#having someone die and then someone new join seems to be an uncommon occurrence. it seems to really disturb ragatha either way.

[abbey-abdominal]

S P O I L E R S 4 T A D C E P 2 :

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sooooooo.... we're also gonna talk about ragatha like. desparately wanting pomni's attention, right.

[going-dead]

Lightning Scars and Listening Ears

Phic phight prompt by @datawyrms : Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone. (feel free to be metaphorical if you want.) l

Team Human: @currentlylurking​

Most citizens of Amity Park often forgot that Phantom wasn’t human. Sure he would fly through the skies, turn invisible, and shoot ectoplasm at the ghosts who would attack the city on a daily basis, but the way he acted when not saving the city always seemed so alive. That’s where the problem lied though. The ghost kid wasn’t alive, a fact that Amity Park never actually thought much about.

Phantom was playing around with some kids in the park when it all happened. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the boy play with the younger citizens of the city, under their parents supervision most of the time. Seeing him give them piggyback rides and playing tag was actually a common sight when there were no ghosts to fight. Phantom had six different kids hanging off of his arms and legs, apparently trying to tackle him and get him to fall down. The group of parents laughed at the sight as the teenage hero fell to the ground admitting his defeat in a dramatic flourish. “Ahh you got me! Foul villains, you will regret this!” He laughed as he lunged at the closest kid and launched a tickle attack. Childish squeels rang out as the uncaptured children ran trying to avoid being tickled. The little girl in his arms was finally released from her attacker when she turned on Phantom and started to tickle him back. His laughter attracted the other kids who scattered and they joined the counter attack.

“I yield I yield!” He flailed his arms as a dozen little hands tickled any spot they could reach. The kids slowly let up their assault leaving the teen gasping for breath.

One of the children, the girl who started the attack on Phantom, pulled on his arm. “Mr. Phantom? What’s that did you get a owie?” She asked pointing to his neck where part of his jumpsuit wrinkled down revealing a few red raised streaks maring his skin.

Phantom froze eyes jumping over to the adults just a few feet over who had stopped their conversation to try to see what the young girl was asking about. He quickly pulled the collar of his suit back into place. He gave the girl and the other kids surrounding him a pained smile. “Yeah I did get an owie. Don’t worry though I’m fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Suddenly blue frost escaped his lips, the adults sitting nearby never saw him more relieved to have a ghost show up than in that moment. He gave quick goodbyes to the kids before shooting off to find the day's threat to the city.

All the adults gathered waved over their respective kids. While they trusted Phantom to get rid of the threat it was always smart to stay inside during a ghost attack. A loud boom sounded in the direction where Phantom flew off, shaking the ground. They all gave each other uncertain looks. “My house is closest we can take shelter there.” One of the men said leading everyone away.

After a block of running the group was almost to shelter when the ghost fight moved over their heads. The adults grabbed onto the children doing their best to shield them from the flying debris. They held the kids against their chests as they watched the sky in horror. They didn’t recognize the attacking ghost, but it was certainly doing a number on Phantom. The rest of the battle lasted at most a minute when Phantom managed to suck up the ghost into his thermos before he seemed to wobble in the sky and falling to the ground creating a small crater where he landed.

The man who was leading the group passed off the kid he was holding to the man next to him. “David what are you-?”

“Brian just hold her.” He ran over to the fallen teen and picked him up in a fireman's carry and rushed the rest of the way to his house.

Once he arrived he kicked open the door and placed the teen onto the couch in his living room. He looked down trying to assess the situation. Phantom’s jumpsuit was torn in numerous places exposing spots of his arms, neck, and chest that had splatterings of green ectoplasm across the exposed flesh. He started taking the rest of the jumpsuit off of the teen wanting to make sure there were no hidden injuries underneath. Behind him he could hear his husband and the other parents come through the door. “Get me a wet rag and some warm water!” He yelled behind him.

Once he was handed the items he started working on cleaning up the cuts and wiping off the ectoplasm. He silently thanked any higher being out there that he took a first aid class a few years back. The wounds actually seemed less severe than what David initially thought, that or the kid had some seriously advanced healing. One of the parents led the kids upstairs while the rest of them crowded around David and Phantom.

Once Phantom was as patched up as he could be David finally sat back and actually took a full look at the boy. His breath caught in his throat as he examined the body infront of him. In the end all he could get out was.“Oh my god. He’s- he’s dead.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course he’s not, I can clearly see him breathing right now.” One of the parents protested.

David shook his head. “No.” He went to run his hands down his face before spotting the blood- no the ectoplasm covering them and settled for grabbing onto his husband for support. “No, I mean he’s a ghost.”

“Well yeah he’s a ghost it’s not like that’s news now is it?” Brian said running his hand up and down his husband's back.

“You guys don’t get it.” David pulled back. “Think! Look!” He ran his hand through his hair, staining it green. “Look at him.” He pointed at the teen’s unconscious body. There were lightning shaped scars running all over the boy’s body, from the base of his neck trailing all the way down to his ankles. Those weren’t the only scars marring his body though, small scars were scattered all over his body, there was a rather large one on his abdomen in the same spot where he was hit the other week fighting off a ghost who was attacking the high school. The gathered adults looked back at Phantom’s face. As he slept he almost looked like a normal teenager, there were small bags under his eyes, his closed eyes hid the toxic green color, and the glow surrounding him was almost nonexistent.

Three things seemed to dawn on the parents all at once.

1: Phantom at some point had died

2: He died young, at most he was just out of middle school when it happened.

3: From the looks of it he didn’t die in his sleep but painfully. They all silently hoped that at least it wasn’t drawn out.

As they all looked at each other they couldn’t help but think of their own children who were just upstairs. Did Phantom have a family? Did his parents miss their little boy? Do they know that Phantom was their son? Even worse, the boy had a jumpsuit on when he died, was his parents the cause of his premature death?

Of course if Phantom was conscious, didn’t have to worry about the whole identity thing, and could read their minds the boy would quickly put their minds to rest responding; yes, no he sees them daily, god no, and sorta it really was more of a case of teenage stupidity than his parents fault though.

Two of those issues though were quickly resolved as two white rings shocked the group out of their grief for a boy they hardly knew. The rings traveled across the boy’s body replacing bare skin with street clothes and white hair with black. Everyone looked at Phantom(?) confused, the boy in front of them was very unghost-like and the scratch on his face that was previously bleeding green now had a red where the scab was forming.

“What the fu- wait isn’t that the Fenton kid, Danny I think?” David asked looking back at the other parents who were in the same amount of shock that he was. Actually he was positive it was him, his older sister Jazz used to babysit their daughter and he would sometimes come along. If someone was going to respond they were cut off as the boy in front of them started to stir and open his eyes. He sat up almost falling off the couch in his panic, thankfully David was quick enough to catch him. “Woah there Danny, be careful you took a pretty bad beating out there. Hell I’m surprised you’re already awake to be honest kid.”

Danny gave him a thankful smile as he steadied himself. He froze once he caught a glimpse of his hair, his eyes shot down to his clothes. He looked back up and noticed the group of adults in front of him. “Now before you jump to any conclusions there’s a very reasonable explanation for this, or there will be just give me a few minutes.” “Wait so does this mean you’re not dead?” Brian asked.

“Brian you can’t just ask that! What if it’s a sensitive subject?” David scolded his husband then looked over at Danny. “Sorry about him.”

Danny looked over to the men who for some reason had hope in their eyes. “What? It’s fine. I mean I guess no- well yes- no- sorta- it’s complicated.”

As Danny looked at the numerous questioning eyes he sighed. It’s not like he could convince them that it was a trick of the light or something. And he did owe them since they patched him up better than he would have been able to at home in his bedroom. But before he could start he turned to David. “I’ll tell you guys everything but first um… is that my ectoplasm in your hair and on your hands? Because if so you probably should wash that off, prolonged exposure isn’t harmful per say but you could start to glow or something if you don’t wash it off soon.”

David looked down to his hands, apparently just now remembering he was still covered in the boy’s ectoplasm and rushed to the bathroom to wash it off. He’d worry about why the sight of his own blood- ectoplasm didn’t phase Danny at all later.

Once David returned, now free of ectoplasm, Danny sat down and started from the beginning. At one point in the story he must have started to cry because he was handed a tissue box, which he accepted with a thanks. By the end he wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes, one of the adults had to go into the kitchen to compose themselves. Danny didn’t really understand why though, sure he sort of half died, but he didn’t see why it would affect any of them. “Hey! It’s fine, I’m fine it’s not a big deal! I mean it’s not like it only happened to me. Vlad went through it too like 20 years ago.” Danny seized up after he said that. “Don’t tell him you know about him though! Me not telling anyone about him is the only reason he’s not trying to fully kill me when we fight. That and he has a weird obsession with my mom and me.”

David paused at that. “So you’re telling us that not only did you go through a highly traumatic situation at a young age, but the only adult that even knows about it has tried to kill you multiple times?”

“I mean I guess but Jazz, my sister, knows about it too and she’s older than me and my friends.”

“Danny she’s also still a kid, an older one sure, but she is not an adult. Even if you didn’t go to your parents, was there no one else you could have talked to about it with? A therapist maybe?” David asked.

Danny laughed. “Ah no, Jazz tried having me go to the school therapist but she turned out to be a ghost who wanted to try to cause as much pain as possible. She even almost killed Jazz in front of the whole school.”

“Dear god.” David sighed. “All right, we will all keep your secret on one condition.”  Danny cringed and looked down at his lap, of course there was a catch. He just hoped it wasn’t anything too bad like letting them run a bunch of experiments on him whenever they wanted to. His ghost injuries were bad enough to hide from others, he didn’t need to have to explain away needle marks or something. “You’ll see Brian once a week for therapy sessions. He’s a licensed psychiatrist.”

“Wait what?” Danny looked up confused.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t charge you of course since we are forcing you to do this, and obviously you can choose the day of the week. I usually don't work fridays or the weekends but if those are the only days that work I’m sure we can rearrange some of our family time to make room for you.” Brian smiled. “Now it’s getting pretty late isn’t it? I’m sure it’s about time everyone here starts to head home now hmm? Of course if you aren’t feeling well enough Danny I can call your parent’s up and just let them know you’ll be staying here. I’ll just tell them you were injured in a ghost fight, not exactly lying now is it?”

“Um no I’m fine enough to walk home thank you though.” Danny said. Everyone started saying their goodbyes and calling the children down to get them ready to leave. Danny was the last one left, he was almost out the door when he was stopped by David handing him a piece of paper.

“Here are our numbers, I also wrote down where Brian’s office is, you can set up your appointment over text. As well as our address, you can stop by or call us for any reason Danny and I mean it okay, any.”

Danny looked down at the paper and pocketed it with a nod. As he left he felt almost lighter for some reason. Maybe having adults who knew and didn’t want to kill him but actually wanted to help him wasn’t so bad after all.

[leviaju]

forgiveness

pairing: belphegor x GN! reader, hints of everyone x reader

words: 8.1k+

genre: angst, fluff at the beginning and a bit at the end if u squint

warnings: mentions of mc and lilith’s death, foul language

preview: “I’m sorry,” He begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. “I know that will never cut it, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.” 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

hey guys what up. so... i’ve done a lot of thinking about belphegor’s dynamic with MC, and, like many others, was really bothered by the sudden switch after... he killed them. u know. typical stuff. i wanted to fill in the gaps!!! if im being completely honest, this has sat in my wips for.... like half a year. it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope that everyone’s not too terribly ooc LOL

anyways yeah. i mention how belphegor killed mc a couple of times, so proceed with caution! hopefully, if i get any ideas, the next stuff i write will be a lot lighter. hope you enjoy! (also requests r open soooooooo)

The weight on your chest crushed your rib cage, threatening to snap your bones like they were nothing more than twigs. All you could see was the pitch black of eternal night, and whether your eyes were opened or closed you couldn’t tell. What commanded your attention was the searing pain in your lungs, growing exponentially every half-second, and the unrelenting grip that was slowly shattering your esophagus. No matter how hard you struggled, squirmed and fought against the weight holding your body down, there was no use. It was pointless. The pain spread from the raging fire in your lungs to the tips of your fingertips, and everywhere felt as if you had been set aflame. Slowly, a light illuminated the force keeping you down. 

You couldn’t make out much, save for the cackle that rang insufferably through your ears, and the intense eyes that were staring you down. 

They held no remorse. 

-

Bones ache as you rest against your bed, finally allowing the tension in your muscles to melt away. You’d never mistake this feeling for regret of a busy day, having spent so much time with the people you care about, but it certainly took its toll on you. 

It began with Satan, who’d asked you the night before to accompany him on an early morning walk. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence — he’d invite you to join his morning routine on every day off, and you’d never refuse — hence, at the wonderful time of 7:00am, you were venturing around the Devildom, hand in hand with the Avatar of Wrath. The two of you would walk, occasionally resting on a park bench for longer than either of you would like to admit, for about an hour and a half before you took an official break. The time was filled with pleasant chatter and comfortable silence. Every so often he’d squeeze your hand, and when you’d look over, the fondest of smiles crossed his face. It was a reminder of how glad he was that you joined him. 

At around 8:30, he took you into a café for breakfast, and two of you spent only about thirty minutes there chattering away happily. For the most part, he was vividly and excitedly discussing a book he’d just finished the night before…

Until you were interrupted.

“Hello, lovely!” Asmodeus wrapped his arms around you from behind, just before pressing a kiss on your cheek. Satan sighed, resting his head in his hand as he watched the interaction. 

“My selfish older brother’s been hogging you all morning, I couldn’t help but want to whisk you away!”

Despite the glare Satan was sending his way, Asmodeus took a seat next to you, happily engaging in conversation as he completely ignored his brother. He told you that the mall was opening in about an hour, and Asmo desperately wished to get his perfectly-manicured hands on a new makeup product being revealed that day. 

