#they way her eyes are so bright and full of tears but she's so strong and so proud of her friend

[centurieslove]

finally had the guts to watch the finale again. takes me months to work up the nerve. the result? destroyed me again

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Fourteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is readying herself for the ball. Hot Daddy Fin™️ opens up to her a little and shares some worrying truths (and then some). Azriel and Reader reunite, body and soul.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Adult content, 18+, NSFW, minors dni.

Tried my best with this part but sorry if it's a bit iffy! This girlie is ill as FUCK. Still hope you enjoy, tho, loves!

“You know, I have to admit, I was dubious at first.”

Mor is knelt at your feet, and you think this might be the closest you ever come to having a goddess on her knees before you. A strange part of you wants her to snap out and sink her teeth into your thigh, leave a bright red mark on the skin — but alas, her attention is fully on the hem of your gown.

“My uncle, love him though I do, is a calculated bastard.” She pushes to her feet, straightening out the fabric. “But I think he actually enjoys your company.”

“He does.” Roza pitches in from her place on the couch. “I know Fin. Y/N has him eating out of the palm of her hand.”

Though she smiles, her tone is laced with clear concern. Not because she cares about Fin, but because she cares about you. Doesn’t want you to forget that this is the High Lord of the Night Court you’re meddling with.

“Males are vapid and predictable, every last one of them.” You shrug your tense shoulders. “Throw them a few pretty smiles and they’ll do anything for you.”

Mor steps back, a low whistle leaving her. “Forget the males. I’ll do anything for you.”

Her eyes rake over your gown. So do Roza’s. And you…you want to crawl out of your skin and hide.

You’ve never owned a beautiful gown like this, never been able to afford one. The couple of dresses you do keep amongst your clothes are plain ones that just about do for special occasions. What hangs off your body now is…a work of art.

Almost feels like sacrilege for the beautiful fabric to touch your marred skin.

It’s sheer, showing off more than you’ve ever before dared to, and yet there’s a modesty, an elegance, to the many whorls and swirls made up entirely of little blue jewels and pearls and beads. It gives the gown a weight that makes it cling to you, and it outlines a body that…that quite frankly, you’d never considered beautiful until this very moment.

A body that commands the garment, and not the other way round. That makes you feel like far more than just another mistreated, unfavoured Illyrian female that will one day be lost to history.

This gown makes you think: I do not need the wings I have spent my life longing for.

It makes you think: There is nothing more beautiful than a good spirit and soul, and I have both.

It makes you think: Never again will anyone — friend or family or foe — make you feel less than worthy. Less than deserving. Less than strong.

You have always had strength. And this dress somehow amplifies it. Will amplify it to a room full of people who will see, through that sheer fabric, your scars, your lack of wings, and they may pity you, or not pity you at all, or may even laugh.

But you will still be beautiful.

Movement has you realising that tears have blurred your eyes. You swipe them away, and Mor is smiling at you, and Roza looks like she’s a little choked up, too.

“You are so godsdamned gorgeous.” Mor says earnestly. “Every last inch of you.”

Indeed, you glance over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, your gaze immediately finding your scars sitting brutal and undeniable beneath the sheer fabric. You don’t hurriedly force your gaze away like you have done your whole life, don’t try to avoid them.

You just…look. Look at what has been a part of you for so long, now.

“…Mor?” Roza says quietly. “Can you…give Y/N and I a moment?”

“Of course.” Mor agrees. “Time for me to find a snack.”

The stunning blonde squeezes your hand as she strolls past, and as she leaves the room, the door is pulled shut behind her.

Roza rises from her seat, making her way over to you. And as she stops before you, her hands move up to cup your face.

“Did you know,” she murmurs, “that I’ve always thought you were one of the prettiest females in all of Windhaven?” A soft scoff leaves you, but before you can glance down, she’s holding your face firmly. “I mean that — even when Azriel brought you to the cottage that very first time, and you were covered in dirt and mud, your hair all knotted, a leaf or two in there — you thanked me for feeding you, and you gave me a smile that was just like…sunshine. Such a rare thing in Windhaven. I remember thinking, this girl deserves to smile like that, always.”

A single tear spills down your cheek, and Roza wipes it away. She definitely looks like she might start bawling, too — a rare thing for her.

“I know you were never given much of a chance to feel worthy.” She whispers. “Your mother abandoning you…your father taking your wings…they were the two people who were supposed to love you more than anyone, and they broke you and left you broken.”

“You put me back together.” A lump in your throat fractures your words. “You and Rhys and Azriel and Cassian. Your love—”

“My little dove, you put yourself back together. We just loved you through it. I just want you to know that…I just want you to remember, the next time you feel worthless, that you are beautiful, and you have always been beautiful. You’re strong, and spirited, and determined. You have a resolve like no other I have ever seen, and you can do anything — which is why I know you will achieve whatever it is you’re planning with Fin.”

Only then does your gaze drop. “I only wish to appeal myself to him enough that he’ll value my opinion — that this Fenlaros business cannot go ahead. But I still feel awful…he’s your mate.”

“Gods, in the loosest definition, Y/N.” Her hands move to yours, then, liking them together. “Believe me when I say that if it weren’t for my children, I’d never see that male again. I think you know that I do not hold him in high regard.”

“I do know. But I respect you and care about you more than anyone in the world. And if you feel even a shred of discomfort about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. I’ll find another way—”

“The only discomfort I feel,” she squeezes your hands gently, “is at the thought of any harm coming to you. But I’ll feel that way through everything you do in life, because I love you. I also feel awe, because you’re brave and brilliant, and you’re doing what’s right. What I will teach this little girl,” she places your hands on her swollen belly, “to do — to stand up against what is wrong, and do so without a lick of shame.”

“I’ll protect her with my life, you know — the babe. I’ll love her unconditionally.”

“And she will love you, my dove, just as I do. So,” she steps back, eyes your dress again. A smile curves her lips. “Do whatever it is you have to do, Y/N, to change Fin’s mind — you have my full support. I only ask three things of you.”

Your expression softens. Anything — you’d do anything for her. “Of course, Roz.”

“First, don’t get caught with your scheming.” She says. “And second — you may feel like murdering Fin. Gods, believe me, I get it. But please do refrain. He’s my children’s father, after all, and Rhys isn’t ready to be High Lord just yet.”

You breathe a laugh, dipping your chin. “No murder. Got it. And the third thing?”

Roza steps up to you, her fingers finding the beautiful, jewelled material that clings to you like a second skin. She smiles.

“Go to that ball,” her fierce eyes meet yours, “and show everybody there that your father didn’t take one bit of beauty away from you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You pace the length of your room. Back and forth, back and forth. You’re restless tonight.

Day after day is swept behind you like the snow that blankets the mountains. Time is a racing thing. Starfall is fast approaching, and thus, so is the ball. But you still feel as though you can’t get a good read on Fin’s thoughts.

No matter how many dinners you share with him, how many walks through the city streets you take together, the shows you watch in the Rainbow…he does not offer you the candidness with which he spoke through that very first conversation in his study. Any attempts to talk about Tathaln, about Fenlaros, are promptly diverted. He wants to talk about you — wants to know you.

It feels like the opportunity to stop this shit show in its tracks is slipping through your fingers, and you can’t grab hold of it, pull it back.

So instead of sleeping, you think, and you pace, and you—

Gods, you just want to see Azriel.

How much space, you wonder, is enough space? You have respected his needs, have kept to Velaris, given him time to confront his innermost thoughts and feelings. But you don’t know how long he needs, and right now…right now, all you want is to see him. Look into his eyes. Hear that soft, quiet voice telling you that everything will be okay.

You need to know if he’s made a decision about Fenlaros. You’ve tried not to think about it, not to dwell on the possibility that he could choose to run from his feelings over embracing them. But the longer the silence stretches on…the more you find that hole in your heart gaping, threatening to swallow you whole.

You pace more and more, up and down in time to the ticking of the clock. It’s a wonder you haven’t worn a track through the carpet. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so antsy, but perhaps if you could just talk to Az, some of your worries could be allayed—

Before your thoughts can catch up with your body, you’re tearing through the drawers in the desk, scrambling for paper, a pen. Practically throw yourself into the chair. A letter — a letter will do the trick—

But you don’t know what to write.

You stare at the blank parchment like the words will simply appear by your willing. They don’t.

A love letter? No, no, not a love letter. Just a letter to…to remind him that you are still here. That you are reason to stay in Windhaven, and you think you could be reason enough.

Azriel… you picture him as you crawl his name. His honey-golden eyes and his silken hair. The sharp bone structure that could slice through paper, the full lips. The memory of how those lips feel is fading, and you want — need — it back. Your pen pauses, hovers at the parchment, and those lips are all you can think of, the urgency with which you crave them.

Azriel, you write again, I want to see you. I need you, too—

A soft knock lands on the door, and the pen clatters against the desk where you drop it.

The clock has just timed three in the morning — the knock is an unexpected obtrusion in the dead of night. One that makes you anxious.

But a second knock comes, and you shove the parchment and pen back into the drawer, scrambling to your feet. Perhaps it’s Roza — the more the pregnancy progresses, it’s not unusual for her to wake up in the night with need for something. You hurry over and tug it open.

