#i am so so lost in life and that makes me feel so so fragile

[adlibitur]

never felt exactly like this before

[brujaluas]

Your feminine rage

This will be a special reading, for those who follow my work you know that I have never made so many options but I felt the need to make 6, everything is very fragile and delicate in these piles, be careful, take a deep breath, it is a sensitive topic

I want you to know that it may seem superficial, but I really feel the energy of some here and I have a lot of affection and love for you, especially I'm feeling the energy of the new viewers haha stay well

everthing about my paid readings and spells

pile 1

What can I say about these people who connected with this pile?; you have a lot to work on, I see that they are rough diamonds that in some circumstances need to be polished, but here is the issue, you don't want to, you are reluctant about this issue, everything is very intense, very brutal for you, maybe it was yours creation, some here were their own children, they took the lead before everyone else, they are very independent, you don't look back, you don't apologize, you have a fire inside you, but be careful not to burn yourself, know how to regulate this intensity.;

pile 2

Maybe you are the youngest, there is a very youthful energy here, an energy you have when you are a teenager and think you can fight the world without fear, you are unstable, you need to think more before acting, impulsiveness can be a wild thing , but be careful because there are things that require some planning, but what am I saying?; You may have already packed your things and left, there's no time for you, rebellious and young heart.;

pile 3

solitude or solitude These two words flash through your head all the time, every day, every week, most people deal with some kind of addiction or obsession along the way. You are wanting to stay clean and free from this, which is a good start, addictions are difficult to deal with, but for that to happen, I see that it is necessary to move away from people you used to spend a lot of time with, bad company, perhaps?

pile 4

I understand why you chose the black swan, you can face very intense emotional and even physical challenges, perhaps due to some profession or personal achievement, you push yourself to the limit sometimes, but think that changes are necessary, when you stop seeing changes as something bad, many things will start to take off in your life, you will align yourself to the right path.;

pile 5

take time to think, don't take action in the heat of emotion, when you're feeling lost in emotional matters, be introspective, think a little, read a book, the secret is to think before acting, not everything needs to be done now, You have this passion inside you but you need to balance it.

pile 6

Of all, you are the most mysterious, what is inside you? what are your emotions?; Maybe you don't even know. can carry the weight of the world alone. You really give me a vibe of never being satisfied or needing to be perfect, without feeling emotions all the time, always being a sunflower, but you don't need to.

[bunnysrph]

—  𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓-𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

"I know I should leave, but I can't stay away from you."

"Why did you have to hurt me like this? Don't you know how much I love you?"

"I wish I could go back in time and change everything. Maybe then we wouldn't be here."

"I hate you for making me feel this way. I hate myself even more for letting you."

"I know I shouldn't love you, but I do. And that terrifies me more than anything."

"You've broken my heart too many times. I can't keep forgiving you."

"I wish I could hate you, but every time I look at you, all I feel is love."

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again. You've shattered everything we had."

"I can't help the way I feel about you, even though I know it's wrong."

"Why did fate have to bring us together, only to tear us apart?"

"I never wanted to fall in love with you, but now I can't imagine my life without you."

"You're the only one who can make me feel alive, even though you're also the one who's destroying me."

"I know I should let you go, but I can't bear the thought of living without you."

"You've made me question everything I thought I knew about love."

"I never thought I could love someone so much, only to have that love ripped away from me."

"I wish you could see how much you're hurting me. But you're too blinded by your own pain."

"Why did you have to choose them over me? Wasn't I enough?"

"I thought our love was unbreakable. I never realized how fragile it really was."

"You're the only one who's ever truly understood me. And now you're gone."

"I hate how much I still love you, even after all the pain you've caused me."

"I know we can never be together, but I can't help hoping for a different ending."

"You're the one who's always on my mind, even when I try to forget you."

"Every time I close my eyes, I see your face. And it hurts more than anything."

"I wish I could turn back time and fix everything, but I know it's too late for us."

"You're the one who's always had a hold on my heart, even when I tried to push you away."

"I never thought I could love someone so deeply, only to have that love thrown back in my face."

"You're the only one who's ever been able to see the real me."

"I thought we had something special, something that could withstand anything. But I was wrong."

"I know I'm not perfect, but I didn't deserve to be treated the way you treated me."

"Why did you have to come into my life and turn it upside down? Why did I let you?"

"I keep telling myself that I don't need you, but every time I try to move on, I fall apart."

"I never thought I could feel so much pain from loving someone. But you proved me wrong."

"I can't believe I ever thought you were the one for me. I was so naïve."

"I wish I could erase you from my memory, but I know that's impossible."

"You're the only one who's ever been able to make me feel this alive. And that's why it hurts so much."

"I thought we had a chance at something great. But I was foolish to believe that."

"You're the one who's always been able to break down my walls. And that's why this all hurts so much."

"I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me. But I know it wouldn't change anything."

"You're the one who's always been able to make me smile, even in the darkest of times."

"I never thought I could feel so betrayed by someone I loved so much."

"You're the only one who's ever been able to make me feel complete. And now I'm shattered."

"I wish I could forget you. But every time I try, I'm reminded of everything we had."

"I never thought I could be so lost without you. But here I am, trying to pick up the pieces."

[mtkay13]

Two illustrations of the "are you sincere?" scene, TYK, chapter 65.

More words below! VERY VERY LONG POST AHEAD

It's probably one of the most famous scenes of the book, considering it's the closest to an actual, outspoken declaration of feelings. Funnily enough, my first reaction to the scene was that of frustration, since WenZhou get once again interrupted, and the running gag + horniness distracted me from everything else that was going on in that scene which I now consider to be truly incredible, imo.

Those two illustrations, but mainly the second one, mainly take from one small paragraph in particular, but I will elaborate a little bit on other parts as well. First, though, a translation of the scene:

[...] Wen Kexing raised his head, looked at him. The lamp's light softening Zhou Zishu's chiselled features shone through his eyes, and Wen Kexing was lost in thoughts— He felt like he and this man had known each other for such a long time. From the moment he'd noticed his shoulderblades, felt this rush of excitement, to when he'd started liking who Zhou Zishu was, when he'd thought——so this is the Commander of Tian Chuang. Suddenly, he'd felt as if he'd met his other self. Both of them, lone wolves caught in a hunter's trap, struggling for freedom to no avail, until they had resolved to coldly gnawing off their own legs in the end. He'd felt compelled to follow him around, watched him, until he suddenly realised—if Zhou Zishu could live like this, then surely, so could he? He thought, and thought, until he fell, fell deep until he couldn't climb out anymore. Wen Kexing absent-mindedly reached out to gently caress Zhou Zishu's face, only brushing him with his fingertips. He felt a slight chill from contact of Zhou Zishu's rough skin against his own palm littered with scars and callouses. All of a sudden, he blurted: "Don't die. Should you die and leave me behind, I would be so lonely..." Zhou Zishu grasped his wrist, but didn't shake him off. He smiled: "As long as there is the slightest chance for me to live, I won't die. My life is mine, my gong-fu is mine. The Heavens granted me this fate, and taking it back from me won't be that easy." Zhou Zishu's breath brushed against Wen Kexing's fingers. He squinted, then said, seemingly deep in thoughts: "Once upon a time, an owl knocked over the bowl of red water carried by a villager..." Zhou Zishu looked at him and, his expression unchanged, he gently asked the question he'd already asked before: "Why was the villager carrying a bowl of red water?" Wen Kexing's lips slowly stretched into a smile, and he answered: "Water is colourless, but should blood trickle into it, wouldn't it turn red?" Zhou Zishu still looked at him but remained quiet. As if Wen Kexing's spirits had suddenly returned to him, his faraway gaze coming back into focus.

"Ah-Xu, you should sleep with me once," Wen Kexing said, his eyes smiling up into crescent moons. "This way, we'll have each other in our hearts; so you won't die so easily, and neither will I. How does that sound?" His tone was playful, but Zhou Zishu didn't banter back; he merely watched Wen Kexing with an odd glint in his eyes, and after a moment, he asked: "Are you sincere?" Wen Kexing chuckled, leaned forward so that his breath was brushing against Zhou Zishu's lips: "Can't you tell, if I'm sincere or not?" Zhou Zishu faintly startled, before he replied in a low voice: "I... I really can't. I haven't seen much sincerity in my life, and can hardly discern it. So, are you?" Wen Kexing's fingers climbed up along the curve of Zhou Zishu's shoulder, and he tugged his bun loose. His black, silky hair cascaded down, at once making the hardened man appear a few shades more fragile. Wen Kexing's playful smile faded, and in a soft, yet deeply grounded voice, he said: "I am." He closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to Zhou Zishu's, finally lifting the heavy turmoil from his heart. Zhou Zishu slowly reached up, a long moment passing before he rested his hand upon Wen Kexing's shoulder, gripping his robes with his fingers. [...]

Phew that was a bit long but it felt necessary! TL by me.

Obviously, the second illustration is based on this passage:

"Wen Kexing's fingers climbed up along the curve of Zhou Zishu's shoulder, and he tugged his bun loose. His black, silky hair cascaded down, at once making the hardened man appear a few shades more fragile," which I have lost my mind about too many times to count. I feel like the contrast between this and the mention of Zhou Zishu's rough skin, and his assured words above, is very cool.

About the scene itself, while I guess it's mostly self-explanatory, I feel like mentioning what particularly touches me here:

I think that Wen Kexing's impression of Zhou Zishu, his freedom, "the way he lives", is really the core of what moved Wen Kexing in the first place. It is also echoing that scene, back in Dongting, when Wen Kexing watches Zhou Zishu lazily sitting in a restaurant, feeling what could be interpreted as resentment or envy when he sees how free he looks.

Wen Kexing unconsciously halted his steps. He stared at Zhou Zishu’s relaxed silhouette for a while, with no trace of an expression in his face or eyes. His heart swelled with some strange feeling—strange, in that it was no feeling at all. He felt as though this man was mocking him with this wordless posture; he who rushed around for one thing or another, who was burdened with so many cares, yet obstinately put on a devil-may-care persona. Zhou Xu—as carefree as duckweed, he thought, with a body like willow catkins. In all the world, with its boundless perspectives, where could you find someone who walked their path alone and never allowed anything to trouble them?

(TL by Lianzi)

Wen Kexing longs for him, to be like him, to be free like him; they both came to having to hurt themselves to be free of their shackles, but Zhou Zishu kept living freely afterwards.

By evoking the red water, the past he could never tell straightforwardly, I think that Wen Kexing is expressing how this past of him has been his shackles and how now, he wishes to follow along, to follow Zhou Zishu in his freedom.

And then, Zhou Zishu's words—they almost feel like his own confession, to me. Later, by the tree as well, his words refer to life, the will to live, and not being really direct, it sounds like his way of telling Wen Kexing, "I am serious about you." Wen Kexing was the first one to hold onto his life, to want for Zishu to live, and now Zishu follows along.

His words feel so powerful, and said so straightforwardly, baring himself to Wen Kexing like that, it makes so much sense for me to expect, finally, a proper confession from him as well, considering how each and every one of Wen Kexing's declarations have so far been over the top, jokey or deflected one way or another. Of course, I also think that Zishu does feel some form of insecurity, does need reassurance, and is gambling a lot here, but I guess... he's essentially worked to bare himself and expects the same in return.

ANYWAY. I think this is a gorgeous scene. I DO think, for balance, that the ending is a bit abrupt and that they would have deserved for Priest not to undermine the emotions right away—for that does take away from it a bit and distracts (calling back, once again, to the tired running gag of "oops they're interrupted). Not that the joke shouldn't have come up, but it could have waited a bit more.

But yeah! Thanks for reading!

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader Pt. 2

Part One

Word count: 2,755

Originally requested by @hazbinlove

---

Your body was still suffering from your injuries when you awoke two days later. While not as intense as before, you could still feel that itching, burning feeling down your entire chest, which was now wrapped in gauze. You were in a soft bed, mind still reeling a little from everything that had happened. If it wasn’t for how sensitive your entire body still felt, you would have written the whole experience off as an ugly nightmare. Yet here you were, somehow still alive. Your first thought was that you must be in the hospital, but the room looked more like a nice apartment room, in line with a hotel suite. Someone must have found you half dead outside after the attack. That odd angelic figure you had seen, it must have been a dream.

That was what you thought as you lay in your uncomfortable position. Not too much longer later, the door opens, and in comes a man that looks vaguely familiar.

He was short, or at least shorter than most men you were accustomed to seeing.

“You’re awake!” he said.

He came into the room, holding a tray filled with breakfast food. You felt your stomach rumble as you saw that is had chocolate covered croissants and a bowl of fruit that looked delicious.

“… who are you?” you asked.

“Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Lucifer,” he said.

“You’re… Lucifer?” you said, shocked.

Instinctively, you try to inch away as this sinks in your mind, but you don’t make it very far, only succeeding in wincing in discomfort. Your body was still fragile from the attack.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asked, with a small smile.

A feeling of fear stirred inside your stomach. This had to be a mistake. A trap. There was no way that this was actually the devil. Unless…

“Am I dead?”

“Dead? Oh, no, quite the opposite!” he said, “Somehow, despite everything that happened to you, your soul is still inside its original body. You’re alive.”

“Then why am I with you?” you asked, hoping that the horror you felt wasn’t too apparent in your voice and face.

“Well I couldn’t very well just leave you out there,” he said, “You were basically being tortured like that. You could have lost your mind that way, repeatedly dying and regenerating.”

You just stared at him in stunned silence for a minute. As you stare at him, you feel your memory aligning with the sight in front of you. You hardly remembered the sight you had seen, you had been in so much pain, but you had seen flashes of flame. A white, red, and gold figure, with an unnaturally eerie light. Was it really possible?

“How do you know about my… thing?” you finally ask.

“Well, the unasked for human “sacrifices” usually don’t survive that kind of stabbing. It seems that someone has put a spell on you,” he said, “It’s a seal of protection. No matter what happens to you, you eventually regenerate. Your body will heal any fatal injury, though, it appears that there are some remnants of the attack. Whoever cast it must not have had a lot of experience and didn’t really know what they were doing.”

The memories of your mothers tear filled yet hopeful eyes rushed back into your mind. Had she…?

“Is there a way to reverse it?” you asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “I suppose I would have to look through my grimoires, but it may take some time for me to look.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“You sure you want me to reverse it?” he said, “Most humans would kill to live on earth forever.”

“No. I haven’t even been alive that long, and I already know I never want to experience coming back to life after I die again,” you said.

He puts the tray down next to you on the bed.

“Understandable. I’ve had my own fair share of accidents and long recoveries,” he said, “I know from experience it can be quite unpleasant.”

As if to prove his point, you grimace as you sit up a bit more to eat. Your entire chest feels like it will rip back open if you’re not careful.

“I think you should stay here for a little while,” he said, fingers nearing your face. He stops just short of touching you though as he sees you tense, eventually drawing his hand away and behind his back. An awkward silence permeates the room.

“Anyway, you need time to properly recover after everything that has happened to you,” he said, “Get some proper rest. I’ll leave you to that.”

With that he walks out, closing the door.

---

“I have a little surprise for you.”

You had been bored as you slowly healed. After about a week and a half, you were able to get out of bed, but there wasn’t too much to do. Your “nurse” had provided you with some books to read and puzzles, but other than that, there wasn’t much to do but rest. Though, considering how tired the attack had made you, you supposed you shouldn’t be complaining that much. You were feeling much better now, and the dullness was setting in.

Today though, Lucifer had a certain look in his eyes as he sat on the edge of your bed. He closed his hands together. As he opened them, smoke pealed and a black cat curled out. The pretty little thing which slinked onto the bed and kneaded its paws on the soft fabric. You offer a smile at his attempts to cheer you up. You had to admit that there was a certain charm about him.

“You created that?” you asked.

“Well, technically no,” he said, “I can’t make anything out of nothing. But I may have borrowed him from somewhere else.”

He absently stroked the animal. Squirming a bit, your mind raced. He seemed to be in a decent mood. You had wanted to broach a certain topic in the last day or two, but you weren’t really sure how. You didn’t want to come across as ungrateful and upset him, but he seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps now was the time.

“Um… so, I’m doing a lot better now,” you said.

“You are,” he said.

“And… I was wondering what you thought about me going back,” you said, “I think I’d be ok.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Unable to handle the awkward silence, you start babbling, rushing words out.

“I think I’d be able to handle it,” you said, “I can walk and take care of myself again. Thank you for all of your help, but I don’t want to bother you any longer.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry about that. Besides, I think it’s in your best interest that you stay somewhere where your safe.”

“Yes, but I can’t stay in here forever,” you said, “I don’t belong in here.”

While you had to admit he had been an attentive caretaker, you were tired of seeing the same four walls all the time. You needed to get out of here.

“…Perhaps not,” he said finally looking at you, eyes serious, “But I know that if I let you out of this building, some demon or other will get their hands on you and kill you. Or at least attempt to. And trust me, with the kind of sickos that end up down here, you do not want to end up in the wrong hands with an ability like that and no way to defend yourself. That will not be a fun time for you.”

“Er… I don’t mean out there. Can’t you just bring me back to the surface?” you ask.

He is again quiet for a long moment, a look on his face that you can’t quite place. He drums his fingers against his cane for a minute before sighing.

“Do you truly want to go back though?” he said, “You really think that’s a good idea? I mean, look what they did to you!”

He finally looks at you and waves his hand as if to dismiss your unspoken pleas, suddenly animated.

“You think no ones going to try something like this again?” he said, “That if that group finds out you survived, they’re going to be all huncky dory about it? That maybe they’ll just go ‘Oh, wowy, our little sacrifice went wrong. That’s a shame, let’s try a goat this time!’”

“Not all humans are bad,” you protest, “Plenty of us are good. I mean, you like me well enough.”

He scoffs at your words.

“Sure, I suppose some humans won’t try to take advantage of you, but just like down here, if the wrong one finds out about this little… gift of yours, and your best days on earth will rival some of the worst ones down here! Even well meaning humans might want to dissect you to find a futile way to live on earth forever,” he said.

“So what, you just want me to stay here forever?” you said, trying not to sound hysterical, “In fucking hell?”

“I mean, it’s really not so bad down here, as long as you’re with the right people,” he said, “And you couldn’t have better company. Eh?” You swear you hear a horn honk as he winks at you and shakes his elbow.

His attempt at joking optimism falls flat, with the horn sound making it only seem pathetic. The disappointment you feel must be showing on your face as he eventually sighs again and looks at you with condescending pity. It was the patronizing gaze an adult may give a child who is upset that they can’t have ice cream for dinner or an owner would give a pet that wants to jump out of a moving car.

Silly little thing. I’m sorry you’re so angry, but this is for your own good.

“I’m not a child,” you finally say, which only causes him to chuckle softly.

“No, you are not a child. It’s simply that I’m thousands of years old, and you’re what? In your mid-twenties, I would guess. It’s not as if I have more experience with the world or how humans work,” he said.

You glare at him.

“What? Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true,” he said, “People with something special to offer tend to only attract the worst kinds of attention. Trust me, I know.”

“And I’m supposed to expect that your intentions are pure?” you said, before you could think better of it.

Rather than anger though, his face contorts to one of hurt.

“F/N, I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to give you the impression that I want anything from you,” he said, moving closer to you and resting his hand on yours, “I know you’re not thrilled about this situation, but you were left for dead as a sacrifice. I couldn’t have just let you suffer, it wouldn’t have been right. It’s only proper that I take responsibility for what happened to you.”

You just continue to glare at him, but a part of you hears a degree of reason in his words. You feel some guilt tighten in your chest. Perhaps you were being unreasonable. This only makes you angrier though, at him and yourself. You don’t want to concede to him.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, “I know what it means to go one and on forever, and there are things that are much, much worse than death. Trust me.”

He’s moved so close to you now that your noses almost touch.

“Please try to understand. I’m doing this because I truly care for you. I would hate it if something happened to you,” he said.

As he speaks, he traces the edge of your chin with his fingers, and you suppress the natural urge you have to pull away. No aggression is in his eyes, only a certain pity and tenderness. He stares into your eyes like this for a moment before unexpectedly, gently and softly, he presses his lips to yours.

Wait, what?

It’s so unexpected that you freeze up in a sort of shock. You don’t even push him off of you, just hold still as he caresses your mouth with his own. Seeming encouraged that you haven’t pulled away, he moves his hand from your chin to your hair, stroking it and guiding it closer to him. It feels… pleasant. Nice. You hadn’t noticed, but at some point he had brought his other hand to your side and was slowly drawing it up your stomach, up to the side of your breast, not touching anything too intimately. Somehow, this felt more forbidden than if he had touched you more sensually. Slowly, you allow yourself to open your mouth, as if to deepen the kiss, and your fingers reach up to his shirt and rest against his chest.

Until you remember that you’re kissing the literal devil.

When that sinks in, you shudder and wretch your face away from him. He looks surprised, but allows you to do so.

“What are you doing?!” you screech.

“Um…”

“What on earth?” you cry out, horrified, “Why did you do that?!”

He looks a bit baffled for a second, “Did you not like it?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean- I-I… Don’t do that again!” you said, “I didn’t like it.”

“… All right,” he said, “If you say so.”

You feel your face heat up as you break eye contact for a second, and while he moves away a little, as if to respect your space, you catch a bit of a satisfied light in his eyes at your blushing.

–-

Lucifer ignored the pang of guilt in his gut. It was easy to squish, like an ant beneath his outstretched finger. There for just a second, and then crushed with no hope of resurrecting. He’d had plenty of practice ignoring the things he didn’t want to pay attention to, and this was no different.

You were so naive. To anyone with a hint of demonic knowledge, they would know it would be quite easy for him to remove the spell. With a few exceptions, nearly every curse that was cast could be reversed one way or another, and yours was no different. It would be child’s play for him to remove the spell and return you to your home. He was the king of hell after all.

You didn’t need to know that though.

So long he had lived life alone. He and Lilith had parted ways long ago, and he hadn’t really found anyone else. The hellborn, while at times enticing, lived short lives compared to what he had. They weren’t eternal, and they often fell under the influence of the sinners. Too many times a well meaning demon had been led on a less than savory path.

Even without that problem though, connection was so difficult for him. There was a part of him that almost seemed to disassociate whenever he was around others, even those he cared about. Yet here, with you, things were so easy. You had been literally handed to him as a gift, and your helpless ingenue personality had rekindled the softer, more romantic side of him. Perhaps he was being selfish, keeping you like this, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t recompense for whatever frustrations you were feeling.

Though for now you claimed that you didn’t like him, he could see the embarrassed desire in your eyes. Not that he would humiliate you for it. He would draw that desire out from you until it flowed from you as naturally as a river flows downstream. Already you were kissing him back, even if a bit shyly, and at this rate he was sure that he would soon have you acquiescing to more intimate expressions of his affection.

Yes, you were a little peeved now, but you’d get over it. It wasn’t as if you really knew what you wanted anyway. Humans were so difficult. Give them free will and let them do what they think they want, and they still screw it all up. They were so foolish, falling for delusions and falsehoods so easily. He couldn’t let that happen with you.

[andy-wm]

Please love me is Jimin's line today

The hardest few seconds for me to watch, were these...

Jimin was absolutely dreading appearing on screen without his trademark beautiful hair.

We know he left it as late as he could and didn't want to show anyone.

He looked like he was barely holding it together when he called attention to his hair being shaved. He must have genuinely been scared of the reaction he would get, even from Kook.

"It looks good on you"

Jungkook, you absolute fucking LEGEND 💜

He knew exactly what to say.

When Jungkook told Jimin he looked good (even with no hair) Jimin turned his face away <those feels choking him up> and when he turned back, the almost desperate look of gratitude mixed with relief was so clear.

Please love me is Jimin's line today.

This is not about vanity, ego or pride.

It brings home how fragile his confidence is. His need for approval and the assurance of being loved is strong. It’s so heartbreaking, but we know he hasn't had an easy road.**

Thankfully he did stand a little bit taller once JK reassured him...

But it wasn't an easy moment for Jungkook either.

Whether because he had to witness Jimin's fear and could do nothing more than pet his head, or because he was facing his own misgivings (probably both) he looked equally lost in that moment.

Remember that these boys have left their home once before and journeyed to a place that was less than welcoming. They've had to face the grim, disproving faces of unkind critics and a system that didn't support or value them.

I don't doubt there were echoes of that feeling on this day, that same sense of trepidation they've known before.

