, anxious to block out the city with thick blinds and gentle music. Your despair willowed to nothing, a commotion simply on the other side of the road wasn’t a rarity. The city had seen it all before.

It turns out the Hotel Cortez wasn’t a place for her either.

You felt like throwing yourself to the ground beside her, bare knees scraping against the harsh pavement, yet you’d welcome the pain beside your lover. White noise filled your ears, and only the blaring of car horns could cut through its insistent ringing. You couldn’t even hear yourself crying for help to anyone who might listen.

Her eyes were wide, glassy and pleading, but you saw no life in them. The glass gave way to murky water and it was clear you’d reached her too late. Defeated, you crumpled beside her, flowers forgotten in leu of pressing lips to her temple and whispering the apology as if it may be heard by her soul and it might return to her body. To you.

You wanted to close her eyes with gentle fingertips but feared that if she stopped seeing you then it would be the end. That it would mean she was gone.

A flower sprang where he lay, hours after Adonis’ death, a deep crimson anemone that bore the shade of his blood. Born from the sweet nectar from Aphrodite’s hand, the wildflower bloomed. Beautiful trauma.

The flowers on the ground by your side seemed to wilt, sensing the sour odour of deaths passing, they hung their heads in mourning and shrank into their petals. Heavy with grief. White anemones turned red under the suns dying love, its light bowing behind the buildings so it may pretend to have not bared silent witness to souls divided.

Aphrodite pleaded for her lover’s life in the underworld, so he could be with her once again in life. You would have plead as she did, knelt and sold your soul for Sally to be returned. You would have done as Aphrodite did, if you thought it would help. If you thought that someone could see your pain and render it pure enough to grant the impossible.

In the real world, there are no gracious second chances for such a fickle thing as love.

And now, it seemed that the Hotel Cortez would be her place, tied to her always in death.

You stayed by her side until the coroner arrived to take her away. You couldn’t cry, instead just watched through eyes of steel as the back doors of the van were slammed obnoxiously, ringing in your ears long after it had pulled away and been lost to the traffic. You vaguely registered someone’s hand on your shoulder, a soothing motion, talking as if underwater, muffled and unintelligible. You felt like you were barely clinging to driftwood on an unsettled sea, each swell of a wave bigger than the last.

In shock- you heard someone say. Suicide. That broke your haze.

When you’d got home that night, the silence had screamed at you. It had been too quiet to sleep, and you ached for the way she’d blast music loud enough to warrant the neighbours complaints the next day, so you’d have to bake horrendously in the kitchen cookies as apologies. Or when she’d strum against her guitar and the gentle tones would pull you from your work and into her lap to watch her fingers manipulate the instrument into art.

You craved the shrill laughter of Sally when she’d prank you childishly, how she’d pull you towards her and you’d see how joy creased her face beautifully. You’d always want to make her laugh and brush the pads of curious fingers over the dimples formed and make her shy away.

You’d never hear her song again, you realised, blinking away tears when the guitar propped in the corner caught your eye. Chest heaving painfully, you half wanted to grasp it by the neck and slam it against the ground over and over until anger diffused and you could cry into its shards. The other half, the winning half, wanted to pick it up and set it against you, ghost fingers over its strings so the thrum was barely audible. She’d played this tune, taught you this tune, and you vowed you’d never forget it. Fingers in her shadow, you ran them over the smooth wood, eyes closed and head back on the sofa.

She was everywhere in the apartment, and it only served to remind you that she was also nowhere.

The suffocating hands of her absence pressed against you, a ribbon of blackened ash around your ribs, until they threatened to crack under its pressure. Was it possible to miss how she hurt? Your lover, with her wild hair and glassy eyes, you could see her as she was, you would drunk in how she would move. Dancing slowly in an empty room, as if the world were watching her.

Wild hair was born to writhing snakes, and you feared to look directly into her eyes now. Death had claimed her as its own, and you refused to accept her insistent fate. She’d return. You’d look into her eyes and see that of your lover, and not of Medusa. Lungs of stone, how could they swell to receive the gift of a breath without her beside you?