Fin stands on the other side, looking…unkempt. His hair is mussed, like he’s been dragging his fingers through it. The first few buttons on his shirt have been undone, and a glimpse of a fine, chiselled chest peeks out. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He looks as though he hasn’t been to bed.

He drinks in the sight of you in your nightgown, bathed in the room’s glow. He swallows. “Forgive me, I…I saw your light on. Thought you might be having trouble sleeping again.”

You incline your head. “I was.” You admit. “…And you?”

“Too much in my head to even attempt it.”

You’re not sure what to reply with, how to help. Fin watches you closely like…like he needs to. Like gazing at you brings him comfort.

You are treading a very, very dangerous path. But you shift on your feet and ask him, “Would you like to come in?”

A tiny nudge of a smile pulls one side of his mouth up. “I was actually wondering if you’d allow me to take you somewhere.”

Your eyes widen a little. The surprise isn’t for show, and it seems to please him. “Right now?”

“The City of Starlight doesn’t sleep. Ever.”

A fact you’ve learned all too well during your stay here. There’s always some sort of activity, something going on that sends a constant pulsing through the city streets. For some reason, you hadn’t imagined Fin to be a participant in the night life.

“It’s somewhere I go when I can’t sleep.” He explains, as though you’ve spoken your thoughts loud and clear. “I think you’d like it. And from one insomniac to another, I…I would be honoured to share it with you.”

How can you possibly say no to that? For all Fin is mysterious, for all he keeps his cards tightly pressed against his chest, you truly believe that he finds a strange sort of solidarity in this one affliction that burdens you both. You may have wildly different reasons for pacing your room at night — and you’re not sure he’ll ever tell you his — but when the world is too quiet and thoughts are too loud…there’s comfort in knowing that somebody else is staring down those early hours, also.

It almost makes him seem…normal.

And perhaps that’s why you offer him a dazzling smile that isn’t entirely disingenuous. “From one insomniac to another,” you say, “I’d love to come with you.

The way his eyes light up makes you wonder if you’ve played your role, appealed yourself to him, a little too well. “Then I’ll wait here while you get dressed.”

You incline your head. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He waits patiently as you change from your nightgown into warm clothes that will shield you from the freezing night air. With no indication of where you might be going, a sweater and breeches and boots seems like the safest bet. You sweep your hair out of your face and shrug the weariness from your bones. When you emerge from the room, Fin’s gaze traces you like you’ve donned an evening gown and not the thickest layers you could fine.

“I find you so very intriguing.” He comments unexpectedly, and you’re not sure what he means.

You plaster a smile on your face, all the same. “Where are we going, Lord of the Night?”

Heat stokes his hickory eyes, and he looks as though he’s actually trying to tamp down on a broad smile. “It’s a surprise.”

You hold a hand out. He takes it. “Then surprise me.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 “Tilt your head up.” The instruction comes from close behind you. Near enough that a warm breath tickles the back of your neck. You dutifully obey. “Now, open your eyes.”

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, cautiously. What you’re met with has your next breath catching in your throat.

A dome of starlight arcs high above you. The twinkling jewels in the sky feel almost close enough to reach out and touch, and they shine brilliantly through the glass roof, an occasional transient one cartwheeling its way past in pursuit of another place.

You can only stare. Gape. Your feet move forward a couple of steps, but your face remains tilted upwards.

You were in this building only a couple of evenings before, but it had been so packed, then, so filled with music and chatter and laughter and activity, that you hadn’t noticed what sat above your head. You’d been far too enamoured with the performers, their poetic verses and fluid dances, the tragic climax that had brought you to tears.

Now, the largest theatre in Velaris’s rainbow is empty and bathed in darkness, broken only by silvery moonlight. You and Fin are the only two here. And standing on the gargantuan stage, a mass of empty, folded seats staring back at you, you have the perfect view of the night sky that gives a performance all of its own above you.

There are soft footsteps, and Fin is also stepping forward, stopping at your side. “In over nine centuries, I’ve never tired of that sight,”

You shake your head, a little dazed. You’re lost for words. “I can see why.”

“There is so much unexpected, so much chaos and burden, in being High Lord. But no matter what I may face, what choices I make, and what reactions they receive…there will always be the night sky and its stars.”

Only then do you remove your gaze from the domed glass ceiling — to drink him in and wonder how many layers deep his true heart lies. This male who is as cunning and cruel as he is handsome and charming. How many dimensions does he have that you’ve never stopped to consider?

“I know it doesn’t exactly support the imagine of a calculated High Lord who shouldn’t be crossed.” Fin says, staring had at the surface of the stage whilst a wry smile graces his lips. “Sneaking off to an empty theatre in the dead of night when sleep evades me. But I find…peace here.”

You eye the ginormous building around you, dipped in shimmering moonlight and the shadows of twinkling stars. All those empty seats, the vacant orchestra pit, the stage that has trapped so many beautiful voices and words, guided so many dances and echoed so much beautiful music. There’s a haunting loneliness to the desolation. And you can’t help wondering if…if Fin relates to that, somehow.

When you snap out of your thoughts, you find he’s moved again. Now, he sits on the very edge of the stage, legs hanging down and palms bracing him. He stares out at the rows and rows of red velvet seats, not one of them disturbed by a spectator.

You’re moving before you tell yourself to. Sitting at his side and tucking your legs beneath you. You spend a short time in still silence, but the heaviness of the High Lord’s thoughts seems to spread to every corner of the building.

“When you brought me here the other night,” you angle yourself towards him, “it was my first time in a theatre — ever. I never saw a show before.”

A very slight frown pinches Fin’s features.  He seems to consider that. “One of my flaws, Y/N, I have to admit, is that I often forget that there’s a world outside of my privilege. That people lack where I never will.” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Roza was right to take Rhysand to Windhaven. He’s grown with a humility that I very much do not have.”

You snort softly. “I spend a lot of time with your son, My Lord. I assure you he’s just as capable of arrogance. I’ve kicked his ass a good few times because of it.”

A quiet laugh rasps from him. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” He pauses, and then his elbow is gently nudging you. “I told you, anyway — it’s Fin. I consider us to be friends. Don’t you?”

In some ways, you really do. Ans what a lying, using, devious little friend you are.

Especially as you scoot closer to him. And you’re softening your features and staring openly at him.

You don’t miss the way his gaze falls to your lips.

“I do.” You say, and he lifts his eyes to yours again. “And as your friend, I’d like to know what weighs so heavily on your mind tonight.”

His mile falters. And you don’t want to lose him, to let the moment slip away from you. You quickly grab his hand before he can tense up.

“I want you to talk to me…” You make your voice soft as butter, sweet as honey. “I like talking to you, Fin.”

There’s a beat. A tense one. And then his body is loosening, relaxing, his eyes becoming infinitely warmer.

His hand wraps around yours, the pad of his thumb tracing your nail. “I like talking to you, too.” He admits, and pauses again. “…War is…a great likelihood, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to go still, then, to tense up. Icy cold surprise bolts through you. That…isn’t what you were expecting.

“War?” You breathe, your mind already conjuring images of your friends on a battlefield. “With whom? When?”

“I do not know when. It could be in a year’s time; it could be in a decade. That all depends on how long it takes for humans to rise up and rally against our kind.”

“Humans?”

“There has been more and more pushback, in recent years, from humans. Humans who are enslaved by our kind and are sick of it. More and more of them are beginning to stand up against it, to protest how they’re forced to live. They’re willing to go to war over it. I don’t know when or where, but they will. In years to come, they will.”

“As they should.” You sit up straight. Perhaps it’s the wrong thing to say, but you don’t care. “They should revolt. I think it’s barbarous, the way our kind treat them. Their purpose is not to serve us. They have just as much right to live freely as we do.”

You mean it, mean it with your whole heart. You know what it’s like to be used for somebody’s personal gain, what it’s like to have freedom always lurking just out of reach. And you’ve heard about the treatment of enslaved humans. Most would rather die that live under the cruelty of their fae masters. That the practice hasn’t been outlawed utterly sickens you.

Fin says nothing for a while. His hand continues to hold yours. His eyes drink you down with a muted intensity. Like this is the first time he’s ever really taken you in.

“I agree.” He murmurs, much to your surprise. “And when war comes — and it will, and I’m preparing for it — when war comes, I will fight alongside the humans. To liberate them.”

You look at him, then — a male who has lived for almost a millennia, but doesn’t look a day over forty. Who is so universally feared, who carries a reputation for things you can’t even bear to consider. You will not fool yourself into believing that the darkness hides an inner light, or that the cruelty is a front. He is not soft and he is not kind.

But perhaps he’s not totally bad, either. That he would put himself in the firing line for the liberation of innocent humans…it has to speak somewhat to his character.

It almost makes you regret your scheming, your manipulating.

Before you can muster a response, the High Lord is leaning closer. Your body tenses as his face stops inches away from yours.

“You need not be afraid of me, Y/N.” He whispers. “I find you…magnificent. I like that you don’t filter yourself in front of me, that you’re not afraid to speak your true thoughts and feelings.  You…you are an asset. Worth so much more than you’ve ever been given credit for.”

Your gaze dips, cheeks burning at the compliment. “I don’t know about that—”

“I mean it.” His finger hooks under your chin, soothing the skin there. “Magnificent.” He repeats, and he’s leaning in closer, closer, until his lips are coasting your flushed cheek. The kiss he presses there is cold in contrast, but you have no chance to react as his mouth brushes its way to the shell of your ear and lingers there. “Absolutely brilliant. And do you know what?”