“But of course I can’t go alone! How positively dreary that would be.” His fingers twined with yours as he looked at you hopefully, and you ran your thumb across his hand. A sheepish smile crept its way onto your lips, and you looked over at Satan. He simply nodded, flicking his hand as a gesture for you two to leave, and Asmodeus didn’t hesitate. He was quick to stand and pull you with them, holding tight to you as he whisked you away. You called out to Satan, now alone at the table with a reluctant smile on his face as he waved goodbye. 

“Thanks for breakfast! Get home safe!”

You almost missed the chuckle that left his lips, the café door closing behind you. 

Asmodeus kept you until noon. He got a hold of the lipstick he wanted almost right away, but insisted on buying an outfit to match the colour. Regardless of what you’d initially thought, the outfit wasn’t for him.

“Oh, we’ll look positively stunning together!” He exclaimed after about two hours of forcing you in and out of changing rooms, putting his hands all over you to “adjust the clothing” as he deemed necessary. Near the end, you could feel soreness deep in your muscles creeping in from such an active morning, but Asmodeus’ cheery face and constant flirtations helped you forget about it almost completely. 

It wasn’t until you got home that you truly felt the effects of on-and-off walking since early in the morning. Be that as it may, your stomach was growling, loudly reminding you that it was now past lunch. As much as you wished to give up on food for the time being and instead head to your room to collapse, the pain in your belly was enough to urge you to cease any arguments, instead ready to try and ignore the ache in your bones in order to quell the angry rumbling of your stomach. 

Unfortunately, when you finally made it to the kitchen, there was no food prepared. Instead, what you found was a dejected Beelzebub, frowning softly as he once again was at the receiving end of a lecture from the eldest of his brothers. As quiet as possible, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to listen in on their conversation. 

There was silence, followed by a sigh. 

“It’s easier to simply ask what’s going on as opposed to trying to eavesdrop, MC.”

You jumped, then bashfully made your way into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on your face. Lucifer was rubbing his temple. 

“Beelzebub was supposed to be on lunch duty, but ended up ‘taste-testing’ to the extent that he ate it all. Again.” Lucifer sighed. The typically perfect eldest brother was being run ragged, if the bags forming under his eyes told you anything. “So, instead of working on the papers I have to get finished for tonight, I’m stuck making lunch while he cleans up.”

Beelzebub’s frown tugged at your heartstrings, and in spite of the exhaustion clawing relentlessly at your bones, you relented. 

“Why don’t I help? Four hands are better than two,” you proposed, and a small smile graced Lucifer’s face. He lifted his hand to brush the disheveled black hair out of his face, and your chest ached just a bit at the sight. You made a mental note to drag him to bed for a nap the next time you saw him like this.

“That would be more than welcome. Please, if you may.” Already you turned to start working, but Lucifer’s voice made you pause. 

“But no feeding Beel. He’s eaten more than his fill already, he can wait until we’re all done.”

Needless to say, every so often you’d slip Beelzebub a piece of chopped vegetable or cooked meat, and he’d very happily (but quietly!) munch away, his expression radiating warmth and joy. And Lucifer, who seemed to almost be omniscient at times, never once mentioned it. Once the three of you were done cooking, Lucifer placed his hand on your head, patting you gently. 

“Good work, MC. I must leave now, but I trust that the two of you will be able to clean everything up. Your help was much appreciated. You will be paid back in kind for all of your hard work.”

If nothing else, the slight blush on Lucifer’s face as he ever-so-gently pressed his lips to the crown of your head was more than enough payment. 

“Thank you.” Beelzebub cleared his throat, washing the dishes as you dried them. “I… Thanks for helping. And feeding me.”

His smile warmed your heart, and you nodded, bumping your arm with his gently. The small bit of pink that dusted his cheeks compelled you to coddle him, but you resisted the urge. Barely.

“Anytime, big guy.”

After you ate lunch, the only thought in your mind was the prospect of curling up under your covers and passing out. The fretful, broken sleep the night before wasn’t helping at all in keeping you awake, and that on top of the rest of the day’s events had you yearning for the feeling of your pillows. 

Unfortunately, you hadn’t even made it through the door when your phone began to blow up, one notification after the other in quick succession.

GGKKJFLFJG

MC

CMOE QUIC K

PLS

SUPE R RARE EVENT IN MONONONOKE 

PELASE 

YOU HVE TO BE PARTNERED WIHT SOMEONE TO GTE THE PRIZE

MC

MC

PL E A S E

HURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHHHUUURRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY

You found yourself in Leviathan’s room, sat in his lap as he explained the event to you. Your half-asleep brain did its best to keep up with his quick speech, but that, along with the warmth of his chest against your back, became the most soothing lullaby. 

“Hey! Normie! I agreed to let you sit here so I could easily help you through the event, but if you’re going to fall asleep on me, I’m pushing you off—“

“I’m awake! I’m awake. 

...Now, what was I supposed to do?”

The unintentional giggle that escaped your lips at his expression caused Leviathan to huff, exasperated, despite the flush of his face. Diligently, however, he thoroughly explained the event, for the second time, and the method to obtain the rare prize: a level 2000 I’m Going To Murder You So Hard That You’ll Come Back To Life Just To Die Again Death Sycthe, the strongest weapon ever released in the game. It was a partner event, which explained Leviathan’s desperate and urgent request for aid. You didn’t mind though. While yes, you’d probably never be able to get to his level of gamer, you were more than happy to go along for the ride. It made him happy! 

Leviathan rested his chin against your shoulder as he played on his phone, focused to such a degree that the usually easy-to-fluster demon was completely unphased by your proximity. Your phone, set to AutoFight, rested untouched near Leviathan’s leg, abandoned on the floor. You watched him expertly take out enemies that would have one-hit KO’d you through heavy eyelids, and every time he beat a wave of enemies, his attention would momentarily avert from the screen, looking at you from the corner of his eye expectantly. A kiss on his cheek was more than enough to motivate him to continue on, albeit with a pink glow on his cheeks until his attention was once again completely wrapped up in the game at his fingertips. 

-

“Levi! I said open up, goddamnit!” 

The pounding against the door was enough to distract Leviathan from his game, subsequently killing his character in the process. He groaned, cursing the demon who interrupted the two of you as he gently lifted you off of his lap, before getting up to open the door. 

“The hell do you want?!”

To be completely honest, you were so wrapped up in watching Leviathan play his games that you had forgotten about your weekly movie night with Mammon, who had come over to his younger brother’s room to drag your ungrateful ass  back to your own. Leviathan had cleared the event in Mononoke Land hours ago, but not wanting you to leave just yet, invited you to keep watching him play. Setting aside how tired you were, how could you say no? You’d wanted to spend time with him, too. 

Unfortunately, you lost track of time, and your phone, battery completely drained from the event, rested uselessly in your pocket. A consequence of this happened to be missing the countless messages and calls Mammon had sent your way, before he began his hunt for you throughout the house. The last place he checked was, of course, Leviathan’s room.

“Come on, human, I ain’t got all day. No one keeps the Great Mammon waiting!” 

“Except for MC,” you heard Leviathan mumble under his breath, and a laugh escaped you before you had the chance to slap a hand over your mouth. Mammon flushed deeply, before striding into his brother’s room. 

“Hey, wait, you moron! I never said—!” 

The force of Mammon throwing you over your shoulder wasn’t enough to hurt, but it certainly was enough to leave you breathless for a moment. “Let’s go, fragile human. I picked the perfect movie already.” Mammon’s words came out in a bashful mumble, but he had enough courage to lift his head and smirk at Leviathan as he carried you out of the room. All you could do was smile apologetically at the blue haired demon before Mammon turned, bringing you out of sight. 

Mammon was all complaints as he carried you to your bedroom, but you knew it came from a place of love. Even though he’d never admit it, you could tell he was hurt by you unintentionally ignoring him. Because of this, instead of demanding he let you down, you allowed him to hold you like this, not a single complaint leaving your lips. 

When he brought you to your room, you were set on the bed you’d missed dearly and he went to put the movie in the player. 

“Hey! No sleepin’ on me, alright? I wanna watch the movie with ya, and I can’t if you’re passed out, now can I?” 

And so here you are now, bed frame creaking as Mammon climbs onto the mattress. Rubbing your eyes, you nod, and lean into him once he gets close enough for you to. 

“Seriously, I’m gonna hafta have a serious talk with Levi,” Mammon grumbles, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in so that you’re almost in his lap. He pulls the blankets over the two of you as you rest your head on his chest, and hum quietly in return. “He used up all your energy, and now we won’t be able to get to enjoy the movie as much! Honestly…”

The vibrations of Mammon’s words can be felt through his chest, and you simply cuddle into him more and try to train your bleary eyes on the television screen. The Avatar of Greed shuts up completely when you take his hand in yours and press a gentle kiss to it, before doing your best to focus on the movie. As time passes, however, the idea of giving into your whims grows more than tempting, and oh-so-easy for you to do. 

-

“Hey! Yo, MC! Seriously… You’re hopeless.”

A chiding, yet gentle voice draws you from the confines of rest. You puff air from your nose in response, cuddling closer to whatever it was that had been so comfortable in the first place.

“MC… Come on. Ya gotta wake up, ya didn’t even watch any of the movie! It was really good, y’know.”

Mammon’s hand rubs circles on your back as you mumble incoherently, a noise to acknowledge the fact that he‘s been talking, and that you are indeed awake now. 

It takes a good amount of time, as well as some gentle encouragement from Mammon, to get you to finally open your heavy eyes, and even longer for you to be able to apologize to him for missing out on the movie he was so excited to watch. He pouts a bit, but the blush on the highs of his cheeks lets you know that he didn’t mind all that much. You smile and yawn, and his chuckle resonates in your ears. 

“I gotta go now, otherwise Lucifer’s gonna kill me for staying so late. Sorry I woke ya up, but ya look so tired now that you’ll probably fall back asleep right away.”

And so, after a quick goodbye and a kiss on the cheek (which made Mammon turn the prettiest shade of red), you close your door and… sigh. If you had been able to stay asleep, the fact that you aren’t in pajamas and haven't brushed your teeth wouldn't be that much of an issue. Now that you‘re slightly more conscious, however, it’s hard to convince yourself to simply climb back into bed. Your breath is bugging you a bit, and the jeans you’re wearing certainly aren’t at all as comfortable as your pajama pants.  For that reason, to your own dismay, you begin getting ready for bed — properly this time. 

A small “finally…” tumbles from your lips after you finish your nighttime routine. Lacking any form of grace, you plop into bed once more and pull the blankets to your chin, nuzzling into the pillow. Your bed still smells like Mammon’s cologne, and you hum softly to yourself before closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take over once more, and hold you hostage until late in the morning. 

Alas, sleep seemed to be evading you now, similar to how you had ignored it during the day. The mattress you lay on simply isn't comfortable anymore, and the blankets that hug your body cause you to overheat. Unfortunately, if even one limb is out of the blanket, you get so cold you start shivering. None of your typical sleeping positions are anywhere near as effective as they typically are, and you’re left to wrestle with sleep alone, hoping to beat it into submission so you can finally get some proper rest. 

After about 45 minutes of tossing and turning with no results, you finally relent. The nap you’d taken while watching the movie royally fucked you over, and you groan. Eventually you decide to give up on trying to fall back asleep, and huff as you sit properly on your bed. 

Blanket dragging behind you as it drapes from your shoulders, you slowly make your way through the silent hallways of the House of Lamentation. The only sounds floating through the walls were the light buzz of electricity running through the wiring of the house, and your own footsteps as you began walking up one of the many staircases in the large building. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been walking, the passage of time different at night to a hazy mind, but eventually you arrive at your favourite area in the house, second only to your lush bedroom. There are no artificial lights, only the gentle cast of the night sky providing the ideas of shape in the planetarium. You’ve never seen stars so vibrant and bright, and there are so many more in the Devildom than anywhere you could go back home. Even though the only light comes from the stars, it’s enough to create soft, fuzzy edges around everything in the room; this includes the bundle of various blankets mussed in the centre of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you make your way towards the pile. 

Since you’d arrived in the Devildom, the planetarium at the top of the House of Lamentation became your safe haven. Your room, without a lock on the door, was way too easy for intruding demons to enter without permission, and on nights when everything became too much for you to handle, you’d head up to the planetarium to clear your mind. There’s just something so calming about a starry sky on a clear night that releases you of your fears and anxiety, and helps you get a grip on the situation around you. 

After freeing a certain someone from their attic-based captivity, however, you learned that the planetarium was a place favored not only by you. Since he’d been freed, you’d been kind, but there were still fears plaguing your mind, reminding you of everything that has transpired between the two of you. It’s something that you can’t escape, following you even - especially - in your sleep, when you wished you’d be the most at peace. It makes sense, considering the sin he embodies, but you wish it wasn’t like that nonetheless. 

Once you’d learned that this was one of his favourite rooms in the house, especially on nights when he can’t fall asleep, you found yourself avoiding this area. It’s not that you hate him; it’s the opposite, really. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel the tightening of his fingers around your neck, and the burning sensation in your lungs that’s screaming for oxygen, and the desperation to alleviate the seer of deprivation. 

Still, you trek on. Closer and closer to the pile of blankets, your gut cries to you to run away. You ignore it. The nearer you get to the nest of blankets, the faster your heart beats, the more lightheaded you feel. But you continue. 

Eventually you get close enough to make out the shape of a familiar pillow, the cow print on the case worn and well-loved. From the moment you walked in the room, you knew he was here. All the same, you walk on, and the only sounds in the room are the gentle taps of your clothed feet against the tile, and the quiet noises of your quickened breaths.

You’ve avoided being alone with him since… Since you… Since the event. Your heart screamed at you to forgive him, to love him just as much as you love his brothers. That said, there’s nothing in you that can stop your stomach from churning whenever he gets too close. 

Butterflies beat aggressively within your heart and stomach, and it’s years before you get within his range of sight, but you sit down on the floor, holding the blanket tight to your body. 

There’s one beat, 

two beats,

three beats of silence before you can hear him sucking in a breath through his teeth. In your peripheral you can see his lips parting, closing, parting again as he tries to find the words. He heard you walk in, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t immediately bolt in the opposite direction. However, this proximity leaves him with an entirely new predicament. He wants to talk to you, he wants to laugh and joke with you the way his brothers do, but one look at your face and he notices the dark bags under your eyes, and the frown that tugs at your lips as you stare up at the stars. He can hear your heart racing, and feel his own in the tips of his fingers. He opens his mouth again, but the crack in his voice betrays his usual collected personality. 