Now you drowned the guilt, drunk in its depths instead of in her eyes.

Stuck in endless loops of questioning what if. What if you hadn’t taken the detour, what if you hadn’t argued, or if you had made her stay instead of letting her leave the apartment? Would she still be alive?

It wasn’t your fault but oh, how that option seemed so sweet in this moment. To be swarmed with an actual reason to hate, how it would be easier than the reality. You’d rather have yourself to blame than have no one. Responsibility for actions you weren’t even sure of. Questions unanswered by police, that would remain unanswered because the only person with the solution was gone. What had happened?

The pressure seemed to build up in your head, an unbearable thickness of thoughts that had nowhere to go but to force themselves down your throat so you’d choke on them, and the feeling of sickness would resurface. They’d swim in your gut like parasite and never still.

It was worse at night.

Distractions were less and your emotions ran so far above you on blackened clouds, so out of reach that you doubted you’d ever be able to wrestle them back into submission. Would they eternally be dancing in mockery and pulling at marionette strings in your limbs? A shell of your former self, only held up by unpredictable emotions that could burn you with their ice just as much as their fire.

After your first day back at work after the incident, you’d returned home exhausted, wanting nothing more than to collapse into yourself on the sofa and cradle one of her jackets. You forgot the lock the door on your way in, and remembered hours later, after the sun had drooped once more that you needed to lock yourself with your thoughts again for the night.

You reached into your handbag, searching for something that seemed menial now, and instead your fingers curled around her packet of cigarettes. You stopped, hand still in the bag, and your breath caught painfully in your throat.

It had been the first since that night, raw and salty tears that burned your eyes red and blurred your vision. The kind of crying that wore you to nothing within minutes and had you clutching bony fingers to your chest as if to pry open ribs and reach your lungs. You couldn’t breathe.

Everything caught up with you, and you felt as if you were falling alongside her, scrabbling to find purchase against nothing. The rational side of your brain knew that you wouldn’t crash to the ground, but you couldn’t help but be brought back to her side in that moment, a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn’t control, circling your head in a way that made you dizzy with your grief.

Her pale face, mottled with the tears of her death invaded your mind, the blood staining the pavement. Suddenly you felt hot with it, as if the sticky blood was covering you, pulling you to drown. You could smell its invasive metallic scent, almost taste its musk in your throat with every breath. It was thick, and you were clawing at your arms to try and wipe it away. It was everywhere, and then it was nowhere, and you wondered why you’d been tricked by grief in the first place.

Shaking, your fingers had flipped open the packet and picked one out. You didn’t smoke, yet trembling hands found the lighter and lips found the filter which already had a smudge of red on it. Almost as if Sally had gone to light it but changed her mind, discarding it back for later use. She never used it again, now it was you that drew in an unsteady breath, drawing the panel door to the side as you took the rest of the cigarettes onto the small apartment balcony you both shared to smoke them, alone.

There was really only room for one person out there at a time, yet you and Sally would huddle together on the nights when the city would keep you awake, and she’d wrap pale arms around your waist and nuzzle her chin into the crook of your neck. Passing her cigarette back and forth you’d overlook the streets below and watch the living.

You’d both used to wonder what it would be like to lead the lives of those people below, those on their way to work before the sun even surfaced over the horizon and set its path for the day. Working before the pair of you had even been asleep. The banality of their routine, oh, how you both pitied them. They’d work boring jobs to pay the rent for the whitewashed walls they’d come home to each night, eat the same meals at the same time, prepared by wives wearing lines of age, deeply set in valleys on their faces. These people always looked older than their years, tired and worn from work and children born to save a marriage already lost.

You’d used to pity them, yet now, you craved the intimacy of a boring life with someone you loved. You’d rather the predictability of this life than the one you had now. Nothing.

On the balcony, you smoked all the remaining cigarettes in the pack. Usually, you didn’t smoke, but you did, just to feel close to her again. Curling your fingers around the butt the way that she used to, and blowing the smoke out, watching it furl and twist into the cold night. You craved the warm roughness of her hands.