“…What?”

“After the ball is over,” his breath tickles your ear, “I’m going to bring you back here, to this stage. And those stars above our heads will watch as I strip you bare and fuck you hard enough to shake the building.”

It takes every morsel of your resolve not to start at the words. You release a shaky breath — one that makes you seem eager, responsive. It’s convincing enough that you don’t think you’d be out of place up here on this stage.

Thankfully, you don’t have to drag words from your spinning thoughts. Fin lets go, and he pulls back, rising to his feet.

“But until then,” he holds a hand out for you, “there is much to be done. Starting with you and I getting a good night’s sleep.”

You wear a mild smile as you allow him to pull you up. “A girl can dream.”

“And so can a High Lord.”

You don’t say much else to each other as he tugs you close and spirits you back to his palace. You are both pensive, and you are both tired.

But when he bids you goodnight outside your bedroom and strolls off to his own, sleep seems further away than ever. You’re thinking too much at once. Humans. War. Fin. Azriel.

You still desperately want to see Az, talk to him.

You dig back into the drawer, meaning to retrieve the letter you’d started to write.

But your hand merely knocks against wood, and the letter is gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You’re tempted — to write another letter, or note, or…whatever. You don’t even know what became of the first, unfinished one, whether it made its way to Azriel or not.

But days pass, and you…you begin to lose your nerve a little. Perhaps it’s better to live in ignorance for as long as possible than know, either way, what Azriel is thinking. Choosing. Can’t help feeling that the more time pedals on without a word…the worse the outcome will be.

Distractions help. But tonight, it would seem, there are none. And it’s strange, because everything around you is bathed in luxury, in excellence, but you find yourself missing the stripped back simplicity of Windhaven. The crumbling cottages, the mead hall, the rough-and-tumble way of life. There’s always something happening in that harrowing place, something to keep you occupied. As you stare down an evening in a huge, mostly empty palace, you’re actually struck by your longing for it. Both Roza and Fin are busy. Mor is away. Only the mountains and the distant sounds of the city are your companions tonight.

And once again, your thoughts take you to Azriel.

You think maybe this need for him is getting out of hand. And maybe it’s just the sugar-sweet things that Fin has been speaking into your ear, the knowledge that deep down, there’s only one person you want to make such promises to you—

No. It’s not just that. Not just a pathetic influence of suggestive words. It’s a need.

You need Azriel.

Your closest friend. Your safety blanket. The male who saved you and brought you into the fold of a loving, supportive unit. You stared down awkward adolescence together, faced such trying times by each other’s sides.

And you need him.

Your heart, your body, your skin, is hot and heavy with it. Restless. Like the craving is pulling you apart from the inside.

You need to do something, anything, to occupy yourself; take a late-night stroll, read a book. Anything to stop you from staring at the ceiling and being eaten alive by the fire that scorches your veins.

You’re so desperate to get moving that you don’t bother to grab a jacket — just shove your feet into your shoes. A spring mildness has blanketed the city, anyway. You’ll be fine. You just need to move—

But you yank your bedroom door open, and Azriel is on the other side.

His beauty punches you straight in the gut.

He’s a vision, stood there in casual clothing, a note — your note — clutched in his hand. He takes in the sight of you just as hurriedly.

“What are you doing here,” you breathe.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. His eyes rove you again, and he swallows. “I got your note.” He answers. “I wanted to see you, too, and…the High Lord summoned Rhys, Cass and I here…to warn us to be on our best behaviour at the ball.”

You can’t say anything. Can’t speak. You just gawk like a godsdamned fool.

A strange concoction of a frown and a laugh comes from Az. “I…snuck away after…to come here—”

Before you even know what you’re doing, your hand is bunching in the front of Azriel’s shirt, and you’re dragging him into the room with all your strength. He looks bewildered as you shove the door shut behind him.

“Az, have you lost your mind?” You round on him. “If Fin knew you’d come to my room—”

“He isn’t here.” He cuts you off. “Cass went straight back to Windhaven, and Rhys knew I wanted to see you, so…he’s currently having quality family time with Roza and his father in the city.”

There’s a lot to unpack. But all your mind wants to zero in on is that one little sentence — Rhys knew I wanted to see you.

Pathetic, how your entire stomach flips.

“…You call him Fin?”

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up enough to understand Azriel’s question.

“We’ve been living under the same roof.” You shrug slowly. “I…guess he got tired of me using his title.”

Az stares at you, assessing. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you fidget under the intensity of his gaze.

“What is it?” You ask him.

“I’m worried about you. I know he’s taking you to the ball. I don’t want you playing his games.”

You purse your lips. “…That why you snuck here to my room, Az? To give me a warning—”

“I came here because you said you wanted to see me, and I want to see you, too.”

So open — for him. So straightforward that for a beat, you’re not sure how to react.

But then you’re moving, and so is he, and your bodies slam together in a tight, long-awaited embrace. Feeling his arms wrap around you is…everything. Everything you’ve missed and longed for. Everything you will ever long for. Whatever happens…Azriel is the only thing you’ll need, when all is said and done.

And that’s why you’re suddenly crying, clinging to him.

On instinct, Azriel’s arms tighten around you. He moves a hand up to cradle the back of your head, and he whispers, “Y/N…”

“Please don’t leave Windhaven.” The words choke out of you. “Please, Az, just…don’t go to Fenlaros. Please—”

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Tears and all, you do. You remain as close to him as you possibly can as you lift your head to meet his eyes.

You don’t know how you know, but you do — from that one, heavy stare, you can tell that things have changed. That he has changed. He looks like the same, stunning male that you’ve always admired, but something else sits on his face.

Emotion.

Determination.

Fire.

He opens his mouth. Takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body. And then he says, with utter clarity, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You almost break all over again. But he keeps talking, keeps sharing.

“I love you. No — I’m in love with you. I love you more than I can put into words. I want you and only you, and I’m not leaving you. The only reason I would ever walk out of that camp is if you were by my side, and we were leaving together.”

You are…weightless. Boneless. Held up only by Azriel’s arms. A tear rolls down your cheek, and you allow it to fall to the carpet.

“My handling of my feelings,” Az stares down at you, “has been one huge fuck up. I loved you long before you offer to let me practice intimacy on you. Experiencing those things with you…the things you made me feel…only brought those feelings to the surface. And instead of facing them as I should have done, I hid behind Kaeda to avoid them. But it was never about Kaeda. It was always you. It will always be you. And I’m scared, Y/N, I’m fucking terrified. But I’m done running. Done hiding.”

Silence sweeps into the room on swift wings, and you are suddenly incapable of thought, and of somehow turning it into words. Without Azriel’s voice to distract you, you’re aware of the tremors that wrack through his body. As though this is the scariest thing in the world to him, and he’s trying to hold strong against it.

It probably is.

He studies you closely. Croaks out, “Please say something.”

And perhaps it’s giving him the wrong impression entirely, but you’re stepping out of his arms and putting space between you. You just…need to gather your thoughts. To remember how to speak.

“I…” You blink. “I handled it badly, too.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“I made selfish choices. I…I acted out of jealousy because I wanted you, but you and Kaeda were…”

He shakes his head resolutely. “What I told you before was true. I never touched Kaeda like that. Even before I found out about all that Fenlaros shit, I think I knew that I wouldn’t. That I couldn’t.”

A fact that breaks your heart. Your eyes fill with tears again. “But I still did. Cass and I—”

“Cassian was there for you when I should have been, and I had no right — none — to react the way that I did. If anyone did anything wrong that night, it was me. But what you and Cass did…it does not matter. Not one bit.”

You’re pivoting on the spot, turning your back to him, before you can crumble entirely. He really means it. Really does not hate you for the choice you made, even though it hurt him.

“Y/N,” Az’s voice shakes behind you. “Please…look at me.”

Now you’re confronted with the situation, part of you wants to run — to hide.

But Az is being open. Honest. No matter how hard, how terrifying it is for him…he’s here. He’s trying.

And so you’ll try, too. And you think you might be shaking just as much as he is as you turn back to him.

The two of you stare at each other. Feel the situation out with your gazes alone.

Azriel is the one to break the extended silence.

“You said you need me.” He eyes you. He’s visibly trembling all over, and it has nothing to do with the chill in the room. Trembling like he’s trying to hold himself together against the weight of the situation.

“…Yes.” You swallow. “I do, Az…I think I’ve always needed you.”

“So show me.”

You pause. Blink, your eyes blown wide. “What?”

“Show me how you need me.” He steps closer, and though he’s shaking, he outreaches a hand and find yours. “Show me how to give you what you need.”

Your fingers brush his, and you’re forcing a lump down your throat. Drinking him in. He…he’s exquisite. “You mean…”

“I mean,” the gap is closed between your bodies, and his heat is reaching you, “I don’t want to practice. I want it all…everything…with you. I want you to take me. Only you—”

You’re surging forward with so much pent-up need that when your lips collide with Azriel’s, it almost knocks you both to the floor.

But Azriel’s arms are banding around you, and he’s a pillar against you, kissing you back with just as much heat.

You don’t know which of you makes what move. Your hands are all over him, and his are all over you, and he’s walking you backwards and groaning as the kiss deepens.