“I’ll go,” Belphegor begins, begrudgingly starting to gather his blankets. His body freezes when his eyes pass over your figure and you’re looking right at him, through him, and he swears he can feel the blood in his veins stop pumping. Your expression is unreadable, almost scary, and he’s never in his life been in fear of a human until this moment. 

The seconds pass as years do, both of your bodies chilled to the bone but neither of you able to look away. In the end, the one who casts their gaze somewhere else is you, and he exhales loudly. 

“Don’t.”

Your reply is simple, but he’s stuck in place. Slowly, he nods, sitting down again the way he had been prior, and pulling his beloved pillow close to his chest. He can’t breathe, the tension suffocating. It doesn’t help that now you refuse to look at him. 

“... If you want,” he replies dumbly, staring at the floor. He feels trapped in place, afraid to move and scare you off. Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave you be, he stays. You told him to, after all. Slowly, you sit down, his blankets creating a low wall between the two of you.

It’s only now that he gets a good look at you. You're tired, he knows, watching as your eyelids droop and your lazy movements when you get more comfortable under your blanket, but there’s more to it than just that. You seem so fragile, like sugar glass, breaking with even the slightest amount of pressure. He feels he can reach over and shatter you with the gentlest of touches, and that thought alone roots him in place. Since you came back, he’s never seen you without a smile. Your genuine smile was the prettiest, he decided rather early on, one that lights up your face and brightens those around you. Belphegor really, truly loves your smile.

He knows there was a point in time, not long ago, where he could have made it so no one saw it ever again. He can’t help but be grateful he didn’t succeed when he sees you smiling at his brothers. 

That’s never the smile you show him though. It’s not for lack of effort; you certainly try, and he loves you for that. But the smile you show him is always plastered on, and he knows you’re doing it for his sake. With Belphegor, your smile never reaches your eyes. Be that as it may, you’re never weak around him. Fake smiles prove exactly how strong you really are, but your heart races every time he enters the room. As much as he wishes your palpitations are out of excitement, he knows better than to give himself false hope. 

That’s why he’s so taken aback when he looks you over and you seem so vulnerable. Never, not in a million years, would he ever let himself believe that you’d allow yourself to look weak in front of him, not after what he did. Even so, here you are, shaking, knees drawn into your chest, and his heart soars because you’re showing him a new side to yourself. It aches at the knowledge that you’re feeling so vulnerable because of him. 

His eyes burn holes in the side of your head. You know he’s watching you, studying you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the hands he uses to pull the blankets over his body are the exact same ones that led you to your untimely and violent demise, and not when every time you look at his face, you can also see Mammon’s above you, sobbing as he tries to will you not to fade away into nothingness. 

There’s no putting it nicely. You were murdered, and Belphegor was the one who killed you. As much as he tries to pretend it never happened, to act around you the same as his older brothers do, you would never forget. Neither would he, regardless of the effort he puts into pushing the memory out of his mind. His chosen way of coping was to laugh with you, to get close and have you forgive him without acknowledging the situation. It was too painful to talk about, after all. He willingly, happily snuffed out the life of someone his brothers love, and someone he’d find himself loving too. You became someone who changed him, helped him grow and be better. It was easier, simpler to act as if you’d met him the same way you’d met any of his brothers. 

Belphegor killed one of the last remaining parts of his past, a part that, while once warm and light, mutated and infected him, causing his anger to grow out of control, like a weed that suffocates any flower that tries to flourish. He killed a descendant of his sister, and the fact that you’re here now is more of a second chance than he thinks he could ever deserve in all his millenia of living. 

And yet, here you are. Scared and shaking, but here. The silence has stretched on for longer than he’d like; he wants to be able to love you, openly and happily, but knows it won’t happen. It can’t, unless he does what he thought was the very last thing he’d do. 

“I’m sorry,” Belphegor begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. He can hear your heartbeat pick up, and he curses himself mentally. Your lip between your teeth, you remain silent. His nerves force him to speak more. 

“I know that will never cut, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

There’s more silence. He feels like he can’t breathe, the tense atmosphere forcing its way around his throat and tightening its grip. He doesn’t know how long it takes you to even contemplate replying, let alone allow yourself to respond. Belphegor’s ears ring almost deafeningly loud. He can’t take it.

“You’re right.” 

His eyes, which he trained to the ground, dart up to your profile once more. You pause, wetting your lips. 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

There’s not enough time to process your words before he really, really looks at you. Almost fearlessly, you meet his eyes. 

Almost fearlessly. 

The shaking of your hands betrays the strength of your voice. Belphegor’s chest aches. 

“But…”

There’s a pause as you speak. He can’t look away again, even as your eyes meet the stars once more. There’s no chance he’ll miss a word you say, even if it tears him apart.

“It’s… it’s really difficult. I know you know that, but…”

Each time you pause, Belphegor’s mind begins storming. He can’t figure out what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to react, and it drives him crazy. He’s usually so good at reading people, but you’re an enigma. It sends a chill down his spine. 

His throat is caught. Even if he had words to say, they wouldn’t be able to come out. So he sits in silence as you find your own. 

“I don’t want you to feel worse than you do.” You lick your lips. “Or maybe I do? I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you, Belphie.”

The nickname tugs at his heart, more than he could ever admit. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to do anything other than look at your melancholy face, knowing he’s the problem. He wants to run and hide, to sleep forever. He can’t, though. Not when you’re here. Not now. 

Knuckles turn white as he clutches desperately onto his pillow. His breath shakes as he draws in air. 

“I want to love you. I want to love you as much as I love your brothers, and care about you as much as I care for them…”

You struggle to find the words. 

“... But it’s hard.”

You curse your lack of eloquence. Now, of all times, when your words are the only thing that enable you to communicate how you truly feel, they fail you. This might be your only chance to ever properly show Belphegor how you feel, what makes you so conflicted every time he walks into the room with a smile on his face, and yet all you can say is “it’s hard”. Obviously. 

A breath finds its way into your lungs, and the sound of your lips parting in the otherwise silent planetarium echoes in your ears.

You continue.

“It’s hard because every time I see your face, or I hear your voice, or I-”, you falter, heart catching in your throat, “or you touch me, I can’t help but be reminded of what happened.”

Belphegor doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from your form. The grief that settles into his face perfectly matches your own, eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. Even the trembling of your hands is replicated in his own. He’s never seen you like this, so incredibly vulnerable, and it tears him apart inside to know that he is the cause of it.

A shuddery breath comes from Belphegor, and you fight your instincts to check if he’s okay. You know he isn’t.

The silence deafens you, thundering in your ears so harshly that you're tempted to place your hands at the side of your head to muffle how quiet it is. You don’t, however, and whether it’s because you don’t want to look crazy, or because you’re afraid you might shatter if you move, you’ll never know. Do you want him to talk? Do you want him to say anything? Do you want an apology?

If you had an answer for that, you’re sure that things would have patched themselves up much quicker than this. You caution a glance at Belphegor, and the weight pressing down on your chest gets heavier at his expression. It feels almost as if you can inhale the guilt he feels, the emotion radiating off of him in waves.

“I… Logically, Belphie, I get it.” Again with that cursed nickname. Usually, hearing it from your lips makes Belphegor feel warm and goddamn near giddy, but now it only seemed to drive the knife in his gut further. 

“I understand what happened and why you did it. I may not agree… but I get it, you know?” You swallow.

“In the end, I’m still here. And… and I’ve come to learn that you’re nothing like that anymore. You’ve grown, and changed, and the guilt and anger that consumed you took control, and that's why you-- that’s--” 

You pause, clutching the blanket around you to try and ground yourself. The shakiness in your voice is not missed by Belphegor, and even if it had been, there’s no way he’d be able to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Slowly, subconsciously, one of your hands comes up to rest against your neck, a phantom of the grasp that once threatened to crush you.

“S-So… I understand why you did it. And I’m alive, and we’re friends, so it should all be okay, right?” Belphegor casts his glance away.

“But Belphie… as much as I want to forgive you, I also know that I’m never going to be able to forget what happened. It’s there in my dreams, and it’s there in your smile, and it’s there every single time your arm brushes mine and I flinch like a total loser.”

A weak chuckle makes its way out of your chest, and the halfhearted smile that follows forces a tear from your eye. You’re quick to wipe it away, hopefully quick enough so that it goes unnoticed by Belphegor.

It does.

What he does notice, however, is the frustration that holds tight to the edges of your sentences. The frustration is not directed at him, no. You would be yelling if that were the case, and maybe that would be easier for him to hear. No, this frustration is directed at yourself. You’ve been trying so hard, and all Belphegor has been doing is running away. His teeth dig so hard into his bottom lip, trying desperately not to show any anger he feels at himself, that he tastes iron.

“And then we became all buddy-buddy, you know? Like I was never lied to, or used, or manipulated, or-- or--”

Belphegor is torn from his self-pity when you continue, and he almost wishes you’d stop speaking. The thought that you might break him with your words has him shaking, and a feeling similar to fear courses heavily through his veins. Please, stop. He wants to go back to running away.

But you continue, as you always have.

“And I’m left not knowing how to feel. I’m so mad at myself for being such a coward and not being able to just get over it like everyone else, and I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t just exist around you like I do for everyone else. I mean, I used to be terrified of Lucifer, too.” Another fragile laugh, and you sweep the hair from your eyes with a shaky hand. Belphegor swallows hard.

“But I… I can’t pretend like nothing happened. As much as I want to be near you, and hug you, and take naps and play pranks on Luci with you… I can’t. I can’t act as if what I feel isn’t real, and what you did didn’t happen. It’s so hard, Belphegor.” You sigh, and finally look at him once more. He can’t meet your gaze, slumped over himself and hugging his pillow so tight to his chest it seems as if he wishes to disappear into it. “Especially because I really, truly want to understand why everyone loves you so much. And I want to love you, too. I want to know why Beel smiles every time you’re brought up in conversation, and I want to smile just the same. But… But right now, I can’t.”

Talking has gotten easier. The words that used to escape you have become accustomed to being used again, and confidence has restored in your gut. You sit a bit straighter as you watch Belphegor carefully, a sad smile lifting your cheeks. 

Belphegor knows that this is when he should swoop in, say something so intellectual that you’re caught off guard, and he can save you from… himself. This knowledge does nothing to save him from himself. He can’t even open his mouth to mime a sentence, let alone actually speak. The thought of how pathetic he must look settles under Belphegor’s skin, and he can feel his irritation rising. Not at you though, never at you. Not even when… When it all happened. His anger was misplaced, but he has never been angry at you.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too much, he forces himself to meet your gaze. The way you look at him, just as vulnerable and bare and scared as he is… he feels safe. He knows, even though your words sear his heart, that you never mean to hurt him, especially now. You’re being honest, and simply expect the same from him.

Belphegor inhales a deep breath, before willing himself to speak.

“I thought--” he croaks, and quickly clears his throat. Fuck. “I thought that if… if I could pretend that nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have to face any consequences.”

He curses audibly. Just how pathetic can he sound? Belphegor’s voice is hoarse and quivering, and weak. “Weak” is never a word that he would have used to describe himself, but now it echoes hauntingly against the confines of his skull. One of the most powerful demons in existence, and he finds himself quaking before a mere human. He cares for you, though, and he cares for you viciously. Something in Belphegor knows that he’s never going to be able to prove that to you unless he pushes his way through this.

So he forces himself to continue, even with every cell in his body desperately screaming at him to stop.

“I did what I did out of a place of guilt… and regret. I couldn’t stand the fact that it was because of me, that it was my fault, that I’m the reason that Lilith--”

Belphegor stumbles over his own words, and he sets down his pillow before he accidentally tears a hole through it. Instead he braces himself on the cool floor, in need of something steady to hold onto. This whole conversation shook him to the core. He can hardly believe he’s talking about his sister. She’s a topic that he’s avoided even around Beelzebub…

But if Belphegor ever wants even the possibility that you’ll forgive him, he knows he has to. Everything is on the line. His blunt nails press against the tiles and he focuses on steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t accept that it was my fault.” A newfound steadiness weaves its way around his words, and he finds himself sitting a bit straighter. “I’m the one who introduced her to the human world, and kept bringing her back. I’m the reason she suffered, and why the war started, and why we fell, and why she…” Belphegor coughs. “In the end, I couldn’t accept that I’m the one who killed her.

Your heart yearns to tell him that no, he’s wrong, it’s not all his fault. You know it won’t help right now, though, and that it isn’t your time to speak. Settling back a bit, you let your blanket fall from your shoulders. 

Belphegor’s heart stutters, and pounds so hard that he feels like it's trying to tear through his chest. Even so, he doesn’t miss the way your hand reaches out to smooth over his own, and for a moment he feels himself wanting to melt just from the simple touch. 

Belphegor pulls away. He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not yet.

“So… So when you said that you’re a descendant of Lilith, I-- I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the chance to get to know you, learn about what makes you similar and what makes you different. Her blood flows through your veins, and I was quick to ignore what I did in favour of getting to know you, and… and inevitably, becoming just as fond of you as my brothers… but that can’t erase what I did.”

The feeling of understanding floods you and you find yourself nodding at his words. To be completely honest, even now, you’re scared. Your heart beats for many reasons, fear one of them, but you don’t run away. Not anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to even if you wanted to.

Your hand, abandoned next to Belphegor’s, lay dormant. The need to comfort wills you to once again place your hand on his, but you don’t move. When he’s ready, if he ever is, you’ll be there.

Just as he’ll be there for you.

“I killed you, MC. And in doing that, I killed Lilith. Again.”

Countless emotions storm their way through Belphegor’s conscience, despair clawing at his throat, regret snapping his back, and guilt slowly crushing him under its weight. How is it that one can feel so empty, and yet so filled to the brim with misery?