She’d kiss you with the lingering taste of those cigarettes, and you’d grown addicted to it. Still, once you’d finished the packet, you’d found yourself unable to rebuy them.

Slowly, you forgot its essence. You felt like you were forgetting her.

In the news, you waited for them to show a photo of Sally, one detached from everything she’d grown to be, beside a headline of death. The low hum of the city news was background noise to your grief, and you ached for someone to care enough to tell about her passing. For weeks, there was nothing. There was nothing and then there was everything, all at once, and in that moment, you knew that you would’ve preferred the nothing.

They said she’d jumped.

They hadn’t known her, and they said she’d jumped.

How dare they when you’d screamed at them until hoarse that she would never, that she promised she would never? The quick solution, one that wouldn’t raise questions, or demand the precious funds of the very system she’d been cheated by, to fork out for justice. She was an addict, they’d said. Painting the sky above her head an angry black, with clouds that swirled with viscous intent. She was a junkie, and therefore the answer was simple.

Death had been an inevitability with a life like that, habits like that. A person such as that.

You wasted grief on your anger, long nights where you’d clutch the phone to your mottled cheek with whitening knuckles, cursing everyone who’d rendered your love unimportant. You’d fall asleep on hold to police that had no more answers for you, no more pitied excuses and apologies for a loss they knew nothing about.

And it was on one of those long nights, when you sought for comfort that could be not offered by the living, that you reach for the memory of the dead. Running fingers deliberately slowly over the clothes that hung in the wardrobe, fingering through her dresses on the railing before slowly closing the door again, leaning against it and sinking to the floor.

You’d opened all her drawers that night, some for the first time. Spritzed her dresses with her perfume that still stood on the mantle, revitalised Sally in the apartment with her smell. It was as if you were back to then, when she’d return from work, stroppy and tired, yet still reach for her perfume and generously sprayed the air that she’d then dance into.

Picking one of her band shirts out of the drawer, you slipped your shirt off and replaced it with hers. It was soft cotton, the one she’d most frequently sleep in, and it brought you warmth like her hugs used to, arms enclosing you and grounding you in moments of fear.

You slept in it that night. Telling yourself that that would be it and then it would return to the drawer. But one night stretched painfully into three, and you found yourself unable to sever the small mercy you’d given yourself in wearing her clothes, the attachment to her that only you would know when you walked the street. No one else knew the chain you wore were hers, the boots, the dress. No one knew sally because there was no one left to know.

It had been a year since that day.

You’d woken with a headache and turned over in bed, wanting to shelter yourself from the day with blankets, sleep until the moon shone and the day turned into the next. You knew you could do that, but guilt had you pulling on the covers and groaning as the sunlight poured like liquid through the slit in the curtains.

It was going to be a long day. You already felt tired.

Pulling one of Sally’s band shirts over your head, you traipsed sluggishly through the apartment, purposefully ignoring the mess, like she would after a night of drinking. Not that it mattered today. You unhooked Sally’s oversized jacket from the peg and slumped it over your shoulder. Today was the day, you’d decided. You were going to visit her grave.

In the past year, you’d planned to visit her grave on several occasions, but avoided it at the last second. You couldn’t stand the thought of Sally trapped there, tied to the soil when she should be dancing upon it with you.

Sally couldn’t be tied down to a single place, she moved freely, without reign. It was how she liked it, and how you’d learned to love her. Labels had never been her thing. And now she was labelled on stone, with a corny phrase that she’d hate, with a date too early, a life too short. Sally deserved to be free.

She was the wind, unpredictable and changing and wild, she would go where she pleased and return on the breeze. Sally would’ve hated being buried, and yet through the selfish need to have a real place to visit her, she had been. You can’t capture the wind in bare hands, can’t collar it or tame it and make it beg. It controls you and you have no choice but to concede to it.

That was Sally.

Even now, a year later, you found yourself faltering. The gates of the cemetery loomed ahead of you, and your hands bunched at the material of your pants nervously. You could feel it calling, begging almost, for you to simply reach out and push the gate open with a metallic creak of protest. To visit the place you’d always avoided.