You find the hem of his tunic, dip your hands under, fingertips skating warm skin that shudders beneath your touch. “Can I take this off?” You murmur, and he swallows your words greedily.

“All of it — take it all.”

And so you do. There is no method to it. You’re a woman starved and crazed as you tear at his clothing, not caring about where it ends up, so long as it’s no longer on him. More and more tan skin is exposed, more muscles, more scars. And when he kicks out of his boots and breeches and his underwear is the only remaining barrier, you’re reaching for him, for the hardness that’s pushing through the dark grey fabric and taunting you.

But Azriel reaches out an arm to gently stop you. His hand brushes your cheek, and his eyes are pure hunger as he says, “Your turn.”

And it hits you just then that up in until this point, Azriel has never seen you naked — in this capacity, anyway. There have been plenty of non-sexual circumstances over the years in which you’ve gotten a glimpse of each other, but not like this. Even when he began practicing on you, you never took your clothes off.

And you’re fucking nervous. Even more so under the press of his gaze. He looks like he may combust as you slowly move your hands to your shirt and tug the front laces loose. You pull the hem out from where it was tucked into your breeches.

The fabric parts enough that it more or less slides off you and pools on the floor. You do not meet the heavy stare that watches you so closely. You may lose your nerve if you do.

But when the last few items of clothing are off and kicked away from you, and you’re left entirely bare, you hear a sharp intake of breath. Curiosity gets the better of you. You lift your gaze and resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest.

Azriel is staring at you like…like nobody ever has before.

Like you are the rare rays of sunlight that break through the grey landscape of Windhaven. Like the world around you was forged from your own two hands.

Like you’re beautiful, and worthy, and unruined.

“…What is it?” You clear your throat, shifting on the spot.

Azriel shakes out of a daze and takes a single step closer to you. “You are…” His throat bobs, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You almost laugh. Almost. But something stops you.

The sincerity in his tone, his eyes. The realisation that he truly means that.

Your eyes travel from his face, down his sculpted chest and stomach. The firm, toned legs and what sits beneath him. You’ve seen plenty of his body naked. But…not all at once.

You think the air might be punched from your lungs.

He’s hard as a rock — from looking at you. The tip of his cock is already leaking moisture. His wings flare proudly at his back.

“So beautiful.” He cups your jaw, guiding your eyes back up to his.

There’s nothing else you can say, in that moment, than the words that tumble from your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Emotion crosses his face, and both hands are gripping your cheeks. He kisses you deeply; so deeply that it steals your breath.

And then he pulls away, and he’s repeating his earlier words, his forehead pressed to yours. “Show me — show me what you need. No games, just…you and me.”

No games, indeed. You cannot wait any longer.

You rise on the tips of your toes and claim his mouth with yours, and you’re guiding him back, back, until his legs are hitting the bed and he’s gladly falling onto it. He sprawls out, watching as you climb over him. As your hand caresses his stomach and moves down.

And when your fingertips brush the head of his cock, a deep, delicious noises rumbles in his throat.

You mop the moisture up with your palm, using it to slick the length of him and slide your hand up and down. He hisses between his teeth, hips jerking, hands bunching within the covers on your bed.

“No games,” he repeats through gritted teeth. “This is about both of us.”

And you know that, and you’re not patient enough, anyway, for foreplay right now.

It dawns on you that there will plenty of time for that.

He is not leaving Windhaven — not leaving you.

You will have experiences together beyond this one night.

And with that very fact warming your heart and making it set to burst, you place your legs either side of his body and stare down at him. His cock brushes against your centre, and he can feel how wet you already are for him. His eyes travel down.

You watch, and you ask him, quietly, “You’re sure about this?”

His gaze flicks up immediately. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.” He reaches out a trembling hand and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “That doesn’t mean I’m not nervous — gods, I really fucking am. So scared. I just…want to do it right. To be good for you.”

The sentiment almost brings tears to your eyes. “You couldn’t do it wrong if you tried, Az. Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.” He sits up a little — angles himself closer to you. “And I love you with my whole heart, too.”

And that’s all either of you need, isn’t it? Love and trust. The need that exits between you. Everything that is just…yours and Azriel’s relationship in its entirety.

Your eyes remain locked with his as you gently reach down and position his cock at your entrance. He breathes shakily. Doesn’t look away from you once.

Not as you slide down onto him just a little. You pause at the first feel of your walls stretching to accommodate him. A pleasured frown furrows his brow. A moment passes, two, and then you slide down further.

More and more. Sinking onto him. Pausing. Adjusting. With every inch of his huge length that disappears inside you, you feel like every one of your nerve endings is struck by lightning. Azriel’s head lolls back, and he makes a soft noise.

“You’re okay?” You check, hovering over him.

“You feel—” He chokes on his words. “Fuck.”

It’s the encouragement you need to sink the rest of the way onto him. The last few inches slide into you quick, thanks to the slickness that soaks your folds, and then he’s pushed into the hilt and hitting a spot so deep inside you that you can’t stifle the noise that breaks from your throat.

“Did I hurt you?” Azriel gasps, and you can only shake your head. He seems to study your face for confirmation, before he’s pushing up to kiss you.

And you kiss him back. For a moment, that’s all either of you do.

But when he’s losing himself in your mouth, his tongue dancing around yours, seemingly distracted by your kiss…only then do you lift your hips and sink down onto him again. And then you’re falling into a slow, steady rhythm.

Azriel is gasping again, his mouth moving from yours to press kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbones — your breasts. As you rock slowly against him, the walls of your pussy squeezing him, coaxing him, he buries his face into your chest and explores you, lips and tongue paying attention to your nipples, teeth grazing with a gentleness that’s almost heartbreaking.

“So beautiful.” He whispers, and the hands that are sitting on your hips travel up your back — up to the scars that live in the place of your stolen wings. “Gods, Y/N, you’re everything.”

You moan, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You just…want to hold him to you, to feel him against you. It’s like it all comes crashing down on you that he very easily could have left.

But he didn’t. He won’t. He is here and so are you. He is yours and you are his.

“Talk to me,” you breathe, raking your nails down his arms. “Tell me how you feel.”

“So good — feels so good with you wrapped around me.”

“Yeah?” You lean down, brush a kiss to his lips. “You like being inside me?”

“There is — fuck — there is no one, Y/N, that I want to do this with, besides you.” His mouth slants over yours, and he whispers two words — take me — before he’s giving himself to your kiss.

He’s so big, so deep. And the blood in your veins feels like molten lava as the pace picks up, as his trembling begins to subside, and he grows more confident. His groans are loud, and his hands roam over your body before finally landing on your hips. Fingertips dig into your flesh with a dizzying bite, and he’s rocking you, encouraging you to take him. To fuck him.

This is not practice. This is two bolts of lighting striking in the same place. The friction between your bodies is perfect, like nothing else you’ve ever felt. The pleasure may just finish you yet. It’s electric. Addictive. You want to feel like this forever, with him.

And more pleasure floods you as in one swift move, he flips you over — takes you entirely by surprise. You’re landing on your back, and he’s hovering over you. He stills as he stares down at you.

“This is perfect.” He says, dipping down to kiss you again. It makes him move inside you suddenly, and the different angle has you both gasping into each other’s mouths. “Gods.”

“Fuck me, Az.” You moan. “Just like that.”

What starts out slow quickly builds in pace. The roll of Azriel’s hips become thrusts — and the moans, the cries, the words that leave you, all guide them to be deeper, harder. You think you could stay like this forever, with him buried inside of you, wringing pleasure from every corner of your body. It snakes through your veins and zips up your spine, and when his hand travels down and his fingers find your clit, you fucking explode.

You cry out, bucking up from the bed as your orgasm hits you full force. Azriel fucks you through it, and his groans are growing louder, more desperate, as the walls of your cunt clench around him. He breathes out a fractured, desperate noise, leaning down to brush his lips over yours as he fucks into you harder.

“I can’t last much longer.” He chokes around his pleasure, pressing quick, nipping kisses to your mouth. “I can’t—”

“Come for me.” You gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “Come inside me.”

The noise that your words coax from him is downright sinful. He grabs your hips in his hands, slants his mouth over yours. He slams into you again, again, again, and then he’s roaring his pleasure with enough force to shake the bed, and you feel every rope of come that he spills into you.

You’re trembling. Or maybe that’s him. Or both of you. Both slick with sweat, and both shaking, and both unable to hold yourselves up any longer.

Azriel collapses beside you, his body still tangled with yours. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths heating your skin. You sink a trembling hand into the strands of his hair.

“That was—” His voice hitches, “I can’t…can’t put it into words.”

Neither can you. It’s all you can do to nod as you catch your breath.

“Thank you.” A kiss is pressed against your neck. Another. Az’s arm drapes over your chest, and he moves his mouth to yours. “Thank you.”

Still void of words, you settle on kissing him. Deep. Slow. Unhurried. Your hand cups his cheek, and your tongue strokes into his mouth. Lays out a litany of sentiments that you’re currently incapable of verbalising.

It feels like you kiss each other forever. But then you’re pulling back, pressing your foreheads together. And you stare into Azriel’s eyes as you tell him once again, “I love you.”

Emotion floods his eyes, and he holds you as close to him as he possible can, murmuring onto your mouth, “I love you, too. I think I always have.”

You know you always have. You tuck yourself into his side, content to feel his skin against yours. The rest of the world floats away. There is nothing and no one but you and him. Your Azriel.