“And not only that, but if I succeeded… I would have completely missed out on getting to know you, and caring about you as much as I do now. It would have been a loss that I never would have understood, but know for a fact that I would have felt. Even… Even when I was proud,” he spits out the word as if it’s poison, “of what I’d done, watching my brothers’ hearts break at the sight of your body… Even then, I felt it. The ache. It’s so fucking stupid.”

His tone, now bubbling with anger, stills you. It’s not directed at you, and you know this, but despite yourself, you freeze. Belphegor notices, and quickly clears his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He allows your heart a moment to slow as he regains his composure, and you find yourself breathing again.

“I know that me saying sorry is never going to cut it.” Belphegor turns his body to fully face you. He’s no longer running from his feelings, or from you. He knows he can’t anymore. Hesitantly, he lifts his trembling hand to place over yours. The muscles in your fingers tense, and he pauses to gauge your reaction. When you slowly nod your head once, he delicately places his hand on yours, using his thumb to gently begin massaging the tension away. “And I know that even if I do everything right from here on out, that there’s a chance that you won’t ever forgive me. And I understand why.”

Your heart sinks at his expression, his gaze locked on your joined hands. As aloof as he normally is, you can see none of that on his face now. When you turn over your hand he quickly pulls away, but your shaky movements to bring his hand back and intertwine your fingers urges him to go on. 

“But I want to try. And really try this time. I want you to be honest with how you feel, whether I’m frustrating you or scaring you or anything like that, and… and I want to be honest with you too. I…”

Belphegor trails off, but you squeeze his hand. He draws in a slow breath. 

“No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, we’re stuck together for the next few months. I want to spend that time getting to know you, and I want us to be as close as you are with any of my brothers… but I also want you to know that you shouldn’t feel forced. If it’s ever too much, I need you to tell me, and I promise I’ll back off.”

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto your face as you quietly agree. Belphegor doesn’t allow himself to try and figure out if it's genuine, out of pity, or sadness, but in spite of everything, it makes him feel a bit lighter. Just a bit.

“This won’t fix everything right away,” you say, and he now knows that your smile is a combination of the three. Along with this, though, Belphegor also knows the small sparkle in your eyes is hope, and he’s willing to take that hope and nurture it for however long he must.

“I know,” he sighs, but even he can feel the small tilt of a smile on his face, “but I’m willing to take as much time as you need to decide how you feel about me. And… And if you decide you hate me, which is fair, and that you never want to even be in the same room as me, I’ll respect your wishes.

Until then...Until you decide that you really, truly hate me, I won’t stop trying.”

There’s no way of telling how long his words linger in the air around the two of you, circling around your heads and making their way through your body. Even so, Belphegor diligently watches you, wanting to make sure he’s not overstepping his bounds. He even contemplates letting go of you, but is reassured when slowly, almost unnoticeably, you begin smoothing out the lines on the back of his hand with your thumb.

As much as you want to tell him that you could never hate him, you also know you can’t promise anything. Still, for now, just as much as him, you’re willing to try. You stay in silence, more comfortable than you’ve ever been in his presence, gently caressing the hand held in your own.

Eventually, Belphegor clears his throat once more. The vulnerability has made him tense and rendered his voice weak. 

“Can… can you hug me?” He all but whispers, fragility making his body quiver once more. He was completely open about his feelings for the first time in a lifetime, and the intensity of it left him craving affection. He knows how unfair this is to you, but he can’t help himself. He wishes to be held, for his fears to be quelled by someone so much stronger than him. “If you don’t want to,” he falters, speaking quickly, insecurely, “I won't even touch you. I-If you do, I promise I can keep my hands behind my back, and I won’t even--”

His words end abruptly as he feels you release his hand, and his heart sinks. He debates running away again, until he hears you moving towards him, and he finds he’s frozen in place. Slowly, but surely, with more courage circulating through your veins than you’ve had all night, you make your way over the blankets that divide you and position yourself right next to Belphegor, pulling him into your chest. Even now, he can feel how quickly, persistently your heart races, and yet you stay. True to his word, Belphegor rests his hands on the ground behind his back, but he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your chest… and he cries. The complete, uninhibited release of his emotions hit him like a truck, and he sobs heavily into you, tears slowly but surely staining your shirt. You adjust yourself so you can hold him closer, slowly and reassuringly rubbing his back as he lets go of everything he’s been holding on to for longer than you can even imagine. This is a man who’s run from his emotions for centuries, and the fact that he’s willing to face them for your sake comforts you, cradles your heart and presses gentle kisses against the cracks. You know that you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with everything okay, but for now… for now you’re comfortable with his touch. Heaving in a deep, steadying breath, you reach down just enough to take Belphegor’s arms, and guide them to rest his hands on your hips. At this silent permission, he slowly, delicately wraps his arms around your waist, despite craving your body closer, wanting to hold you tight and never let go. He cradles you like you’re made of the most brittle glass, and you smile. The gesture touches your heart, and… and you feel safe. You know that all he wants to do is embrace you as tight as he can, but he doesn’t, even with permission. 

Here, in Belphegor’s arms, you feel safe. Here, where Belphegor’s grip on you is so gentle that it wouldn’t even crumple paper, you feel loved. As he cries into your chest, holding you as if you were an antique, hope slowly fills your heart.

Everything is far from perfect, but it’s still on the right track, here in the quiet planetarium.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

(Gen Start-Up) Not Worth It pt. 1

{Reader gets sent from our world to middle earth and falls in love with either Fili/Kili/Thoron or heck maybe all three, I'll leave that up to you, and upon coming to middle earth they get the healing powers. All they gotta do is put their hands on the person and concentrate. BUT these healing abilities have a cost if the injury is severe. Maybe they either transfer the injury to themselves until it evens out between the two? Or it takes a lot of energy from them and if they use it too much they will die. Then Reader tries to heal Thorin/Kili/Fili at the end." --- Britishfajita}

Fluff and Slight Angst

Authors Note: This is the beginning of a wonderful three (or maybe more) part connected series! Same reader for all three of the Durin's who I plan to make this for. There may be multiple parts for them, idk yet. We'll just see what happens :D!

The Durins/Reader

----

You could have been so extraordinary in your past life.

Special, wanted, powerful.

And, to some extent, you were wanted and desired, but you could never deliver on those expectations and hopes.

Your special ability to heal, ease pain, and help others was never anything special where you lived. Many people had healing abilities similar to and better than yours, and most, if none, had the drawbacks that yours did.

Where normal healers can use their powerful auras to mend and strengthen others to accelerate the healing process, yours is much more of a give and take, parasitic relationship between 'doctor' and patient. Instead of your aura enhancing the healing ability of others, it instead participates in a transfer that can leave you wounded yourself.

You retain your ability to heal and, essentially, switch auras in a wound transferral. You do not always inherit the wounds of those you heal, however.

Depending on the severity of an injury, you may be left winded, tired, or extremely hungry, but in more serious instances, the damages completely transfer to you instead.

The best way to exemplify this would be to explain how you found out about this horrible symbiotic relationship in the first place.

Your parents knew you were a healer from a young age, for there are individuals who test all children in schools to determine what classes they will need to hone their abilities, and they figured out your ameliorative nature rather easily.

The fatigue and pain you sometimes felt during training and classes was just chalked up to your control and aura being weaker, for your parasitic power was something very uncommon at the time.

It happened during your first ever shift at the local hospital.

Up to this point you've only ever dealt with smaller wounds because of your easy fatigue and exhaustion, but this day was different.

A disaster struck a nearby bank that left 40 people, and counting, injured, and it was all hands on deck. Every person on staff had somethings to do, and when a young woman with debris sticking out of her abdomen came rolling in, you were the only one free to help at the time.

You took up the assignment without hesitation, but as soon as you began to heal her, something felt different.

There was no weakness at first, something very alien to you, and you were able to heal her in record time for even one of the most skilled (and normal) healers, only, you eventually realized that something wasn't right.

The pain you felt that day was horrible and unimaginable, and you went down in a matter of moments.

It wasn't until 5 minutes later that someone found you unconscious on the ground, pale and barely breathing. If it weren't for your current location, you certainly would've died that day.

That young woman had been saved and, somehow, her power had been enhanced as well after your treatment, but it left your aura damaged and practically sucking the life out of you following her miraculous recovery.

The whole premise of your power is the nature of give and take. You give a piece of your aura to someone else to heal and enhance them (be it their power, strength, wakefulness, or anything else), and in return you take a part of theirs and become weakened depending on how much you give, needing to rest and regenerate what you gave away in that moment. You can also heal yourself of your own, personally received wounds without incident, which is rather strange.

For most, there is a finite amount of their aura that they can ever have throughout the duration of their lives, but your supply is nearly endless. However, the more you spend healing or helping, the more you lose. You can regenerate your aura forever, but if you keep going without ceasing, then your life will eventually begin to drain too, to compensate for your loss.

It isn't an instant process, though, for it takes time for your body to catch up to how much of your power you spend, so you had to train really hard from that moment on to ensure that you never spend more than you've earned.

If it weren't for this fateful vice of yours, you'd probably be one of the most powerful healers in your world; the only limit to the wounds you may heal is your own aura and life force, and the amount of time it takes all depends on your concentration and intent.

Because of this, you became unwanted.

Unwanted in a sense that, people did want you to help them become stronger, but no organization or job wanted to hire such a liability, and those with such horrible vices are always subject to horrible criticism and scrutiny, so you eventually just stopped using your ability altogether.

It isn't until you fall into Middle Earth that you start to habitually use your powers again, and it's because of the life-threatening journey you're forced to join.

Here in Middle Earth, however, you're one of a kind.

There is healing magic and those gifted with the knowledge of higher level healing, but your ability to heal simply using your hands and mind is something totally unheard of.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield were the poor unfortunate souls that you scared half to death on the day you arrived in Middle Earth.

You came, quite literally, out of nowhere.

One second you were washing the dishes in your house and the next you were unconscious in another world.

From their perspective you came falling out of a tall tree, nothing to break your fall other than the cold, unforgiving dirt below, and it successfully gave everyone a huge scare.

Your right arm seemed to have broken and you were horribly battered and bruised, and the dwarfs, hobbit, and lone wizard couldn't just leave you there.

They made camp for the night and made you as comfortable as possible, hoping above all else that you'll wake up at some point, and you eventually do. Though, it isn't a nice or very calm occurrence.

When you finally woke up to a new hat and 4 thick wool blankets smothering you, you freaked out.

At first, you thought someone had kidnapped you or something, but the calm, old wizard named 'Gandalf' managed to calm you and explain that you're not healthy enough to be thrashing and panicking so frantically.

That's when you shocked them all.

You managed to kick off those pesky blankets and shake off that too-warm, but also soft hat, and get a look at yourself, and you were dismayed to see so much of your skin marred with bruises, cuts, scrapes, welts, etc, and your broken arm was unsightly enough to make you nearly sick.

"I-I'll fix it then, I guess." You grumbled nervously, laying back down in the heaping pile of blankets to focus on mending your broken and shattered bones, re-weaving your muscles together, and accelerating the healing of the more superficial wounds.

By the time you were nearly completely healed you were too tired to finish fixing the cuts, scrapes, and other lacerations, so they were left as week-old injuries that had been scabbed over and mostly fixed.

When your eyes fluttered open again you were, once again, shocked to see multiple people leaning over you with awestruck expressions, and you realized in that moment that things were even less right than you initially feared.

Rather quickly did you realize and accept that you were no longer in the same place or time as you were before, but the news was actually fairly easy to accept because of the nature of your past life.

You were probably accidentally sent here by someone with power over the space-time continuum, and it's impossible to come back from one of those accidents. You didn't trouble yourself with coming up with a way to go back home, because you knew for a fact that it was over. You'll be here until the day you die.

You made fast friends with the two younger Durin brothers, for they were always full of questions and curiosity for you and your abilities. Many times have you had to heal them as well, for they're quite prone to trouble.

Small things were always easy to heal, so your powers proved to make you not only a very desired part of the group, but the subject of heavy praise and kind words; it's wonderful and new, for you were neither wanted nor praised in your old home once your crippling vice made itself present.

Night after night you helped them to sleep, gave them the strength to carry on, rid them of discomforts and small, painful wounds, and, essentially, made the original healer of the group, Oin, obsolete (in a good way for him, of course). Oin taught you some things about natural medicine and was, ultimately, allowed to focus on rest and fighting (which you assume is good for a dwarf of his age).

Being needed and relied on feels like heaven, and for the first time in 5 years, you have a purpose.

The true nature of your healing powers didn't become apparent to them until the fight following the Goblin Tunnels, for Thorin Oakenshield is nearly fatally wounded in his fight against Azog the Defiler, and he's left weak and dying.

The group runs as fast as their feet can carry them as those wargs and nasty orcs draw near, chasing all of you to a cliffside with plentiful trees and nowhere to go.

It's a dead end, and those foul creatures know as much.

You aren't much of a fighter so Bofur and Fili keep you ahead of them, urging you to climb the far tree with Gandalf and some of the others, and you do so without hesitation.

Fear drives your frantic climbing and trembling muscles, and, with great effort, you manage to climb far enough that those horrible dog beasts cannot reach you.

Everyone manages to climb a tree and avoid a violent death that would leave them in pieces, and you're relieved to see that there isn't much the enemy can do in this moment; that is, until they begin to uproot the trees and push everyone further back into the barely hanging on tree you already reside in.

There is absolutely no way this flimsy tree will hold all of you for long if the wargs loosen the soil around the roots, and it seems that you're not the only one to notice this.

Gandalf prepares the perfect pinecone ammo that serves as an excellent enemy deterrent, for the flames burning within the heart of the pinecones spread easily and set the cliffside alight.

The wargs retreat to escape a fiery death, but the triumph doesn't last long, for the tree begins to creak and groan as it dips beneath the weight of all 15 of you.

"T-The tree's going to fall!" You cry hopelessly, unsure what to do.

A fall from this height would kill everyone before you even had a chance to try and heal them, and this knowledge leaves an empty, useless hole in your heart.

"Everything will work out the way it's supposed to, Master Healer." The grey wizard tells you, though you can hear the unease and slight panic in his voice as well.