But just as you always did, you lost your nerve, sighing and peering down the road for a reason to be drawn away. For a distraction, even just for a moment. An excuse to gather your thoughts just enough to face your lover.

A corner shop caught your eye, with the newspapers in the windows just begging for customers. How convenient. Stuffing hands into pockets, you strode over the road with new purpose.

Dragging yourself down the claustrophobic aisles in the store, you distracted yourself with exited colours on packaging, picking items of shelves and replacing them further down the aisle. You didn’t care for tidiness today.

When a shop attendant asked you if you needed any help, you gave him a sad smile in appreciation and picked up a small bunch of white anemone flowers, her flowers. Last year, they’d been a peace offering, this year, an apology. The employee shuffled along again, and you set your eyes down to the floor.

Flowers in hand, you made your way to the till, placing them delicately onto the counter and fiddling for coins in your coat. You hadn’t planned on buying anything, so neglected to bring your wallet. Luckily, this was a coat you’d not worn since Sally’s death, and she was a fan of keeping loose change in the deep pockets.

“Is that everything for today?” the woman behind the till chirped with the voice of someone with long experience in public services. It cried out in tired falsity, in ‘how long have I left on my shift?’ It was a line well-rehearsed and overused.

Just as you were about to nod in answer, your eyes caught the tobacco cabinet behind the bored check out assistant. “What brand?” She asked pointedly, and you stared dumbly past her. Had Sally ever bought cigarettes from this store? Shaking out the thought from your mind, you answered her, asking for Sally’s brand and quickly paying and leaving.

Outside the shop, you held the package tentatively in your palm, fingering at the packaging as she used to when she was nervous. She’d wrap a tune with her chipped nails against the boxes edge, and you’d coax it from her, and dip her under the moonlight in your arms. Now, holding the cigarettes held no comfort for you, feeling both foreign and familiar, it left you aching for her.

Still, you found yourself unable to visit her grave. It was all too real to see where she lay. You needed something tying Sally to you that wasn’t so physical. You laughed to yourself. How ironic it was, to force her into a grave for something so trivial as to have a place to call her resting place, only to find yourself too weak to face your choice.

Instead, you took a left, and then another, and then a right, and continued until you could no longer smell your own fear in the air with the concept of her grave. Deeper into the city, where the pollution stained white houses grey, you could breathe clearly again. Guilt will consume a person, clog their lungs with it until their breathing is laborious and the weight drags them down into their thoughts.

You’d walked this route before, one year before, with white anemones and an apology in hand. You’d never gotten to tell Sally what you’d wanted, but perhaps you’d take her the flowers, and smoke her cigarettes in the window where she’d fell. You’d tell her what you didn’t get the chance to.

The hotel was just as you remembered it, flickering neon 34w`lights that read ‘Hotel Cortez’, and the eery alleys and parked cars that seemed to be in the same position as the year prior. It was as if time had paused, hotel residents left their cars and had never returned to them.

You weren’t really aware of yourself in that moment, feet leading a silent path as you found yourself stuck in a memory. When you reached the place you found her, your feet faltered, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the paving.

The pavement was clear, physically untainted, and any normal pedestrian would question your loitering. But although it appeared to be clean, you know because you’ve seen, you’ve remembered. The pain that would still remain, deep in the cracks of the paving stone, no matter how much scrubbing the clean up team undoubtably did after Sally’s body was removed, they couldn’t remove. They couldn’t fade the scarring, or the feeling of death that overcame you when you stared at the place she’d laid.

Someone bumped your shoulder as they passed on the street, muttered remarks about people standing in the middle of the street, and you raised your eyes to watch them walk away. When you looked back at the stone, the connection to it had been lost, and you found yourself unable to re-enter the trance you’d been in.

Pressing through the hotel doors, you left the light of the sun behind, left the living, and joined the death of the dusky lobby. Wondering through its room, you imagined Sally doing the same, with confident strides and a purpose. It was a nice place for downtown LA, you had to admit, but you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that came with it, of being watched by invisible eyes in the walls. The feeling one gets when you visit a place where death rules over occupants.