Your eyes are growing heavy when he brushes his lips against your forehead, and he whispers the words you’ve needed to hear for so, so long.

“Whatever happens, Y/N,” another kiss joins the first, “you and I will face it together.”

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[ddejavvu]

Sun-Kissed - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake finds out why you go through a particular scent of candle so fast

Contents/Warnings: none! pure fluff :)

WC: 1.0K / navi

Please send me top gun requests!!

The first 'darlin'' that leaves his lips is what has you nearly tackling Jake where he stands in the doorway. There's no better way to wake up than to the sound of his voice, and it seems as though, during your catnap, he's taken a trip to the store.

"Three this time," He brandishes the bag in his hand, glass clinking together and swarming your tummy with butterflies, "I cleaned 'em all out for 'ya."

"Thank you!" You gush excitedly, sleepy hands nearly fumbling the bag as you try unloading your haul.

"Easy," Jake chuckles, the sound deep and warm in his chest. You pay no mind to his teasing, "You might break 'em if you aren't careful."

"I'd cry," You groan, picking up each navy blue tinted candle from where it lays in the shopping bag. You set them label-forwards on your nightstand, the block lettering on the picture of the beach reading sun-kissed, "If they're out of these it means I gotta wait a week for restock."

"There's three candles here." Jake frowns, lower lip plumping as it sticks out in confusion, "You wont' go through all these in a week."

"You're leaving on Wednesday," You remind him, trying to keep the glum note out of your voice, "I'll have almost two full days without you."

"Yeah," He still seems confused, and you almost giggle at how one of the most intelligent people you know can be so slow on the uptake.

"I burn them when you're not here," You explain slowly, watching the gears turn in his brain, "Because they smell like you. Whenever I miss you I light one, and let it burn until the whole house smells good."

He stands there, expressionless. His eyes shine, and you wait for anything, any reaction he'll offer you. You'd kill to know what was going on inside his head, what's making him bat his eyelashes like he's a perplexed toddler.

Then he lunges. You're entrapped in his strong arms before you can process that he's even moved, a slight sniffle coming from where he's pressed his face into the crown of your head. He's clutching you tight, almost too tight to breathe, but he's warm and smells like your candles and you can hear his heartbeat through his t-shirt.

"'Dunno how y'got me all weepy," He breathes, a weak chuckle coming from his mouth that's mottled with a hint of tears, "It's just a stupid candle."

"Stupidly good smelling," You hum, face pressed into his chest and words muffled there, "I swear you're secretly running this candle company, it smells exactly like you."

"You found out my secret," He sighs, crestfallen, "I haven't been on base at all. I've been engineering a candle company to get you hooked on my smell."

"Dastardly," You peek your face out of where it's smothered in his chest, hair amiss as you sleepily grin at him, "Are you even a pilot to begin with?"

"Nope," He grins, popping the 'p', "Just smelly."

"Yeah," You fake disdain, your nose wrinkling at the bridge as your eyes scrunch, "I didn't wanna be the one to tell you, but I think you should shower."

You make a break back for the bed, escaping his arms before he can trap you in them again. But he's faster, he always is, and yanks you back with a loud, incredulous chuckle.

"Hey!" He holds you facing him, keeping you pressed tight to his torso. His smile is blinding, as bright as the sun, "I went on a journey to the craft store to find these," He urges, memories of the horrors of the knitting ladies in aisle six flashing through the intensity in his eyes, "I had to fight my way through the cool teens with sewing machines to get those candles for you," He huffs, "Sorry if I'm a little sweaty."

"Did they put up a fight?" You know the group of high-schoolers well, and you envy their craftiness.

"One of 'em tried stabbing me with her needle," He dramatizes what was probably the pointed end aimed in his general direction as she stitched up a loose seam, "I swear I barely made it out of there alive."

"Well thank you, soldier." He bites his lip at the title, and you smirk knowing he won't fight you on it, not today, "I don't know what I would do without you."

Your comment is teasing, and he knows it. But it's truthful, too, and you take your time relishing in his presence now that you're nearing another few days of him away from you.

"Me neither," He admits, and it's shocking to see the great Hangman admit that he isn't always one step ahead of the game, "But I'm glad you've got something to help when I'm gone."

"Me too," You nod, leaning closer to the shining smile of his, yearning for the taste of it, "But the real thing's always better."

He leans in to press his lips to yours and you're sun-kissed, warmth flowing through you as you clutch tight to his chest. He has the remarkable ability to flood the room with brightness when he steps in, and it's even more brilliant when he kisses you. Now you break away glittering, the light in your eyes matching what's still radiating from his smile.

"I love you, darlin'," He speaks soft and low, the epitome of fondness.

You return the sentiment with as much love as you can squeeze into your voice as possible, "'Love you too, Jake."

--

Stepping out onto the porch becomes a difficult task on Wednesday morning. You mourn the absence of your husband, because it means you nearly fall flat on your face over the box on your doorstep instead of being caught in his strong arms like a damsel in distress. You straighten up from where you'd landed on your knees, peering suspiciously at the open-topped box you're hovering over. In it are round glass jars, what you recognize almost immediately are sun-kissed candles. There's sixteen in the crate, four by four in the cardboard box. There's a note on top of one of the lids, taped there and flapping in the gentle breeze. It's in his handwriting.

Angel, it reads, and your heart skips a beat.

Angel,

I thought you could use more of these, just in case you run out. I don't want you to get lonely, two days feels like a lifetime when you're not there. Don't light the house on fire, please ♥

XOXO, Jake

[xxblairexxss]

Tradition

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

In which you decided to surprise Charles to cheer him up. Based on this,

You had been with Charles ever since he was in Formula 2. You were there and witnessed every sweats and hard work he put in to chase his dream. You knew him at the back of your hand and you knew very well how he would always put on his mask to cover up his actual emotions. The first time you saw him putting the mask on was when he had a race in Baku, only a few days after Hervé Leclerc passed away.

“Good luck, Charles. Come back to me in one shape.” You mumbled into his chest as he pulled you into a tight hug. When he pulled away and you locked eyes with him, all you could see was an unwavering stare full of determination. “Thank you, bébé. I promise. Wait for me, alright?”

He won the race and you were so elated that you couldn’t stop crying. You saw him stepped on a podium with a smile, completely illuminated the fact that he lost his father 4 days ago and that he wasn’t and won’t be there to give him a hug and to witness his win anymore.

But all those strong facade he had came crashing down when he pulled you into his driver’s room after all media sessions and immediately locked you in his arms, tears rolled down his eyes almost instantly. “I managed to block all thoughts during the race but when I stepped on the podium, part of me was looking for his face, his smile. When I went and hugged the teams, I was looking for him to hear him say ‘You did it, son.’ as he always did. How do I get used to this, baby.” “You’ll be okay, Charles. I promise it’ll be okay but it takes time, don’t push yourself to be strong.” You placed your chin on his shoulders as your hand went to the back of his head to gently massage the back of his hair.

A year later, he lost his grandmother. You have met her a lot of times and she was the sweetest ever. Charles always talked about how his grandmother would sew a little cross on his race suit before he raced but he let it go when she passed away and he stopped having a small cross on his race suit.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

His mood hasn’t been very bright this season. The constant problems with the car, the sudden DNF in Bahrain, the crash in Miami’s qualifying, you knew he was struggling mentally but again, the mask.

Until one day you were alone in your hotel room in Austria as Charles went to the paddock to have a short briefing regarding the upgrades. He left his Ferrari hoodie because it started raining and he was sensitive to cold, he said.

So you took the jacket and pulled out a travel sewing kit that you brought from home and started to sew a small hand embroidery heart at the end of the sleeve. God knows how many errors you had when you first made an attempt to follow the Youtube tutorials but guess it was all worth it.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

When he came back, you were sitting on the bed with the hoodie hidden under the duvet and you grinned at him as he made his way to sit in front of you. He tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear and left a peck on your nose. “Hi, pretty girl.” “Hi, baby!” You replied, still keeping the grin on your face. He chuckled and cocked an eyebrow, eyes still locked with yours. “Precious, I know that smile very well. Did you have something to tell me?”

That was when you took the hoodie and handed it to him. He took it, but full of confusion because it’s not like you never worn his shirts or hoodies before. “Look at this.” You pointed at the small, grey coloured embroidery heart. “It’s not a good luck charm, I know you don’t believe nor do you need it. I just thought it would remind you about your late grandmother, about how strong you are and how far you have made it.”

“I love it, baby. It’s cute.”

“You think so…?”

“Yeah! Are you kidding me? How could I not love this? Oh, I am so gonna show this off to everyone. I’m gonna pretend as if I’m scratching my hair so this could be seen in the camera or like playing with my bracelets so everyone can see it.”

“Stop it!” You laughed and cupped on his cheeks. How could you not fall in love with him.

charles_leclerc

Liked by f1 and 897,608 others

charles_leclerc It feels good to be back in the podium. We'll work flat out to be back on the top step as soon as possible

View all 5,893 comments

noahschnapp 👏🏼👏🏼

charlesdimples is that your good luck charm

sharllerc now we know why you are back on podium

lordperceval PARENTSS ❤️

[norrisleclercf1]

what about something about streetRacer! Lando x shy!reader 🤭🤭

A/N: The perfect thing to get me out of my slump

Everyone knew who Lando was, it was hard not too.