You open your mouth to say more, but movement catches in your peripherals and you turn your head to see what it is.

There stands Thorin Oakenshield on the thick trunk of the tree, facing the white orc with murder and hate shining in his blue-gray eyes, and your heart drops all the way down to the violent deaths below you when you realize what it is he plans to do.

The to-be King Under the Mountain abandons the tree and meets the orc in a battle, albeit short, and he loses.

Just by looking at the way that albino dog uses him like a chew toy is enough to fill you with dread, and when another orc goes in for the dying blow, you're fully prepared to experience this horrible tragedy, only it never happens.

That brave little hobbit, Bilbo, challenges the rest of the goblins one on one, and his bravery encourages everyone able to get back up and fight.

Only, this secondary fight doesn't last for terribly long, for these huge, magnificent birds come soaring out of seemingly nowhere, and they scoop up each and every one of you.

Cue a short, but also liberating, journey to the nearest, safe area (which just so happened to be a secluded and inaccessible mountain top).

As soon as your feet touch the ground you're being scooped up into a strong pair of arms, and the perpetrator breathes your name with relief on their lips.

"Are you alright?" It's Kili, the taller of the two Durin brothers.

You nod your head once and hug him in response, winding your toned healer arms tightly around his shoulders for a few beats before you pull away.

A quick glance around shows you that some of the others still have yet to touchdown on the peak with all of you, so you instead move to Fili, who had rode to his brother, and hug him next.

The blond heir firmly locks his thick arms around your middle and holds you to him for a moment, but his arms disappear as soon as Thorin is gently dropped to the ground, bloodied and broken.

Gandalf rushes over to the heavily wounded dwarf and kneels down next to his unmoving form, and Bilbo runs up behind him with wide, stunned eyes.

You pull away from Fili and rush to Thorin's side without hesitation, falling to your knees beside him as you immediately hover your palms over his body to find the biggest issues ailing him.

The internal bleeding catches your attention right away, caused by the bone crushing bite from the white warg, and you start working on healing that without hesitation.

You know that a wound such as this will hurt you, but it doesn't halt your frantic healing for even a second.

The mountain peak is dead silent while you work your magic on the unconscious Thorin, the knowledge that they would be lost without him spurring you on, and in a matter of 5 minutes he's groaning and his eyes are opening.

You feel nothing at first which tells you that soon his damaged aura will begin affecting you, so you slowly rise to your feet and move away from the still grounded Thorin to avoid falling on him if you do go down.

Pats on the back and praises are thrown your way as you separate yourself from the king, but they cease the moment Fili worriedly asks, "Wait- What... what's wrong?" He seemed to have noticed your shaky movements right away as your health begins to deplete.

You step up to Gandalf and place your hand gently onto his shoulder, mumbling with slurred words, "Gandalf, I should've told you before..."

The old man looks up at you with worried eyes, and he rises to his feet so he can grasp your trembling arms with gentle hands, "You should have 'told me before'? Told me what?"

"I..." You begin to speak, but you're unable to form another coherent thought as your legs suddenly give out from beneath you, and you slump forward into the cloaked wizard.

Gandalf releases your arm at light speed and catches you around the waist, slowly lowering you down to the ground before your eyes slide shut and your consciousness fades in place of Thorin's.

---

Gandalf the Gray was not too happy with you when you woke up sometime later, having had to save you after you saved Thorin with no prior knowledge regarding the truth about your ability.

He scolded you first, calling your actions foolish and scaring you with information on how you could have died had it been any worse and had he been any worse at his job, and then he thanked you.

"But even so, still must I say with the utmost gratitude; thank you. The service you provided was well beyond what we asked for, and much more than we deserved. After all you've been through and done for us, you would have been right to keep to yourself and not heal him. You are a very good person, Y/N, and I should like to see you survive this journey."

Is he telling you not to heal people anymore, or is he telling you to be more careful, you wonder.

Apparently this situation scared everyone shitless, because as soon as Gandalf was done getting on your case, you received countless apologies for having you heal small, meaningless wounds and for the other things you've done for them.

Of course, you tried to explain that the smaller boosts and injuries are nothing for you, but you were still apologized to a whole bunch anyways.

Fili and Kili's apologies stuck out to you the most, however.

When everyone felt better knowing that they'd informed you that you no longer need to waste your power healing them and the excitement died down, the two brothers approached with sad expressions darkening their handsome faces.

"You should have told us that we were hurting you." The dark-haired dwarf informed you sadly, taking up one of your hands in his carefully.

"We wouldn't have bothered you so much if we knew." The blond-haired brother agrees, swiping up your other hand in one of his.

Their words make you grimace, and you try to console them. "No, the smaller things don't hurt at all! I don't 'get hurt' because I heal you, I only suffer when it's a major wound that needs to heal more than just the body."

Their expressions don't change and they don't seem to fully believe you, so you try to explain in simpler terms.

You squeeze both their hands weakly, still needing rest to regenerate your own aura, then reiterate, "Think of it this way. You've got a huge jug of water about this big," you make a big circle with your arms, " and it's completely full. Now, if you take a sip of the water when you get a little thirsty and look inside again, it will look the exact same, and you can refill it super quickly... now, if you and a few others are super thirsty, dehydrated, and you need to take big drinks then it drains even more, and very soon it's almost a quarter empty. It takes longer to fill it up then, because there's way less because of how thirsty you were."

They both look at you and nod their heads slowly in understanding, but you simplify it a little more after that.

"So, what I'm trying to say is that if I do something small like help you sleep or heal a cut, maybe mend a headache, I'll only feel a little tired if that, but if it's something horrible like Thorin's wound, then it affects me more severely. It almost transfers to me, but not the physical injury, just the effect of it while my 'power' heals yours."

Everyone is listening at this point, and it seems that they all gain a better understanding of what you can do.

It seems Gandalf figured it out, though, judging by his unsurprised expression and slightly proud smile (pride because of your easy to understand explanation, most likely).

"So... what about now, then?" Kili asks, still holding your hand by your side, "What do you need?"

"To rest. Only for a little while until my water replenishes."

---

It's going to take around a day for your aura to heal and your strength to return, but, unfortunately, you don't have the luxury to just lay back and relax like you want.

You all had to stay on the move, so the dwarfs took turns carrying you on their backs.

At first you denied any and all requests for piggy back rides, embarrassed by the mere thought of being hauled around all day while you wait for your aura to heal, but it goes that way regardless.

First it's Fili and Kili, then Dori (the strongest *according to the book*), Dwalin, and, finally, Thorin.

Thorin carried you for around an hour or so, and each step he took was careful. He wanted to make your ride as comfortable as possible, and he was succeeding for the most part (you're as comfortable as someone on a piggyback ride can be).

"How are you feeling?" You ask at some point, adjusting your gentle grip around his shoulders as you do.

"I should be the one asking you that question." He replies without missing a beat, turning his head to the left slightly to catch a glimpse of you.

You don't say anything right away, looking at him with a small frown before countering, "Okay, but I asked your first."

"Truthfully, it shames me to say that I feel very good at the moment. My strength has returned tenfold, and I feel as if I've just recovered from a long rest."

"It shames you?" You ask softly, leaning your head against his carefully, "Don't let it. I chose to do that knowing fully well what I was getting myself into."

Thorin sighs heavily and shifts his grip on your legs, "I do not wish to treat you as a child. I respect your choice, but I must implore that you do not waste your life on me. It simply isn't worth it. You're too precious."

You feel your face heat up and you find that you become slightly embarrassed. "Thank you Thorin, but I think that a king is slightly more important then a commoner from another world."

"No... a king is only as strong as his people, friends, and allies. And I happen to value you as all three."

You don't argue or disagree this time and instead just nod your head once, "Then I'll say thank you again."

The rest of your conversations with Thorin are much more light hearted and wholesome, and you find that this piggyback riding isn't as bad as you initially though it would be.

[storiesforallfandoms]

feeling used ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2105

request?: yes!

@kellysimagines : “I was wondering if you could write a imagine where the reader is a hairdresser and she is best friends with Rook and he introduces her to mgk and they become really close and after a couple of dates they started dating and she goes with him too premieres and shows and stuff and he gives her presents and stuff and people in the media think she is using him for the fame and money and he is on tour and he somehow believes it and we break up and one day he finds out his ex spread the rumor and he comes to my salon and he apoligizes and he proposes there?”

description: when rumors start about the relationship between a super successful rapper and a normal hairdresser, they start to get to colson’s head, and he makes the worst decision

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

the ex in question i’ll be using is chantel, but i just want everyone to know that i don’t have anything against chantel irl. i don’t even really know her all that well XD

Dating someone famous was as both amazing and tiring at the same time, and you wouldn’t change that for the world.

You were just a normal hair dresser, nothing to extravagant, just a hair dresser in a local salon in downtown LA. Sometimes famous people came in, but the place wasn’t anything that anyone famous was raving about. But you liked it that way, you preferred the smallness of the salon, and of your life. The only big, show business thing in your life was that your best friend was a drummer for some famous rapper that you hadn’t really heard of until your friend started touring with him. And that’s when your life truly got crazy.

Rook introduced you to Colson and it was like love at first sight. You both clicked right away, and after a few dates you decided to make it official. You started joining Colson on red carpets for his movies and to parties for his album releases. He bought you anything and everything you could ever want, and had you spoiled within months of being together. Not that any of that mattered. You were just happy to be with him.

Of course, with a relationship with a famous celebrity came hate. The hate started just a month after your relationship, and at first it was the usual “you don’t deserve to be with him”, “you’re a skank”, “lmao he deserves better” type comments, which were easy to ignore. But within the past month or so, things escalated. People were claiming that you had been using Colson to get publicity. Someone had told the press that ever since you and Colson had started dating, you started getting lots of clients, especially famous ones, and that once you were big enough you were going to dump him.

That couldn't be more wrong. Your clientele stayed the same after you started dating Colson. You never once mentioned that you were a hairdresser or for where in any interviews, not that you really got involved in many of Colson’s interviews anyways. The hate didn’t bug you, however. You were so in love with Colson that you could care less what anyone else thought about you.

You were finishing up a clients hair one day when one of your colleague’s clients stopped to look at you.

“Are you (Y/N)?” she asked. “MGK’s girlfriend?”

“I am,” you said with a smile.

She glared at you and hissed, “Attention whore!” before turning and walking out of the salon. You rolled your eyes. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence either.

“What was that about?” your client asked. She was a regular, a nice lady in her mid 40s that came in at least once a month to get her hair re-dyed. She was probably one of your favourite clients.

“Just some fangirl of my boyfriend who believes I’m using him for attention,” you told her. “It’s nothing new, I’ve been over it for so long.”

“You really don’t deserve that. You’re such a nice girl!” she told you. You smiled gratefully at her.

“Hey, (Y/N),” called the receptionist of the salon. “Call for you, says it’s your boyfriend.”

“Tell him to give me a minute, I’m just finishing with a client.”

When you finished up and sent your client along her merry way, you almost skipped with happiness over to the phone and answered with a cheery, “Hey baby!”

There was a brief pause. Confused, you repeated, “Colson? You still there?”

“Hey (Y/N),” came his familiar voice. You wanted to smile, talking to Colson always made you smile, but he didn’t sound very happy. You furrowed your brow in worry.

“Are you okay, babe?” you asked him.

“We need to talk.”

The worst four words to hear from anyone. The look on your face must’ve alerted your receptionist that something was wrong as she got up from her chair and offered it to you, saying she was going to “check on something”.

You sat down on the chair. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“I...I don’t think we should continue our relationship.”

And just like that, your heart ripped in two. You tried not to start crying, since the salon was currently filled with your coworkers and their clients. You took deep breaths to stop yourself from crying.

“Why?” you asked him. “Colson, what’s wrong?”

Colson sighed. “I just...I don’t like this feeling that you’re using me, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened then. “What? Colson, don’t tell me you believe those rumours. You know I’m not using you for fame! I haven’t gained anything from our relationship other than just getting to be with you. You can even ask my coworkers if you want, I haven’t gotten any new clients or any new publicity.”

“It just doesn’t feel like a relationship,” Colson continued. “We don’t even talk all that much since I’ve been on tour, and I’m always buying you things - “

“You insist on buying me things!” you cut him off. “And I work all day. I text you before work, I text you on my breaks, and we facetime every night. I can’t talk to you all day when we’re both busy, Colson.”

He was silent before simply saying, “Goodbye (Y/N).”

You held the phone to your ear listening to the dial tone for a moment longer. You couldn’t believe that Colson actually believed the rumors! How could he believe you were using him? After all the amazing times you spent together the past year, all the private moments, the kisses, the “I love you”s that you genuinely meant. And he really chose to believe some internet trolls over his own girlfriend.

One of you coworkers noticed your blank stare and come over to ask if you were okay. You merely shook your head. She took the phone from your ear and placed it back on the desk before calling for the receptionist.

“Cancel any other appointments (Y/N) has for today,” she told her. “Put them in any openings she has for the next few days.”

“I can’t just cancel for no reason,” you said, although you felt numb and you knew working like this was a bad idea.

“I don’t know what just happened on the phone but I know it’s hindering your ability to work,” you coworker said. “Go home, get some sleep, cry if you have to. If you want, when I’m off, I’ll grab some wine and come over and we can drink and talk shit.”