We know how the military treats men like them.

And then...

we got this:

You can take the boy out of Busan but you can't take Busan out of the boy.

(People say this about my home town too...)

The shadow of fear is still there in his eyes but.... he looks like a (very hot) backstreet thug who will absolutely fuck you up no questions asked.

It does occur to me that MS might be the reason Jimin has been learning to fight.

I mean really learning to fight.

Yes he's probably doing boxing too but i suspect something more than that ... you shouldn't get torn knuckles from boxing lessons unless you aren't wrapping your hands properly, just saying.

<Gotta love a person who can hold you and cradle your head, and also knock down an aggressor when they have to.>

If all else fails (words before fists, right?) I hope he can handle himself.

If he must defend himself, and someone (not him) looks like they've had a close encounter with his fists, I saw nothing.

I hope for both of them, their background will serve them well. In any case they will support one another and their love will see them through this. It's exactly why they are enlisting as companions.

🐰🐥

This is no easy journey, for these young men (all seven of them) or for their families, their friends, and their loved ones. Yes, it's reality of life for every person in Korea, but that doesn't make it easier when it's YOU or YOUR person who is going away.

I am seeing them off with an in ache in my chest - I know we all are. But I'm toasting their successful military service, and their quick return.

짠 지민아, 정국이! We love you 💜💛

See you soon, Angels.

** 'Hurry up and be me soon' ...

Some of us know how much it costs to put our authentic self out into the world. The sacrifices you have to be willing to make are huge. You're not only exposing your own vulnerabilities, but the flow on effect for your family and friends is real.

<talking specifically about Jimin here... how many times do you think his parents will have to say 'no, Jimin doesnt have a girlfriend, and no he isn't looking for one... No he doesn't plan to marry'.>

It's a long journey to self love and acceptance...

We know Jimin has been through a number of iterations of himself. He's been through the tough guy phase, the closed book, the siren, aloof and sophisticated, and the gently feminine.

The image he presents to the world is as much a construct as any person's is - and whether you're aware of this or not, all our public selves are social constructs.

"One size does not fit all" for queer people

For cis gendered heterosexual people, society has a few different ready-made constructs you can adopt, and the rest of society automatically understands the message you're sending. Most of them maintain the status quo of heterosexual cultural norms.

For anyone who DOESNT fit those norms, it's honestly never going to feel good expressing an image that isnt really you. Its like trying and make your circle self fit in a square box.

But theres nothing else that's readily available...

You really have to construct your public image from scratch.

When you aren't part of that typical demographic, figuring out how you want to be seen by the world can be an arduous and complex process.

How much do you reveal? How much do you risk?

You'll experiment with styles, behaviours, and social groups until you find a safe space you can occupy.

Jimin's safe space is with ARMY or his members, but it requires looking perfect.

Think about Jimin's hesitance to appear on camera without makeup. How carefully he chooses his clothes - whether for airport appearances, stage performance or out on the street. He usually has a team of people making sure he looks perfect. His hair is a trademark feature. It's always beautiful.

Remember that he's used to EVERYONE LOOKING AT HIM, ALL THE TIME.

Imagine how it feels to go out in public - against your will - with a shaved head.

Without hair, he would have surely felt naked. Plus, he's no longer in the safe embrace of ARMY, and his buffer of security and managers keeping him out of danger is gone.

He's immensely famous, but not universally loved (don't even go there) and bald, and small, and an IDOL, and very gay ... lets go with unlikely to be heterosexual.

No wonder he was feeling vulnerable.

Ngl, it broke my heart to see him so afraid but I'm sure he'll have a substantial group of supporters around him. I can only hope.

💜💛

[teyamsatan]

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ: ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ 'ᴛɪʟ ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴ' ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋʙᴜʀɴᴇʀ

pairing: dilf!Jake Sully x (f)human/avatar!reader

synopsis: Jake struggles to adapt with the way being next to you is making him feel.

this story will contain an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship, and dark themes (smut, mental health, death, violence, infidelity), so pls read at your own discretion.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, age-gap (23 vs 43), (a little) smut at the end

wc: 6.1k words

a/n: umm, hi there?? do you remember me? i know it's been such a long time and I am so so sorry, but I am backkk besties!!! i am so happy to finally be able to complete chapter two and I hope you enjoy because it's quickly picking up pace. i really hope this isn't garbage, i'm so so out of practice and so insecure about my writing, but i still hope you are able to understand and enjoy this, because i am so excited to finally be back writing.

ps: this story will move perspectives and timelines a lott, so i hope it's not too confusing but pls do let me know if it is and i'll figure something out xx

replies and reblogs are massively appreciated, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: tanhi - bioluminescent freckles, paskalin - sweet berry (term of endearment)

series masterlist (x)

Maybe I'm just not better than this, I haven't tried Maybe life's less romantic when I don't wanna die You'd think I'd be a fast learner But guess I won't ever mind crisping up on your backburner

Jake has always felt comfortable in nature. Even back on Earth, the comfort of a bed was a luxury mostly lost on him throughout his life. It was peaceful, and comforting, feeling the ground beneath his feet, beneath his skin, malleable and nurturing, like a warm embrace. It was a given here, with the connection the Na’vi had with the world around them, with the forest surrounding them, that he would become one with it, too, that he would find solace in it. He did, most days. Just not tonight, as he lay on the slightly damp surface with an arm underneath his head for support, trying to find meaning in the stars that were still so beautiful and bright they took his breath away, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and his wandering thoughts. 

What was that? This whole day, that conversation that was still ringing in his ears like an insipid echo, making sweat bead on his forehead and trickle down his temples, until they were one with the soil. Why would you say that? What possessed him to confide in you about parts of his life he forsook, he gave up what felt like eternities ago?

He’s never truly noticed you before. The shy, timid girl who was far too attuned to others’ feelings to be able to overlook the disdain still present in some members’ of the clan when it came to anything human, always holed up in that lab he hated, that was at odds with everything he’s come to known and too much like everything he was trying his best to leave behind. It used to be different back then, when you were young, just a child craving connection and companionship, always tied to the hip to his eldest son, Neteyam, where Spider always took more to his two middle children. Par for the course, he thought. You and Neteyam were much alike, and somehow still managed to complement each other well, at the same time. He used to think you’d be good for him, back then. Not that he’d ever tell Neytiri that, the seemingly blasphemous idea, but yes - he thought that, even before you got an Avatar. But now, the thought made him uneasy - queasy, even. It wouldn’t be right. Your relationship would be frowned upon, and the Omaticaya would never look at you and see the future Tsa’hik that’s meant to lead them, to interpret their deity’s way. You were too fragile, too tuned in to your own and others’ emotions to be able to overcome it, and it would break you. Being with Neteyam would break you. 

The night was torturous and slow, so many thoughts eating away at him like a disease. By the time Eclipse passed, he was ready for this trip to be over. Being here with you alone wasn’t good, he realises now. It was a mistake, to talk to you, to look into your eyes, to notice you. Because now that he did, he couldn’t stop. The way your Avatar body twitched in sleep, the way he couldn’t help wonder what you were doing in your human body - were you sleeping, like you should be? Was this on your mind, this night, the same way it was his? Were you cramming everything you once used to do in a day in the few hours you had in your now secondary body?

“Oh, kid. You better know how to fix this better than I do.” 

“Is the Avatar safe?”

Norm trusted Jake with his life, and still, he knew he had to ask. The scientist in him, the Avatar program leader de facto, he’s always taken every responsibility, every chance to prove himself to the Na’vi and to his late mentor, Grace Augustine, very seriously. And that included taking care of you. You were not his blood, but you were his family, and he wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be alright. And so when Jake suggested getting some much needed tutelage, he was happy to wait until the night to hear all about it. 

“You know it is.”

“How did it go?”

“Well, I think. He was right, I guess. I definitely feel a bit more comfortable outside of the village, of all the prying eyes.” 

“Amazing. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I’m… not sure. I think… I overstepped.” The blush in your cheeks and eyes glued to your fiddling feet made Norm’s brown eyebrow rise, a small grimace mirroring the one marring your beautiful, soft features. Still, he placed a hand on your head, gently brushing the stray hairs that were raised from the hours of being in the cryocapsule.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He… told me about his life on earth. About his father, and I… made a comment. I have no idea how he reacted to it, but now that I’m here, I have no chance to fix it.”

“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not as bad as you think. We always tend to overthink in our heads, and, as humans, we always tend to see the worst in ourselves. You, more than most.”

After helping you out, making sure you were settled on your wobbly, weak knees, he gave your shoulder a small squeeze and left to his quarters, but not before telling you one last thing.

“I think someone overstepping once in a while is exactly what a man who’s always obeyed needs. Go to sleep, love.” 

The next morning, you felt dizzy as you woke up in the forest, slight groan audible with every stretch that allowed your sore muscles to loosen. You weren’t surprised to see Jake already up, busying himself with gutting a fish which would most likely constitute your breakfast. You gulped at the sight of him, veiny arms expertly handling the animal, his relaxed postured at odds with the slight frown on his face. Was that because of you? Was he mad at you? What possessed you to talk to him like he was a friend and not the Toruk Makto, the mighty Olo’eyktan? What possessed you to confess about an old crush, that died with your innocence about the world, about the same time you finally started to notice how the Omatikaya, particularly Neytiri, have looked at you all your life. 

“Um, good morning.” 

His eyes flickered over to you, lingering for a second longer than they needed to on your golden eyes before turning back swiftly, and the expression he adorned, a mixed between shame, guilt and desire, would have been obvious to anyone with more life experience, but not to you. Still, you noticed the blush in his cheeks, and couldn’t help the anxiety bubbling in your chest at what… or whom, might be the cause of it. 

“‘Morning, kid. D’you sleep well?” 

“I guess. You?” 

“One of us have to stay up and keep an eye out for predators, you know. Can’t have you get eaten before I’m done teaching you how to defend yourself.” His smile was teasing, and if it was an effort to put your mind at ease, you did appreciate it. It made what you had to say next come out easier.

“Listen, Jake… what I said last night… it was none of m-“

“It’s alright, kid. It’s been a while since anyone’s contradicted me, apart from my wife, so…” his laugh was rugged and unforced, and you couldn’t help join in at the sonorous melody that rang in your ears and all of a sudden couldn’t imagine being without. 

“So you don’t hate me?” 

Jake’s eyes settled on your own, but not before flickering to your parted lips, so focused and eager, you were clinging on to his every word, waiting desperately to be put out of your misery. 

“No, kid. I don’t hate you.” 

Jake didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he did know one thing: it was just a stupid conundrum, nothing more. He didn’t feel anything for you, he was just taken aback by someone who seemed to be a lot more intuitive and incisive about someone’s inner workings than he gave you credit for. But that’s it. Just because you talked about something he cared about, that nobody asked him about, just because he confessed to you feelings he hasn’t said out loud in more than 24 years… that didn’t mean anything. He had a mate. A mate he loved, a mate he was sworn to forever. He had a family, children, a life. It was nothing. So he did his duty and helped you, keeping a safe distance and the conversation to a minimum, outside of instructions he ought to give you. Still, despite his apprehensions, being with you was easy. You were docile and listened well, you were quiet and kept to yourself, and, in the moments you did talk, there was a pureness, a light to your heart that made his own feel lighter. 

“Good form. Now focus on the target and, when you’re ready…”

He watched as the arrow flew at high speed and travelled the length of the forest until it hit the ground next to a tree marked with an X - a makeshift target, but it did the job. 

“Release.” 

“Sorry.” Your ashamed disposition was as clear as day on your face and in your body language, and the purple twinge in your cheeks brought forth the luminosity of your tanhi and he hated himself for noticing it to begin with. 

“Don’t be. You did well. Just make sure you draw all the way back before releasing. The target’s a bit narrower than you’re used to, so you’re doing well.” 

His eyes softened taking you in. A sigh reverberated from deep within his chest and he said the words before he could stop himself, fully knowing he might regret them later. 

“Let’s focus on your tracking instead for a little while. A change of scenery might do you well.”

He knew he should leave the tracking skills for back to the village, for someone else to teach you. He should just hurry back home - to his life, to his wife, to the normalcy he’s both craving and desperately afraid of. Any extra time spent with you is time where he could talk and say something, confess something else that is better left unsaid, fall prey to your uncanny ability to see through him, to will out words he hasn’t even realised he’s been dying to say out loud. 

The ground was wet and cold, accentuated by the heavy moisture surrounding you. it still took getting used to, the air, breathing it in and out, like you were born to do so, such a colossal departure from the mask that covered your face for most of 23 years of your life. Still, it was a blessing, and one you made sure to appreciate with every breath you took. You forgot a little about it, all the gratitude, as the air felt particularly dense and thick as you took it in, as the man you now called mentor crawled skilfully like a steady, stealthy apex predator, little to no evidence of his presence other than the hand that was rested carefully on the small of your back, sending bouts of electricity all throughout your body. His voice was quiet as he spoke it near your ear, a velvet shroud that enveloped you and stirred something in you, something primal and carnal, something you’ve never felt before. What was happening to you? What was he doing to you?

“Lower, kid. The lower you are to the ground, the fainter your scent, the easier to hide.” 

“I-it’s… hard.” 

You could hear his smirk as he answered your quiet protestation, and you wondered whether he found it endearing or irksome, praying and hoping with as much power as you still had left in you that it was the former. 

“I know, girl. Guess we’ll have to train those abs for more core strength, huh?” 

You were happy your back was to him so he couldn’t see the violent blush haunting your cheeks, but even so, there was little you could do about your rampant heart or your heaving breath.

“I can hear your heartbeat like it’s echoing through the whole forest. And if I can, every other animal on a half a click radius can, too. You have to learn to calm your mind. Can you do that for me?”

Although what he was asking of you seemed impossible, considering his touch set your body and soul ablaze and your mind’s already erratic rumination seemed to reach an incandescent high, you tried, and although every muscle in your body hurt and ached, much like the first few times you allowed yourself to train in this body, you did as you were told, and, by early afternoon, you managed to track a pack of Yarik without even as much of a perk of the ear to give you away. You remember still, those early days, like they were happening to you now, as you stood here, in your bedroom, as the tears blurred the familiar space, the rock you were holding so tightly in your hand that it was cutting through your palm until all that inundated your sight was a watercolour red stain. You should have known then. What would follow. When he touched you, how it made you feel, you should have known to stay away. Norm once told you life, especially in your 20s, was about the joys and miseries of growing pains, but if you knew, how the journey was full of polarising extremes that pulled at every fibre of your being, how the high was insurmountable, but the pain was unbearable, maybe you would have thought twice before jumping in. 

You wonder if he knew, then. If he felt it, too. You wonder if he realised that this was the beginning of the end, if the pull you felt was the same one that drove him to what came after, to all he ended up putting on the line. You wondered if it was all a ploy, getting you alone, or if he truly just wanted to help, innocent and undiscerning, just a dutiful Olo’eyktan. You thought you knew his heart, and how much it hid and how much it hurt, you thought you came to know it all through all this time, but as the bleeding in your heart mirrored your gashing palm, you weren’t sure anymore. 

“Come.”

The Yarik were all gone now, unfrightened by your unassuming presence, which you took as a win. Still, you almost flinched when his now much louder voice rang above the quiet murmur of the forest. 

“Where?”

“You worked hard today, so you deserve a break. And I know just the spot.” 

Jake wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, what he was about to do, but he knew you needed something to break apart the times of pain and struggle. It was something he’s learnt, being here, on Pandora, as one of the people, that there was more to life than duty, than sacrifice and pain, then the daily struggle of fitting in, of pitching in, of simply existing. You had to live life, face it, enjoy it. And he wanted you to have that, especially now. He understood, more than most, what it was like to be inhibited and trapped to a space or a time, paralysed, literally or figuratively to your immutable circumstance. For him, it was his legs, trapping him in a body he hated and couldn’t recognise, in habits he took on just like the soldier he’s always been, because there was nothing else he could do. For you, it was your human body, that confined you to the lab, to a mask, to a life that could never be experienced fully, until now. So, despite a small part, probably the logical part of his mind, telling him he should just keep the training going or go home, he decided to share with you a place he found while hunting for food last night. And when he saw your face as you took it in, all doe-eyed and bushy tailed, ears twitching enthusiastically and a beautiful, innocent smile taking over your whole face, he knew he made the right call. He found his own smile brewing without being able to contain it, your joy so contagious, it was like the whole world shone just a little brighter than it had a few minutes ago.

“Jake… I love it. Thank you.”

The roar of the waterfall crashing on the otherwise peaceful lake almost drowned your words, and he laughed at the way you were tentatively approaching the water, as if scared that the caress of it on your skin might hurt your already aching muscles. 

“Good. Let’s see how you like it up close.” 

And with that, and a gentle tap on your shoulder, a loud splash ensued where you hit the water. He laughed yet again at the way you emerged from it, wet and startled and almost as if you could not believe what just happened. 

“I-I… you… I cannot believe you did that!” 

He couldn’t help how much fun it was, doing this, being with you - it was as if for the first time in ages, in decades, being alive was fun again. It was as if this forest was completely separated from his own, from what was waiting for him back home, the unsurmountable pressure that plagued him every second of every day, especially since the humans returned. 

“Believe it, kid. You need to learn to let loose once in a while, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, but seemed intrigued by his preposition. 

“I will if you will.” 

And so he did. And for the next few hours, life was easygoing and fun, and spending time in your presence felt like coming out for a deep breath when it felt like he’d been drowning. He’s learnt you didn’t really know how to swim, and that the first song you’ve ever learnt on piano was one you deeply related to, that he’s made you promise you’d sing to him, and he found out plenty of small things, but nothing important, or of substance. It was clear to him more and more you loved being the one asking the questions and never the one answering them, and, soon enough, here you were again, curious as a cat about things nobody else was when it came to him.

“Did you ever expect it?” the sun was still shining brightly upon you both, warming your strong, supple bodies as you floated in the otherwise cold water. Eclipse wasn’t too far behind, but right now, neither of you particularly seemed to care. 

“What’s that?” You continued floating, looking intently at the sky - focused or too embarrassed to look at him, Jake couldn’t really tell. 

“Everything. What you did, what happened. Did you ever expect it, when you were offered a place on a shuttle to Pandora?” Once again, Jake was taken aback by your propensity of asking deep, profound, intimate questions like you were asking about the weather. He wondered briefly if you realised that that’s not how most people talked.

“No… I didn’t. I didn’t care, about the job or the mission. I cared about the money. And later, about the chance to get my legs back.” 

“Do you ever miss it? Being… normal.” 

“I was given a second chance - a purpose bigger than me, bigger than the measly life I left behind. I -“ this finally got your attention, and for the first time since your first question, you adjusted your position in the water so that you were fully facing him, inquiring eyes like beads of light and focus, intent on taking in every expression, every shift in mood, every slight adjustment of his face. You tried again, this time more forceful and intense, this time almost demanding of his full attention.

“That wasn’t my question. It’s a privilege, and an honour, to be who you are…”

He struggled as he always did to stifle a roll of his eyes and the speech he’s heard a million times before, from his wife, or his Tsa’hik, from every villager of the Omatikaya, from every other tribe leader he’s ever met through diplomatic missions. The answer he always kept at the ready was caught in his throat, because you kept going.

“…but I’m sure it’s also tiring, and hard. And lonely. So do you ever miss it? Do you ever wish things could go back to the way they were? Do you ever wish you didn’t have to be there for everybody all the time?”

He looked at you, pleading, not knowing whether he needed you to stop or keep going, only knowing it hurt, being torn at the seams like that between two choices that both led to heartbreak and epiphanies he wasn’t ready to face nor strong enough to deal with on his own, especially right now.

“Kid…” 

“I went too far again, didn’t I? What is wrong with me?” 

The attempt to get out of the lake was swiftly overthrown by his much stronger physique keeping you in place, caging you in between the edge of the lake and his muscular arms. Jake wasn’t an emotional man, he wasn’t one to be overcome with feelings that could cloud his judgement, that could interfere with a plan of action and yet, standing there, in that moment, your wide golden eyes looking fearfully and surprisedly up at him, the rapid pulse of your heart clearly visible in your carotid artery running up your neck, he felt his mind clouded and his own heart trembling with the overwhelming, unexpected urge to taste you, to feel those lips crashing over his, your tongues intertwined, his fingers wander in wondrous places he was sure no one else had before. He needed you, like he’s scarcely ever needed anything else, like he rarely ever allowed himself to. But you weren’t his, you never would be. And this was wrong and immoral, and it didn’t matter - that you seemed to be able to see right through him, that everything you said cut like a knife through all the bullshit and pretence, that your pupils were so wide they were swallowing the golden of your irises, that he could feel that you wanted it too. None of it mattered. 

“You didn’t go too far. You just… see things. And ask things, no one else ever does. And it scares me, kid. You scare the shit out of me.” 

“Me? I’m nothing. I’m… just a girl.”

“You’re everything.”

It was then you knew, that the crush was not a crush, it was so much more, too much more. It was then you knew you were heading for a potentially life-altering, life-ending fall that would break all your bones and leave you tethered on the ground, shattered and broken, unable to ever be put back together the same. And so you tried. You broke the moment that felt eternal, even though it pained you, to know at some point he wouldn’t be looking at you the way he had been then, and asked him to go home. You were quiet and compliant all the way back, and he made it easier on you by a performance of the same caliber. You didn’t know if it made you feel better or worse, that the moment clearly affected him too, enough that both of you looked like dogs with their tails between their tails as you arrived back in the village, without having spoken another word to the other, without as much as risking a glance in the other’s direction.

It was for the best. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that could come of entertaining this little troubled happenstance, and truth be told, you couldn’t wait for your life to get back to normal, where he barely spoke to you and you were free to withdraw within yourself the way you knew you had to in order to heal. You were able to get over your mindless crush once before, and you were certain to be able to do it again, especially given you would had the perfect opportunity in the annual clan celebration that you had come just in time for. 

“How was it?” Neteyam was quietly hopeful about your trip with his dad, eager to be able to call you one of the People as soon as he possible could. Any effort to aid that, to allow you closer to a life he knew you deserve and knew you could make your own, was beneficial and encouraged in his mind. You loved Neteyam, and appreciate him for who he was and what he meant to you - a brother, a best friend, a confidant. You told him most things and yet, some things were just too ugly to share, and so you didn’t. Some things were better off swept under the rug, praying the lump they made was not big enough to trip on. 

“Great. I think he was right, being away from all the prying eyes helped. Guess I’ll just have to show you tomorrow. Who knows? I might even be better than the mighty warrior soon, eh?” 

He threw his head back and laughed, and you joined in his joy, already feeling better just being away from him, leisurely walking trough the village and helping out with anyone who needed a hands for tonight’s celebration. 

“Dream on, paskalin. Although, you could show me what you learnt tonight, and maybe even win a prize in the knife throwing contest. Better than sulk all night in a corner the way I know you’re itching to do.” 

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on doing that. Not tonight.” 

“Oh?” You wish you hadn’t said that, because you should have realised Neteyam would be curious and it was a subject you didn’t feel ready to talk to anyone about, especially a man, a beautiful, glorious, obviously-experienced one, such as your best friend. 

“I just mean, it’s time, you know? To try to live my life. Maybe even find someone with whom to share it with.” 

“Y-you mean… like a mate?” 

Neteyam looked taken aback by your confession, so much so that he stopped in the middle of the path, making two children bump into his legs and fall down behind him. It took a lot to make Neteyam flustered, and so you couldn’t understand why your words affected him so much. Was it so unsettling to people, the thought of an Avatar finding love on the planet that wasn’t quite home, but was the only chance at home you would ever get? Were you so repulsive as a person that the one who knew you the best thought it hard to digest that you could ever be loved by a man? 

“Forget about it, Neteyam. I’ll be at the celebration, alright? I should go get ready.” 

You left before you could hear his excuses or explanations - you knew you were sensitive, probably too sensitive. You knew you were probably overreacting, and his words didn’t have any malintent, and you knew he was most likely just taking a second to adjust to a new stage of your life you’ve never shared with him before. You knew all of these and more, and yet, your heart was tired and bruised, your mind a tumultuous whirlwind of doubt and misery. You needed time, time to heal, time to think. Time you didn't have, when the celebration was upon you.