Lando Norris was the well-known, graphic designer major at your university. He wasn't known for his major, on the contrary he was known for the McLaren he'd drive in. Lando was known for being this cocky, yet shy boy.

You didn't know much of him, just his car and that he'd come to class exhausted and still make these amazing grades. He was in one of your undergrade classes, sitting behind you with his friend Max and Carlos you tried hard not to listen to the hushed argument.

"Dude, it's dangerous, not tonight." Carlos hisses, accent thick. The familiar scuff of Max has you turning slightly but you quickly turn back around when you catch Max's burning blue eyes. "Who cares, Lando can handle it. He's not a kid." Max snarls, tired of Carlos acting like the older brother.

You stop listening to them when Lando hisses at them to be quiet and you feel their eyes on you. "Will the two of you shut the fuck up," The rest of the class is spent in silence. "Um, hey," Zipping up your bag you look up seeing Lando in front of you.

Eyes drift over him taking in his black jeans and shirt, with his black hoodie and matching black jacket yet it has a bright orange M on it. "Yes?" Trying to stay calm and not let your anxiety get the better of you.

"I need to make up some assignments, and the professor said your the one to go to for help. Mind if you help me?" Lando fixes his bag, looking everywhere but you. "Aren't you top of our class?" It's a dumb thing to say, and you knew it the moment it left your mouth. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't need to help," Lando bites.

Blinking, he takes a deep breathe rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know I'm top of the class, but I need help with this new topic. Can you help or not?" What do you say? Normally you'd say yes to any of the students, but Lando has your shields raising. "Yes, but I can only do tonight."

Lando groans, which has you raising an eyebrow. "I can't do nights," He wasn't even offering you an excuse. "Well, it's only nights or nothing. I'm sorry," Lando cringes seeing the way you start to shy away.

" No, no, it's okay. Um, listen can we do it maybe tomorrow night?" You think over your schedule and nod your head. "Sure,"

------------------------------------

Walking through the town at night was peaceful. It was a college town and so the streets felt safe lined with people everywhere as they partied.

Holding your bag filled with books, you sigh taking in the crisp winter air as you step off going to walk. Only the sound of sirens and roaring engines has you screaming as a car comes to a screeching stop.

Gasping for air, you lock eyes with the driver and see Lando. "Lando?" "Y/n?" The both of you shocked to see each other. "Fuck, get her!" "What?" Two strong hands pull you and shove you into the car throwing your bag at you as Lando doesn't think twice and tears off.

"I was just kidnapped." You gasp, and freeze seeing Carlos in the passenger side and Max right beside you. "Okay, let me out." Full on panic setting in as the siren's sound from behind. "Told you, knew she'd freak." Max grumbles and without a second thought you swing your bag of books right into him.

"Who wouldn't? I'm normal!" You scream trying your best to calm down. "Y/n, baby, just breathe okay. You're not in any danger. Fuck, I'm so sorry, you should be at home! Studying! Why the fuck are you here?" Lando hits the steering wheel, Max and Carlos sharing a look.

"Well, I'm sorry that I wanted some NEW BOOKS! What the fuck are you doing RUNNING FROM THE FUCKING COPS?" Max smirks, "Knew she had a bit of a bite, tell him off." Max cackles, until you turn that glare onto him.

"You," "Oi, can you save this until we're back at our place?" Carlos sighs, as you kick Lando's seat. "Hey, you should be home!" He snaps, anger in his eyes. "What are you, my father?" You snark back.

"No, but I'm sure he'd like for you to call him," "MAX!" Carlos and Lando yell at the same time, as the Dutch boy groans rolling his eyes. Lando drives, perfectly, easily losing the cops with no issue.

"What the hell was this? Honestly, who are you 3?" You whisper, the car comes to a slow rumble as they pull up to their well known house. "Agh shit, Charles is home." Carlos groans, which has the other 2 groaning.

"Okay, bye!" Jumping out of the car quickly you try to make a break for, but Lando grabs you. "Let me go, please." The adrenaline wearing off and replaced with anxiety. "Y/n, please. I'm sorry, fuck are you okay?" Noticing the way you're shaking. "Just cold," Lando doesn't think twice as he rips his jacket off and quickly covers you.

"I street race," He whispers, busy with making sure the jacket was tight. "That's illegal." He rolls his eyes, but a smile plays on his lips. "I know, that's what makes it fun." He steps back, but still holds your hand. "You weren't supposed to be involved." He breathes, a cloud of smoke passing between you two.

"You almost hit me," "I wouldn't have, really good driver." Silence fills the space between you two as you try to figure out what to say now. "See you tomorrow night?" "What?" Lando smiles, zipping up the jacket now. "For our studying tomorrow? I can bring food?" "Oh, oh yeah. Yep, okay, bye!" You cringe as you quickly walk away leaving the boys holwing with laughter as Lando curses them.

"You fucker, ask her on a proper date next time!" Max howls, but it stops when their door is thrown open. "Again! YOU RAN FROM THE COPS AGAIN!" "Oh come on Charles," Max whines.

[fourmoony]

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟐)

james potter x f!reader

fluff. 1.4k

Summary: James, Sirius, and Remus are bested by Hope.

part 1 - part 3 - part 4 - masterlist

...

James is standing in the middle of the chaos surrounding your living room.

You’re just short of thirty seconds through the front door – the majority of which you spent kicking off your shoes and setting them on the shoe rack – and already, you miss the inside of the potion’s lab. You’ve been there all day, daydreaming about being at home. But now. Now, you wish you’d stayed behind with Lily. She’s high maintenance, sure. She’s bossy and full on about it because she’s currently heading the Order’s potion’s labs all over the country – she’s stressed. But Lily Evans is nowhere near as high maintenance as your boyfriend and his friends.

This, you should have known.

Remus and Sirius are bickering loudly over the sound of Hope’s high-pitched screaming. Remus is holding Hope, arms outstretched and a concerned look on his face, like he’s hesitant to have her near her in her current state. He looks panicked. Sirius is trying to strong arm your daughter into a nappy, but she’s kicking her legs so violently that you know he has no hope. He mutters something at Remus, but his voice is cheery and soothing – you suppose in attempt to keep Hope from getting any more violent. Remus huffs and tries lifting your screaming baby up, then down, as if bouncing her. She only cries more.

There are crumpled nappies scattered across the floor and a small bag of what you assume is used wipes – you’re thankful that at least those have been disposed of in a clean way. The fire is roaring, covered by the grate, and the room is far too warm – even for the middle of January. There are bright coloured toys on every surface and a kid’s broom taking up space on the single armchair nearest the kitchen. There’re half drunken milk bottles on the coffee table and half a jar of mashed potato and gravy puree, the spoon of which is sitting on a coaster, still covered in mush.

James’ eyes snap up the minute he nears your shaky intake of breath, and everything stops. His hands are full of a mix of crumpled nappies and baby toys, and his eyes are wide. His hair is messier than usual, a clear sign that he’s been running his hands through it in a fit of stress.

“Hey,” James breathes.

Remus and Sirius have frozen like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. You bypass your boyfriend, eyes narrowed at Remus, who turns from Sirius and thrusts Hope toward you. You take her and immediately, she quiets. You hold her to your chest, hand gently rubbing the back of her head. Remus and Sirius physically release, both letting out a deep breath. James closes his eyes, enjoys the silence for a moment.

“James, pick up the nappies. Outside bin,” You point at James, and he springs into action, nodding enthusiastically, “Remus, toys in the box,” You point to the pink box Sirius made Hope that rests to the right of the fireplace, “Sirius, wash the bottles, and bin the puree.”

The three men spring into action around you while you mentally thank Lily for being so bossy and rubbing off on you. Hope is making quiet noises against your collar bone, and you melt. She’s ten months now, crawling and babbling non-stop It’s been challenging, balancing your work in the potion’s lab with James’ order missions whilst still being able to spend time with Hope together. James is absolutely positive she’s defying nature and biology and growing too fast. But you don’t mind. You’re in constant awe of your daughter and all the milestones she makes. You’d never admit it, but you cried the first time she crawled.

“Hey, sweet girl.” You mumble, lips pressed to Hope’s head.

Her hair is growing fast and dark. There’s enough to put in pigtails, now. She doesn’t have any in today. Simply because James cannot comprehend the idea of a hair tie. Hope tilts her head, bright blue eyes no longer filled with tears, but with wonder. It’s been seven months of being her mum, and your breath still hitches every time she looks at you with that babied wonderment, with that unwavering love and trust. She’s so beautiful, a gift you wonder every day what you ever did to deserve.

“She’s been a moody little witch, today,” Remus comments, launching crinkle books and teddy bears into the pink trunk as he walks around the room.

“She’s teething, I think.” You tell him.

You shift hope in your arms and reach for her nappy bag that’s been abandoned by the doorway into the living room. She wriggles a little when you set her down onto the changing table under the window – the changing table James has said he’ll take upstairs a million times and never has – but settles when you start to hum softly. With a clean nappy and a fresh set of pyjamas, Hope is a different baby. She’s calm and quiet, pliant in your arms when you lift her again to cradle her. Her eyes blink slowly, tiny lips pouted.

James and Sirius return at the same time, the latter wiping down a fresh bottle with a tea towel, collecting any spillage. He turns it over, dropping a bit on his wrist before passing it over, “Perfect temperature.”