You looked up to the next floor, and swore you saw a flash of an animal print coat moving behind the barriers. No. Must’ve been the lighting change from coming inside.

A woman pointed you towards the bar, and you nodded towards her. Did all visitors come for the hotels bar? She seemed to know exactly what you needed, tired eyes searching for something not quite there.

In the bar, you drank and you smoked and spoke with the woman behind the bar who must’ve noticed the void behind your eyes. She didn’t question you, why you were alone, just slid extra drinks across the table with a wink and a smile. You didn’t return it, opting for a grateful grimace instead.

All of a sudden, the smell of Sally’s perfume seemed to melt into your senses, overpowering that of the cigarette, and the liquor, until your head swam with memories linked with its scent. You didn’t remember spraying it this morning, and it confused you. It was so strong, and real. It didn’t seem like your brain was tricking you with its musk, like it so often would with a silhouette against the apartment window.

Suffocated by Sally. You drowned in its poetry.

Searching for its origin, your eyes roamed the bar. It was real, you figured. Turning on the bar stool, your eyes met those that you thought you’d forgotten, and you found they were exactly like you remembered. Sally stood, leant against the wall opposite you, arms folded at her chest yet wearing cheeks stained with tears and widened eyes. You scrambled out of your chair, and the world fell away from you. You didn’t even try and catch it when she was next to you.

You palmed at your eyes, begging yourself to wake up from what must be a dream. Despite knowing she wasn’t real, you ached for your mind to stay in this fantasy so at least you wouldn’t be alone. Removing your hands, you felt yourself lighten. Sally remained still, unmoving yet she was closer that ever. You could reach and brush against her cheek if only your arms would cooperate.

“Y/n?” she breathed, in that choked up voice, and you were falling again.

As if trapped in a dream, you startled awake with the feeling of cool fingers massaging against your scalp. The room was foreign, and it smelled like her. Foreign, yet startingly familiar as if you’d been there before.

Sally was curled into your side, and your breathing laboured again. You didn’t understand how she was here, you- you buried her. Sniffling broke your doubts, and Sally adjusted her head atop your chest. When you wiggled beneath her, her sniffs turned to coos, and her fingers in your hair and clutching your top were soothing at your cheeks.

“I love you, I’m here,” she flustered, worrying her lip between teeth, and you could see the moon in between buildings outside the window. It watched you with bated breath and shone onto her pale skin until her tears seemed to shine. “Say I love you Sally.”

Sitting up against the pillows, you caught her face in your hands, cupping it so she couldn’t move away as you remembered the outlines of her eyes, lips, the curve of her jaw and cheekbones. “I love you,” you found yourself admitting, tears welling in eyes that couldn’t believe what they were witnessing, “are you real?”

“I’m-” Sally started, faltering as if she didn’t quite know the answer either. “I’m here.”

You wanted to apologise anew, whisper the memorised speech that you’d spoken to her that night, but the words seemed to catch in your throat, sharp like the barbs from barbed wire were caught against the delicate skin. Instead, you pulled her in to brush lips against hers, testing slowly if they actually would meet and not melt through what your mind was making up.

They did meet, and you muffled a wail against hers, all the pent-up grief for the woman you were now kissing resurfacing. Fingers clung to her coat, which was still soft beneath your touch, and you pulled her closer to you. She cried, and you cried, and hands met to brush them away.

“I missed you baby.”

You didn’t stop to think about what it meant that she was here. Focusing only on her hands linked firmly in yours, and how she deserved to feel the taut string of a guitar again. You’d bring it to her, and she’d play her song. You’d hear her voice and feel the vibrations of her throat against your lips as she sang.

You’d do it all again.

Time you thought was lost was now frozen, suspended in a single heartbeat. She hadn’t aged a single day, and yet her eyes showed more trouble than you’d ever seen. You couldn’t wait to return and kiss away her worries, reintroduce yourself and love her and be loved like you both deserved. But for now, you were content to simply exist in her presence again.

You wouldn’t take her for granted.

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