You almost wanted to laugh now, months after that night happened, at how stupid you had been that night, how desperate and pathetic. You knew about some Na'vi, certain warriors who loved the idea of humans, of experimenting with them, of using them. You've heard the stories, you've seen the scientists coming back to the lab with them, you've been around when they talked about how good it was, how necessary the release, how passionate and life-changing the experience. In your head, that was exactly what you needed then: some sex with some random Na'vi who wanted to show you a good time, help you forget about the one you really wanted. It wasn't hard enough to find one that night, especially after you won your prize in the knife throwing competition, when the warmth of liquid courage was still embedded deep within your throat and soul, much to Neteyam's dismay. Still, the performance attracted attention, of one man in particular you cared about. Strong, 10 feet tall and muscular, he was looking at you like a meal and right then, you wanted nothing more to be devoured. You wondered what your life would have been like if that night went differently than it did. You wondered...

He barely noticed it, his wife’s touches or his clan members’ words of admiration or respect, not when the only thing his mind could focus on was the way his hand was caressing your shoulder and down your arm in gentle and intimate touches that felt too familiar for two people who have seemingly barely ever interacted before. His skin crawled at the sweet, shy smile you were sending his way and at the slight tint of purple he could see in your cheeks. You were too pure for this, Jake knew. Too pure for the intentions clear on his face that he didn’t think you fully understood, how this was all a game, a conquest, how you were a prize to be won, a trophy to be paraded around to the Na’vi who loved to brag about fucking the Avatars, the humans, the aliens. It was a game to him, and you… you weren’t a game to be played, not to Jake. 

To his surprise, he realised he was angry with you. Angry that you were humouring him, that you were giving into it, that you were enjoying it. That guy was not good enough for you, and you should know that. You should know that for your first time being touched, being someone else’s, you needed someone who knew how to handle you, how to make you feel good, show you what it feels like to give in to your wildest dreams and fantasies. You needed someone to teach you. The fury bubbling just beneath the surface worried him.

You weren’t his. You were free to do as you wished, and the thoughts that plagued him as the mother of his children was sitting in his lap, perfectly unaware, were enough to pool other feelings, like guilt and shame, and form a heady concoction of emotions that he knew sooner or later would explode all around him. None of the feelings trumped the relief that washed over him as soon as he saw Lo’ak approach the two of you and break apart the scene, and right then, in that moment, Jake never felt more grateful for his troublemaker son and his propensity for meddling in other people’s business.

You looked disappointed with the interruption, slightly irked at his son and at the way the hand that was running up and down your thigh was now vacant from the spot you obviously thought it belonged on. The boy was clearly annoyed at Lo’ak, and a smirk breeched the carefully constructed expression resting on the Olo’eyktan’s face - annoyed or not, everyone knew better than to challenge one of his sons. So, with a careful goodbye, he was gone, leaving you gesticulating widely in his direction and clearly despondent with the outcome. It wasn’t long before you left for your tent, and Jake knew that if he was to survive this night, he’d have to be careful not to give in to the one thing he wished for the most in the world. 

Your shower was hotter than what you were used to, hot enough to hopefully scald away the shame and embarrassment you felt now that you were sober once more. Your life seemed to be comprised mostly of those, recently, and while it was somewhat easy to forget how badly you fared in training your Avatar body once you got back to your bedroom and the safe confines of the labs, this new, fresh development lingered like a cold sore, painful whenever you remembered it. Did anyone else apart from Lo’ak see you, shamelessly flirting and allowing a Na’vi warrior to feel you up? Did everyone know how desperately you wanted someone to take you away and make you forget about the one man you actually wanted, the man who made all the other ones pale in comparison, the one man who you couldn’t have? You knew it was so wrong, how badly you craved his touch, what effect even a fleeting image of him in the back of your mind had on you, how your slick was running down your legs, how your brain couldn’t stop conjuring all the ways he could teach you how to be, how to love, how to live. How you knew his touch would ruin you and put you back together, kill you and finally bring you to life. 

As you fastened your towel onto your body and opened the door to your bedroom, you were startled to find the one man you couldn't shake from your mind sitting on your bed, eyes wandering over your barely dry body.

“God, Jake, you scared me!”

You couldn't believe he was in your room, as if by thinking about him hard enough you manifested him here. He was so tall, so much bigger than you as you stood now, in your human body, frail and delicate and so easy to break. He barely fit on your bed and in your room, taking most of the walking space, so much so you struggled to adjust your position to face him properly.

“…What are you doing here?” 

“What were you doing with that grunt at the party?”

You couldn't believe your ears, settling on a double take as you considered his question carefully, mulling over every word in your mind, as if doing so will finally reveal a secret meaning to it that you couldn't quite understand yet.

“Pardon?” 

“You heard me, kid.”

His words were dry and humourless. There was no levity to them, or to the situation, the room filled with thick tension, and for the first time in your life, you were almost...scared of him. Why did he care?

“I… he… we…”

“That’s what I thought. Why him? If you want someone to mate, I’m sure there’s better options out there.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jake.”

You started turning around, dizzy from the way his presence was making you feel and tired of giving him so much power to do so. You didn't manage to, though, as his large hand caught your forearm and held you in place, and when you were forcefully turned back to look at him, you saw it all. The hurt. The anger. The... betrayal. The jealousy.

“No, this isn’t how this works. You always ask questions and get me talking about shit I haven’t said out loud in decades, or ever. You’re not going shy on me now, not anymore. So why him?” 

Fuck it.

“Because it’s not you, ok?! Because it can’t be you! And I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but it’s not like I have a line of men willing to mate or even be seen with a human, an alien, a sky demon. So it has to be him! That’s why.” 

“Kid…”

The tears were pooling in your eyes like beaded pearls making your vision blurry, and the struggle with which you've been trying to remove yourself from his grasp finally paid off because you did it, you finally manage to break free, but it was too late. You were exhausted, and you knew it was time to lay it all on the table, once and for all, for him to know, and to disprove, for him to break your heart so you could finally move on.

“No, Jake! You’re in my head, all the time. It’s messing with my mind, the deluded reality I’ve been living in. You talk to me, and you notice me, and you give me attention. You touch me, and you look at me like…”

Soft sobs broke your words apart and let their meaning linger all around you, sounding like infinite echoes in the room. It would all be over soon.

“...Like you want me. And I know you don’t, and I know it’s not real, and it hurts me! So I need something else, I need someone else, I need someone to show me there’s other men out there, to pull me out of this nightm-“

His lips, soft and needy, not at all like you imagined them to be, ceased your pleading words before you got a chance to speak them. It took a second, just one second, for you to understand what was happening, to process the way the kiss was everything you've ever wanted and more than you've ever dreamed about, the way he was desperate and hungry for your touch, for you to reciprocate his feelings... so you did. And you melted under his touch, and before long, the whole world disappeared from view, and there were no consequences to your actions, and all you knew, all you needed... was him.

You were both panting when you finally came up for air, and all you wanted was more. More. A little more. Always more.

“Fuck, kid. You’ve got no idea how much I want you. But I’ll show you.” His hand wandered down your much smaller body, until his large fingers found the knot of your bathrobe, that he skilfully undoes, before sliding them over your soaked folds. “Shit. Look how wet you are for me. Let me show you, please.” 

With a nod, you dropped your head backwards and knew, in your heart, whatever was next would be the beginning of the end, of you, of him, of everything you’ve both worked so hard for and yet, all you felt was unadulterated, heavenly, euphoric bliss. 

Maybe I blame my mother bleeding into my stride Maybe it was my father and his wandering eyes (It's their fault that) I'll always be in your corner 'Cause I don't feel alive 'til I'm burnin' on your backburner

taglist:@yagirlheree @mashiromochi @deepdarktower @tojisleftarm@childofgod-05 @youngpersonaathletebear @cinetrix @hinataashoyos @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @misscaller06 @v1l-ismissing @legendarynoodlebowl@analuw @imjustcal @the-fractured-eye @pandoraontop @sweetirilly @kouyoumarryme @blxkstar @ok-boke @myheartfollower @the-mourning-moon @pandoraslxna @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @kingjulian0o9 @erenjaegerwifee @babyduk213 @@toocoldoutsideforyou

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | Chapter 14: Always Faithful, Always Strong

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, drama, horror

WC: 16.3k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, anxiety, fear, mentions of blood and injuries, religious themes, mentions of past death and grief, tensionnnn, talk of loss of virginity, JK has mood issues, cruelty, insinuation of torture, betrayal...if there is anything i missed pls kindly let me know

Previous ML

The little angel holding your hand smiled excitedly at you. 

“See? It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she whispered. 

You nodded slowly, looking over at the taller figure beside the small angel. You couldn’t see their face due to the forest-green glow illuminating them from the inside out. Still, they felt so very familiar.

“Are you ready?”

You looked back at the small child when she spoke again, still grinning. Her smile was brighter than all the stars in the sky, the pale yellow wings on her back so tiny and fragile. 

Larger front teeth protruded slightly from her mouth, making her look like a rabbit. 

A very cute rabbit. 

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face. 

Her sweet grin really did remind you of someone…

“Am I ready for what?” You asked, confused. Your mind was a little blank.

A tiny giggle that sounded like ringing bells fell from the child’s lips, “To go home.”

You blinked slowly. 

“Home?”

The ghost of the word left your mouth quietly in a single breath, full of a longing you’d never felt. 

“Mhm!” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

The grip on your hand tightened a little more. 

Turning your head, your brows furrowed when you saw someone lying in the bed you got out of. She was in a very worn-through white nightgown, her face drained of life as she lay there, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her splotchy face. She appeared to be in a deep sleep.

One she would not wake from. 

The rest of the shack was no livelier. There was a vase full of roses, but they were wilted beyond saving.

It was cold and dark. 

And lonely.

You turned back to the two beings and gave a small nod. 

“I’d like to go home.”

The little girl smiled giddily, then all you could see was white brightness closing in around you and a warmth that enveloped your cold body. 

Blue, pink, and purple lights appeared, surrounding you. Gold and silver swirled around in beautiful shapes. Colors you’d never seen before danced in your vision as the sound of beautiful music played, bringing a deep and wonderful ache into your heart.

Then everything was white again. 

You blinked hard a few times. 

Your heart stopped for a moment when you saw that you were surrounded by clouds. Looking down, you realized you were standing on one. 

Oh.

Oh my.

“____.”

The voice was that of a woman’s; deep but gentle, like a pool of warm chocolate. It brought a comfort so strong you felt your eyes water at just the single word. 

It came from the shining figure. 

The little angel was gone, only the tall being remained, standing in front of you. You still couldn’t see their face, but you were not afraid. You looked at them expectantly. 

“You suffered for a long time.”

A single unwitting tear fell from your eye at the unexpected words. It slid down your cheek and fell to the clouds underfoot. 

No one had ever spoken to you with such empathy in your entire existence; an empathy that reached deep into your soul where no other had touched.

You’d never felt more understood.

Then the feeling of grief washed over you. It was as if every painful thing that ever happened to you was consuming your mind and body in a matter of seconds, taking your breath away. Even though you couldn’t remember what exactly had happened before waking up in that room, you could feel every agonizing minute of it.

“You were alone for so long, scared for so many years, carrying it all on your own. Everything you gained along the way, you lost horribly by the end.”

You looked at the figure that was watching you closely and gulped, the pain not ceasing as you fell to your knees, unable to handle the agony surging through you. 

 “Was it worth it, ____?”

Tears fell from your eyes steadily as you held your heart, body shaking. 

Then you could see him: his sweet smile as he handed you an apple, the warmth of his hand that held yours, the big brown eyes that looked into your own with a comfort so strong it never failed to fix anything that was scaring you…his beautiful soul.

No matter how wretched it felt at times in that life, you were never alone.

A sob tore itself from your throat as you began to remember everything that you had forgotten at first. Everything that you had, no matter how fleeting, before it was ripped from you. 

You looked up at the figure that brought you to this place. 

“Yes,” you whispered.

Although you couldn’t see it, you felt the invisible person smile.

All at once, the pain was gone, replaced with a joy so breathtaking you knew you would do every single second of it again, even if you had been truly alone.

-

You walked along slowly, the invisible person at your right as the two of you strolled through the clouds. She was so tall that if you could see her clearly, you were sure the top of your head would only reach her elbow. 

“Why did you say I was alone most of my life?” You asked quietly, “If you already knew I wasn’t after meeting him.”

“Did the thought not cross your mind, ____?” The woman’s voice asked gently, “Were there not times you felt it was that way?”

You gulped, then gave a small nod, “At the hardest times…I suppose I did, yes.”

“That is why I phrased it that way. That thought, that doubt, was always there; lingering in the back of your mind. No, you didn’t think he wasn’t there for you. But on those dark nights without him there, it would come back. That anger of what was happening to you would come back, wouldn’t it?”

You nodded slowly. 

“You needed to answer the question with that present. You needed to realize the truth yourself in the face of that despair.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

They nodded and you two fell into silence once more.

“Where are we going?” You asked, watching your feet disappear into clouds impossibly soft but still strong enough to hold you up. 

You had always dreamed of being in the clouds. It was so much more than you had ever imagined.

“We’re going home.”

You hummed in response, then spoke up again, “Why did I forget everything for a little bit? How could I have forgotten him?” 

“Do not blame yourself. It can happen at times, when someone passes. Especially if that person passed in a traumatic way. Those that do, tend to forget briefly who they were or where they came from. But it comes back rather quickly.”

“Oh…where did she go?” You whispered after a moment of contemplating, “The little angel.”

“You will see her again,” There was a gentle amusement in the being’s tone as she continued to walk beside you. You had a feeling she was more amused by your incessant questions than irritated.

“Oh, good.”

As you walked, you suddenly saw a huge golden gate ahead, appearing from the clouds. 

“Is this home?” You asked breathlessly, stopping in front of the magnificent structure. You weren’t sure what was beyond them, but something was pulling you there, tugging gently at your heart. 

“It is.”

You just knew that the moment you stepped through those gates, you would never feel out of place again. 

Someone was waiting inside for you. 

They had waited a very long time. 

There, you would belong. 

“Can I go in?”

“You can. Before you do, there is one more thing.”

__________________________________

“I’m letting you out of the deal.”

You feel your heart stop in your chest at his words, then tears spring to your eyes. You shake your head and pull back, not missing the way he reluctantly lets go of you. 

“No.”

“What?” His brows scrunch and he takes a step towards you as you move back even more, wincing at the pain when you walk. 

“I don’t want out-”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” He snaps, “Because you can’t stop thinking about him. Just stop for a moment and think!!”

You shake your head but he steps closer, an angry yet desperate look on his face. 

“If you refuse me now, I won’t give you another chance.”

“I know.”

“Are you fucking insane?” He looks at you in disbelief, “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into by agreeing to this?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you so in love with him?! Why can’t you see what’s happening?” His eyes are wild with rage, “You are damning yourself to He-”

“What if I stay?”

You see the look of shock flash over his face as he takes a step back, going from one hundred to zero in a millisecond.

“You-...what?”

You swallow, feeling very small and unsure right now. 

“You want me to stay, don’t you?”

The demon blinks a few times. 

If you stay, it will be horrendous for you. It will be painful and wretched and nothing will ever make it better. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t tell you that. 

He’s selfish. 

And he wants you to stay, no matter what it might do to you. 

If you go through all of this just for some idiot mortal boy, he wants no part of it. But if you stay for him…

If one thing is true, it is that misery so very much loves company. 

You see one of his black brows raise slightly, as if you’ve gotten his attention. 

Taking a deep breath, you stay strong. 

Although it was a rash decision to use those words driven by exhaustion and panic, you knew you could buy time, that he would take it, that he would consider it.

What else could you expect from a demon?

“You don’t want him anymore?”

The way he says ‘him’ is bitter. Jealousy and rage crammed into that one small word.

You eye him carefully, “We still need to go through with the deal. We don’t stop here.”

He glares at you, “Why.”

“I came here to get something. I want to finish what I started. I won’t just toss it all out the window now.”

JK grinds his teeth for a moment, trying not to get angry. 

“Fine,” he eventually spits, “You’ll get the Flame, if that’s what you’re so fucking obsessed with.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice breaking a little. 

He rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh, “Your stupid little friend apparently doesn’t have a lot of time to become immortal. Let’s just keep going.”

You nod, following as he starts off. Almost immediately, you notice him slowing to keep pace with you as you limp slowly. He doesn’t talk much at first and you get the sense that he’s embarrassed for exposing himself like he did. The fact that he wants you to stay, no matter how selfish the intentions are…it means there’s something there.

Not long after walking again, though, he starts to talk. 

“Why ‘Apple’?”

“I like apples.”

“Oh.”

Only a second passes before the next question. 

“What made you decide to wear a dress? It’s not a very practical decision when one is planning to get the Flame of Immortality from the center of Hell.”

“I like dresses,” your voice cracks a little and you swallow, rubbing your throat with your hand gently. 

He rolls his eyes. 

“Well…is white your favorite color to wear then? Or brown…?”

You look sideways at him suspiciously but answer slowly anyway, “Umm…they’re some of my favorites, yeah.”

“What are your other favorites-”

He stops speaking and comes to a halt when you turn to him, badly scraped hands moving to your hips. 

“Why are you asking me all these-...innocent questions?”

“What? You’d rather I ask something else?” He snaps, handsome face set in an annoyed scowl.

“Well, no-”

“Are you a virgin?”

You take a step back, looking at him with an appalled expression. 

He only smirks. 

“You got pissy when I asked questions I thought suited you. Figured I’d try something different.”

“Yellow and pink…and blue.”

You ignore the confusion written all over his face as you walk around him and keep hobbling along. 

The sores on your hands and feet are extremely irritated and sore, the ones in your mouth a little less so. There’s still dried blood on the corners of your mouth and your bones ache so deeply you could curl into a ball on the ground and be fine with never moving again. The pain in your stomach lingers, but is nothing compared to when you were in the eighth circle. You still refuse to look at the wound on your right ankle from when the old man covered in flames grabbed you. It’s painful enough without getting a mental picture that will probably make it worse.

Overall, everything hurts. Your body continues to grow weaker simply being in Hell, steadily shutting down by the hour. 

But you can certainly manage. 

You have to. 

“What the hell does that even mean?”

You bite your tongue as he jogs over to keep in step with you again.

“You asked what my favorite colors are to wear.”

He groans loudly next to you, “I don’t know why I keep forgetting how fucking annoying you are.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, JK.”

“Shuddup.”

You chuckle quietly, gnawing gently on your tender bottom lip as you keep your eyes forward, a million thoughts swarming your brain. 

“What’s your favorite color to wear?” You ask as you glance at him teasingly, “Black? How original.”

He sneers at you, “Wow, you’re so fucking funny. You should be a comedian.”

“I might just do that.”

“What do you do, anyway?” He slows down a little more to stay alongside you after unconsciously walking faster. He can’t help it, with legs as long as his it’s second nature, “You said you’re nineteen. School? Work?”

“Mm, neither.”

“Neither?”

“Well, work I guess.”

“You guess.”

“Mhm,” You pick at the blood under your fingernails. 

“Care to elaborate?” 

He sounds annoyed with needing to ask for further details. 

“No, not really.”

He bites his tongue before he gets the chance to snap at you. 

“Ok, fine,” He says slowly, controlled, “You kind of work.”

You hide the smile creeping up on you. 

“So you’ve never really had any hopes for the future?”

“I didn’t say that,” You correct him calmly. 

“Well you sure as hell aren’t convincing me otherwise.”

You look at him as you walk, “Why should I need to convince anyone but myself?”

“I-” He stares at you for a second, “Never mind.”

It’s not even quiet for thirty seconds before his next wave of probing comes.

“Why apples, though? Pears are better than apples.”

A lump forms in your throat and you have to mentally push the memories out of your mind. Memories of him always preferring pears over any fruit. 

“Because Pear would be a stupid name.”

He chuckles, taking you by surprise. 

“Well,” You hum, “Pear is actually pretty cute now that I think about it.”

“Whatever you say, mortal.”

“It’s Apple.”

“I’m not calling you Apple.”

“Well then I’ll just call you Pear-”

“You absolutely will not.”

You scowl at him. 

“I’ll do whatever I want.”

“Yeah?” He snags your arm, making you stop and pulling you to him at the same time, a dangerously flirty smirk on his face, “Is that supposed to scare me, Apple?”

Your heart lurches and your mouth feels dry.

He leans closer, “Go ahead and do what you want, I’ve nothing against that.”

You try to scoff but it doesn’t come out very strong so it kind of just sounds like you choke. 

“I-I…I-”

“Y-y-you what?” The smirk is still on his face, mischief lighting up his dark eyes. 

You try your best to glare at him, but it doesn’t seem to deter him at all. 

He just leans in again, “If you stay,” his lips are close to your ear as cold breath sends tingles down your spine, “We could cause all sorts of trouble, Apple girl.”

You’re beginning to second guess your judgment of telling him that name.

It’s not the same as him saying it. It hurts a lot more than when he said it. It’s his voice, his face, his eyes that look into yours as it’s whispered. 

But it’s not the same. 

It used to be filled with so much love. 

Now it’s tainted with a shadowy wickedness whispering behind it. But after not hearing it from his lips for five hundred years, it still makes your heart race. 

“I get the impression you cause enough trouble on your own,” you whisper, pulling back and looking at him. 

“You’d be right,” he chuckles darkly, also pulling away. 

Your eyes fall away from his piercing gaze, looking over his shoulder. 

He snaps out of the trance he was in as he looked at you when you point over his shoulder and ask, “What’s that?”

JK turns to see a gnarled mountain in the distance that’s smaller than the others, right in the middle of the barren wasteland; the bottom thick and the top coming to a sharp point. 

“Ah,” he tilts his head and stretches his neck both ways, “You’ll see later.”

You give him a look but don’t bother responding. 

It feels like you can finally breathe when he steps away.You don’t understand how he can so easily flit from one emotion to the next. He’s acting like he didn’t just bare his entire soul to you when he offered to let you go not even that long ago. 

“You never answered my question,” He says as he starts to walk, once again matching your speed, or lack thereof. 

“Which one?”

“I think you know which one.”

Your cheeks heat involuntarily and you clear your throat. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s none of your business!”

“I think you’re embarrassed.”

“And why would I be?” You ask. 

“Because you’re definitely a virgin.”

You scoff loudly, “If I am or I’m not, neither of them would make me embarrassed. I have no reason to be ashamed either way.”

“That’s exactly what a virgin would say.”

“Shut up!” You grumble, “If you want to know so bad then you have to answer a question of mine.”

“Fire away.”

“Just like that?” You look at him in disbelief, “After all this time and all the trouble you’ve given me, you’ll answer anything just to know if I’m a virgin?”

He shrugs, “I’m curious.”

You mutter in annoyance to yourself for a moment, then you look at him. 

“What’s with the tattoos? Why are two colored and the rest not?”

“I don’t know.”

“I-” You glare fiercely at him, “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You stop walking, which makes him stop to look at you. 

“So, let me get this straight,” You say calmly, scratched up and bruised hands folded nicely in front of you, “It has been however long…I have answered many of your questions, and you have avoided almost every single one of mine.”

“And?”

“And you acted like it was some huge deal that you would only tell me in exchange for something equally as big, and yet you don’t even know the answer yourself.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see steam billowing out from your ears. 

“You’re so- so exasperating!!”

He laughs at the fact that that’s the best insult you could come up with in your state of enraged shock. 

“Technically I never said I knew.”

“Agh!” You throw your hands up in the air before pointing a finger in his face and standing up on your tiptoes to get closer, “I’m never telling you if I’m a virgin or not! Never!” Then you hurry around him and start marching away. You hear him laughing behind you, then the sound of him running to catch up with you. 

“You’re so naive.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

He grins annoyingly, shaking his head, “Such a grouch.”

“I’ll show you a grouch in a minute if you don’t let me calm down.”

He puts his hands up in defense, “Damn, ok.”

Your face feels hot with anger, your cheeks undoubtedly red with the blood that’s rushed there. 

Cool air would be nice right about now, but that’s a joke to even think about. Fanning with your hands does absolutely nothing. In fact, it might be making it worse. 

You drop your hands to your side and sigh. 

It’s no use being so angry. Him not knowing is technically an answer in itself. That’s what you wanted to know anyway, with several things. 

Back when you first got here, he spoke as if he was a demon since the fall of the angels, that he was one of them, that he chose it. 