You smiled gratefully and stood from the chair. You felt like you were going to pass out, but you powered through it and made it to your car. The minute the door closed, you started crying.

~~~~~~

Weeks came and passed and you hadn’t heard a single word from Colson. But you were seeing plenty about him online. It was as if the day after you broke up he was being seen partying with girls, getting flirty. One tabloid even reported that two days after your breakup he was spotted leaving a party with some girl. You came to the conclusion that this was the real reason he had broken up with you, which hurt even more because it felt like he didn’t even care about you. That the whole year you two had spent together and he really threw it away and started hooking up with other girls in a matter of days.

You decided to throw yourself into your work. You packed your days with as many clients as you could, and when you didn’t have clients you were practising new hairstyles on the mannequins. It kept you busy enough that you didn't think about Colson.

Unfortunately, the breakup also resulted in your friendship with Rook being damaged. You two barely spoke, and when you did it was very obviously awkward. Rook never called or facetimed you like he used to, mainly because he spent basically every moment he was on tour with Colson, and some days you could barely bring yourself to text him because it just reminded you too much of the relationship you had just lost.

As the days turned into weeks, it seemed like getting over Colson was getting easier. You were starting to push every bit of sadness you had out of your mind, and you were doing pretty good at blocking out the memories of you past year together. You were recovering just fine, until the bell over the door at the salon rang one day and a familiar tall man stood there.

You stared at him for a long time as he just stared back, his blue eyes filled with sadness. You rolled your eyes and turned away.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked. All your coworkers knew what Colson had done to you, and they were equally as angry at him. In fact, the girls were glaring at him in a way that you were sure he was going to die on the spot.

“No, but I’d like to talk to (Y/N) for a minute,” he said.

“She’s busy,” the receptionist responded. “Booked up solid for about a week. Want to make an appointment for next Friday?”

Colson shook his head and walked right past her. She called after him but he ignored her and walked right up to you. You ignored him for a moment, working on finishing up your clients hair, before turning to glare at him. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk,” he responded.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, you talked quite enough when you accused me of using you. I’m busy, go away.”

He grabbed your arm, almost causing you to cut a wrong spot on your client’s hair. “What the fuck?!”

“I made a mistake,” he told you. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to any of those rumors. I know you love me, I know what we had was real, I know what you were feeling was real. I was such a damn idiot, please I’m so sorry.”

Angry tears were starting to form in your eyes. You turned fully to face him. “Oh yeah, you seemed really fucking sorry when you were out partying with all those girls, when you were flirting them up, when you went home with one of them! What’s wrong? Did your new plaything dump you?”

Everyone was staring at your both, but no one was making any moves to stop the fighting. They were all too wrapped up watching what was happening to even think about breaking it up.

“No!” Colson snapped. “I never went home with any of those girls, I never even flirted with any of them! I partied to try and get you off my mind, but it never worked. You have to believe me (Y/N), all this time I’ve been thinking about you. I wanted to call or something but, being the idiot I am, I thought you had been using me. I found out recently that it was Chantel that started those rumours. Apparently she told some tabloid that she had witnessed us together in private, that you were very cold and that you obviously didn’t want me. She was trying to break us up thinking I’d go back to her. When I didn’t, she told me everything.”

He took your hands in his. “Baby, I’m really so sorry. I know sorry isn’t enough, I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up so bad. But I can’t be without you. You’re the love of my life, you complete me, as fucking corny as that is. I need you in my life.”

Suddenly he was lowering to one knee. You covered your mouth in shock as he took a ring from his pocket and held it up to you. “You have every right to say no, but I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to be able to call you my wife, to start our own family together, to just be happy together in general. (Y/N), will you marry me?”

Before the question was completely out of his mouth, you exclaimed, “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

You had forgotten that you in the middle of a busy hair salon until your coworkers and their clients cheered with excitement as Colson stood and took you in his arms, placing a loving kiss on your lips. Not that you cared all that much. For the first time in weeks, you felt whole again, and you were beyond happy to be able to spend the rest of your life with Colson.

[knamjooned]

ღ min yoongi ღ part of the Soulmate Series

34D 14H 46M 57S. 55S. 40S. The soulclock seemed to be skipping numbers, counting down much faster than the other’s soulclocks were. As it began to skip minutes, Yoongi realized he needed to find you before time ran out.

Pairing: SecuritySpecialist!Yoongi x Photographer!Reader Genre: Soulmate AU / Non-Idol AU / Thriller AU Words: 5.1K Warnings: mention of porn, mention of drugs, cursing, bit of violence, unedited

If you want time you must make it.

Having a drink after work with the guys was a regular occurrence. His boss, Kim Namjoon, shed his CEO persona and turned into your friend you’d known since the two hit puberty. Jeon Jungkook, the young intern Hoseok had to deal with, always seemed to be eager to have fun, at and away from work. Jung Hoseok, the face of the company and CFO, was reluctant to join each time, only because he couldn’t hold his alcohol.

The bartender, Kim Seokjin, knew them well by now, after all the times they’d come into the place. He placed their usual drinks in front of the four men at the bar, grinning as Jungkook showed the soulclock that was on the understand of his wrist.

10D 02H 18M 23S

“It’s almost time. Fuck, what if it’s someone I hate? Or ugly?”

Seokjin snorted as he walked away to deal with another customer.

“The whole point of this soulclock is to point to the perfect person for you, looks and personality,” Namjoon sighed, looking at the youngest as he took a swig from the glass of whiskey. He glanced at his own wrist as he sat down the drink, a thoughtful look on his face. Yoongi glanced at the numbers there, and looked back up at Namjoon’s face with raised eyebrows.

“When did it turn to zero?” He hadn’t said anything to Yoongi, but that was usual. Namjoon was the type to analyze before confirming.

“Last night.” After staying silent for a moment, Namjoon realized the other three were staring at him. A faint flush came to his cheeks as he cleared his throat and straightened his back. “It’s complicated.”

“See?” Jungkook interjected, eyes wide with worry. “He’s not happy about his soulmate!”

“I didn’t say that,” Namjoon corrected. “It’s just… inappropriate.”

“It’s the new assistant,” Hoseok gasped. He grinned, leaning forward curiously. His hands clasped the beer bottle in front of him. 

“That’s hot,” Jungkook commented, sipping at his mug of tap beer. Yoongi slapped his arm, narrowing his eyes at the intern. “What? It’s a well-told story of boss and secretary porn.”

“Shut it, kid,” Namjoon growled. Yoongi smirked as he saw the shy and amused smile on his friend’s face. Namjoon didn’t mean it in a negative way. “And yes, it is my new assistant. We’re going to talk about our situation tomorrow evening.”

Jungkook opened his mouth, but Hoseok spoke before a sound could come out.

“Mind out of the gutter, Kook!” Jungkook, looked away, muttering in annoyance as he gulped at his drink. Hoseok turned back to Namjoon. “It’ll be fine. You own the company, you make the rules.”

“How long have you been with your partner?” Yoongi asked curiously, eyeing Hoseok. 

“About two years. And they are exactly what I want and need,” he answered, looking pointedly at Jungkook. The youngest rolled his eyes with a grin.

Yoongi chuckled as he glanced at his own wrist.

45D 4H 23M 45S

You stared at the photos hanging in the dark room. They were strung above the developing station, where you liked to do it yourself instead of taking it to a professional. The room was barely lit, but the red tone was enough to know the photos you had drying were going to be trouble.

Gulping, you closed your eyes for a moment, hoping this was a freaky dream, but when you opened them, the evidence stared back at you. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, pressing your lips together anxiously. 

You had a few options. One, you could just rip them up and forget you had captured anything while shooting the alleyway. Two, you could head straight to the police with the photos. Third, you could hope no one saw you taking those photos, and still use them for the city photography competition. 

Unfortunately, it was clear the shady men your friend was talking to had noticed something. You had a few shots of him looking straight into the camera. Still, there was a slight chance you were going to be fine.

Your intuition told you otherwise, though. 

“Fuck,” you cursed again.

As you sat down in a chair near the table, you caught a glance of your soulclock. 

41D 10H 05M 12S

Something positive to look forward to, right?

Frowning, Yoongi listened to the report on the TV in the break room. Since Jimin was in the security room keeping an eye on the cameras that watched over the RM Corporations building, Yoongi had decided it was a good time to get a bit to eat. He chewed on his food slowly as the reporter spoke in a confident, factual voice.

“New studies have shown certain soulclocks may not be related to when you meet your destined soulmate. On a rare occurrence, these clocks may relate to the death of your soulmate. Fortunately, it seems to be very rare, with only 5% of the world population estimated to have this. On our screen we have provided the SoulClock Hotline for those with questions or concerns.”

Yoongi found himself looking at his own mark on his wrist. 

34D 20H 02M 44S

Which one did he have? How could you tell? He glanced back at the news, but they had moved on to another report. Yoongi shrugged to himself, going back to eating his lunch. It was rare, so there wasn’t anything to worry about. The seconds ticked down on the mark, the normal action a comfort to him.

After lunch, Yoongi had a meeting with Hoseok and Jungkook, who was only there to be a coffee boy in all honesty. They talked about the cost of updating some security equipment, and the pros and cons of actually doing it. Jungkook listened with earnest, taking notes. Yoongi was actually impressed. The kid seemed to have a hard time concentrating sometimes, but right now he was focused and calm.

After hashing out the details for that project, Yoongi found his way back to the security room, where Jimin was standing and stretching as he kept his eyes on the screens. When he saw Yoongi enter, he straightened and sat back down in the office chair at the desk of screens. Yoongi smiled and nodded as he passed Jimin, heading to his own desk a few feet away. He had a few forms to deal with before doing a few other projects.

After a few moments of silence, Yoongi jumped when Jimin started to talk.

“So did you hear about the new studies about soulclocks?” 

“Mhm,” Yoongi confirmed, eyes still on the papers in front of him. He used a pen to initial and edit some things. 

“Are you worried about it?”

“Not really. It seems to be pretty uncommon.” Yoongi kept working on a few pages, then looked up at Jimin, who was biting his lip and wringing his hands. His eyes were on the screens, but he seemed to be thinking about other things. “Why, are you worried?”

“Nah…” he squeaked, clearing his throat. Yoongi raised his eyebrows at Jimin. “I mean.. a little. There was one story about it that kind of freaks me out.”

“Eyes on the screen,” Yoongi reminded him with a soft chuckle. Jimin straightened once again and gazed at the screen with renewed concentration. Yoongi continued as they did their work. “What’s the story?”

“The clock starts to freak out. It starts to countdown faster than actual time, which tells you your soulmate is going to die, instead of meeting you.”

“It could also mean the fates have decided to push up the meeting time,” Yoongi countered, leaning back in his own office chair, taking a break from reading legal documents.

“True…” Jimin murmured, seeming to relax.

“What’s your clock at?”

“Soon,” Jimin nervously chuckled, holding up his arm.

23H 12M 05S

“I’m sorry.”

You took a deep breath through your nose, letting it out. You still were tense, anger causing you to fist your hands at your side and press your lips together tightly. Your friend stood across from you in your apartment, looking guilty as hell.

“Sorry? Sorry! Why did you go to them, Taehyung? Why didn’t you come to me?”

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m not going to get you involved with my shitty life!”

“Well, looks like I am now!” 

While you seethed, Taehyung kept his eyes on anything but your face. You could see the guilt in his features, the sad eyes and old habit of licking his lips when he did something wrong. 

“Just get rid of those photos. If someone comes to you, you won’t have anything, and nothing will come of it.”

“If someone comes to me? Are you saying they’re looking for me?” 

“Just in case! I don’t know what’s happening at the moment!”

“I love you, Tae, but you knew dealing drugs and being a middle man was going to get you into trouble. You didn’t tell me why you bailed on me for the third time this month. You didn’t tell me anything, so I followed you!”

“You shouldn’t have followed me!” he cried, throwing his hands up in agitation. He put them on his hips as he started to pace. You felt your anger slowly diminishing, turning into worry for your friend.

“Maybe not, but I didn’t know what else to do,” you replied quietly. You took a calming breath, finally relaxing and letting your anger go. “You ignored me everytime I tried to help, you bailed out when we had plans, and then you go down a suspicious alley?”

“I know,” he whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head sadly. “I’m sorry, I really am. But we need to figure out what to do with these photos.”

“People could get hurt if I don’t turn them into the police.” You felt guilty for even thinking about turning in Taehyung, but this wasn’t just a little mistake. He was selling drugs to kids, and dealing with some scary people.

“People would get hurt if you do turn them into the police. They aren’t gonna like getting snitched on. Even indirectly.” He chewed on his lip nervously.

“Fine.”

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes widened. “You’ll get rid of them?”

“Yeah. I’ll get rid of them. You gotta get out of this, Taehyung. Find a way. Please.” Before you get killed, you thought.

His wrist was burning. Yoongi thought it was a dream at first, but then he woke and realized his wrist really did feel like it was on fire. Hissing, Yoongi looked at his soulclock. Blinking and shaking his head, he once again wondered if he was dreaming. As his sleepy brain began to wake up, Yoongi jumped out of bed with a curse.

“What the fuck?” 

His soulclock was doing something weird. It buzzed with whatever energy had made the soulclock. Yoongi hurried to the kitchen and put it under the kitchen faucet, letting cold water run over it. It soothed the burning enough for Yoongi to start thinking clearly.

Something was wrong. Watching the changing numbers under the running water, Yoongi’s heart beat picked up speed with panic.

34D 14H 46M 57S

34D 14H 46M 10S

34D 12H 12M 42S

33D 19H 29M 02S

Sucking in a breath, he realized with a jolt of alarm that his soulclock was counting down faster than it should, skipping seconds, then hours, then days. Trembling, he turned off the faucet, paced the room for a moment, then got out his cell to call Namjoon.

“Pick up, pick up,” he murmured, trying to steady his breathing.

On the fourth ring, his best friend picked up.

“Yoongi? Is there a problem? It’s Sunday morning.”

“I think they’re going to die.” He didn’t know why he said it like he did, but Yoongi didn’t have to sugar coat his worries with Namjoon. They’d been through too much together to accept that.