“Thanks,” You sit on the suite – now void of any and all toys – and hold the bottle to Hope’s lips.

She takes it greedily and you smile. James presses a kiss to your head before taking a seat beside you both. His hand rests on your thigh, his attention taken by your little girl. Sirius takes a seat on the floor in front of you both, a gentle finger running up and down the bottom of Hope’s foot. She wriggles, gives his hand a little kick and he laughs. Sirius has been obsessed with Hope since the minute he saw her. He’s the best uncle. He spoils Hope beyond belief and loves her as fiercely as you and James do.

Remus required a little convincing. He loves Hope. It’s obvious in the way he reads to her, in the soft voice he uses when he talks to her. But he’s hesitant. Sirius reckons it’s because he’s scared of hurting her with his heavy hands and lanky limbs. You know he never could. He’s sitting across the room, twirling the toy broom in his hands while he sits in the armchair.

“You better not have put her on that broom, Sirius.” You warn the boy at your feet.

He makes grabby hands for Hope now that she’s settled, and you pass her over gently before relaxing against James. Sirius stands slowly, carefully, and makes his way over to Remus, sitting down at his feet instead. They enter their own world, softly cooing at Hope and watching her as she drinks the milk. Remus runs a gentle hand over the top of her head, and another hand across Sirius’ shoulders. You smile.

“Today was hard,” James speaks quietly, fingers playing with yours on your lap.

“I can tell.” You tease.

James huffs a laugh, “I swear it wasn’t even that bad until like, twenty minutes before you got home.”

You know very well James would have tried to keep the house as tidy and calm as possible for as long as possible. He’s a good dad. He’s got a good touch with Hope. She settles with him every time. But he also gets overwhelmed easily.

You eye Sirius and Remus. They’re so calm. So, content.

“I hope they have this, one day.” You whisper, eyes looking up at James.

He’s as beautiful as the day you met him. But he’s older now. There’s stubble on his jaw, a result of his busy schedule. His eyes are a honey hazel that makes you melt, and he turns to look at you with so much love and adoration that you can’t do anything but lean forward and kiss him. His answer is delayed by the wide smile he gives you. But it comes with a faraway look that you assume is a yearning for Sirius and Remus to have everything they could ever dream of.

His fingertips brush up your arm, his warmth encompasses you. You feel content, willing to forget how horrible the world outside your home is.

“I hope so, too, baby.” He mumbles, lips pressed to the crown of your head.

Sirius laughs when Remus flinches because Hope grabs his index finger and hangs on for dear life. They share a smile a second later, and Sirius rests his head on Remus knee, both of them staring down at the beautiful little girl in Sirius’ arms.

“Love you.” You tell James.

He squeezes you, “Love you, too.”

[inuyassa]

HELLO!!! Can i make a Luffy x F!reader (not dating YET but mutual pining) request where the reader gets injured during a fight but hides it from the crew because the victory party started, (and because after everything Luffy has been through recently the reader doesn't want him to worry) BUT she goes down half way through the party?

What is Luffy's reaction??

Angst to comfort ig?? does that make sense???

THANK.

OMG YOU KNOW I LOVE ME SOME ANGST!!!!!!! I hope this is what you were thinking/hoping!!

Luffy x F!Reader

Request

Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Blood, and Implied Injury. Some mature language.

Wake Up...

She gripped the edge of the bathroom sink as she placed another round of antiseptic on the wound.  It was a fresh laceration, bright red and still bleeding.  She had only received it a day ago while the crew was ashore and attacked by a local gang.  The fight was short lived, but she still took quite a few hits, and when one came at her with a knife…

It would be so simple to just go to Chopper and ask to be patched up, but by the time everyone made their way back to the ship, the party was underway.  Drinks and food and music, complements of Zoro, Sanji, and Brook respectively.  It was one of the first times since reuniting that the crew was able to celebrate a win together.  Luffy was overjoyed, his smile was back after so much pain…how could she ruin that by making him worry?

After another painful round of wound cleaner, she made her way back onto the deck.  Brook was jamming away on his violin while Sanji pined after Robin and Nami with plates of sweets and mugs of tea.  Zoro laughed through a half drunk bottle of sake while Luffy devoured a full serving of meat on the bone. The sounds of laughter once again filled the deck of the Thousand Sunny.  She smiled, her eyes growing heavy.  She braced herself against the nearby pillar and tried to stop the world from spinning. 

“Hey kiddo, you doing okay?” Franky walked up beside her, he had been making his way to the spread of food when he saw her loose balance.  She looked up at him, his smile faded when he saw how pale she looked, her skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.  “Woah, buddy, you don’t look too good,” he said, putting a large, strong hand on your shoulder.  “You need me to get Chopper?”

She grinned, feeling the world swallow her up.  “Hey, Franky,” she began.  “Don’t let me hit my head okay?” Her legs buckled beneath her and she fell.  Franky lunged forward to catch her, easing her onto the ground.  “Kid? Kid! Hey, we need help over here!”

Franky’s voice cut through the jovial music, causing Brook to freeze and the rest of the crew to look towards him.  When Luffy saw her on the ground, he rushed over, leaving his half eaten meat behind.  Chopper followed closely behind, grabbing his bag from off the bench.  The rest of the crew shot over, hovering as she lay in Franky’s arms.  Her breath was short and shaky, her brow furrowed in pain.  Luffy looked her over with panic, that’s when he noticed the blood soaking into her shirt.  She was hurt.  He faltered backwards several steps before he fell to his knees, his heart beating loud and fast in his ears, his eyes full of fear.  Zoro noticed his Captain and knelt down in front of him.  “Luffy, you’ve got to stay with us okay?”

“Blood…” Luffy said, his voice hoarse and soft.  “She’s bleeding…”

Zoro grabbed his shoulders.  He might be the future Pirate King, but right now, he was that same little kid who just lost his brother.  “Look at me Luffy,” Zoro said, his voice stern but comforting.  “This is not like then, this is now.  She’s going to be fine.  You won’t lose her, understand?”  That’s when Zoro noticed the tears welling up in Luffy’s eyes.  He stared blankly ahead, his face locked.  “Blood…” he breathed.  “So much blood…”

“We need to get her inside,” Chopper said.  “She’s responsive but in a lot of pain.”  Franky nodded and stood up, slowly cradling her tense body in his arms.  She let out a pained yell as he did, and Luffy’s breath caught in his throat.  He stood up, shoving Zoro out of the way and running towards her.  He was tackled by Usopp who pinned the manic Luffy down.  “Calm down Luffy,” he yelled.  “You won’t be any help to her the way you are now.”

Luffy clawed at the ground, his fists filling with grass and dirt, he yelled for Usopp to get off him.  “I’m your captain,” he screamed, his voice raw.  “You do as I say and get the hell off me!”

A large, leather clad shoe pinned Luffy’s head to the ground.  Sanji stood above him, his eyes filled with rage and worry.  “You need to calm down Luffy,” he sneered.  “This isn’t helping anyone, especially not her!” 

Luffy fought against the pressure, but with his arms bound by Usopp, he wasn’t going anywhere.  His breath became fast and heavy, his body slowly losing the will to fight them off anymore.  Hot tears streamed from his eyes and he sobbed.  He let our months of repressed worry and fear.  Pain he thought he was over all came rushing back into him like a flood he couldn’t control…

***

“You gave us all quite a scare,” Chopper lectured her as he changed her bandages.  It had been two days since she collapsed at the party, and in that short amount of time, Chopper’s treatment had all but healed her.  “You’ll have a nasty scar, but other than that, your wound looks really good!”

She smiled, caressing the small doctor’s cheek.  “Looks like I owe you my life yet again Doctor.” Chopper began to blush, assuring her that her compliments could not fool him, and that she was a liar.  She laughed.  “Is Luffy around?  I haven’t seen him since I woke up.”

Chopper paused.  “He hasn’t really talked much to anyone on board.  He just sits at the helm and looks out at the sea…we’re all sort of worried about him.”

She sighed, looking out the small window at the ocean.  In an attempt to save Luffy the pain of seeing her hurt, she ended up making the situation much worse…

*** 

Luffy sat cross-legged, letting the sea breeze run its invisible fingers through his hair, his hat dangling around his neck.  The sun was getting ready to set, that would mean three days since he last saw her…

”Is this seat taken?”  Luffy’s head shot around to see her standing behind him, a small blanket wrapped around her.  His heart dropped to his stomach.  She looked so tired…

She must have taken his silence as a response and lowered herself down next to him.  His eyes never left her, afraid that if he so much as blinked she would disappear forever. “You don’t need to blame yourself, you know,” she began.  “I hid it from everyone.  I didn’t want to make you worry.  I guess that plan sort of backfired though huh?”

Luffy still only stared at her…”You were bleeding,” he began.  “And then you collapsed…just like he did.”

She looked at him.  “Luffy…”

“I thought you weren’t going to wake up too…”

Before he could say anything else she threw her arms around him, pulling him into her arms.  Luffy held onto her tight, burrowing his face in between her neck and shoulder.  She felt his body shake with silent sobs.  “I’m right here,” she whispered.  “I’m right here.  I’m not going anywhere I promise…”

[adore-laur]

WINDS OF CHANGE

— my writing is a bit rusty, but here’s an update on dad harry & the fam <3 please reblog/comment, or i will haunt you

——

You've been dreading this day since March began.