Clearly his memories are not only gone, but corrupted into a false story that he believes is true though there are gaps in it that confuse even him. Like the fire, and the tattoos, and probably several other things; like the handkerchief in his pocket that he gave you when your eyes were burning. The one that looked like his mother’s…

She used to carry soft cream-colored ones around everywhere, and gave some to him. 

That’s what he used to bandage your ankle when you were young.

What would his answer be if you asked him about that handkerchief?

You gulp.

He’s confused when you ask certain questions like that, you can tell. And confusion is the first step, as long as the timing is right.

Your breathing has calmed considerably and the anger has dissipated when he speaks up again. 

“Are you calm now?”

“Yes,” you laugh quietly. 

“You can have another go, if it’s made you that upset.”

“You must seriously want to know if I’ve done it, nothing ever makes you this generous…I’m not upset anymore, I do have a question though, that I’d like to be answered.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll answer yours first.”

“Ok.”

You nibble your bottom lip, your cheeks flushing for a reason entirely different from anger now. 

“I’m not a virgin.”

“Oh...wow.”

You turn your head to see that he looks genuinely surprised as he stares at you while you walk. 

“Why does that shock you so much?” You chuckle. 

“It’s just-” He shakes his head, “You’re so pure, it-”

“I’m pure?”

When his eyes lift to yours again, he sees a teasing smile on your face.

“Two questions,” You hold up two fingers. 

He nods, apparently shocked into temporary silence. 

“One: how do you know that I’m pure? And two: who says that not being a virgin would take that away?”

He scoffs, “Isn’t it obvious? I can see your soul, mortal. All demons can see the state of someone’s soul. It’s how they know their weak points, how easy they are to break.”

The demon stops and turns to you then, a look in his eyes that you don’t understand. 

“How valuable they are to them.”

One of your brows lifts, “Ah, I see. And why would I be any less pure without being a virgin?”

“Your innocence would be gone.”

“And?” You look him dead in the eye, “Is my innocence gone?”

The way he stares at you makes you feel exposed, as if he’s peeled away your skin and can see right through you, into the deepest parts of your being. He is quite literally staring into your soul. 

“No,” he whispers, his voice sounding confused at this revelation. 

“Didn’t He make it for the human race as a gift?”

“I mean…I suppose, but-”

“And if I didn’t abuse it, if I used the gift as it was meant to be used, did I not do what He had intended for me?”

The demon swallows, confusion thick in the air as he stares at you, extremely unsure of everything he thought he knew.

“The act itself is not sinful,” you whisper, watching all the emotions flitting across his face as he tries to figure it out, “The intentions and circumstances behind it? They certainly can be.”

He says nothing, thoroughly befuddled in every sense of the word. 

“I think innocence comes in many forms. I am far from perfect, but I do know that I did no wrong when it came to losing my virginity.”

“Oh.” Is all he’s able to come up with. 

After another minute of him working through things in his brain, he clears his throat. 

“So this…this best friend of yours…is he-?”

“Is he the one that I shared myself with?”

He nods, uncertainty still clear on his face. 

How strange it is to be informing him that you are not a virgin when he himself is the only one you had ever been with.

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.”

You step closer, eyes not leaving his, “You said demons know when souls are valuable to them.”

He nods, but says nothing. 

“And?” You take another step towards him, as if offering for him to look again, “How valuable is my soul to you?”

“Any demon would stop at nothing to take your soul.”

“I’m not interested in just any demon,” you whisper, “I want to know how valuable it is to you. That’s my question, that’s what I want you to tell me. You didn’t answer me before, when I asked you how you felt.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Not really.”

“I told you,” he grits out as you step ever closer, “I can’t.”

“If I am so valuable to Hell’s collection of souls, how could you offer to free me? How valuable can I possibly be if you’re willing to let me keep my soul?”

JK gulps, pursing his lips. 

“How can a demon let go of a soul that any other would stop at nothing to take?” You whisper, eyes searching his, pushing just a little more. 

“Stop.”

“You said you would answer me.”

His eyes fall from yours. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why did you offer to let me leave?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he hisses, “You refused, and I told you, I will not offer it again.”

“Then why offer it in the first place?”

You gulp when his eyes raise to yours again, anger and something else there, something you’ve seen flash through them before, but very rarely.

You realize with a jolt to your heart what it is. 

Sorrow.

“You want to know how valuable your soul is to me?” He glares at you, stepping closer until you can feel his cold breath on your cheeks, “I would do anything to rip it straight out of you. Anything.”

You blink rapidly, holding back the tears that are threatening to come. 

“I would risk losing hundreds of other souls just to have this one.”

A cold finger runs along your chest, stopping right in the middle and not moving.

“How valuable are you to me…?” A painful ache surges through you at his slight change of words 

“So valuable-” His voice drops below a whisper, “That I would’ve let.. you.. go..”

Your heart is hammering in your chest and you know he can feel it. 

“JK…”

You don’t finish your sentence and he says nothing to fill the quiet. That’s when something else hits you. 

Tears spring to your eyes at the realization. 

“You-...” 

His eyes stay locked on yours. 

“You kept talking earlier, asking silly things,” you mumble tearfully, sniffling, “Because you knew I didn’t like it to be quiet.”

His following silence is answer enough. 

“I can’t,” is all he says after a minute. 

You nod slowly, his previous words floating through your mind. 

‘I can’t…love you.’

He can’t love you, but he can let you go; that’s all he knows how to do.

You bite your bottom lip harshly, the stinging pain a welcome distraction from the one on the inside. After a moment to gather yourself, you nod again, not looking directly at him as he watches you with a look so unlike this version of him you don’t think you can handle it. 

Then you raise yourself up, just enough to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. 

As you’re lowering yourself back down, you stop at the feeling of his hand on your cheek, though you keep your eyes downcast.

I’m sorry, Jungkook. 

That you had to be alone for so long, that you had to wait for me, until I could come to you. 

I am so sorry.

“Hey.”

You finally look at him at the light tone of his voice.

“We’ll be at the ninth circle before too long, you can’t grow soft on me now,” he smirks gently at you, “What happened to that feisty little attitude of yours, little mortal?”

You swallow the tears building up in your throat, bottling them up and putting a cap on it.

You will not fail, ____. 

Do not doubt yourself so. 

Nodding slowly, you swallow again, biting your lip as hard as you can handle. 

“I think I’m tired,” you croak, dropping your gaze to the ground between you. 

His boots are still sleek and shiny, completely flawless. The laces going up his shins look brand new, not a fray to be seen. The contrast to your beaten and bloody feet wrapped in torn black silk from his shirt is almost comical. 

“Only now?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You breathe out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, didn’t really hit until now.”

“Ah.”

You rub your eyes, fighting the yawn creeping up on you. 

“Let’s not talk about it,” you mumble, “It’s making me more tired.”

The sound of gravel moving makes you look at him as he turns to keep walking, granting your wish without a single protest. 

“Come on,” he calls out without facing you, “If you fall asleep standing there I’m not carrying you.”

You follow slowly, your brain spinning in circles as you try to stay calm. 

______________________________

“Can I go in?”

“You can. Before you do, there is one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“If you had the choice, would you like to become an angel?”

“I don’t understand,” You stared at the being that brought you to the golden gate in the clouds, brows furrowed in confusion at what they just said, “So…everyone that comes here is an angel…?”

Just like before, you felt her smile, even though you couldn’t see it, “Not everyone, no. The little ones that pass away in the womb become angels,” her voice was still so gentle and deep, it brought a wave of comfort over you just hearing it, “And some that were born and have lived a life worthy of it. Do not worry, everyone else that comes here is joyous regardless.”

‘The little ones that pass away in the womb become angels.’ 

Your heart stuttered in your chest when you thought of the little angel.

Could it really have been…?

Before you could break down into sobs and start begging to see the child, you cleared your throat, knowing the time would come to see her again. “And you…are you an angel?”

“I am.”

“Were you a human once?”

“No,” The voice had a distinct smile in it, “I was always your angel.”

“My angel?” You asked in astonishment.

“Yes.”

“What-” You shook your head to clear it, “What does that mean?”

Instead of getting an answer with words, you suddenly felt a strange pull in your chest. Then the being was gone and you were in your beloved forest, the breeze blowing the leaves gently. You turned this way and that, beyond confused. 

“How-”

You got cut off by the sound of a tiny giggle. Turning in alarm, you froze at the sight of a small child on the ground by the apple tree, her back leaning against it as she played in the grass with her feet.

You, it was you…at four years old…

Taking a step closer to the small version of you, the grass soft beneath your feet, you sucked in a breath when you saw someone else there too, a warm smile on their face as they watched you laugh. 

It was a woman who looked no older than twenty-five, but with an ancient wisdom in her emerald green eyes. She wore a dress of dark green that matched the deepest parts of the forest. Over it were thin plates of armor, a slender sword with a verdant hilt at her side. On her back were large wings that looked like a bird’s; the color of a sunlit field. One of the wings was wrapping around your small figure protectively.

Her hair was blonde, but looked to have hints of leaf green in it as well. 

The angel’s beauty was unmatched; you had never even imagined someone could be so utterly breathtaking. She truly looked like an otherworldly being that had come from the forest itself. 

There was a soft green glow about her as she placed a gentle hand on your head right after a bright red apple had bonked it harshly.

Her head turned at the same moment as your tiny one, looking at the fruit laying on the ground. 

As little you stared at it in bewilderment, the angel looked up and a smile graced her elegant features.

You watched yourself reach for the apple, then you noticed the woman looking up into the tree and laughing delightedly. So, you looked up to see what she was watching. 

Heart flying to your throat, you took a step back when you saw him. 

The small boy with dark hair and eyes that were wide as he looked down at the child he accidentally dropped an apple on. He scrambled down the tree quickly to apologize. 

All of the figures began to shimmer before disappearing, despite your sudden cry for them not to go. 

You gulped and pressed a hand to your forehead as another scene unfolded in front of you. 

The river was there, just ahead. Cold water rushed by, higher than it usually was. After only a moment, you realized what day you were looking back on. Seconds later, you saw two children running over to the river and laughing. 

The little girl said something you couldn’t hear as the boy bent down to pick up a pretty rock. In the next instant, the girl ran into the water. It was swift as it took her off her feet immediately. 

The boy looked up, then dropped the rock and leapt into the water to save the younger child. 

You watched in horror as he screamed for her, swimming as best as he could. 

But his arms were too small and the current was too strong. 

You couldn’t even see the girl anymore, she was gone, dragged under the surface. 

Then you saw the woman again. 

She was on the riverbank, tall and beautiful as always. She reached a hand down into the river and grabbed hold of something before pulling it up effortlessly. 

You saw your own little hand come out of the water as she pulled you out, then your head broke the surface. You gasped and looked around before seeing your best friend holding on to the rose bush. 

It was her…

That was the only thought in your head as the scene changed yet again.

You were back in the forest, by the apple tree. This time, you were watching yourself at fifteen as you cried your heart out after finding out that you were to marry Hoseok and your mother had hurled horrid insults at you. 

“Why me?!” You heard yourself scream at the top of your lungs into the grass, throat burning and heart pounding painfully in your ears.

The angel was there on the ground beside you, bent over in order to have an arm and a wing around you in a warm embrace. You noticed with a hitch in your breath that she was crying too, crystal tears dripping down her porcelain skin and falling to the forest floor as she stroked your hair ever so gently. 

She was whispering words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear even if you couldn’t hear it at the time. 

Once again, the two figures weeping on the forest floor shimmered and disappeared. They were replaced with quick flashes of your life running across your vision, the angel always there; a warm proud smile on her face when you were kind or shining tears drenching her cheeks as you lay sobbing in your mother-in-law’s house after losing your child. 

Then it was all gone. 

You were once again surrounded by white clouds, the giant golden gate looming in front of you. 

But this time, the being was no longer hidden from your view. 

The woman from the visions stood in front of you, a soft knowing smile on her pretty lips. 

If possible, she looked even more magnificent than in the memories. 

She was twice your height, dressed in that beautiful green gown, the armor shining brilliantly and the sword safe at her side. 

You gawked wordlessly at the huge wings behind her. 

“Y-”

You gulped, shocked into speechlessness. 

Her smile grew warmer at the look on your face. 

Finally, you found the words. 

“The invisible person,” you breathed, “That was you?”

Her head dipped slightly in confirmation. 

All the times you ever felt scared, felt unsafe in any way, all the nights you couldn’t sleep thinking of the ghost in the forest…all of it seemed so silly then. With the angelic warrior walking beside you during every step in life, nothing was ever going to hurt you.

You blinked owlishly. “You…how are you my angel?” Was all you could think to say.

Her laughter was like waves crashing against the golden shore. 

“There are many different angels. I am a guardian and I was tasked with keeping watch over you. Guardians have always been angels, from the beginning of time.”

“But…why me?”

“Everyone has a guardian angel,” she explained softly, “Most of them don’t know it until the end. When the Creator made me, He showed me some of your life. He asked me if I would love and protect you. I said yes. Until you were conceived, I simply waited.”

Your heart burst in your chest. 

The angel’s first choice…was to love you?

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. 

“Why don’t some people ever know of their angel until they die?” You whispered sadly. 

She leaned down, blonde locks tinted with green falling over her shoulders. 

“There are many forces at work in the world, ____. So very many of them with wicked intentions and a desire to wreak havoc and despair. They try their best to be the loudest. Sin is attractive, until you see its truest form.”

You gulped, “I didn’t know of you though, yet I still felt you there. Do others not?”

Your angel nodded sadly.

“Why?”

The look in her eyes was so vivid, it felt as though you were looking through each and every moment in history, every little thing she ever saw…Your heart ached deeply in your chest at her next words. 

“Because mankind is lost,” she whispered lowly, “And has very much forgotten how to listen.”

_____________________________________________

The exhaustion is heavy on your shoulders. 

Your eyelids feel like they’re being weighed down with hundred pound weights. But still you walk, dragging one foot after another, again and again. Steps eventually turn into miles. The scenery never changes. 

JK walks beside you, but neither of you speaks very much. Every once in a while, you’ll mention something about how long this stretch is and how hot it is, and he’ll mumble an agreement. 

It’s maddening that you can’t keep him in a certain state for long. He was opening up, he was softening even if just a little. The second the moment passes though, he clams right back up. 

It happened when he offered to let you go, it happened when you spoke by the fire, it happened when you asked him about the value of your soul to him. 

It has happened multiple times. 

And yet each time it passes, he is no sooner retreating into his shell and pretending like it never happened in the first place. 

The only thing keeping your spirits up at this point, is reminding yourself that if it wasn’t getting anywhere, he wouldn’t have softened even for a moment. 

None of this is futile. 

It is slow and it is painful. 

But it is not futile. 

Your stomach turns when you suddenly remember the voice. 

The one that came back when you saw JK’s true form, that mocked him and delighted in his agony. It said something. 

“This is my territory, little angel…you get out.”

He knows you’re here, and that you are not a mere mortal. 

A sickening pit forms in your stomach. You don’t know what will come of it. But one thing is for sure; you have even less time than you thought. 

“Back at the shed.”

You jump a little at the sound of his voice, but recover quickly and look at him as you continue to make your slow trek towards the oddly shaped mountain all alone in the middle of the wasteland. 

“Hm?”

You watch him as he stares into the distance ahead, a small frown on his face. 

“You said it was my fault.”

“Huh?” Your voice is weak. 

You know exactly what he’s referring to, but you need time to think of an excuse. 

“When you were losing your shit,” he speaks calmly, not a hint of anything but curiosity in his tone, “You said that it was all my fault.”

“W-Well, yeah,” you try to scoff, but it still shows the anxiety consuming you, “I was delirious from exhaustion and not to mention the unbearable heat. I mean come on, out here is bad enough, but in that circle-”

“Stop lying.”

You gulp, glancing at him briefly as you try not to stop the rhythm of your walk. 

“I was exhausted and overheated,” you mumble quietly. 

Technically you were, so that isn’t really a lie. 

He sighs, “I suppose I brought this upon myself.”

“What?”

“I should’ve known that sooner or later you would refuse to answer my questions as I have yours,” he shakes his head, an annoyed smile on his face. 

“I mean,” you laugh lightly, “It took me long enough to stop offering answers so freely.”

“Why did you? Before.”

“I don’t know,” you say softly, staring at a black cloud in the sky, “I think maybe I wanted to tell you, as unwise as it seemed at times.”

He doesn’t answer, but he does look at you closely as you walk. 

“Have you never felt that way?” You whisper, still not looking away from that little cloud up there in the bloodstained sky, “Have you never felt so burdened with secrets and struggles that you felt such an urge to just let it out? To let it out to whoever gave you that chance, even if you knew that they would hurt you in the end…”

He blinks slowly, “That sounds like a burdensome way to live.”

“Oh it is,” you say softly as you drag your eyes away from the cloud and over to him. 

“That’s why you offered things up so freely. Why you kept wanting to exchange information.”

“I suppose that’s one reason.” A sad laugh huffs from your lips. 

“What’re the other reasons?”

“There you go again,” you look at him with a playful glare, “Tempting me to say all my secrets, just for a second of fresh air to breathe because I won’t be the only one holding them.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Oh? And what are you doing, demon?”

He feels a strange unpleasant thud in his chest when you call him that. You’d been calling him by his name for so long now he had gotten almost used to it. 

When he looks at you, he can see something different in your eyes. Something subtle but calculating. It’s a very careful look as you watch him, as if waiting to see what he’ll do, waiting to see the reaction you’ll get from him.

You know something that he doesn’t. 

A foreign chill runs down his spine, startling him. You are a lot smarter than he’s given you credit for. A split second passes where he’s full of an uncomfortable thought that perhaps he’s never had the upper hand. 

Perhaps everything has been on your terms. 

A pit forms in his stomach when you begin to look different. Your hair doesn’t appear quite as tangled, nor does it look dirty. It tumbles down your shoulders in soft waves. The dress and cardigan you wear are not torn or messy with mud and other unsavory things.

As he stares into your eyes, there’s a very subtle color change in them. As if someone was standing behind him and flashed a bright golden light into your eyes for only a second. 

Then it all fades away and he sees just you looking at him expectantly. 

Just messy little you.

You look the same as you always have, only just a little confused now at his long stretch of silence. You don’t seem aware at all that he was quite literally seeing you in a different light momentarily. 

“JK?” Your voice is soft, “Are you okay?”

“What?” He chokes out, voice thick with confusion and maybe just a little fear.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” you giggle at the silly term down here and with a demon no less.

“Why did you call me that?”

“Huh?” You step closer, confused by his question. 

“Why did you call me demon?”

“Did I?” Your brows furrow and you cock your head to the side, “I don’t think I did, though.”

“You did,” his voice comes out harsher than he intended.

“Oh,” you watch him closely, bewildered at his behavior, “Well, I’m sorry if I did. I wouldn’t have thought you’d mind if I did anyway, though.”

“I-” JK clears his throat, “I don’t. It just confused me for a second.”

“Oh…okay.”

Awkward silence falls between you two, then you nod slowly and turn to keep walking. 

You’re not sure what just happened, but whatever it was, it rattled him quite a bit. 

It takes a moment before you hear him start walking behind you. 

“I shared because I thought you might share as well,” you call to him, “Nothing about you makes sense. You know that, right?”

“You’re the one that doesn’t make sense,” he scoffs, but jogs to catch up to you anyway. 

“Look at us,” you gesture your arms out weakly, “What a pair we make. Nothing about us makes sense!”

He chuckles as you smile.

“Speak for yourself,” he nudges you in the arm as you walk, which makes you smile harder. 

Maybe you can get that shell to crack again after all. 

-

It took less time than you thought it would to get to the lone mountain. You look at it in confusion, head tilted back to see as high up as you can. “That took forever…it looked further away,” you mumble. 

“When are you going to learn that nothing here is made to make sense?” JK looks up at it alongside you, “If it makes sense, you’re comfortable. You’re not supposed to be comfortable here.”

You turn to him, “Since you’re being somewhat honest right now, I’ve been curious about something for a long while.”

“Mm?” He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you, his gaze directed towards the bent and twisted vines that cover the small mountain, all the way up to the top. 

You two are around a hundred feet away, but you can see the dead climbing plants clearly. Part of you wonders if those are also snakes, like the ones at the entrance to the fourth circle. 

The memory of that feels so old, like you had given your shoes up and had been walking on bare feet through Hell for years. It makes you feel strange, and unsettlingly confused. 

“When I first got here,” you speak a little louder, relieved when he turns to you, “There was something I noticed that you did.”

“And what was that?” He whispers, subtle mischief reflecting in his dark eyes. 

“Before we even got to the entrance, when we first spoke,” you keep your eyes on his face, watching for a hint of anything other than the bored expression now painting it, “You referred to it as the Underworld. Only after we passed through the gate-...”

There it is. 

You see a flicker of something in his gaze. Swallowing thickly, you quietly finish what you were saying. 

“Only after we passed through the gate did you call it Hell.”

You’re surprised to see a smirk spread on his face. 

“Here I thought you were too daft to catch on to that, and yet you knew the whole time. I’m surprised, little mortal.”

You look indignant at that, but he doesn’t stop. 

“Most humans don’t catch it consciously. Only in their subconscious do they realize how much more uncomfortable it feels to hear the word Hell.”

He whispers that last word as he leans closer, as if the term itself is dirty and he finds pleasure in seeing you squirm because of it. 

You gulp but hold your ground as he moves even closer. 

“I won’t tell you,” he whispers. 

You’re about to protest but he startles you by placing a cold finger to your lips, effectively shutting you up. 

“I won’t tell you,” he says again, staring into your eyes, “Because you’re a smart girl.”

Grinding your teeth, you force yourself not to pay any attention to the feeling in your lower stomach. 

“Aren’t you, Apple?” He asks innocently, the look in his eyes showing the true delight he feels making you twitch, “Tell me that you’re a smart girl.”

One of your brows raises and you purse your lips. 

He’s really pushing it, and he knows that. 

“I also have dignity,” you whisper back. 

If anything his smirk grows.He finds it amusing when you snap back at him. 

“You didn’t say Hell because you wanted to be sure I’d follow you,” you keep eye contact with him, “Make it sound less than it is until it’s too late, right? Underworld sounds far less intimidating, less of a chance for the turning back of a potential soul for you to steal.”

“I don’t steal anything,” he hisses, “I told you that.” 

The staredown lasts another ten seconds before he speaks again, voice a bit strained from trying to reign in his irritation at your accusation. 

“See? I knew you were smarter than you let on. Why bother asking all these silly little questions if you already know the answer to them?”

“I wanted you to confirm it.”

“And?” He seems to have gathered himself again, “Has it been confirmed enough for you?”

One of his black brows raises as he clenches his jaw. 

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, can we move on, or would you like to stand here and spew more nonsense?”

You shake your head, eyes drifting back over to the gnarled mountain. 

“We can go.”

“Splendid.”

The demon turns on his heel and all but marches angrily towards your next destination. 

You sigh, then do your best to pick up your pace in order to keep up with him. 

“Does it annoy you that I talk a lot and ask questions that seem useless to you, or does it annoy you that I know more than those you typically deal with?”

“Both, little mortal,” he snaps, “Fucking both.”

You stumble to a stop and wince when he halts suddenly, looking up at the looming form of nature in front of you. 

A pit forms in your tummy when you see the vines ever so slightly writhe under your careful observation. 

Great. More snakes. 

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth, “Is this the ninth circle?”

“No.”

“Oh…what is it?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” JK mumbles, then turns to walk away, “We need to go around it, not through it.”

“Wait!” You call out before he can get too far, relieved when he stops. He says nothing though, just stands there. 

“I-” You clear your throat, “I think we should go in.”

“Why?” He scoffs, turning to look at you with an irritated glare. 

“I don’t know,” your voice breaks, betraying you, “I’m…curious?”

“You’re curious?”

You nod.

He stares at you in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking serious?”

When you don’t say anything, he turns the rest of his body, hip tilted and arms crossing over his chest, biceps bulging slightly at the action. 

“You’re telling me that you want to waste more time by looking inside of a useless fucking mountain?” His glare narrows even more, “We’re almost to the ninth circle. It isn’t far from there that your stupid Flame is waiting. Why do you suddenly have time to tour every fucking corner of Hell?”

You glance back at the mountain helplessly; you have to get in there. It might be exactly what you need. 

“Aren’t we just wasting more time standing here arguing?” You ask breathlessly, anxiety clear in your shaking voice, “Just- show me what’s inside and we can keep going-”

“Fine,” he growls, stomping over and grabbing one of the vines. 