“What?” Yoongi heard rustling on the other end and a voice asking what was going on. Shit, he’d interrupted Namjoon’s time with his partner. Namjoon said something about an emergency with Yoongi, then put the phone back close to him. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

“My soulclock. It’s freaking out.”

“How so?”

“Counting backwards. Fast.” His heartbeat rapidly as he glanced down at his wrist. It had stopped, but he had lost a lot of time. 

12D 02H 25M 31S

Swallowing, he felt his heart slowing down. Still, his stomach turned with anxiety.

“It stopped. But I lost about three weeks of time.” Yoongi flopped down onto his couch, head falling backward onto the top cousins. 

“Lost time? That’s… impossible,” Namjoon replied. Yoongi could hear his frown.

“What if this is counting down to their death, not us meeting?”

“What if it’s not?”

Yoongi felt himself snort with amusement at remember the conversation he had with Jimin just the other day about this. What if it wasn’t what he thought, what he was panicking about? Just like he had told Jimin, it could be just moving the time of meeting up. It’s not unheard of…

“It’s not common, but it’s not rare, either. Yoongi, I’m sure everything will be fine. It stopped, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered, looking down at his wrist. The numbers were counting down at a normal speed, now. “Sorry, man. I freaked out. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Don’t apologize. Remember, I’ve seen you in worse situations. That’s why we’re friends. Also, we were getting up anyway. Want to join us for brunch?

“if your soulmate says it’s okay. I don’t want her to kick my ass.”

You felt confident now that the photos were ripped and thrown in the trash. Taehyung decided to treat you to some food, which was always great since you were the one to constantly feed him. You teased him about it on the way. You were both laughing as you walked into the establishment and sat down at a table.

You two sat at the table near the bar, the evening crowd not quiet there yet. There was at least another hour before it started to get too crowded, which is the perfect time to eat and get a few drinks in. Taehyung wanted to do karaoke, and you supported him completely. You weren’t going to do it, though, and no matter how much he pleaded, it wasn’t going to happen.

A slight tingling sensation, like that when you loose feeling in a limb, centered around your soulclock. Frowning, you looked down, wondering what was happening. It was glowing, but nothing else. It continued to tick down in a normal manner. You stood and walked to the bar, wanting to order one more drink before having to stop to drive. As you stepped up, your shoulder brushed against another’s. You turned to apologize, and stopped as soon as you opened your mouth. 

Meeting his eyes, you wondered what caused your breath to leave your lungs. A slight throbbing, like a heartbeat, started beating at your wrist. Swallowing hard, you turned to face him. He did the same, although his look was more curious than surprised.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You didn’t know what else to say. Your mouth became dry with nervousness. You cleared your throat as you glanced at your wrist. Frowning, you realized it had skipped a lot of time. It was now down at 0. Completely 0.

“Congrats,’ the man said softly, seeing your wrist. “It seemed you met your soulmate recently.”

“It seems so,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You stepped closer, then saw his own soulclock on his wrist.

07D 05H 11M 49S

You stopped yourself before you could say anything else. It wasn’t him. His clock would have stopped. He still had a week to meet his soulmate. What if the fates were wrong? What if they were right? That would be cruel, meeting your soulmate but not being able to be with them. You looked back into his soft brown eyes, your heart beating rapidly as he gave you a soft smile.

“Sorry to get in your way. Were you getting a drink?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I was.” You forced a smile on your face and turned around, trying to hide the tears that were in your eyes now.

The day after he felt his mark burn, Yoongi was back at work, doing a quick morning walk around to make sure his security guys didn’t have anything to report. As he did, he thought about you. The mark had tickled when you were in the bar, and had burned pleasantly when you had brushed his shoulder.

Something had stopped you from continuing the conversation, though. Yoongi glanced down at his own clock, and sucked in his breath as he watched it jump once again forward

06D 11H 23M 43S

05D 01H 10M 04S

He had lost another day. Pressing his lips together, he thought about you once again as he made his way back to his office and the security room. It was you, wasn’t it? His clock hadn’t stopped, but it had warmed, which was a common sign of meeting your soulmate. He hadn’t seen yours - he wondered what it had said. Did your mark stop?

“Fuck,” he murmured, causing Jimin to jump at the camera desk. He looked at Yoongi with a frown, but Yoongi waved it off. “I gotta do something. You can handle today, I think.”

As he walked out of RM Corporations, he sent a quick text to Namjoon, telling him he had an emergency and he’d be back later. Yoongi never just walked out, especially without telling Namjoon, so he hoped his boss and friend would let him do what he needed right now. The text that came a few moments later, while Yoongi was getting into his car, confirmed that Namjoon would let him be for now.

Yoongi drove to the bar they had spent time at last night, where he had first spoken to you. It was too early for it to be open, causing Yoongi to curse in frustration as he glared from his car. When he saw Seokjin around the corner, coming out of a side door, he quickly got out and made his way to the bartender.

“Seokjin! Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Seokjin blinked, confused at first with Yoongi being here at this time of the morning, but quickly shook it off and smiled. His confusion turned to curious, cocking his head.

“Yoongi? Sure, what do you need?”

“Do you remember me asking about the woman last night, the one at the bar?”

“The one that ran away? Yeah, why?” He narrowed his eyes. “Look, she seemed upset. Maybe you shouldn’t be looking for her if you made her cry.”

“I didn’t! I swear,” Yoongi quickly said, shaking his head. “I think she’s my soulmate.”

Seokjin let out a huff, thinking about the request. He took a moment to look off into the distance, pursing his lips as he thought. Yoongi stared, taping his foot with impatience as he waited.

“All I know is that she is friends with Taehyung, although I’m not sure why. That kid makes some bad decisions,” Seokjin added, shaking his head sadly.

“Taehyung. Okay. Where can I find him?”

“I think he’ll be around tonight, if I heard correctly.”

Taking a mental note, Yoongi went back to work.

“Sorry, can’t make it Tae,” you sighed into the phone, curled up on your couch with your favorite ice cream and television show. Your had cried yourself to sleep last night, and now you were pathetically spending a day moping on the couch. This soulmate thing was a big deal. You felt like the something had been pulled from your grasp right before you could hold it.

“Are you alright? I know you were upset last night.” You heard him getting out of his car, probably in the parking lot of the bar. He was meeting a friend there, a friend you knew would help him get on the right path.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” you rephrased, not wanting to keep secrets from your best friend. “My.. I met my soulmate last night.” A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed to try to make it go away.

“That’s…! I mean, what happened?” 

“My clock stopped, but his didn’t.”

“Oh.” Taehyung fell silent on the other end for a moment. “Y/N, are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

“I’m sure. You need to talk to her. She’ll help you figure some things out.”

“Okay. Text me if you feel worse, promise?”

“Promise.”

Hanging up, you blew out a breath and kept eating your ice cream as another episode started.

Yoongi was just about to confront the man named Taehyung, but he stopped as he overheard the discussion he was having with a woman. A personal confession about addiction and trying to get back on the right path. As he hesitated, the two got up and walked out. He cursed to himself, but didn’t follow them. Instead, he went to the bar and saw Seokjin. 

“Can you give Taehyung a note?”

“Sure…?” The bartender raised an eyebrow, curious but not saying anything else. Yoongi ignored the look and wrote on a napkin.

I need to speak to you about your friend. Her soulmate clock stopped but mine is still going. It’s an emergency. She only has 5 days.

He wrote his name and number on it, then folded it in half. Seokjin took it, not attempting to peek at the note at all. He was a good man, Yoongi knew.

That evening, Yoongi’s worries increased.

01D 00H 23M 21S

You didn’t know what happened. One moment you were getting into your car after work, the parking area lit up with lights that turned on as soon as the sky started to get darker. The next, two pairs of hands grabbed you, one holding you tightly and the other putting a cloth of sort to your mouth. You vaguely remember tumbling into the trunk of a car as your mind went to sleep.

Groggily, you felt yourself waking. You were in a chair, and as your mind began to slowly clear, you realized your arms were handcuffed behind you. Your legs were free, but the four big, scary men surrounding you made any sort of plan dissipate as they glared at you. You gulp, mouth and throat dry. 

“Water,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Right here, love.” The voice wasn’t one you knew, with an English accent coming through. You tilted your head up, seeing a extremely handsome man in his 50s, wearing an expensive suit. He held a class of water with a plain white straw. “Sip slowly. Trent, hold the glass for her, please.”

One of the four bodyguards came toward you and reached for the glass. The obvious leader handed it to the guy. Trent held the glass to your face, and you tentatively sipped slowly. You kept your eyes down as you sipped, taking these quiet moments to clear your mind. Something was familiar about one of the other guards.

“Thank you, Trent. Y/N, is your thirst quenched?” You nodded, trying not to shake with fright. You took a slow, deep breath. You glanced over to the guy who looked familiar. Fuck! It was the guy in the photos! “Alright, now we can get to business.”

You watched the man stroll toward you, casually starting to circle you inside the square made from the bodyguards. When he slipped behind you, out of your vision, you tensed. Nothing happened, though, and he stepped back into your line of sight on the other side of your body. The cool metal of the handcuffs intimidated you further.

Finally, he stopped in front of you. Your eyes rose to his face slowly, your heart beating fast.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you said quietly.

“I didn’t think so. For some reason, it seems you have become involved enough for me to know you.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I run a business, the kind of business that should never be spoken about, even with those that may be trustworthy.” He tilted his head, hands clasped behind his back, studying you. You gulped and forced yourself to keep your head up. “Unfortunately, you are too curious for your own good. Where are the photos?”

“I tore them up and threw them out,” you replied quickly, squeezing your bound hands into fists behind your back and the chair. “Really! Taehyung saw them in the trash!”

“The trash,” the man repeated evenly. “You put them in the trash.”

You nodded vigorously. The man sighed, shaking his head at you, making you feel like you were missing something important. 

“Who has access to your trash?”

You opened your mouth, but shut it. Fuck, he had a point.

Yoongi’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked at his mark. Taehyung stood beside him in the empty apartment, where you lived.

01H 02M 33S

“Shit!” Taehyung cried, pacing the room. Yoongi wanted to punch the guy in the face, but that wasn’t going to help him get to you. He forced himself to keep a calm tone.

“Where would they take someone to interrogate?”

“Fuck. Shit. This is all my fault. Fuck!”

“Hey!” Yoongi cried, grabbing Taehyung by the shoulders. The man stared at him with wide eyes, quieting down. Yoongi glared at him. “Look, you believed me when I showed you my mark, told you that Y/N is in danger. I believe you know exactly where y/n is.”

“Downtown, 132nd and Ernest. Big building, car shop.” Taehyung seemed dazed, voice shaking with large eyes. “Fuck. If y/n’s hurt, it’s all my fault. I fucked up.”

“No shit,” Yoongi growled, pushing Taehyung away and hurrying to his car. It was dark now. He left Taehyung to do whatever he was going to do, breaking a few laws as he drove fast toward the place Taehyung had mentioned. He parked a few  blocks away, running through ideas in his head. 

He realized he had no plan, no back up, no information about this. Yoongi’s eyes fell to the soulclock once again.

45M 12S

Cursing, Yoongi got out of his car and started to take everything in he could see. He was in charge of securing the whole damn Kim Corporations building, he could handle this. He had experience with bad guys even before Namjoon hired him a handful of years ago. Yoongi wasn’t dumb when it came to illegal business and the things bad people do to handle their business.

After looking around for about ten minutes, Yoongi realized there was only one option in the time frame he was given.

“Poor, innocent, bystander. Curiosity killed the cat, it seems.” 

Your cheek hurt from the slap he had given you moments ago, stinging violently as your blinked your eyes to get your vision to sharpen back to normal. You tried not to make too much noise as tears rolled down your cheeks, tasting blood in your mouth. It seemed you had bit the inside of your cheek. The metallic taste made you want to gag, but you didn’t want anymore attention. He probably got off on seeing you suffering.

“if only you had burn the photos. It would have saved you so much pain. Now you’re a loose end I really need to tie up.”

“Please,” you murmured, keeping your eyes to the side and down, lips trembling. The blood in your mouth was building, so you swallowed before you could think about what you were doing. Tears continued to fall. 

“You have no worth to me.” You heard the leader of the gang take a step back, then four sets of feet slowly stepping toward you. “Trent, you and the boys take her to the back. Get rid of her.

Panic seized you whole body, causing you to stiffen in shock, shutting your eyes tightly. Maybe if you closed them long enough, everything would go away, like a dream. You didn’t want to die. You had so much to do, to see, to feel! You let out a choking sob as you waited for hands to do whatever they were going to do to you.

Suddenly, voices came out of nowhere. You opened your eyes. The voices all became a chorus of demands as the thugs that were coming toward you were tackled by men in uniforms and bulletproof vests. Relief flooded your body so quickly that you passed out.

You vaguely felt a presence next to you in a moments before you lost consciousness. Your mark tingled, a warm, comforting burn as you heard someone murmuring your name with heavy concern.

He had saved you. Yoongi had no idea what was going to happen to you if those men had been able to get to you before the police came. He was grateful he had a close relationship with people on the local police force, people who could drop everything and come to the rescue when he called. 

He watched you a few paces away, being looked at by an EMT, sitting on the curb outside the car shop. There were dozens of people around, some officers, some bystanders. Suddenly nervous, Yoongi wasn’t sure how to approach you. He had told them the truth - you were his recently found soulmate, but you had never really interacted before, so you didn’t know him. 

He wondered if the EMT had told you what he said. 

Taking a deep breath, he walked to where you were perched, the EMT nodding at you before stepping back. You had an ice pack on your cheek and a  blanket around your body. The night was only slightly chilly, and Yoongi wondered if you were really cold or if you were still in shock.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you replied softly. Smiling tiredly, you patting the concrete next to you and gestured for Yoongi to sit there. He did, keeping a bit of space between your bodies. You closed the gap, though. The mark on both your wrists hummed and warmed pleasantly. “You saved me.”

“I got lucky,” Yoongi murmured, flushing a little. 

“What’s your name?” He told you with a chuckle. You replied with your name, then the two of you sat in silence as the people moved around you. 