You audibly gasp as he grips it harshly, ignoring the loud hissing before he tears it from the handle of a wooden door. The demon tosses it carelessly to the ground, where it slowly slithers away. You hadn’t even seen the door there, you’re absolutely sure it was only rock just moments before. 

The hissing grows louder and you step back, watching in disgust as the vines wriggle and slither off of the door that becomes ever more visible the more they flee. Soon enough, the ancient mahogany door is clear of the snake vines. JK grabs the handle and yanks it open. Dust falls from around the doorway. 

You stare wordlessly into the dark tunnel it uncovered, a lump forming in your throat. 

“Why-” you gulp, “I-...H-has no one come in here for a while?”

The demon scoffs quietly in annoyance. 

“There are other entrances. I guess no one’s bothered to use this one for a couple hundred years.”

“Couple hundred years?” You echo quietly, staring into the void.

“Well,” he sighs and leans against the doorframe made of stone, “Ladies first.”

You glance at him to see a stupidly handsome smirk on his face. 

He’s far too aware of the fact that you don’t even break a small smile at his words, all you do is blink a few times before looking into the dark mountainside. 

Then you walk inside and are soon engulfed in blackness.

__________________________________________

“Because mankind is lost,” she whispered lowly, “And has very much forgotten how to listen.”

A few tears fell down your cheeks and you brushed them away with the tips of your fingers. 

“Is there nothing to be done for them?”

“There is much.”

She smiled as she stood straight again and looked down at you tenderly. 

“What?” You whispered brokenly, “What can you angels do against such wickedness?” 

“We are stronger than any darkness, child. But we cannot force humans to choose, they have free will to do as they wish. So we can listen when they are broken, and we can bring them hope. There is a war going on, one that most mortals cannot see. Humans are much more important than they know, for they are constantly being fought over.”

You stared at her with wide shiny eyes.

“We will continue to fight for them, despite their blindness to our existence. Above all else, ____, hope is the most powerful weapon against evil. No human is born wicked, wickedness is made. As angels, dear child, we will fight for Him and his creations until the end. With the Father leading our armies, we will always be faithful, and we will always be strong.”

“And what about me?” You wiped your damp cheeks again, “Earlier, you asked if I would like to be an angel. Could I bring that to humans? Could I help them?” 

One of those proud smiles grew on her face. 

“Yes.”

“...how did I live a life worthy of that choice?”

“Would you like to see?”

After a moment, you nodded slowly. 

Once again, there was a bright light around you, closing in until you could see nothing else. 

Then you were in a small room. You immediately recognized it as your childhood house. You were in the room where your mother prepared meals. 

It was as if you were a fly on the wall, watching the scene from your past unfold in front of you. 

Mother was there. 

A lump formed in your throat at the sight of her. She was saying something to six-year-old you, who was sitting on an old rickety stool close to the ground and peeling something carefully. 

You couldn’t see what it was, but you were unable to move from your spot in the corner to try and look. 

“Mother.”

The tiny voice came from the child you. “What is it now, ____?”

Mother sounded irritated. You furrowed your brows as you watched. 

Why was she so upset? 

Tiny you smiled to yourself as you continued to peel what was in your hands, “There was a boy today that I saw.”

“Who? Jungkook?”

You giggled, “No. He was smaller than Jungkook…but he said he was nine!”

You got no reply. 

“Mother, he said he was eight, but how could he be so very small? How?”

“____,” she snapped, “I’m busy, can’t you hold it in until Yoongi comes? Talk his ear off instead of mine.”

You didn’t seem hurt by the comment, only nodded, “Ok.” Then you went back to your peeling.

Mother sighed loudly, “He was probably one of the kids from the village over. They always come crawling in here and start begging for scraps.”

“Scraps?”

“What? You think you’re hungry, child?” She sneered, “There are others out there hungrier than you. Be grateful for what you have, you hear me? That kid is probably so hungry he hasn’t grown. Probably isn’t much use at home.”

Standing in the corner, your eyes widened in shock as you placed a hand on your heart. 

How could she say something so horrible?

Little you immediately burst into tears, startling you. 

“Quiet down, ____! Why must you cry so much?”

“Oh Mo-mother!” You sniffled, “Can’t we share some of our food with him, please?”

“Absolutely not!” She hollered, “Why should we pay for his family’s incompetence??”

“But I don’t mind sharing,” you whispered tearfully, bottom lip protruding. 

“Any food going into that boy’s mouth from this house is off your plate,” she snarled, then told you to hush up as she finished her sewing. 

Everything faded away, then you were in a field. The small one behind the Kim’s barn. That boy was there, as little as you remembered. 

A bright smile graced his features as the six year-old you handed him a cloth with food in it. 

Even though it was plenty long ago, you remembered it clearly then. It was one of the many meals you had gathered from your plate and snuck to him. You swallowed thickly as you watched the tiny girl smile as the boy ate every last bit of food. You knew behind that smile, her tummy was growling awfully.

Before you could fully process it, there were suddenly images flashing in front of you, much like when you were watching your guardian angel during your lifetime. 

Images of you running through the forest and singing with the birds…ever so slightly moving your position so that the sun went into your eyes instead of your best friend’s…slipping another piece of bread from your plate and onto Mother’s when she wasn’t paying attention. 

She was talking about how hungry she was that day…

Rescuing bugs and lying on the floor of that sick boy’s room for hours and hours. 

Everything was going by too quickly. It felt like your entire life was playing in front of you, time passing slowly yet quickly at the same time.

All you could see were flashes of a girl hugging trees and speaking to her beloved clouds…offering to sit on a spot on the log after seeing it looked more rough than the other side before Jungkook could notice…struggling to hold the filled pail but saying nothing so that Yoongi wouldn’t need to carry it for you…quickly pulling weeds so your best friend wouldn’t have to do as many…

Such little acts, usually for Jungkook. 

He didn’t notice all those small things and you always made sure to be subtle so it would stay that way. You did it because you loved him, not because you wanted anything in return. 

The last thing you saw was you lying on the ground by the apple tree, looking at the sky through the leaves. 

That was your seventeenth birthday, the one Jungkook missed.

It was also the day you had forgiven your mother. 

The tear sliding down your cheek as you smiled at the white clouds shone brightly before the rest of the image lit up and disappeared. 

You gasped in a breath, unaware of the tears falling down your cheeks as your gaze focused back on the angel in front of you. 

“You know that you were not perfect,” she said gently, “But now you see the difference you made for others without knowing it. The love you always had for every single one of His creations.”

You wiped your eyes. 

“That kind of love for nature and humanity is rare to come by.”

“But-...”

You couldn’t help but drop your head into your hands and weep. You didn’t even know why you were crying, you were just feeling everything so intensely. 

“I know it must seem like a lot.”

The guardian angel’s voice was gentle and full of sympathy. 

“The decision is not meant to burden you. You need not say yes. You will be joyful no matter the choice.”

“I want to,” you sniffled, wiping your messy nose with the back of your hand, “If there’s anything I can do for those still on Earth, I want to. I want to help.”

The look in her eyes when you brought your gaze back to hers, was so full of love and something that you had never seen before. It was almost like…the look of a mother who was proud of you beyond words. 

That must be what it feels like. 

“Can I help him?” Fresh tears pooled in your eyes, “H-how long has it been since I passed? I don’t even know if he knows. Can I help him in any way? Please? Oh, please let me help him.”

The smile slowly slipped off the angel’s face. 

“What?” You caught your breath, “What’s happened?”

“It…It has been three days since you died, ____.”

“Three days?” You breathed in disbelief. 

“Yes.”

“And…Jungkook,” you choke out, “Where is he? Does he know? Is he alright? He must b-”

The look on her face made your stomach drop. You gulped, trying your best to have the courage to ask. 

“Guardian angel…what’s happened?”

______________________________________________

You keep your hands out in front of you as you walk along the hall inside the mountain. 

It doesn’t seem as though light has ever existed walking through here. It feels almost thick with the blackness, like you’re moving through syrup. You know he’s behind you, even though he hasn’t said a single word. His presence is unmistakable. It used to bring a wave of warm comfort over you, back when you were both young. Now, there’s a slight energy in the air when he’s around. The energy itself does not bring you comfort, but knowing he’s not far from you does. Just having him close is more than you’ve been able to have for so long. 

Finally, you see a tiny light in the distance. It looks like a ball of fire, way down at the end of the hall. The closer you get to it, the less it looks like a floating orb and more like a doorway. 

“Wait.”

You freeze at the sound of his whispered warning, so soft you almost didn’t hear it. Not moving a single muscle, you wait with bated breath. It almost makes you jump out of your skin when you feel a cold hand on your waist, the chill seeping into your thin clothes and making you shiver. 

It doesn’t take much prompting for him to move you to the side gently, just enough so that he can squeeze past. A choked breath is stuck in your throat as you feel his body drag against yours. 

Then his touch is gone. 

You can see his silhouette in front of you, framed by the flaming orange doorway that’s only about fifty yards away. Your heart almost stops the next second when you see a few dark figures past the doorless arched entryway into whatever cavern is in the mountain, walking idly by as their voices carry down the hall.

“The Jia girl?” A high pitched snarling voice asks shortly. 

“Yes.”

That voice was deeper, you don’t recognize either of them though, never heard them before.

“She relented quickly,” The higher voice cackled, “Didn’t take much.”

“If you’d gotten me sooner it would’ve taken even less.” 

The third voice that cuts in sends a chill down your spine. You know that one, but you only heard it once. The way he tenses next to you confirms it. 

What was his name…San? Sal?

Something with an S…

Sav. 

That was it, that was the name of the demon that you saw talking to JK. What is he doing here?

“Who cares if it’s already been done?” The first voice sneers, clearly irked.

It sounds like Sav and the whiny voiced demon are about to start arguing when the deep voice cuts in again. 

“Enough!” It growls loudly,, “Sav, have you found him? I thought I told you to figure it out.”

Silence follows, then Sav clears his throat. “The last I saw of him he was in the sixth circle.”

Him? Sixth- sixth circle?

A gasp gets stuck in your throat when it dawns on you. 

“Doing what?”

The menacing sound of the deep voice makes goosebumps go down your arms and legs. 

“How should I know? Probably just fucking around as he usually does.” 

A low chuckle floats down the hall. It’s so low you can feel it in your bones. You have a feeling it wasn’t a good idea for Sav to talk back like that. 

“Tell me Sav, if he’s always so busy fucking around, how does he manage to get almost three times as many souls as you each term?”

Your stomach twists violently. If you don’t get away you’re going to be extremely sick all over the floor. 

A freezing cold hand presses to your mouth as you get pushed into the wall gently, not to restrain you in any way, but to keep you from view. You hadn’t realized the whimper that left your lips after hearing the demon’s words. 

It’s silent outside the hall. It feels like an eternity passes before the low-pitched voice of the demon that seems to be higher in rank growls again, “You asked to be the one to deal punishment. If I don’t see it done by the beginning of next quarter, you will be strapped right next to him.”

The sound of heavy footfalls echoes around, then the loud slam of a door, which makes you jolt in his hold. More silence stretches on. 

Have the others left?

You glance up at JK, a question in your eyes. You can see the tense expression on his face as he stares towards the doorway, a hand still pressed to your mouth. He looks down at you, then slowly shakes his head. There’s just barely enough reddish light to see the way his jaw clenches and eyes squint in thought.

“I told you not to act so high and fuckin mighty- ah!”

A high-pitched yelp cuts off the whiny demon’s comment. 

“If you know what’s good for you, shut the fuck up,” Sav hisses, poison dripping from his tongue. 

Another chorus of footsteps bounces off the walls before the sound of two doors slamming echoes into the hall.

You watch him close his eyes slowly before he swallows and pulls the hand from your mouth. Tears form as much as you try to fight them. 

What were they saying? Why would he be in trouble? They said it themselves, he gets more souls than most of them. 

That reminder makes a wave of nausea wash over you and you put one of your own hands over your mouth to keep from being sick. 

He doesn’t say anything, just starts walking towards the glowing doorway, boots making a loud thunk with each step. It doesn’t seem like he’s worried. The way he walks emits an air of confidence. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have come in here…No. No no no. 

You need to see if this is what you’ve been thinking of, hoping for. 

No sound comes from your bare feet as you hurry down the hall after him, as quiet as a church mouse. 

-

When you step through the doorway, a small gasp slips from you despite your attempts to keep it in. 

It’s a large circular room. 

The distance from the wall in front of you is almost the length of a tennis court. You saw a few of those on Earth not long before coming here. The entire room looks to be the size of at least two of them but in a rounded form. 

The ceiling is so high you can’t see the top. The sheer vastness of the room is not what made you gasp though. It was the walls covered in glass windows; spanning the entirety of each wall. The windows do not lead to the outside, there is a blood red wall behind each of them. 

Inside, trapped between the wall and the glass, are thousands of darkened souls. 

You know if they were not here, they would be shining with a light that could not be extinguished. 

They would look like stars, only the size of your palm. 

These souls do not look like stars; they are black and shriveled as they hover in their designated place. 

Your shaking hands move over your mouth to keep in the horrified scream that wants so badly to come crawling out. The sound of your knees cracking on the cold marble floor echoes around the huge previously silent room.

JK turns from looking over the ones nearest to him to see you on the floor, torn hands shaking as they stay clamped over your mouth. Tears are streaming down your face as you look around the ever growing collection of tainted humanity. 

“Is this place…?” You finally whisper shakily, horror-struck.

“The Chamber of Souls,” JK responds quietly. Despite that, his voice echoes, feeling like it’s everywhere and closing in on you. 

The walls feel like they're moving inwards, hellbent on squishing you until you can’t breathe. 

Your head feels like it’s spinning as you close your eyes and pray fervently in your mind. 

It’s horrible, so horrible. It’s so sickening to look at. 

Your body is already weakening faster than you have time for. Angels were never meant to be in Hell. Seeing something like this, despite it being what you came for, is beyond what you thought you could handle. As an angel, it’s so much worse. 

To see the result of despair and anger and wickedness right in front of you…It is physically painful to be in the vicinity of these souls. 

JK walks over to you slowly, watching you closely as you shake on your knees, eyes diverted to the ground. 

“Why are you so upset?” He whispers coldly, eyes trained on your face when you look up at him. 

“I-...” 

You drop your gaze back to the marble floor, “I wasn’t expecting it.”

He says nothing, and when you look up at him again, his eyes are slightly narrowed as he looks at you. You clear your throat and wipe at your eyes harshly. 

Pull it together, ____. 

Come on now, don’t blow it. 

Not when it’s so close.

“Sorry,” you let out a choked laugh, “I- think I’m just overwhelmed with everything right now.” 

All I need to do is find his. 

I am so so close.

“Are you ready to leave?” He asks, face not showing much emotion. 

“What? No!”

His brows furrow as you scramble to your feet and wipe at your eyes again. 

“Why? The ninth circle is-”

“I wanted to look around in here,” you manage to get out, then turn to walk away from him, ignoring his lingering stare. He’s way too silent for your comfort as you look at the souls grotesquely on display. 

How are you meant to know which one is his? Your mind is spinning in circles as you force yourself not to look at him. 

He hasn’t moved from where he was standing, but you can feel his stare on your back as you walk around the perimeter of the room.

“What’s in here?” You ask when you get to a spot where there is no glass on the wall, but a black wooden door with a rusted gold handle. 

“Exit.” He says bluntly. 

“Oh.”

You make your feet keep walking until you reach another door that looks the same but with a dirtied silver handle. You look at him with a question in your eyes. 

“Exit.”

“Ah,” you can feel your hands beginning to sweat as you scan the wall of souls over and over again, looking for any indication that one is different from another. 

You end up passing him and the hall that you came from as you go for another loop. 

Only this time, there’s a small alcove that you hadn’t noticed before that catches your eye. 

You stop and look into it. In the shadows is another black door that looks a bit more battered than the others. The handle is a deep crimson color. 

A pit settles in your stomach when you realize the scratches on the side of the door look like the result of long nails. As if someone was desperately clawing at the door in an attempt not to let it close. An icy phantom draft sends shivers down your back the longer you stare at the door.

“Step away from there.”

You jump at the sound of his voice, but scurry away from it anyway. 

“Why? What’s in there?” You ask breathlessly, fear making you shake as you stand close to his side. You want to forget the realization you had moments before he said that. 

The realization that the handle was not red, but bronze. That the bronze handle was covered in dark blood.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving,” he says sharply, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the hall that you came from. 

“Wait!” You cry desperately, eyes frantically scanning the walls again, “Wait, I can’t leave yet!!”

-

“Stop it!!” You scream, fighting him as he drags you down the pitch black hall, never letting up until you’re outside in the blood light of Hell once again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” He lets go of you unexpectedly, which makes you trip and fall to your hands and knees before scrambling back up and lunging for the entrance again. 

But the demon grabs you before you can go back in. 

“Let me go! Let!! Go!!” You screech as you try to fight him off, kicking and hitting as hard as you can. 

But you don’t stand a chance as he yanks you away and pushes you just hard enough so that you stumble and need to catch your balance. When you turn back he’s standing between you and the doorway. 

“Stop it!” He roars before you get the chance to dodge around him. 

You freeze for a moment, then fall to your bottom on the muddy ground in front of him, sobs ripping from your throat, tears leaving wide streaks on your dirty cheeks.

You can’t stop crying, it just keeps coming; salty droplets pouring down your face as your body shakes with heavy gut-wrenching sobs. He watches you grab at your tangled hair and scream.

Everything is ruined, you don’t know what to do anymore. 

That was your one chance and you blew it. This whole thing was your only chance…and you blew it. 

“I’m so sorry,” you can barely get the words out as you cry helplessly, nose running even as you try to wipe it, only succeeding in smearing more dirt around on your face, “I’m so sorry!!”

“Why are you sorry?” He snaps, not having a single clue as to what the hell is happening to you right now.

“I failed,” you whimper tearfully as more tears spill out, “I wasn’t strong enough, or smart enough.”

____.

____, do not give up.

Please, listen to me-

“It’s too late!” You scream as you slap the ground before bursting into another round of uncontrollable sobbing, “Don’t you get it?! I lost! I failed!”

You only begin to settle when you see that he’s come closer and is looking down at you without anger, without anything but confusion on his pretty face. 

“Hey.” He calls to get your attention, sending the most painful pang into your heart as you look up at him, bottom lip trembling. 

Not even on your deathbed did you look such a mess.

“You can finish this,” he says, “The ninth circle is right there. You can make it to the Flame.”

A few straggling tears fall down your cheeks. 

“I never wanted the Flame,” you hear yourself saying miserably.

His head cocks to the side as his brows furrow. 

“What do you mean you never wanted the Flame? The Flame is why you came here, it’s why you’ve suffered through each and every-”

“It’s not.”

The pure confusion on his face makes a thought pop into your head. 

Confusion is the first step…

You hadn’t wanted to do it yet, it wouldn’t have worked before. Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe if you do it now…it might work.

____, listen to me.

You struggle to your feet, wide eyes looking into his. 

His dark eyes flicker around your messy face stained with tears, the shining glimmer of hope in yours a huge contrast from the sobbing you had been doing only moments before. 

Then you’re stepping closer and he isn’t stepping away. 

He doesn’t even flinch when you take his face in your hands and raise yourself up on your tiptoes. 

He doesn’t protest, he doesn’t fight you at all when you pull him into a kiss. 

The second your lips touch, it’s like that last band snaps inside him and he can’t stop. 

He doesn’t want to stop.

A sigh leaves your mouth when you pull away. Only a second later, he pulls you back in, connecting your mouths again in a desperate kiss, his cold hands holding the nape of your neck. 

He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss and you gasp when you feel something wet prodding at the seam of your lips. The moment your mouth opens in that gasp, his tongue meets yours in a heated tangle. 

Your wet lips slide against his as a groan slips from him. 

“Fuck,” he moans icily into your mouth. 

You can feel his hands running down your sides with frenzied desire. 

Focus, I need to focus. 

Your eyes scrunch shut as you try to keep yourself in check. 

JK’s brows furrow as his mind begins to blur, a strange heat building up inside of him as he continues to kiss you. 

Green leaves and a bright sun flash in his mind, startling him enough to pull away. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, pulling him into you again. 

He shakes off the strange images and dives right back into your lips, an insatiable hunger burning in his lower stomach as his hands travel to your waist and grasp it roughly. 

Only moments later, he sees a roaring river and hears the sound of laughter. 

You feel him pull away again. 

“Just focus, it’s okay,” you whisper, hands cupping his cheeks as you press another kiss to his lips, “Just close your eyes and breathe.”

He wants to stop and ask you what’s going on, but he doesn’t waste a second before pressing his lips back to yours. One of your smaller hands cups his cheek, then you start running the tips of your fingers down his neck and shoulder before holding onto his bicep where that horrible tattoo lies. He feels you grip the sleeve of his shirt harshly, as if you’re dying to just tear it to shreds. 

A vase of dead roses flickers into his blurry mind, then the image of someone lying on a bed, hair splayed out around her.

His brows furrow more, but he doesn’t stop kissing you as the pictures he can’t make sense of fade away. He doesn’t stop his hands from sliding behind your waist and traveling up your back slowly.  

Trees crowd in all around his vision. 

There’s someone running in front of him. 

A small girl. 

She turns around briefly, a huge smile lighting up her face as she laughs. 

“You’re cheating!” 

She only laughs louder and continues to run until she’s disappeared into the bushes ahead. 

“Apple!”

The demon’s eyes fly open and he pulls away. 

You gulp in a breath as you look up at him. 

Then your heart freezes in your chest when you realize what’s happened; the look on his face as he takes a step back from you turns your stomach to rot. 

“Wait,” your voice is weak as you reach a hand out to him. 

You can’t see anything but bewildered anger in his eyes. You were so focused you hadn’t known that he was touching your back. That he-

“I-”

“Shut up.”

You snap your mouth shut. 

“Turn around,” he breathes, just barely keeping it contained. 

“I can expl-” “I said turn the fuck around!!” 

You flinch but make no move to do as he says. 

You can see the last bit of patience snap in his eyes as he grabs your arm and yanks you to him so that he can rip the cardigan off of you. It tears easily, falling to the ground as you put a shaking hand over your mouth and shrink away from him. 

The white wings on your back droop in defeat, the tips just barely brushing against the ground. 

“You-”

The furious hatred on his face is clear. 

You’ve never seen him like this, not ever. 

“You’re a fucking angel?” His voice trembles with rage. 

“JK…”

He steps closer, making you flinch again, “Say that name again and I’ll rip your fucking head off.”

You gulp but don’t say a word. 

“So this was your little game the whole time, huh?” He hisses, stepping closer, “See if the precious angel could defeat a demon in Hell..and here I thought you were smart.”

“That wasn’t it,” you mumble, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“What the hell were you thinking, little angel?” He glares at you in disgust, “That I would fall for you? Love you?” A sadistic chuckle leaves his lips as you close your eyes. 

You jump without opening your eyes when a harsh grip snags your upper arm and he pulls you to him. 

“You really thought I could care about you.” He muses with a dark chuckle, “You, a disgusting pathetic little puppet. I knew there was something off about you this whole time. Did He not give you enough love up there? Had to come to Hell to beg for it?”

You refuse to look at him, you just stand there, trembling and keeping your eyes screwed shut. 

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says. His dark ones are full of so much rage and hatred it makes you sick as he searches your watery gaze. 

Then you feel a cold hand close around your throat. 

“I would kill you right now,” he whispers in your ear coldly. You close your eyes when you feel him start to squeeze harder and harder until you can’t breathe, “If I thought you were worth any more of my time.”

A pained gasp escapes you when he shoves you to the ground. 

You hit the dirt harshly, arms buckling as they try to catch you, wings muddied and sore. Your watery eyes raise to him again, desperate and terrified. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you whisper helplessly, voice hoarse from his actions. You know what would come of an angel lost in this place.

He knows it too.

The demon looks down at you, the lowest angel in existence, with a loathing unmatched before spitting venomously, “Find your own way out of Hell.”

Your vision blurs with tears as he turns and walks off without a single hesitation, his tall dark figure getting smaller and smaller until you are completely and utterly alone. 

_________________

You sit there in stunned silence for a few minutes, just staring at the spot on the ground where he once stood. There is nothing in your mind, yet there is everything all at once. Everything is spinning wildly, nothing making sense. 

Then finally, a sliver of a cohesive thought passes through and you stumble to your feet, tripping over yourself in your haste to get back to the door. 

The snake vines have begun to return, attempting to hide it once more. 

You smack and tear at them viciously, tears pouring down your cheeks silently as you uncover the handle and yank open the door. 

The sound of your bare feet hitting the rocky ground softly as you run echoes off the walls in the darkness. Before long, you can see the archway ahead.

Despite the pain and fear filling you, you push yourself harder until you’re stumbling into the Chamber of Souls and falling to the marble floor. 

You stagger to your feet and hurry to the wall nearest you, eyes scanning the souls frantically as you limp quickly around the perimeter. 

They all look the same. 

They all look the exact same. 

You start to hyperventilate as you go, dirty fingers running along the glass and leaving smudges behind. 

Come on, Apple. 

You can do this. 

You gulp and force your exhausted legs to keep moving. 

He would not give up on you, no matter what.

Suck it up and keep moving.

Your eyes dart this way and that, mind screaming in a horrible panic when you realize you have no idea what to do. Then a thought occurs to you. 

Maybe you won’t be able to tell the difference by looking at them. But maybe you can in a different way. 

Your feet take off running back down the hall where you came from, until you are outside once again and looking for the first heavy thing you see. 

There’s a decent sized stone not far from the door. You grab it and run back inside, lungs burning as you don’t let yourself stop to take a breath. 

You can do this, Apple, you can do this. 

By the time you make it back into the room, you can barely breathe as you lug the rock over to a section of the glass. Closing your eyes, you mutter a quick prayer before opening them again and hurling the stone right at the fragile substance and watching it shatter. 

You put your arms over your face in an attempt to protect it from the worst of the flying pieces of sharp debris. Only your face, chest, and arms were cut by the shards, but not too badly. 

Your chest rises and falls in heavy breaths as you stare at the gaping hole in the windows in front of you, the blackened souls floating there, undisturbed. 

Just as you’re reaching a tentative hand in to grab one, to hold it and see if you can know who it once belonged to, there is a clapping sound from behind you. 

You whirl around to see a demon there, leaning against the archway you came into. 

His skin is pale, eyes dark blue and shaggy hair a dirty blonde that goes to the top of his prominent cheekbones.

The demon wears a fitting black shirt that’s tucked into the waist of his skinny black jeans.

There’s a smug smile on his unsettlingly handsome face as he claps his hands slowly, again, and again, and again. 

You say nothing, eyes drawn to the tattoo on his bicep; the dead monarch butterfly being strangled by a serpent. 

Sav.

“Well, if it isn’t the little stowaway angel herself.”

You continue to stay mute, watching cautiously as he pushes himself off the rocky wall and starts to slowly walk to you from across the room. 

“I thought angels were supposed to be…I don’t know, pretty? Perfect little princesses of Heaven?” A dark chuckle leaves his throat at your silence.

Sav stops ten feet away from you. 

“You’re not any of those things, are you?”

When he takes another step towards you, you finally move, inching backwards along the edge of the room with each step he takes. The smirk on his face only grows as he observes your messy hair, bruised skin and dirty wings that droop behind you, currently at rest. 

“This is what JK risked everything for? Seriously?”

“How did you know I was here?” You ask sharply, eyes narrowing, “How did you know what I was and he didn’t?”

Sav scoffs. 

“Because he’s a fool-”

“Really? And why did it take you so long to find me then, if you’re so smart?”

His blue eyes narrow as he continues his slow but steady advance. 

“I wasn’t looking for you, little angel. I was looking for him.”

“That makes you look even stupider.”

You see his jaw clench. 

“I was busy,” he says, strangely calm, “I knew he was up to something, but honestly? I didn’t think even he would be so brainless as to lead an angel through Hell.”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t. Not until now, at least,” he chuckles, “Your wings kind of tipped it off a bit, I suppose.”

You gulp, trying to figure out which way is your best bet on getting out. 

“Don’t even think about trying to escape, it’ll just be a tire for us both.”

You say nothing. 

“Where is he, anyway?” Sav’s creepy smile returns, “Your little demon lover.”

When you don’t say a word, he throws his head back and cackles. 

“He left you.”

Your hands are sweating as you clench them into fists, your eyes darting around to see which door you can get to quickest. It looks like the one with the silver handle might be your best choice. Sav is standing over by the bronze door in the alcove, the gold handled door is between you. The archway is straight across the room and you know where that leads, but he would catch you before you could make it out. 

Silver it is. 

“You do know what happens to naughty angels when they get caught in Hell, don’t you?”

All you do is stare at him, mentally timing yourself on when to run. 

“JK knew…and yet he left you.”

Your heart feels like it’s been impaled by a hundred swords. 

“It’s almost like he wants you to suffer.”

You continue to slowly inch your way around the perimeter as he keeps walking closer. 

You can make it to that door. 

“I wish he were here,” Sav pouts, “I’d pay to see the look on his face when I torture his little angel until she’s begging for me to have mercy. Telling me she will do anything to make it stop..”

You gulp, forcing yourself not to look at the door you are about to make a run through. 

It’s only a few feet away now. 

Sav is just about to make another snide comment about your appearance when you turn and bolt for the black wooden door with the silver handle. You can hear him screaming something angrily, but you don’t stop to find out what it is. You’re out the door faster than lightning and running at full speed down the pitch black hall. 

It’s unclear whether he’s followed you in with the sound of your panicked breathing echoing in your ears. Your body is so exhausted it feels like it’s going to collapse. You can’t let it. 

…

You almost made it out. 

The exit was only a few feet in front of you, when an arm riddled with muscles wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. 

The bloodcurdling scream that left you could’ve been heard miles away. 

It was a scream only those that knew the horrors that awaited them would understand.

It wasn’t Sav that grabbed you, it was a demon much larger than he. A demon that cackled maniacally as he dragged you back through the tunnel and into the Chamber of Souls, where Sav was waiting, a delighted smirk on his face as he stood there and watched you cry and fight as hard as you could, fear clear in your eyes. 

He knew. 

He knew you would never have made it out, no matter which door you chose. 

The demon holding you tightly against it- so hard it pinches your wings painfully- has red scales and a horrible long snout full of sharp teeth. It has bony ribs, but muscled arms and thighs as it stands on two mangled legs.

You grit your teeth, gathering yourself. Then you bite the demon’s slimy arm covered in scales, drawing a pained howl from him as he drops you to the floor, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

After a second, you scramble to your feet, blood dripping from your mouth. You aren’t sure if the blood is your own or the demon’s as it hisses curses at you. Sav just watches you closely as you heave in several breaths. 

“You could defeat us right now,” he says casually, “If He allows it. All you would need to do, little angel, is ask Him. Ask Him or one of His little minions to assist you. Call to His strongest minion of all, go ahead.”

You gulp and wipe at the bloody streaks on your chin, glaring at him. 

He’s right, you could get out of this. 

You can make them suffer.

“If ever you need me, little one, just say my name and I will come.”

“If you hurt us even a little bit though,” Sav looks at his nails, inspecting them as he sighs, “We will torture him greater than even the dealt punishment for not delivering enough souls to Hell.”

You close your eyes.

There was never even an inkling of a plan to leave Jungkook here, even after he left you. All you needed was to get out of this predicament. 

But you will not risk him enduring more agony because of you.

Sav tuts when you lower your head, staring at the floor. 

“Why so eager to help him when he couldn’t care less about you?”

You don’t say anything. 

Even as the demon that grabbed you in the hall harshly digs his clawed fingers into your arm, breaking the flesh and drawing blood, your arms wrest behind you, you still say nothing. 

“Thank you little angel,” a devilish smirk spreads on Sav’s pink lips, “For finally giving me something to hold over JK’s pretentious little head. You, I must say, are the most satisfying weakness of his that I could have ever hoped for.”

“I’m not his weakness,” you mumble, knees beginning to shake as the grip on your arms tightens, “You said it yourself, he left me.”

Sav scrutinizes you for a second longer, then he turns on his heel, the demon holding you following behind him as he heads for the alcove. 

Out of nowhere, another demon emerges as you walk. It’s a tall thin man with too big eyes and a smile that stretches across half his face. You swallow thickly when he grabs your left arm so that you’re being dragged between them, feet barely touching the ground. 

When you see Sav opening the door in the alcove, the one JK told you to stay away from, a terror you’ve never experienced takes root. 

Sav smiles sadistically at you. 

“You made a deal with a devil, darling. Now, you’re going to pay the price.”

Every fiber of your being is telling you to scream, to scream and scream and scream. To beg for someone to come save you.

Your body shakes uncontrollably as you’re dragged closer and closer to the door leading into stairs that fall into blackness. Tortured screams echo from below as you stare at the scratch marks on the door. 

If you weren’t restrained, you’re sure your own nails would be digging into that same wood. An act so desperate it would tear that wood to splinters in an attempt not to let the door close. 

Any mortal would have blacked out from pure gut-wrenching fear at the knowledge of what awaited them down those steps. 

You are too horrifyingly aware as you continue to tremble violently, arms sore as the demons clutch you tightly, pulling you closer and closer to the staircase. 

You are too terrified to scream. 

The demon standing in front of you raises a brow and tilts his head at your silence, "You really are loyal, aren't you? Well, pretty thing-"

Sav leans in, mockery dripping from his tongue as he whispers, "Semper fidelis, semper fortis, little angel." He tilts his head back and laughs, then he walks into the door first, the demons holding you following closely behind. 

“Don’t bother begging for mercy, doll,” he calls over his shoulder, “It doesn’t exist here.”

The last thing you see is Sav walking down the steps before the sound of the door behind you slamming shut reaches your ears. 

Then there’s nothing but darkness. 

___________________________________________

a/n: tysm for reading, thoughts are always welcome, ily <3

taglist 1; @butterymin @kookxin @telepathytae @kooliv @highoffbaddecisions @meanum @smitssharon02 @kmpac @ggukkieland @jjanjankook @sugaslittlekookies @hobispriteu1306 @kimchibrat @slowlydeliciousjiminie @screamertannie @i-dont-give-a-fok @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @ohyeahjk @babycandy111 @era-genius @xmochiloverx @sopikooo @jamlessstars @bangtannie7 @nuttykittypainter @geniejunn @ane102 @charlesswife @ashbxnny @veronawrites @jjkw-7 @jinsundor @h-g-bts @justvibingsblog @hyunyeon @hellbornsworld @hiii-priestess @nuttypizzacat @vidaficrecs @royallyjjk @thvslvt @hoseoksluv89 @moonchilddna @idkjustlovingbts @aurorathi

[actual-changeling]

And once more with feeling: Why there is no magic trick or gun to either of their heads in the final fifteen.

Before you immediately run to my comments or hit reblog, please read the entire thing. If you're still mad, either read it again or sit with it, do not make it my problem. Genuine questions and discussions are always welcome, comments that make it clear you did not understand a word I said aren't.

Okay? Okay.

With that, welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner, and today we are going to compare their first and last argument in the bookshop—they are, fundamentally, the same. It both sets the scene for their relationship this season and works as immaculate foreshadowing of how they part.

I compared the scripts, which you can find here. It's incredible that OP put all that work into creating these because otherwise I would have gone insane doing it myself.

Now, the setting: they have a problem.

In ep1 it is Gabriel, in ep6 it is technically still Gabriel, or rather his now empty position in heaven. They solved one problem and now they're forced to deal with another one he also caused; meanwhile he's drinking space margaritas.

Crowley, stuck in his trauma-induced hypervigilance and paranoia, suggest putting as much distance between them and the problem as possible. I think it is interesting that in ep1 he wants to get Gabriel away from them, while at the end of the season he is ready to get them away from the problem.

So far, I have never seen anyone mention that change! And it's important! The entire season, it is hammered into our heads how much they love being on earth. It is THEIR bookshop and THEIR car and THEIR life.

Crowley wants to protect that home, and Gabriel is a threat to it, a threat to both of them, their life, the bookshop—everything. He does not want to leave, he wants his peace and angel in one place.

Yet by allowing Gabriel to stay, Aziraphale destroyed the sense of comfort and safety Crowley slowly developed over the last few decades. Heaven nipping down every now and then to check in with Aziraphale is very different from him sheltering the Supreme Archangel who is running from 'something terrible' without even asking if he's alright with that.

Aziraphale calls it their bookshop, but he fundamentally still sees it as his space to govern and Crowley as a guest.

After another horrible week and having his previously safe space violated several different times and beings, Crowley is back to where he was before—without a home. That fragile existence broke apart, so he is standing in the heap of shards and telling Aziraphale 'I don't feel safe here anymore, let's leave'.

He lost his safe space, but he still has his safe person, his best and only friend, the person he loves. I doubt he cares where exactly they go as long as they're together and it's safe.

Returning to heaven—it is the one place Crowley cannot follow him to. It's literally the worst option, he can't go back, he won't go back. So he invokes the bookshop again, if you don't want to stay for me, stay for the bookshop, your books, your corner of existence that I thought we had carved out for ourselves.

'Nothing lasts forever' and 'you're at liberty to go' have the same underlying meaning—you're not welcome in this house anymore, it was your safe place, not anymore. Both times, he's essentially kicking him out.

Aziraphale then switches it up again!

Same manipulation tactic, first making Crowley feel rejected and unwelcome, then trying to pull him back in by promising and showing affection. He's desperate, he's attempting to get Crowley into his "saviour" role because he knows he has a hard time not saving him from whatever trouble he gets him into. Aziraphale knows him so damn well, and he uses that knowledge to get what he wants.

'If you won't, you won't' has the same implication as 'then there's nothing more to say'—I am ending that conversation, you can leave now, he even makes the same face both times.

In ep1, that's that, Crowley takes his emotions and leaves.

The lightning bolt is the kiss. A sudden, heavy discharge of pent-up feelings that has been a long time coming, but in the end he is more desperate, less controlled, at his emotional rock bottom. Everything he thought to be true about their relationship came crashing down around him.

In his mind, Aziraphale chose heaven over him—TWICE! First Gabriel, now Gabriel's position.

'You're on your own with this one' applies to both scenes, I think the reasoning behind that is pretty clear.

Now, some more verbal components and word meanings that I think are worth mentioning.

One of them is Crowley directly pointing out heaven's cruelties when Aziraphale is seemingly unaware of them, thinking of Gabriel/heaven as in in need of his 'help'.

I can take help him -> I can make a difference.

It is, fundamentally, the same argument.

Aziraphale feels like he is the one who needs to play saviour (that Crowley actually hates it but Aziraphale loves it is a post for another time), the one being who can help Gabriel/heaven and fix all the problems.

Crowley correctly points out that they do not care about him and are just as cruel—if not more—as hell, that Gabriel tried to destroy him, that heaven will destroy all of them.

Their responses to that just shoot past each other and it is what Crowley himself tells us. Two different exactlys

Aziraphale's -> I am the only one who can fix this, I feel responsible for this, help me fix this.

Crowley's -> This is dangerous, it can get us killed, we cannot fix this. Come and be safe with me.

'He needs us' becomes 'I need you'.

'I would love you to help me' becomes 'we can be together'.

In episode 1, the argument isn't 'final', as such. Crowley is exhausted, sad, feels rejected, but when he finds out just how much trouble Aziraphale is in, he needs to go back and help him. It's instinct, he couldn't live with himself if he knowingly let him walk into the knife—and yet in episode 6 that is exactly what Aziraphale forces him to do.

It is why Crowley brings up the nightingales, why he kisses him: that primal, love-based desperation. This argument is final, he won't be able to follow him to heaven no matter what, he won't be able to protect him.

He is on his own with this one.

In conclusion, THIS is why the argument that happened in the final fifteen is real, there's no trick, no nothing.

They have had the same argument before, probably over and over again. Same structure but with lower stakes, and eventually they reconciled.

This time the stakes are as high as they possibly can be, which lures their most primal, honest arguments out of them.

Aziraphale wants to fix heaven, wants to help, still believes that they are fundamentally good, that he can make a difference.

Crowley has lived the truth, has been trying to tell him for centuries, and he is exhausted. He wants safety. He wants peace. He wants the two of them in a peaceful, not-fragile corner of existence that no one else gets to break ever again.

Not a single line was 'out of character', this is exactly who they are, with all their layers stripped away and their fears exposed. It's not pretty to watch, it hurts, it makes you ache, and yet they and we know that this is how it has the end—the only way it was ever going to end.

That is what makes it tragic.

However, even after all of that, there is one step left: reconciliation.

Season 3 is going to give it to us, in whatever shape or form. Neil knows what he is doing, and we can trust him to give them the ending they deserve.

[lululandd]

but not for me;

pairing: könig x gn!reader

word count: 602

warnings: self-doubt, anxiety, insecurity, angst(?)

notes: gremlin man’s stupid anxiety wont shut the fuck up (the notes and summary can be switched) (ao3)

summary: könig believes he’s hard to love.

He dreads going home. He is afraid to see your face when he opens the front door. It burns him so to feel such a negative emotion towards you; to even have such adverse reactions.

Sometimes he believes you to be superhuman, being able to hear his military boots crunching on the gravel by the front gate from wherever you are in the house; and run to him with arms wide open and smile brighter than the flashbangs they throw at him.

That’s why he never looks at it directly. 

And why he notices everything else.

How you look like you’ve lost weight when he returns, the dark circles under your eyes that disappear when he’s home, the stories his grandmother told him about your puffy, swollen red eyes and your hoarse voice when you come visit her.

He sees you hurting, no, he feels you hurting. From the way you look up at him every time his phone buzzed, to the way you flinch whenever there’s a truck passing by. It agonises him, every little pain of yours magnified in his mind.

He does not deserve such a person like you. Who wakes him up so sweetly with kisses, who soothes his joint pains with balms everytime the weather turns sour, who walks his grandmother to wherever her old heart desires before the crack of dawn.

You deserve a relationship that enables you to sleep peacefully at night.

A delicate kiss to his temple startled him from his thoughts.

“You were somewhere else.”

He apologised by pulling you into his lap. “I am here now.” His attention turns to you, smiling faintly as he kisses your hand–hands that have never known violence, hands that have never taken a life–and closed his eyes for a moment.

Not two days later he would tell you. To leave him, to find someone better that would not make you lose sleep and weight and happiness. Someone who can provide and care every time you need it.

You stared at him for the longest time, gaze empty and distant. He had accounted for tears, he expected yelling, he knows there will be lots of arguing. But grabbing a chair to stand on only to slap him properly and squarely on the cheek until his ears rang? He could not have seen it coming.

You wobbled a bit; he had to steady you by your upper arms so you don’t fall out of the chair.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, as if you were the one that got slapped so hard that it triggered a tinnitus.

Your smile was fragile, in contrast to the anger he sees in your eyes, “Tell me, König. Have you fallen out of love? Are you in love with someone else?”

He shook his head before he could comprehend your question. Your words have struck him, harder than the slap you just delivered. How could there be anyone else but you? It’s always you. It will always be you. To him you are a necessity, a need. The thought of him with someone else brought a wave of uncomfortable pressure that he hasn’t done enough.

You cupped his jaw and tears rolled heavily down his face in torrents as you placed his head delicately on your chest. Such tenderness for someone whose filthy, brutish hands has known nothing but carnage and death since the tender age of seventeen. 

As if you can hear what he is thinking, “Do I need to slap you harder to get those thoughts out of your head?”

He giggled despite the sniffles and hiccups.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。12:06 AM — SAMPO KOSKI.

notes: friends/acquaintances to lovers, mutual pining but seemingly unrequited love, confessions (kind of lol), happy ending !!, not proof read and also idek if it’s in character but idk i just want to kiss him but he’s also rly punchable so we had to work with that okay

sampo is a bit shameless—it’s what anyone would tell you. personally, you would have to agree.

“so,” he drawls, “how about it, huh? you, me, a fancy little date—”

“no,” you interrupt—it’s immediate, your response, it comes through grit teeth. “you can forget it.”

“alright, alright,” he raises his hands in surrender, “no need to get all aggressive. the sampo koski will change your mind soon enough.”

you’ve lost count how many times he’s asked you this same question. maybe it’s admirable—the way he’s so persistent. maybe it’s dangerous—the way he always gets what he’s after. most people describe sampo koski as an added headache to the already difficult life of the underworld. he’s a bit too lively for his own good, you think. but you’d describe him as pretty words and perfect teeth and cologne that makes your head spin.

you hate it.

“there won’t be any mind changing,” you say promptly.

“oh, c’mon,” he insists, voice effortlessly honeyed and so painfully alluring. “what’s the worst that could happen, huh? we have a good time?” his lips curl into that smile if his. you swallow and look away.

a lot, you want to say. the worst that can happen is a lot.

and it’s easy, you think—to reach over and fix that strand of hair that’s fallen to the wrong side of his face. it’s easy to bump shoulders with him or turn and brush your noses together and feel his hot breath as he exhales.

but that would be toying with overstepping dangerous boundaries, boundaries that are very much set in place by yourself for your own sake. sampo has saved you one too many times from a hard spot—but he’s always managed to disappear just when you think he’s reliable too. he’s too good at bending things in his favor, a little too good at getting what he wants out of everything.

it’s not hard to think what he wants from you—and it’s not hard to imagine him disappearing once again once he’s got it. the difference is you think this time…well, you think this time might just crush you.

“sampo, do you want me to punch you?” you huff, crossing your arms.

it’s late. you’re not sure why he’s gone out of his way to walk you home, but he does and you’re a tad bit grateful. you’d rather not run into a vagrant on your way—and if you do, that’s happily sampo’s problem now.

there’s something about it, about the way he’s dedicated only when there’s something to gain out of it, about the way he’s so sweet and charming as he butters you up with his actions, about the way his smile is gentle around the corners just perfectly to crack your resolve.

he’s so good at what he does—and so painfully bad for your heart. your poor, fragile heart that’s so carefully locked away from his awaiting hand. you think to give it to him would be to hand the devil your soul and trust it’s safety.

you’re not so foolish.

“hey, we’re pals, you and i,” he nudges you with his shoulder. the contact is enough to make your breath pause. “how can you be so cruel?”

there’s a pout on his lips. a perfectly rehearsed, theatrical and conniving pout on his lips that’s meant to add to his charm and chip away at your composure until you give him exactly what he’s after. for a moment, you debate whether or not you’d rather just take on a vagrant or deal with the (very attractive) disaster next to you.

“we’re acquaintances at best,” you purse your lips. “very faintly acquainted acquaintances at that.”

“well that’s just mean,” he gasps, “after all the business deals we’ve had together? i thought i’d be on your good side by now.”

that’s all you think he sees anything as. a good business opportunity. maybe he’s a good friend—he never leaves you for dead and he never really lets you down when you need him most, but perhaps that’s for his own benefit at the end. how else can you have connections if they’re all dead? but you don’t think intimacy is a word sampo uses in his every day vocabulary—much less his every day routine.

“sampo,” you snap, “drop it.”

“hey,” he eyes you, “everything alright?”

you hate that he acts like that—like he cares as his lips curl into that soft frown and his eyes gloss over in concern. it’s so carefully crafted, that mask of his, the one he can turn on to mimic every emotion he might need to fool you that he really cares and he really wants to know if you’re okay.

and you’re not—but he doesn’t need to know that.

“everything would be fine if you quit asking for your stupid date,” you grumble, “cross me off your list for the day.”

he stops walking. you kick yourself for immediately noticing the lack of warmth as soon as he’s not beside you anymore.

“what?”

it’s a simple question. one word. one syllable. yet it says so much. the hurt in his voice, the genuine confusion, the slight shock and the underlying betrayal.

“why’d you stop walking,” you raise a brow, “it’s late and i’m tired—”

“you’re changing the subject,” he cuts you off, “what do you mean list?”

“c’mon sampo, let’s not play this game tonight,” you sigh, “i’m really tired.”

“and what game are we playing?”

“the game of playing dumb,” you snap, and this time, there’s a bit more bite to your words, “the game of asking around to worm your way into everyone’s pants.”

“everyone’s pants? i didn’t know sampo koski had such a reputation,” he chuckles in that playful way of his—but there’s no charm this time, just dryness. “i didn’t know you believed it too.”

“so what am i supposed to believe? that you want to go on a date for fun?”