It was comfortable. Yoongi reached out gently, hesitantly, toward the hand you had laid beside you on the sidewalk. As you both gazed at the stores above, his pinky touched yours. You returned the gesture by sliding your hand under his, putting your palm up, and lacing your fingers with his. 

Yoongi and you shared a glance with shy smiles, willing to enjoy the comfortable silence for a little while longer before moving forward with whatever this was going to be.

[zexxcandell]

Debt Collecting

(Reply to the quest provided by @eliceynbirch​ )

The Black Eyed Walrus was your typical seedy under the docks bar.  All manner of men, women,and who knows what made their way down here for the kind of quiet drink that made sure the constables wouldn’t look twice at it.  It was old, it was gross, it was unkempt, but it was the shadowy aesthetic that would be pirates craved and discovered they were not ready to be in.  Owned by Maggie, a one eyed crone who’s stories about her past life made men pale and ill treated women their hero, she’d come into possession of the dockside establishment via a strong bite and the early retirement of the previous owner.  Maggie was just Maggie, she didn’t have a last name that she was willing to share and by the muscle she hired to keep things in order no one pushed to ask about her personals.  Maggie was as much the bar as the bar was her. 

Despite how it looked, it held a huge part of Maggie’s heart and she’d be damned if anyone was going to ruin it.  The biggest source of pride of the crone’s was the large plate glass window she had purchased to look out onto the old dock outside and shadowy waters of the harbor.  It had cost quite a bit of gold and took some brave craftsmen to come down and install it for her.  She loved that window that she had painstakingly painted the visage of the bar’s namesake, a large walrus with a large black ring about it’s eye.  The literal personification of the woman in paint and time.  Maggie loved that window and her art as much if not more than the bar she never left.  

Sadly, a large figure was currently being launched through the window in a shower of glass and roar of a brawl within the bar.

Twenty minutes ago…

“An you are?”

“Zexx, Zexx Candell.”  A calloused and sea salt worn hand reached between the bottles of rum and liquor to grasp the other man’s hand firmly.

“Hoarse, Hoarse Darby,  pleasure tha Candell,” the sailor nodded genially as he broke the grip and lifted up his fresh bottle to his lips again followed by a hard pull of the alcohol.  Darby was young, dumb, and likely full of a troublesome substance but his thick corded arms and bald head did the trick to know him a tough bastard. He liked it that way. He also liked it when free drinks followed winning a few rounds of dice with a stranger.

“Likewise, mate, you took me for quite a ride there,” Zexx replied with a wide toothy grin.  If not for the thick salt and peppered beard, the laugh lines of the man would have been very clear.  But for all the smiles and laughs, his one blue eye was slightly red and carried a sadness that only comes from true loss.  “I swear I can roll better.”

“In mah experience that more ya drink tha better the dice seem ta follah,” Hoarse replied with his own grin on his reddened face, his nose showing easily a future of alcoholism as he toasted his cycloptic benefactor.

Zexx let out a bark of a laugh as he lifted his own bottle and took a short pull, a hard grimace following as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.  “Shame yer friends, didn’t want to play any more.  Though probably better for me to lose to one of you than all of you.”

A few drunken nods joined an oily grin as Darby wiped his own mouth with his own palm.  “Aye, but thems lookin fer tail more’an drink an games.”

“And they plan to find it here?”

“Right?”  Darby laughed and leaned forward into the table, his head bowing forward as a soft jangle of metal could be heard as he guffawed.

“Oy there, what’s that then?”  Zexx asked as he tilted his head looking to his gaming partner.

“Eh?  Oh this thang, pretty lil bauble I picked up recent,” Darby nodded as he sat back up drunkenly and reached inside his shirt to produce the silver anchor talisman.

Peering across the table with a whistle, Zexx held out an expectant hand.  “Fine piece of jewelry there mate, mind if I take a closer look?”

A hard tug pulled the leather thong from around Darby’s thick neck as he swayed drunkenly across the table to lay it in Zexx’s hand who nodded softly as he lifted it to look at.  “Simple make, but damn fine.  Where ya happen upon it?”

Darby leaned back in his chair and kicked his bare feet up on the table, to wiggle his toes with a sigh as he rested the bottle on his belly.  “Tha thing?  Reason why ahm alrigh on tail myself.  Some ‘hore had it an I ask where she got it says somethin bout an uncle or something.”

Hoarse snorted as he shook his head while taking a swig.  “Yer uncle?  Ya righ ya filthy bitch.  So I confiscated it up righ.  Brough me hell o luck out on the blue.  An tonigh!”  

The sailor waved to the moderate pile of gold he’d picked up from his companions and the one eyed man across from him.  Zexx nodded softly as he held the pendant still in his palm, he’d never been much for arcane work but he knew enough to know this was more than a bauble.  This said sages all over.  

“Sounds like quite the girl,” Zexx murmured as he set the anchor between them.

Darby nodded with a laugh, “Oh yeah sweet as o bee hive, feisty as one too!”  The sailor leaned forward with a dark, drunken grin that held a lot more information about what happened between him and the girl than he was saying.  His free hand reached forward to pick up the bauble again.  “Ah tell ya, she had thighs tha dra-”

Darby’s words were cut short as a strong hand grabbed him by the wrist and pinned that hand to the table.  Shock sobered him up for a brief moment as he followed the hand up and into the face of a no longer smiling Zexx.  Shadows framed the one eyed man as he pinned Hoarse’s hand, as a dark anger radiated from the man.  Darby never even had a chance to shout as Zexx’s free hand grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed it swiftly into the old birch table with a crunch of a nose and snap of a jaw.  The same hand grabbed hold of the stunned sailor and lifted the head to smash again into the table for good measure, a spray of blood and teeth following this hard slam.  With a grunt Zexx pulled the head up and tossed the sailor back into his chair which amazingly kept standing as Darby flopped back loosely with a ruined face and blank stare.

Zexx peered behind his shoulder and around the immediate area for a moment, the chorus of the bar still a low din as this was not quite an uncommon occurrence around this place.  Spitting in the direction of the sailor, the swordsman would sweep up the bauble before swiftly moving to Darby’s side of the table.  Keeping a quick on the bar and for sight of Hoarse’s friends, a moan sounding behind him as the stun was starting to wear off on the man.  Turning about swiftly to plant his fist between the eyes of the sailor before ripping a bandana from around Darby’s neck and ‘knapsacking’ it for the coin on the table.

A final clink of coin and swift pull of the ends finished the ‘golden lunch’ Zexx had prepared with a snort and grim smile.  So far so good, Zexx though as he lifted the money and gave a final look to Darby.  A new soft moan given to signal just a bit of sadism on the hero-for-hire’s part, a swift jab delivered to the broken nose for good measure.  A wet smush and moan as Darby finally fell out of his chair with a clatter.

“Wha tha fuck?”  His blue eye widened as Zexx looked up from his unconscious quarry and turned to find Darby’s five mates who had been at the bar glaring at him.  Their hands were holding bottles, a couple of girls, and a lot of fists.

“Shit.”

Now...

Zexx coughed hard and spit, struggling up to his hands and knees from his prompt exit of the bar.  Rolling over onto his rear he sat a moment to catch his breath, tasting quite a bit of blood in his mouth again as he spit to the side again and stared back the way he came from the Walrus.  

Inside was a madhouse of fighting, blood, and a thundering shot followed as someone had finally drawn a pistol into the air to either find some order or put down a brawler.  Zexx guessed it the latter.

Breathing heavily and painfully, the swordsman would struggle to get up and scramble away down the dock his old boots thumping on the wooden dock.  His left hand squeezing tighter again about the anchor in his palm, happy for keeping it and the luck it was sending his way.  The loss of coin wasn’t in the plan but sometimes you gotta buy an exit.

Zexx stopped for a moment and leaned on one the dock posts as he tried to ease the ache in his ribs from breathing and even moving.  The big sailor had packed quite a punch or six and definitely finding his way through a window was not the most comfortable way to vacate the premises.  As his pain slowly eased thunder resounded the docks and the post he’d leaned on exploded in a shower of wood and muck causing him to stumble away in a panic.  Flipping about he’d easily find the bloody and angry culprits to be three of the five mates of Darby’s, one with a smoking pistol in hand.  The second man lifted his own pistol now to pull the trigger for the loud Kul Tiran salt shooter to blow past Zexx’s ear.  A quick check found the ear still there as he turned to run again, the loud thumps of feet and curses following him as he booked it past the moored ships.

As much as Zexx wanted to just run it was very obvious from his previous beating and wounds there was no way he would outrun them.  Fight or die was taking precedence over flight now as he rounded to down a dock, seeing a head of him quite a few rows bobbing in the black water.  Could he row?  A thunderous shot ringing about with a swish of a bullet was a clear indicator that he could definitely row.  Reaching one of the boats, his booted foot kicking the knot hard to loosen it before pulling it off the tie off, which followed the rope as a bullet tore it from the dock and sent it spinning into the water.

“Crap in a hat,” Zexx muttered as he readied to leap into the boat.  Thankfully he had some help in getting in the row as thick muscled arms grabbed him behind and tackled him forward into the boat below.  The swordsman made a perfect landing pad for her his pursuer as the boat dipped into the drink and sped away from the dock further out into the harbor.

There was some muffled threat and yell Zexx heard as he painfully breathed and tried to steady his rocking brain with the rowboat drifting too and fro.  More pain flooded his body as a punch struck him in the back and another in the kidney before he struggled to right himself away from the sailor.  A quick twist on his back and an elbow caught a defensive arm of the attacker and let Zexx follow with a roll to his back to face the sailor.

Darby’s mate was already clamoring up to his feet with a well experienced ease of fighting on the sea, his feet loosely planted as he let his body roll with the pitch of the waves.  Fists raised to taunt and egg Zexx on to stand, who replied with breathing heavily as he felt around behind him in the boat for purchase to get up.  Bloody and ragged breath flowed from the one eyed hero as he finally gripped onto something. 

“Get up ya bastard!  Get up ya fuck!  Ah’m gonna smah ever bone in ya!”  A short kick was sent into Zexx’s leg as he winced and struggled back onto the seat of the row boat.  Leaning forward a moment to catch his breath and Zexx made what might have been perceived to stand and fight.  Instead it was to level the short harpoon gun at the sailor who suddenly went white in the face before going red as the short fisherman’s spear went through his left eye and skull.

A familiar thump of dead meat rocked the rowboat again as the current took it further from the docks and into the harbor from the Walrus.  Zexx dropped the gun with a clatter of metal and fishing line before slumping back with an exhausted sigh.  His hand ached just as much as the rest of him as he lifted it up in front of his face to let the anchor uncoil before him, a new appreciation of the elements coming.  Behind that swaying talisman came a glint of something on the still form of the other man, a curious brow raising at what luck had befallen him now.

Two days later…

“Sorry again on the delay of retrieval, had to wait for Darby to arrive back in port before I could track him down.” Zexx spoke calmly in the office of Madame Kestavin sipping at a cup of herbal tea she’d been gracious enough to have for him.  Though he was a mass of bruises, bandages, and strong scent of herbal salves miraculously he was healing quite quickly and easily.  According to the medical staff he’d been seeing he was lucky to not be in traction for the rest of his life, but instead somehow a few days rest and medicine he’d be right as rain.  Lucky him.

“As for your girl’s items,” the anchor pendant was set gently down on the desk followed by another necklace of gold marked with a well sized ruby.  “I was able to retrieve the pendant but as for the gold it wasn’t in the cards.  Fortunately though, I was able to grab this and had it appraised before coming down here.  I think you’ll get roughly what you were owed for it but I’ll understand if you’d rather take it out of my reward.”

Zexx sipped at his tea again with a wry smile at the woman as he tried to cross his legs and winced loudly before putting his leg back down to sit easier.  

“Are you satisfied?”

[uptheante-openhanded]

This is FUBAR.

“Hell. Its what he wanted isn’t it? Bill threw punches at a brick wall as he watched his teammate get murdered. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it still stung knowing he couldn’t do anything about their death. He stood by the gate, knowing all too well nothing could hurt these things besides flashlights and pallets. Even flashlights didn’t always work. Bill wasn’t one to linger on it. Angry yes, but he’d find a way, some day to make these killers pay.

Bill sat at the edge of his seat waiting for the next trial. It was all too good to have someone to fight. He certainly didn’t avoid fighting. He’d do anything while wiggling to try causing these beasts pain. Ripping, pulling, hitting, kicking and stabbing all were common for him to do. Not simply to escape but to harm. They hurt His people, they’d pay for it. Nothing little like this would give it to him though.

When Lisa showed she didn’t want to have to hurt them he showed her little mercy’s. Less stabbing and kicking more just wiggling. She started hooking him less and he would give thanks by not making malicious acts against her to save his team. He still tried just as hard to keep his people alive but now it wasn’t just to hurt her. He didn’t need to harm her. She ended up becoming one of his own, but like it was her job to kill them it was his job to save them.

He vowed to make the killers who wanted nothing more than to kill regret everything. He had true enemies and hell if he was just going to kneel over when things got tough. The harder he tried to make them suffer the harder they made him suffer. Picking him up just before he got himself back up. Avoiding pallets and making him waste his supplies. Anything he did he found something being done against him for it.

Hell is what he asked for. Fighting is what he seeks. Bill’s a madman doing anything to find himself in trouble. Winning the fight was the gratification he wanted. He wouldn’t stop until he won. Winning wasn’t what he thought it was. Winning was getting everyone out. Winning was keeping his own safe and stable. He didn’t know this until he watched them change. Right in front of him Dwight was held down and turned into a monster.

“I... Lost.” Bill said as he stared as this thing went after him. Crying. Why won’t he stop crying? Bill embraces another death. The camp fire seemed empty. Despite the new survivor joining them. One of his own was gone. Now two of them lingered on the wrong side of hell. He wouldn’t let go of the fear in Dwight’s eyes. He could hear Dwight crying still. Bill had made an enemy. Now nothing would stand between him and the entity. He’d make them pay for bringing these people into such a hell-scape.

Bill is a madman. That’s what makes him so strong. That’s what makes me love him. I’ve picked up on his madness borrowing time, becoming a nightmare for these killers. I hope one day I can fight along side him in a fight we can win. Until then I’ll fight this unwinnable battle and become as mad as he. Because i certainly don’t have any other battles to fight.”

“Were fucked up beyond all recognition. That’s what makes us, and what breaks us. We are simply, FUBAR.” Ace’s story echo’s out into nothingness. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk to myself so loudly.”

Ace may never find the love back from Bill, but he’ll never give up that unwinnable battle. He finds comfort in knowing he won’t be the only one here to die in madness. That’s just who Ace is. That’s who they both are.