“that’s usually what people do on dates,” he shrugs, “have fun with people they like.”

he looks a bit wounded. it makes your heart bleed and you don’t like it. his shoulders are slumped and his eyes aren’t looking directly into yours for once—it’s like you’ve peeled off that confidence he wears like a second skin and left something a lot more tender and raw underneath.

something a lot easier to sting with the burn of rejection.

admittedly, you never thought you’d see the day where you’d feel bad for sampo after your rejection. you always thought you’d feel bad for yourself—saying no to everything you want but can’t ever really have. but he makes you feel like he wanted it too….that he’s been craving you just as badly as you’ve been craving him all this time.

“what are you—”

“listen, i….” and then he trails off. like he doesn’t have the right words. like he doesn’t know what he wants to say and has everything he wants to get off his chest all at the same time. like he needs you to know what’s on his mind. in the end, he plasters a grin on his face—one that’s tight and forced as he chuckles, “let’s get ya home, yeah? sampo koski will have you delivered to your door in once piece in no time—”

“sampo,” you sigh, “what do you want from me?”

there’s defeat in your voice. maybe hope. definitely caution.

“a date,” is all he says. “i’ve only ever asked you,” he adds, “if that’s what you’re worried about. no side deals or anything.”

that last part comes with another chuckle that really has no humor at all. it’s dry and empty and maybe even a little bitter.

“look, i appreciate the dedication, but i’d rather not be that fun hook up on the side that—”

“hey! that’s just harsh,” he gasps, “you’d think so lowly of sampo koski? after everything we’ve been through?”

sampo is good at one thing—playing the ever dedicated, ever conniving, ever charming business man. he knows how to lace in sweet words and tempting offers like how the devil whispers sins into your ears. he never cracks, never lets that facade fall even when he’s backed into a corner.

except this time, you don’t think it’s a facade. you think it’s a wall to keep you from noticing the pure heartbreak in his eyes.

it fills you with guilt instantly. it makes you almost hate yourself for not seeing good in him. it makes you feel blind for not noticing all the signs he’s been dropping for so long—signs you know he’s never given anyone else.

who else does he bump shoulders with and walk home in the dark and flick foreheads and make time for even when he’s on a tight schedule? who else gets to hear him talk about his day for just the sake of talking without and not a guise for a deal?

for a second you feel bad—and then you decide that for once, you’ll do something about it.

“sampo koski is always disappearing,” you say softly, taking a step forward, “what if he disappears this time too?”

“sampo koski always comes back,” he reminds you, heart on his sleeve as he meets you half way.

“always?” you ask hopefully.

he nods, like it’s the surest thing he’s promised. “of course.”

“okay, sampo,” you chuckle breathlessly, whether in joy or in disbelief, you’re unsure. maybe both. your hand cups his cheeks and when he leans into it, you decide it’s definitely both. “let’s go on your date. you’re paying.”

“you didn’t have to bring money into it,” he pouts—but the excitement in his voice is almost tangible.

you giggle, squeeze his cheeks together as his hands find your waist. it’s dark and it’s late and you’re tired—but sampo koski is here and nothing else has ever mattered more.

“i expect only the best date from the sampo koski.”

“good,” he grins, charming as ever, a little extra only for you, “because sampo koski never disappoints.”

you kiss him after that. and every day too.

i have been bewitched by the meathead guys 😔

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (part 2)

Part 1

Dream unmakes the latest nightmare he's been working on for the umpteenth time and heaves a humiliatingly human sigh of relief when the glass dissolves back into sand again. This is not working. Perhaps confronting his fear head on is not a good idea.  Instead of continuing his work he casts out his awareness, looking for a certain someone.

Hob Gadling is not currently asleep, but he seems to be daydreaming quite a lot. As much as Dream tries not to pry he can’t help but curiously skim over his friend’s imaginings. Has Hob read Dream’s journal entry yet? How has he reacted to it? Dream is prepared for resentment, disgust even, for Dream’s failure to meet with Hob, and his flimsy excuses. What he perceives instead are snatches of misty, rainy skies that blanket a multitude of wistful and fragile thoughts Dream does not dare look closer at. Hob seems to be lost in nostalgic memories, both sad and fond.  The lack of rage or hurt makes Dream relax a fraction. Later, when Hob sleeps, he will visit his friend’s lodging again to try and see if he has written an answer to Dream’s entry.

-

Dream steps out of the shadows of Hob’s curtains and gazes at the sleeping man. This time Hob has put on appropriate sleepwear and has pulled the blankets over himself. His sleep is restless, his dreams having a certain sense of urgency Dream can feel, but he does not intend to be here long.

He steps up to the desk and looks at the notebook. It lies open again, pen by its side, as if in invitation. Pulse thrumming with excitement, Dream eagerly bends over the pages to read the newly added words.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend! 

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it. 

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

Dream stops reading to collect himself for a moment. Hob is not angry at him. He still wants to meet Dream, in fact eagerly awaits him. Dream feels himself flush with strange longing and can’t help a rush of power escaping him, the equivalent of a shudder, of goosebumps. A mistake, he realises, as he hears a sudden gasp come from behind him.

He freezes.

“My friend? Is that you?”

The urge to not acknowledge Hob and simply disappear is so strong that Dream feels his form already dispersing. Hob’s desperate tone of voice, cracking at the end, stops him.

“Please wait! Please…”

Dream waits, frozen, unable to turn around and face his friend. His form is trembling, rattling, whisping around him like smoke and Hob makes a keening noise.

“You don’t have to- I won’t-”

A sigh, a calming intake of breath.

“Look. I don’t want to pressure you, and if you want to leave I obviously cannot stop you. But…maybe. We can talk? A bit?”

He sounds so hopeful, so sincere, it tugs at something inside Dream and makes him shut his eyes. Hob has not moved from where he sat up in bed but Dream can feel his restlessness, his daydreams of reaching out, of hugging Dream-

“There’s- there’s phones now, you know? You don’t have to look at me at all, we could talk no matter where you are, it’s amazing really-”

“Hob.”

The man immediately stops talking and Dream draws in a deliberate breath before turning around to face him. Strange, how such human mannerisms help him calm down now. After his imprisonment, the act of breathing feels like a luxury to him, a comfort all in its own.

Hob gasps again when he looks at him and Dream wonders what he sees. The man swallows heavily and his fingers nervously grip his bedding. His eyes are red-rimmed and Dream can see tears gathering at the edges, in the tiny wrinkles created by a life full of laughter. The wrinkles deepen as Hob breaks into a grin.

“Hello, old stranger. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Dream very much doubts that. He knows he still looks emaciated, despite all the power returned to him. His form echoes the unease he still feels a lot of the time. He is closer to a nightmare than a dream. Yet Hob seems to genuinely delight in seeing him and Dream feels himself flush with warmth, and embarrassment.

“I- it is good to see you, Hob. Apologies, for not-”

“Accepted. Forgiven. Forgotten,” Hob interrupts him eagerly, “You’re here now.”

“I am...”

He is, and he feels at a complete loss for words. Hob cocks his head slightly, his expression sobering.

“But you were rather…not…?” he asks with a small frown. Dream twitches, caught out. Why it is that this human can see through him so easily he will never understand. It is slightly…terrifying.

Hob looks at his hands gripping his blanket and says quietly, “Look, if talking isn’t- if you’d rather continue the writing, that’s fine. I will accept that. I-”

He stops and Dream can see him grind his teeth. He still feels unable to respond, caught in watching Hob Gadling go through several inexplicable emotions. Then he breathes harshly through his nose and looks back at Dream with a tense but genuine smile.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but I know something did. You wrote as much, and I can see it in your face. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. So if it’s me-”

He swallows again and blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to hold back tears and Dream takes an involuntary step forward.

“It is not. You. Hob. It’s…”

Dream subsides, again unsure how to voice his insecurities, unbecoming as they are of one such as him. 

But Hob does not know what you are, a small voice whispers inside his head and Dream shivers. 

Hob does not know who he is. Has Dream not confessed that that is exactly why he enjoys the man’s company so much? Without knowledge of Dream’s power and function, Hob will not judge him for being…frightened. Of tight spaces. Of glass. Of people. He will only see his friend, in need of comfort.

Dream suddenly wants nothing more than to let Hob comfort him, knowing that the man before him, with his eyes full of hope and tenderness, would not send him away. He can finally speak.

“My friend. I have tried to work through some issues I have…accumulated over the last century, due to very. Unfortunate events. Yet exposing myself to these uncomfortable sensations again…has not had the therapeutic effect I wished for. I am at a loss how to overcome my reluctance to…mingle. Once again.”

Hob looks wide-eyed at him, frowning again. “Wait. Are you saying. You tried to treat yourself with exposure therapy? To what, exactly? If I may ask,” he adds hastily.

Dream shifts nervously.

“...Claustrophobia. Among other things.”

“Jesus,” Hob gasps and wipes a hand over his face, “yeah, I don’t know if, I don’t know, shutting yourself in is really helpful with that. How fast have you been taking things? Have you tried being in larger rooms first, or…” he trails off and looks around his bedroom.

“Are you fine in here? Do you need me to open a door or window?”

Dream is perplexed. Instead of asking what happened Hob’s immediate concern is for his comfort in the current situation. He relaxes a fraction at the realisation that he made the right choice. His friend will not judge him for his weakness.

With a small smile he says, “No. I am alright. Your rooms are. Not uncomfortable to me.”

Hob almost glows at his words and also relaxes a bit. Dream has basically admitted to feeling safe in Hob’s presence and clearly the man has understood that immediately. He is a lot smarter than Dream ever gave him credit for. Hob Gadling has learned a lot about people in his life, it seems. Even if Dream is not exactly people, his current troubles are very human, he supposes.

He sees the moment it hits Hob, when he puts two and two together and realises what Dream has been telling him.

“You said, issues you’ve accumulated…over the last century. Which means, you weren’t claustrophobic before- my friend,” he exclaims and scoots closer to the edge of the bed as if barely holding himself back from approaching Dream.

“What happened? Can you- would you-” Hob asks, his voice trembling a bit, his eyes wide. “Tell me? Please? I want to help,” he says in a very small voice that makes Dream again feel sorry for how he treated his friend in the past. He looks at the notebook, contemplating.

“It is. Hard for me, to speak about these things. Maybe…I can borrow this book? To-”

“Yes! Absolutely! Take it! Sorry, I mean, please, feel free to write to me, I would be delighted. If it makes it easier for you to talk about things…I understand,” Hob says, nodding vigorously. Then he hesitates.

“Does this mean…we won’t see each other again? Until 2089?”

He looks so openly horrified and sad at the idea that Dream immediately dismisses any thoughts he had of saying goodbye for a hundred years once more. In truth, he does not think he would have managed it himself. Writing to Hob is preferable when it comes to confessing what happened to him, but Dream has to admit to himself that he has missed seeing his friend, and he has not looked his fill.

“No. I would like to meet you again. Earlier. I am not sure when, but…I wish to. Introduce myself. After I have given you a more detailed account of my century. I would also like to listen to your own tales. In person.”

Hob beams at him and nods.

“Yeah, I’d love that. My friend,” he says, taking a steadying breath, “I am so very happy to see you. I hope you know that you coming back to talk to me, or write to me, means everything to me. Because I do not take our friendship for granted. Far from it. It is…very precious to me.” He swallows heavily and his smile wobbles a bit. Dream nods awkwardly, feeling embarrassed by the way Hob’s words make shadowy, star-speckled butterflies escape from the back of his coat. He hopes Hob doesn’t see them.

“I…yes. Thank you, Hob,” Dream says awkwardly and then takes the book from the desk. He carefully tucks it into his coat and turns to leave. He looks one last time at his friend, taking in his sleep-mussed dark hair and his gentle smile and feels again a strange pang of longing in his chest.

“Take all the time you need,” Hob says softly, and Dream knows he means it; means that he will be waiting for Dream, no matter how long it takes. Dream can only nod silently again and then, with more reluctance than he would like, leaves Hob Gadling’s bedroom behind.

Part 3

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Wildest dreams, pt. 32 (Paul Lahote)

Summary: Rebuilding their relationship is slow, but worth it. They struggle to find their footing as life goes on, sharing what's on their mind and weighing on their hearts.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, GRAPHIC depictions of death and blood

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

It’s been a few days since Paul promised he’d ask Y/N’s permission to host a birthday dinner. Daisy has texted him at least a dozen times by now, demanding details he cannot provide. Some would say he’s afraid to ask, but that’s not the core issue here. The key to this puzzling silence on his behalf lies in the way Y/N is sitting on his lap, running her soft hands over his as she lathers them in sweet-scented hand cream. A soft smile lingers upon her supple lips and her eyes shyly shift to his curious ones so often he’s barely able to keep his composure. All he wants is to taste her again, to feel her responding to his advances the way she once did – hungrily, unapologetically, wildly, and often. There were days he was concerned about how often she initiated sex…he missed those days. And now when they’re rebuilding intimacy brick by fragile brick, Paul isn’t all too happy about it being put at risk because of Daisy and her inability to give others space.

“You’re staring,” she raises her left eyebrow.

“How can I not?”

Biting his bottom lip, Paul suppresses a smile. Seeing it as a challenge, Y/N cups his cheeks. Brushing the tip of her nose against his, she grins as he releases his tortured bottom lip a shade darker, lightly swollen, and kissable…so incredibly inviting.

“Now who’s staring?” Paul teases as his hands grip her hips.

“How can I not?” She mimics. “You’re incredibly beautiful and you’re mine.”

Unable to resist, Paul’s lips spread in a smile she’d been craving. She can see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. When she lost her sparkle and stopped smiling, his faded as well. It’s truly rewarding to make an effort to get better when it reflects so perfectly in Paul.

“I am.”

“Mine?”

“Incredibly beautiful,” he exclaims, evoking a laugh from her he hasn’t heard in a long time. It’s bright and playful and she’s throwing her head back and he can’t help but laugh with her. Y/N’s laugh is Paul’s serenity and a sign she feels safe with him. Oftentimes Paul caught himself wondering if Y/N trusts he can keep her safe as he once promised her. There’s not a single part of him that trusted himself to be able to do as much, but it would kill him if she doubted him too.

Resting her forehead on his, Y/N lets out a soft exhale, her hands sliding lower until her fingertips rest on his jawline.

“Yours,” he murmurs. “Always have been, always will be.”

“Thank you,” Y/N’s voice is weak, as if her soul trembles for reassurance Paul was certain he’s diligently given time and time again. But if she needs to hear it more often, he’ll give it to her.

“Don’t thank me. Why are you thanking me?”

“For not regretting having me as an imprint.”

“I could never regret you,” Paul takes her face in his hands. Can’t she see she’s his entire world? “Look at me,” Paul orders but she squeezes her eyes shut. “Hey, hey,” he says firmly. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, she does as told. Her lips part slightly in anticipation.

“Every day I get to spend with you is another day I cherish life, love, and destiny. I didn’t believe in that shit!” Chuckling, Paul shakes his head. “Don’t you see? You made me believe in love and destiny and actually speak that into existence! There’s no one else on this planet that I would let hear me being this sappy.”

“It is a little sappy,” she jokes and he chuckles heartily.

“Well, you’re gonna pay for that.”

Raising her eyebrows, she smirks. “And how exactly are you going to make me?”

Pursing his lips, Paul pulls up his legs, his knees coming up right from behind her back enough to push her firmly into his chest.

“Crushing me? That’s your perfect plan?”

Giving her thighs a squeeze, he nods. “In a way.”

Before she had a moment to think, Y/N yelps as she lands on the soft mattress, Paul on top of her. His body weight presses her into the bed, genuinely crushing her to death. So why does it feel so good? Her nightgown moved aside, revealing a part of her right breast and Paul’s licking his lips as he cracked a smile unable to keep his eyes from wandering lower to her chest. He wants nothing more than to possess Y/N again, to feel her writhe beneath him as she comes undone. Lost in his soul’s desire, his mouth comes down hard on hers, claiming them, nearly bruising them. Restraint crumbles beneath the weight of pent-up longing, and his lips mold to hers with an urgency that borders on primal. The kiss, though almost brutal in its intensity, is an act of reclamation, a fervent assertion of belonging.

He loses himself in the warmth of her breath, in the softness of her lips yielding beneath the onslaught of his need. The world outside this stolen embrace ceases to exist. His hands find refuge in the tousled strands of her hair, fingers tangling and releasing in a rhythm dictated by their synchronized heartbeats.

An inkling of common sense washes over him, pushing himself off her instantly. Laying on his back, beside Y/N, Paul covers his face. He allowed himself to lose control long enough to forget about her boundaries, about her wishes. It was a game that turned into so much more far too quickly and he lost himself long enough to act like a predator catching up with the prey.

“I’m sorry,” he swallows thickly, unable to look at her as a cold wave of regret washes up at the shores of his conscience. What started as a game, a dance on the precipice of shared longing he’s allowed to spiral into something he never intended. In this vulnerable moment, Paul grapples not only with the awful breach of invisible boundaries he feels were drawn since their almost wedding, but with the fear of disappointing her, of shattering the trust carefully woven between them.

Y/N doesn’t respond, but the weight on the mattress shifts and then it’s on top of him. Looking at her through his fingers, Paul can’t believe the sight. She’s entirely bare before him, her breasts on display, and her hands are pulling down his boxers faster than he can comprehend.

“What are you doing?” Paul’s voice is laced with curiosity and caution.

“What you’re scared of doing,” she remarks. Her movements are deliberate, determined to bridge the emotional chasm she feels separated them as they finally made some progress.

Grabbing her hands tightly, he sits up with a frown etched upon his forehead. “Stop that and talk to me.” His words sound like a tender echo in the room.

Chuckling dryly, she shakes her head. She meets his gaze unclouded by shame or disappointment. Instead, it holds a quiet reassurance. “That’s the point, Paul. I don’t want to talk, or think, I just want you.” His face is set in a firm, serious expression as she rolls her eyes at him. “I want you inside of me;” she clarifies, as her hands reach for his, intertwining in a gentle grasp.

“If that’s what you want,” he nods.

“Do you?”

“More than you could ever know.”

She pulls him to her, seeking his mouth. He laughs at her grasping hands, teasing her, but there’s no ridicule in his chocolate eyes. There’s only the wish to prolong their pleasure. A sparkle comes alive in her eyes, and Paul knows she will have the last laugh. Her hands move downward. When she finds what she wants, there is no more laughter in his eyes. They are black with passion as he pushes her down beside him.

It isn’t long before their pleasure reaches its high and they’re both released from their sweet torment. Y/N feels drained, her bones weak as Paul moves partially aside, though his leg is still across her calf, his arm across her breasts.

“That was -” Paul begins.

“Long overdue,” she exclaims. “I don’t think we’ve ever done it this quickly!”

“As long as we both finish,” he notes happily.

“How are you so sure I did?”

Paul smirks. “Oh, I know.”

Brushing his hair back, she sighs. “I love you.”

“Even with the beard?”

Giggling, she nods. “Even with the beard!”

“Good, good. Guess I’m going to throw away the shaving cream I bought this morning.”

Pecking his shoulder, Y/N places a hand over Paul’s chest. “Definitely. You’re not shaving until we see how well that beard works for me in other places when we take things more slowly next time.”

His chest quakes under her fingertips as his laughter fills the room. The birthday dinner can certainly wait until morning because there’s nothing in this world worth endangering the sweetness of this moment.

The problem is, the sweetness of that moment repeated often throughout the morning and then it lasted the entire day. Like catching up on lost time, Y/N and Paul spent the next day wrapped up in each other until they physically couldn’t move anymore.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll send out a search party for us,” Y/N snickers as Paul swipes away all the unread messages on his screen.

“If it was urgent, someone would be at the door by now.” Burying his head in her neck, Paul inhales her deeply only to realize she almost entirely smells like him. Playfully biting at her soft skin right above the collarbone, he licks the teeth marks left behind.

“I’m not even gonna say anything,” she snorts before checking her phone as well. “Well, they’re definitely relentless.”

“Mhmm,” Paul murmurs between feather-light kisses he’s leaving across her chest.

“What dinner are they talking about in the group chat?”

Pausing, Paul looks at her through his lashes. “Fuck. I forgot.”

“Well, now that you remember, fill me in.”

“They want a dinner party for your birthday. I promised them I’d ask you, but then –“

“I screwed your brains out?”

“Something like that,” he grins, “wait, that’s exactly what you did.”

Running her fingers through his hair, she sighs contently. “I think I’d be up for a dinner. Nothing glamorous, no gifts necessary. Just a dinner with friends.”

“I don’t think gifts are optional.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she inhales deeply. “Fine. Fine. I can handle some gifts. Just promise me you’ll get me out of there if my social battery runs out.”

Pressing his lips in a thin line, Paul furrows his eyebrows.

“We’re hosting it, aren’t we?” She grimaces with realization.

“I think so.”

Staring at the ceiling, her fingers coil around the ends of Paul’s dark hair. “Tell them it’s a go, but you definitely owe me five more orgasms to be okay with hosting.”

Chuckling, he pecks her chin. “It will be my pleasure.”

When the day came, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by noon. She sent Paul to the store at least five times, constantly finding something new she could make for the pack on her phone to the point he confiscated it.

“Maybe I can make the mac n’cheese?” Paul suggests.

Pausing, with her hand on her hip, Y/N snorts. “Sure. We have time for the fire department to show up for dinner too. Might have to make a little extra. Would be rude not to invite them for dinner when they’re already going to be here.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Paul says nothing as he gives her a pointed look. She looks surprisingly put together considering she spent the day cooking. Most times he’d let the comment made go, but this time he was waiting for an apology, one he hoped she’d realize he’s owed.

Tossing the oven mitts on the table, she sighs. “Pasta isn’t your dish, babe. I love you and your cooking, so if you wanna help, pasta is not on the menu. Butttt a potato salad is and I’d really appreciate it if you made it the same way you did last month because I craved it for a week.”

Huffing, he nods. They had ONE incident with pasta and it’s only because he forgot to put the water in the pot before he lost control and shifted. The look on her face when she realized he was a wolf while smoke was bellowing from the kitchen window had him staying away from the kitchen for months on end.

“Sure,” he releases a tired sigh. Instead of turning it into an argument, Paul decided to just keep quiet. This dinner clearly triggered her in a somewhat different way; where he expected depression and doing it all himself with Emily’s tips and tricks, he received an overly anxious perfectionist who was driving him insane. But it’s her birthday…the first one since she lost her dad. It doesn’t matter how old you are when you lose a parent, especially when it’s the last parent you had, there will be a sadness that clings to your heart for a long time after. He remembers losing his mom, and later his dad, and he wasn’t prepared for either death. To this day, Paul wishes he had more time to spend with them, to ask them why.

Why didn’t his mother tell him she was dying of cancer when she decided to send Paul to live with his father? He could have been there with her in the last months of her life, to have used the time she had left better. That’s a luxury they stole from him…the luxury he didn’t have with his dad at all. The only comfort he has is how quick his father’s death was compared to his mother's. Sudden cardiac death takes moments, not excruciatingly painful months as metastatic breast cancer does.

So, yes. Paul has more understanding than Y/N thinks. The first birthday isn’t easy, especially for someone who has a close relationship with their parent. She hasn’t taken a proper breath the whole day, wasting away precious moments they could have spent together.

When he woke up, Paul found their bed empty. He cannot even try to guess how long she’s been up cooking and cleaning, all of the things he planned to do. He wanted to cook for her, for them all. Paul wanted to make this day as easy as possible for her, but he should have known better. Y/N does everything well, but relaxing is not her strongest suit.

“Jacob said he’s bringing a cake,” Y/N breaks the silence. “Apparently, Alice had seen it in her vision and bought it.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah,” she turns to face him. “Is it weird we didn’t invite the Cullens? I kind of feel bad for excluding them.”

Licking his lips, Paul shakes his head. “We’re all perfectly happy to be on friendly terms, but I wouldn’t put a family of vampires in the same room with shapeshifters who’re struggling with old urges right now. You did well.”

“Is it really that bad?” Y/N places the spoon on the counter, approaching Paul with genuine worry reflecting in her eyes. “Are you struggling?”

“Every day,” he admits with a tightlipped smile.

“You never told me,” she realizes. “I really need to do better.”

“It’s fine.”

“I wish it was,” she frowns. “What else do you struggle with?”

Glancing at her, he shrugs meekly. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation now.”

“Why?” Swallowing thickly, Y/N leans on her forearms. When Paul remains silent, she bows her head low. “I’m just gonna ask then. Are you still having those nightmares?”

Noticing his hand stop stirring, Y/N’s eyes widen. Paul’s jaw clenches and her lips part. They’re not out of the woods yet. She’s still marked for death. If anything, her father delayed her death for a little while. There’s not a single part of her that doubts she was the intended victim, but her father managed to protect her the only way he could – by sacrificing his own life.

Flashes of his ripped-open throat have her grabbing onto her stomach as nausea forces bile up her throat. Unable to run to the bathroom, it spills past her mouth into the sink and before she has a chance to take her next breath, Paul’s warm hand is splayed between her shoulder blades and the other is holding her hair back.

“Ugh,” she groans. “Throwing up in the sink is so fucked up,” she tries to laugh only to gag as she senses the smell of stomach acid. Paul lets the water run, running a wet hand across her face and neck. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I throw up thinking about it too.”

Looking up at him, she leans into his chest. “You could have said something.”

“Your dad was killed. It’s not a burden I was looking to share when you were already struggling.”

Inhaling sharply, she wraps her arms around him. “I’m strong enough,” she states. “I promise you can stop treating me like I’ll break if we argue or you have something on your mind. I don’t care how bad it is, I’m here for you.”

“Talking about your death isn’t something I like to do,” Paul pulls back lightly, his scowl playing with her heartstrings. He’s been so strong, but when will he let down his armor again? It can’t be good for him to bottle all this up.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“We’re having people over in two hours,” Paul reminds her.

“And we have made like five dishes already. We can order pizza if they eat everything prepared.”

Paul smiles seeing her relax for the first time that day. This is the Y/N he’s been missing. “The beach?”

“Of course!”

As the sun begins its descent beyond the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, they walk along the shoreline, entwined hands swaying gently like the rhythm of the waves as the ocean breeze plays with their hair. Little is said about the darkness they need to share, deciding to table it for another day. This is meant to be a moment for just the two of them – the couple who fell in love against all odds and chose to love each other every day continuously.

“It’s weird how this was meant to be the place we say our vows in,” she muses.

Pulling her closer, Paul closes his eyes. “Would have been beautiful,” the ache of unrealized dreams carries in his voice.

“I was so ready to call you my husband,” she confesses with a teasing smirk, a glimmer of playful light in her eyes.

Biting his lower lip, his eyes reopen, finding solace in the depth of hers. “I was already calling you my wife that day. It felt right.”

Staring at each other as the sun goes down, they smile longingly as if each glance is a rediscovery of love after the tragedy that stained their happiness.

“Let’s get married,” Y/N declares.

“I’d love to,” Paul places his hands on her hips, lightly pulling her in front of him.

“No, I mean would you like to marry me tonight?”

Caught off guard, Paul coughs as he nearly chokes on his saliva. He grabs her shoulders for support before cupping her cheeks, bending his neck to meet her eyes with furrowed brows. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m serious! We can have Sam marry us and then just file the paperwork tomorrow. I mean we have the marriage license; it’s not rocket science.”

Paul, running his tongue across his lips, takes a few bewildered steps to the left. Shaking his head in disbelief, he glances at her repeatedly, searching for any sign of it being a joke. But this isn’t a joke, this is real.

“Okay,” he finally utters, the shock evident in his nod.

“Okay?” Sparked by Paul’s unexpected agreement, a giggle bubbles forth from her, carrying genuine happiness. It’s infectious, dancing through the air, infusing the moment with warmth Paul is certain will linger in his memories.

“Yeah! Let’s get married tonight!”

A/N: Unfortunately Tumblr had been making me suffer regarding the tagging, and text limits. I am also aware it has been a while since I updated, so hope this was good enough of an apology.

PART 33

[rileyslibrary]

I’m rewatching succession and I can’t stop thinking about kendall roy. what about a prompt with ghost dealing with a partner who is a drug addict and is in recovery?

Hi reader! I rarely watch TV, and had no clue who or what you were referring to, so I did some research. Also, you didn’t specify what you meant by “partner” (in the army or real life), so I tried to incorporate a little bit of both. 🍫

Warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction, disease, death of a relative and dark humour/making sarcastic comments of a very serious situation below. DNI if you’re uncomfortable with any of the above.

“What are you thinking about?” Ghost asks as he takes a sit next to you at the roof of the the truck.

“Y’know, stuff.” You reply, gazing at the horizon.

“Drug stuff?” He asks.

You slowly turn to look at him. For a man who has been trained to be a tactical machine, he is anything but tactful in his interactions with humans. Sure, you’ve seen him feed stray dogs and pet alley cats while you were on patrol together, but when it came to people, he had the social grace of a clown at a funeral.

“Well, I do now, lieutenant,” you reply sarcastically.

“Well, shit,” he shrugs and lights a cigarette, “didn’t mean to remind you.”

“Don’t worry,” you reassure him, “it’s always on my mind.”

“Talk to me about it.”

He wants to play therapy now; great. Every time he saw you like this, lost in your thoughts, he came and talked to you, persuading you to express your feelings. Things which you considered to be native to this man, but he was trying his best, even if he was heavy-handed in doing so.

“Sometimes I feel lost,” you explain, “without it.”

He nods, indicating that you continue talking. You sigh and look up at the night sky.

“Like, I know I’m doing the right thing, Simon,” you continue, “but I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You’re a lot of things, love,” he says, “good things.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side, “last time I remember doing something good was not stealing from an old lady because I thought she needed the money more than me.”

“See?” He says and opens his arms, “that was a good thing.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, “very Dalai Lama of me.”

You both stay silent for a while, and he turns to you.

“I know why you feel lost,” he says.

“Enlighten me, Lt.”

“You’re both strong and fragile at the same time,” he explains, “your will is strong, but your mind is playing tricks on you.”

“My mind is a mess.”

“I know,” he agrees, “which is normal.”

“Ha! Normal says the guy who walks around with a skull mask on,” you spit, and he looks offended.

“Hey, love, we talked about this,” he says, “don’t want to distract the enemy with my moneymaker.”

He gestures at his semi-covered face, and you both chuckle. Unfiltered comments and offensive remarks came out of your mouth quite often now that you’re in recovery. The good thing was that Ghost was a master at turning insults into banter, which was quite helpful in making you reflect on your words. He was very understanding and patient for a guy who was trained to be tough and emotionless on the battlefield.

“How do you know so many things about it?” You ask.

“It.” He mocks, “don’t talk about your struggles like they’re fucking Pennywise.”

You let out a long exhale. “Jesus, man,“ you exclaim, “how do you know so much about addiction and recovery?”

He looks down at his dangling legs. “My brother,” he explains, “went through the same thing.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “hope he’s okay now.”

“He’s no longer with us,” he replies and faces you, “but you still are.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, and he thanks you. He had never opened up about his family before. You knew he had issues but nothing more than that. Perhaps that’s another reason why he’s so supportive of your journey. He wants to see someone make it out alive.

“Seriously though,” he continues, “what you’re doing is huge. You’re fighting against a disease, and that takes a lot of courage and strength.”

“Disease?” You scoff, “you make it sound like I have cancer or something.”

“Addiction is a disease,” he reminds you, “it’s not something you choose to have, just like cancer. But you’re fighting it.”

“Easier said than done,” you mutter.

“Nothing worth having comes easy, love,” he says, “and what’s better to have than your health?”

He’s right. You’ve been so focused on the struggle that you haven’t acknowledged your progress. You’ve been sober for six months now, a huge accomplishment. It hasn’t been easy, but with Simon and your therapist’s support, you’ve been able to stay on track.

“Thanks, Simon,” you say, “for everything.”

“Anytime, love,” he says and puts out his cigarette, “now let’s get back to base; Price’s expecting us for the meeting.”

“Can we stop at a convenience store before we go?” You ask, “I’m thirsty.”

“Sure,” he says, “what are you getting, a Coke?”

You laugh and gently punch his shoulder. “Yes, lieutenant,” you say, “A zero one, of course.”

[childesglove]

Did You Cheat On Me? Revenge Taste Bitter (Part 2)

Summary: Childe thought you had cheated on him and he decided he was going to take revenge, even if it hurts both of you. Now that he realised he made a mistake, how can he ever fix this?

Read Part 1

Tags: Angst with comfort, Hurt, Implied Violence, Reader has anxiety attack, not proof read, verbal abuse, a lot of screaming

__________________________________________________

You turned and leaned against the door, breathing heavily as you felt the weight of the world crashing on you. You parted your lips and an ugly sob escaped you. You covered your ears in an attempt to block out all the noises but it did nothing to silence your thoughts.

Your heart ached so much it felt almost physical. You haveso many questions but all you could do was curl yourself into a tight ball.

Like a hammer striking a fragile mirror, reality shattered the memory into a thousand sharp fragments. All the lovely images of him smiling sweetly at you, holding you tight and making you feel safe shattered.

It was a painful reminder that he was not the one.

He was just a passerby in your life that left a scar that would take forever to heal.

You stayed in the same position for what felt like hours before you started packing your clothes.

With one last look, you left this place that you once called home.

The same day

Childe was lost in his thoughts, he was growing restless as each moment passed by, he couldn’t forget the look on your face when you left.

He felt sick and twisted for making you cry even when you were the one that betrayed him. He was supposed to feel happy, triumphant even, yet all he felt was emptiness and a sense of dread.

He doesn’t even know where that dread came from.

“ Lord Harbinger, a man that claims to be a friend of Ms y/n is requesting an audience.”

“Let him in.”

“Urm, Hello. I’m Matt.” A nervous-looking man entered, his eyes darted around as he licked his lips nervously.

“You dare..” Childe’s eyes narrowed coldly as he recognised the man, it was that bastard that you cheated with.

“I think we have a misunderstanding here!” Matt widened his eyes as he put his hands up in an attempt to calm the harbinger down. “I am Y/n’s childhood friend, I recently just came back from Sumeru to visit my family.“ The poor man was talking like a machine gun as if a bomb is about to set off.

That feeling of dread is coming back again, Childe stared at Matt, waiting for him to continue.

“Y/n is just like a little sister to me and I am really happy she found someone.” When he mentioned you, Matt’s eyes softened for a second. “I wanted to explain to you yesterday but you looked like you were ready to kill me..” he smiled sheepishly.

“What..what did you just say?”Childe’s mind was a whirlwind of panicked thoughts, his instincts screaming at him to find you and beg for forgiveness but he didn’t even know where to begin.

Everything made sense now.

The way you looked so hurt, confused and offended when he confronted you.

“What have I done?” Childe muttered, his face contorted into a horrified expression.

He messed up.

When he went back to their shared home, he was greeted with nothing but emptiness. The house was silent, not a trace of you was left behind. Your matching mugs, the plushies you insisted on keeping, and the photo frames of you and him were all gone.

A letter was left on the table.

__________________________________________________

Dear Ajax,

I went against my whole family and friends to be with you, and I really thought it would be you in the end but turns out, my mother was right. You were not and never would be that man.

I wished I’d never met you, you make me feel sick.

Hope we never meet again.

Y/N

____________________________________________________

As he read, Childe’s hands began to tremble as he clutched at his chest, trying to hold himself together, but the emotions were too overwhelming, raw.

His face was twisted in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks as he read and re-read the words on the page.

He can’t believe he fucked up so badly.

It felt like yesterday when you pressed yourself against his back, whispering how much you loved him. The way you kiss his ears, giggling as you watch his ears turn red under your touch.

Each time he came back from the battlefield tainted with blood and all worn out, all he wants is to see you, hear you call his name so sweetly.

Yet all of these are gone because of his foolishness.

Part 3?

[writing-whump]

Sol, from the sickfic prompts, can I have Isaiah + "Can you please come home? I feel really bad…" where he's the one saying this? I wonder how bad things would have to be for him to admit needing others?

Feverish and stubborn

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Matthew asked for the umpteenth time that morning.

Isaiah smiled at his insistence, internally cringing. He wanted Matthew safely gone so he could collapse in peace.

He had been feeling off since morning. Some kind of exhaustion, making him feel heavy to the bones and tired. Truly, he just needed sleep. He slept only a few hours every day, too busy and fascinated by some kind of assignment or homework or getting calls about lost pups, angry pack representative doing this or that. If he didn't get a job, that part of his life would swallow him whole.

Matthew eyed him suspiciously. "The pack is super friendly and they specialize in that human fighting thing without shadows, that you approve so much. They wouldn't mind me bringing you over."

Seline was at her parents during the weekend and Matthew had a guilty look on for leaving Isaiah alone as well, for a boxing meet between wolves. Isaiah was happy for him. Matt was finding his niche, friends through his interests. His confidence would grow from it, Isaiah was sure.

"I'm sure. I have homework to catch up to and I do not mind being alone. I have been living that way for the last 6 years, in fact."

Matthew bit his lip, scanning him one last time. "I'll text you the address in case you change your mind."

Isaiah rolled his eyes. "Shoo. Go already."

Matthew grinned sheepishly, threw his bag over his shoulder and left.

Finally.

Isaiah dropped the happy mask at once, sitting down on the couch. He just felt so tired. Huddling into the blanket where he sat, not pressed to go hide in his room or pretend to function at 8 am, he lied down right there, quickly asleep.

***

Isaiah woke up 3 hours later to violent shivers through his body. He was freaking freezing. His hands and legs were frozen solid, he was trembling under the blanket. Even his nose was stinging from the cold. Did he leave the windows open or something?

He wiggled his head towards the clock and the windows and the balcony but everything was shut. Maybe he should get under the covers, they were thicker, but the idea of leaving the little warmth he had under the blanket made him curl up into it.

He would need to make a run for it, but he needed to gather his strength first.

It was only after that ridiculous thought that it struck him he must be feverish. The only logical explanation.

He shivered some more, mentally playing the short walk to his bed for five times, before finally standing up. Blanket still around his shoulders, he wanted to dash to the bedroom, except his bones felt like someone filled them with broken glass. He felt fragile, unsteady, like he was about to bend over and collapse on his feet. Ow.

Finding his slippers, he made his way to the bathroom instead, taking the big bathrobe against the cold. He leaned against the sink, daring a peek at himself.

Yeah. He was pasty white, giant circles under his eyes like he didn't sleep for weeks instead of the last few hours, and he sweated through his shirt, although he was still shivering.

He was also feeling vaguely nauseous. Not sure if it was from not eating or from the fever or because this flu came with a stomach bonus.

How annoying.

Isaiah felt a little better in the bathrobe, so he devised a plan of not having to get up again for the next two days.

He gathered a jar filled with water, a glass, biscuits, thermometer, some pills and a basin for good measure. He didn't eat much for dinner and nothing for breakfast, he was empty, but his stomach felt tense and sore. Better not risk it.

With his supplies steady on his nightstand, he hunted down thick woolen socks and new PJs. Closing the curtains on the window to not be bothered by the sun, he changed and climbed into his bed with the bathrobe on. No harm done, he would sleep this off.

He took his temperature. 38.4. Yeah, maybe the ibuprofen wouldn't be a bad idea. He took half a biscuit, grimacing at the taste before he took the ibuprofen against the fever and dived under the blankets in relief.

He was shaking until he warmed up the air underneath the covers, but he felt proud of himself for being responsible and sweating this out like an adult.

***

Three more hours later, Isaiah was ready to be better already.

The thermometer showed 39.5 as if the ibuprofen didn't help at all and he was constantly shivering like he was exposed to the Antarctic air.

Not to mention he was starting to feel really nauseous from the fever. His stomach didn't hurt or protest another medication, so he could tell the fever was doing it. The nausea was a slimy presence at the back of his throat, around his teeth and jaw. He took deep breaths against it, shutting his eyes, trying to relax and will himself to sleep.

When he closed them though, all he could see were images of his work as the Executioner or his Father's voice admonishing other pups that wolves didn't get sick. Yeah, getting sick was a luxury. Taking a day off, being able to stay in bed, being able to be so open about it. Isaiah had all the luxury now, so he should be fine. Nothing to complain about.

Other times, his feverish brain made a list of people he would have liked to be here if he dared to call them. Sonny saw him sick from time to time and always knew what to do. Very matter of fact mature presence.

Arnie would probably come if Isaiah asked. Would bring him medicine and worry for him, talk his ear off into sleep so Isaiah wouldn't have to hear his own buzzing thoughts.

Matthew and Seline would come. Matt wouldn't know what to do, but he would be adorable in his efforts. He would probably sit beside him in bed, turn on some Netflix show on their TV in the room and wake him up with exclamations when something funny or angering happened in them.

He dreamed about Seline saying he was okay, keeping track of his temperature and calling him something nice, like darling or sweetheart. The idea made Isaiah sniffle, curling into himself under the covers. How pathetic was he, to imagine something like that?

The fever must be making him delusional. To imagine it would demand his roomates to be here, when he was a completely normal functioning adult who could handle a little fever.

It was a very rude one at that, not wanting to climb under 39.3, even after the second dose of medication.

Isaiah made himself drink some of the water, which made him reach for the basin and gag over it for a cruelly long time, but nothing came up. He curled up around it, breathing harshly as he drifted back to sleep.

***

Next time he woke up to the feeling of liquid in his throat.

Isaiah shot to towards the basin immediately, gagging over it, before a few drop of blood fell on the surface instead.

His nose was bleeding, that's what he could taste at the back of his throat.

Ah damn, he had no paper towels on the night stands. What a stupid thing to forget.

His heart was also beating really fast. Isaiah turned to lie on his back, pinching the bridge of his nose. The nausea was drowning him, his heart thumped painfully against his ribs, the only force left in his body and he was going to make a mess on his sheets with the nosebleed.

For some reason the last part made him want to cry.

He was so glad he was sick with something else but his heart episodes for a change and now the fever might initiate one for him. Or was the nosebleed from the fever?

The more he lied there, the stronger the blood was running, flowing freely down his face and throat. He felt like he was choking on it.

He heaved over the bucket at the taste again, strained over it with no relief for several minutes, face all wet and slimy from the red liquid.

Isaiah slid down from the bed, the basin and covers in his lap. The shivers doubled immediately. He hugged himself, rocking back and forth. He couldn't remember when was the last time he felt so rotten. And if he didn't calm down, he would cause himself a heart episode no less.

Feeling utterly pathetic and ashamed, he reached for his phone, dialing the number he had been craving for the whole day.

Seline picked up on the second ring. "Isaiah, hey!"

Isaiah cringed, the joy in her voice when she said his name squeezing his chest in longing. "H-hey...."

"I was just telling my mom about the theater show we were going to? If we like it, I could get them tickets and next time we could- Isaiah? Is something wrong?"

He could hear voices in the backround, a female and a male and Seline answering something back in Slovak.

"I just..." Isaiah sniffled against the blood clogging his nose, cupping his hand over it to catch some of the mess. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Wait, hold up a sec." The noise of a chair being pushed back as Seline got up and left the kitchen. "Isaiah, talk to me. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry. C-can you please come home? I feel really bad..." He hated what he was asking. She was an hour away by train, enjoying her weekend with her parents and he was calling for her like a child.

"Oh sweetheart," Seline voice dropped to lowest, sweetest, softest coo. "I'm on my way, okay? Dad will take me to the station, it's 4.30 right now...that means the train at 5.15 should be doable by car...I'll be there at 6.15...Anything I can bring you? What's wrong exactly?"

Isaiah sniffed pitifully. "I don't...I- it's just the fever won't go down and I feel sick and now there is blood everywhere-"

"Blood? What do you mean blood?" She said in alarm.

"'s nothing, just my nose is bleeding for some reason."

"Okay, okay, okay. Everything is going to be fine, you hear? I'll be there as fast as I can."

***

Isaiah woke up on the floor, throat and nose clogged up with dried blood, covers and bathrobe covered in it, shivering and sweaty.

None of that mattered, because he was greeted by the nicest sight he could wish for.

Seline was crouching next to him, jacket half open, frowning in concern.

Isaiah looked at the watch. 5.30 pm. "You made it early," he croaked.

"Dad drove me all the way here. Better than the trains." Seline cupped his cheek with her hand, lifting his face towards her to study him.

"Is he still here? I should-"

"You should nothing," she interrupted sternly. "The nosebleed stopped? Can you get up on the bed?"

"No...I'll make a mess like this." He pointed at his face.

"Is that why you are on the floor? Honey, the sheets can be washed, that's not a reason for you to sleep on the carpet."

Isaiah focused in her voice. She still changed the pet names frequently, like she couldn't settle on her favourite one. He loved it.

Seline's hands on his face felt divine, even though they were way too cold. He shivered under her touch, breath hitching.

"Okay, arm up. We will take your temperature, while I get something to clean you up with, alright?" She put the thermometer under his arm, kissing him on the forehead before leaving.

Isaiah closed his eyes, shivering under the sudden heaviness of her absence.

"Okay, come on, sweetie. Back in the bed." She was really insistent on that, huh?

Seline grabbed his arm and pulled and he followed, standing up and then falling back on the bed with a moan.

"What is it?" Seline sat down next to him with a wet towel and a bunch of those soft paper towels for colds.

"Ugghh. My skin hurts."

"Your skin?"

"Yeah. It's like broken glass all over," he whined.

Seline shook her head. "Your fever is super high, I can tell all the way from here. It's okay. It will pass." She took the towel and started to clean the dried blood on his face.

Isaiah winced at the coldness, but she was so gentle, he couldn't protest.

"I got you all the good stuff. Best rehydration drink ever," she said with a small smile, taking his thermometer, scowling at it without comment, and putting it away.

"I feel nauseous. Not sure I can drink," he said tiredly, closing his eyes. It wasn't his concern anymore. She could decide what he could and couldn't do.

"Just a few spoons, okay? It will really help with the fever. There. Face all clean. It really bled a lot, huh?" Isaiah didn't dare to glance at the ruined towel, but the wet skin left in its wake was stinging with cold. The feeling of cleanness comforted him.

Seline put another, bigger towel soaked in cold water around his forehead and neck. He hissed at the touch, but she took his hand in hers. "I know, I know. But this will help, darling. Please, trust me."

He squeezed her hand back, propped up on the pillows and closed his eyes.

"Open your mouth, sweetie."

Isaiah squinted at her. She really sat there with a mug of transparent liquid in her lap and was offering him a spoon of that salty smelling water.

He sighed but obeyed, letting her spoon feed him four times, before he pressed his lips together as he waited for his stomach's reaction. It sloshed angrily inside him, a cramp making him double over.

Seline's hand was cupping him his face immediately, her lips on his forehead murmuring something into his ear.

He breathed harshly, melting against the contact, then curled up at his side. "No more."

"Okay. That's enough for now. Such a good job. You will be up and about in no time."

Seline put the mug away, patting his face, readjusting the cold towel on his forehead, before standing up.

"Sel?" He whined, afraid she would leave. "Stay? Please?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

She cluttered with some of the things on his bedside table, before switching off the lamp and climbing into the bed beside him.

He shifted closer on his side, and she pressed herself against his back, arm around his chest. He took the hand in his, curling it against his heart like a talisman.

"It's beating really fast," she said softly.

"Hmmm. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" She said in disbelief, voice going higher with emotion.

Isaiah's throat closed up. "I'm sorry I called, I-"

She lifted herself up to loom over him. "You can always call me. I'm glad you called me." Her voice suddenly grew more heated. "No, in fact, you have to call me, when you feel bad like this. How long has this been going on? Why were you alone and not telling me sooner?"

Isaiah blinked in the dark, taken aback.

"When you get better, I'm gonna kill you, you hear? You feel off or like you are coming down with something, you are supposed to tell me before you black out from a fever with a nosebleed. You tell me immediately. I don't care if I'm on the other side of Europe, I'll come."

Isaiah swallowed, eyes burning, heart somewhere in his throat. "I didn't want to be a both-"

"I forbid you from having such thoughts," she said indignantly. "You are never a bother. You matter to me, Isaiah, do you understand that? When you are hurting in secret, alone, away from me, you are hurting me. You want to let me bleed out by not telling me of the wound?"

Isaiah didn't know what to say to that, eyes wide in the dark.

"You don't have to toughen it out," she said more gently, palm on his cheek, caressing it with one finger. "Let me take care of you. It's the least you can do, when part of me is hurting there with you."

Isaiah took in a shaky breath, chest hurting from her words. It hurt, it hurt to face such proclamations, such absolute belief they were true. "You are so bossy," he said, voice wavering on a sob.

Seline pressed herself closer to him still, spooning him, tangling their legs together. "Shhhhh. Yeah. You better get used to it."