Every time you passed the calendar on the refrigerator, you averted your eyes so you didn't see the specific date circled with the words "Lovebug's First Day" written inside it.

Time ticked by in an unyielding manner. Like an apex predator lying in wait, it crept up on you and pounced, leaving you disoriented, helpless, and wounded. You couldn't mentally process the breakneck speed of reality sprinting straight at you. When you merely blinked in a daze, another month unfurled, leaving no chance to recover.

The day arrived with a strong western wind and a brilliantly bright sunrise that mocked your low spirits. You're awake before anyone else, which is rare. Sleep evaded you last night, your eyes rejecting the heaviness that always comes with sleeping in Harry's warm embrace. The restlessness was paired with a fierce ache clutching your heart and holding on tight until the early morning.

At almost four years old, your eldest daughter is attending preschool today. After being a stay-at-home mom since she was born, you're finally setting her free to grow somewhere new. It was always in the cards, considering you would like to get back to working part-time to help provide for the family. You loved bonding with and nurturing both your girls, but you're eager to put your brain to use in a different environment. It's time to return to other identities besides being a mother and a wife.

You start brewing coffee, then open the kitchen curtains to allow the sun to pour in. For some odd reason, the atmosphere feels different. It feels like your first day of school all over again, where there's that nostalgic zest in the air fused with an underlying fear of the unknown. It's impossible to describe lucidly, but its presence is strongly felt nonetheless.

Today will forever change your family's routine, and it will make you want to rip your hair out and also burst with pride. There's a tug-of-war match taking place in your heart right now. Your nerves feel frayed—anxiety's merciless hands are harshly plucking at the threads. It's like fighting a biological battle with no shield. Your brain is futile against all the attacks.

The sound of the stairs creaking dissolves your whirlwind thoughts. Harry appears, wearing a snug black sweater and athletic shorts. He yawns, the sparkling sunlight accentuating his face gorgeously. The neatly trimmed scruff on his jaw he kept throughout winter. The tired shape of his eyes. The wispy way his hair curls after his morning shower. It's a blessing to be able to see the serene side of him that just woke up and isn't burdened by stress.

"Hi, sweetheart," he says, taking the mug of black coffee you prepared for him and sipping with an appreciative hum. "Both kids are still asleep."

You simply nod, afraid that if you speak, your poise will crumble instantaneously. Your hands distract themselves by lighting the wick of a sandalwood-scented candle. A part of you falsely hopes the comforting aroma will calm you down, but you know nothing will break through the full-body anxiety you're currently experiencing.

"No cuddles in bed this morning?" Harry asks curiously, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He smells like his sage and citrus body wash. "I missed you. Thought we'd have a little cry session before leaving."

Did he really have to mention the elephant in the room? You force your tears to save their arrival for later and say, "Sorry. I'm just trying to avoid crying as much as possible today."

His sigh is weighted with emotion as he sets his mug down and begins massaging your shoulders. "I'm losing my composure already," he admits, laughing weakly.

At least he's in the same boat as you. Being a father has cracked him open in the best way possible—he's more softened than ever, and these parenting milestones always make him tenderhearted.

You rest your head against his chest and say, "This is harder than I thought it'd be." Every outcome you predicted involved an aching heart. Now, in the thick of it, you're defenseless.

"Remember our first night at home with her?" Harry asks, applying pressure with his thumbs to get rid of the muscle knots in your shoulder blades.

"Yeah. You woke me up because she had the hiccups."

He groans into your neck, almost like he's reliving the panicked moment. "I was so scared something was wrong."

You recall opening your eyes in the dead of night, the mellow lamplight illuminating Harry's troubled expression. Your baby, so small and precious in his arms, had harmless hiccups leaving her mouth. While half asleep, you reassured him by saying it was probably because she fed for too long. He agreed yet still brought her to bed and gently rubbed her tummy until they were gone. You two were learning and tag-teaming through pure exhaustion. It was tough, but the rewards came in refreshing waves.

"Then she threw up on me," Harry adds, shaking his head fondly.

You turn around and slide your palms under his sweater, feeling the gloriously warm skin of his sculpted stomach. "Remember when she said her first word?"

He smiles reminiscently. "Mama."

"You started crying, if I'm not mistaken."

"Because she recognized you. It was special."

"Are you surprised she didn't say Dada first?"

"No, considering I talked about Mama all the time around her." His knuckle strokes under your chin. "Still do."

You hum thoughtfully, welcoming the pleasant memories that replay behind your closed eyelids. "Our girl is all grown up now. What are we going to do?"

Harry tilts your head to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear. "You and I will be okay. It'll take time, but we'll eventually sink into this new normal."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Our love is steadfast, and nothing will ever change that." He hugs you in an all-consuming way—it's intimate and infuses you with safety, warmth, and a hopeful spark that everything will patch together the way it's supposed to.

——

When the preschool comes into view, you get slammed with immediate sadness.

You toured it with Harry months ago, ensuring it was where you wanted your daughter to be during the weekdays. The curriculum focuses on outdoor learning and is nestled in a safe neighborhood only ten minutes from the beach house. The teachers, classrooms, and overall energy of the place made you less anxious, but now it's back with a vengeance, eating away at your calm facade.

Kids linger outside the building, the sun shining on the blacktop that's scribbled with chalk drawings. A few participate in supervised hopscotch, while others twist their bodies nervously. A gated playground area is off to the left, with colorful swings, slides, and seesaws. To the right is a woodsy area with a large sandbox and flower beds. The stone pathway is decorated with little handprints that must have been dipped in paint. It's darling.

In the rearview mirror, you watch your daughter kick her legs in excitement and hug her tiny ladybug backpack, all ready to go. She woke up happy as a clam and impatiently scarfed down the big breakfast Harry had made her. After that, Harry did her hair while sitting on the front porch, the March winds and briny air bringing the spring season with them. Pictures were taken, hearts were broken a bit more, and then you all were off to part ways.

Harry to the restaurant; you to your part-time job. No babies to look after, just an empty house waiting to be filled with love again.

Your youngest daughter, who's ten months old now, sleeps peacefully in the car seat. She's getting bigger every day, and it's a double whammy to see both your children becoming more cognizant. You want to curse time for being such a thief.

She'll be dropped off at the nearby daycare center next, which will further twist the knife. It's possible for separation anxiety to occur, and while you can handle it, your baby girl's reaction will be a mystery. You sincerely hope the transition from home to somewhere unfamiliar will be smooth sailing.

Harry parks the car and looks over at you unwaveringly. "It's now or never," he whispers.

You draw in a deep breath, then exhale slowly. "Let's go."

Stepping out of the car, you open the back door and let your daughter hop out. You'd walk her to the door, but you want to stay near your youngest.

As she bounces with anticipation, you open her backpack and double-check that she has everything—her lunch box, a change of clothes, sunscreen, and the comfort blanket she's had since she was born. You zip it back up and then unhurriedly help her arms into the straps, trying to stall what happens next.

Harry, never the one to procrastinate, kicks things into gear by crouching and cradling her head. "You have the best day, all right? Be kind, make friends, and have fun. I'll be picking you up later."

"Can we eat ice cream after?" she asks, clasping her hands and standing on her tiptoes. "And play on the beach?"

He kisses her forehead. "We can do whatever you want, lovebug."

You can envision it now. Harry will bring the girls home, exhausted from work. He'll make dinner and wait for you, then you'll all sit at the kitchen table and attentively listen to her talk about her day in great detail. Then, as the sun sets, he'll entertain her by the shore until he insists on bedtime. Come tomorrow, he'll do it again with the same steadfast devotion because that's what good fathers do.

"We love you so much," you say, petting her braided hair.

"Love you," she replies distractedly, eagerly glancing at the front door. "I gotta go now, Mommy. Bye, Daddy."

She turns, ready to break free, but Harry stops her and says, "Not so fast, little lady. Give us some love to get through the day."

She shyly hugs him. She's growing out of her clingy tendencies and becoming more independent, and you can tell by Harry's sad smile that he recognizes it too. She briefly hugs your leg before running to the front door, where teachers are waiting with enthusiastic expressions and name tag stickers.

Harry slowly stands, never taking his eyes off her. He's more adjusted to not seeing her as much during the week than you, but you know the sentiment of her starting school still weighs heavy on his heart. After watching her disappear, he slings his arm around your shoulders and guides you to the car.

Inside is where you fall apart. The first cry that escapes has Harry blowing out an unsteady breath and embracing you. Against your neck, he sniffles, letting his piled-up emotions finally fall to pieces. He's not much of a crier, but when he does, it's a raw sight to see.

"Reservation for a cry session? Table for two?" he says humorously, rubbing your back and lightly scratching it.

"We're so lame," you whisper, gripping his sweater like a vice.

"God, I know. I even packed tissues." Harry takes an on-the-go pack out of his pocket, plucks two tissues out, and wipes both his and your tears with them.

"Eventually, we're going to have to do this again," you say. From the passenger seat, you peek at your baby girl and shoo away the thought—you still have more than enough time with her before she starts school.

Harry kisses your cheek. "One day at a time, honey."

Undoubtedly, this routine will get easier. It will become second nature, and you'll discover the exquisite simplicity of watching your children grow before leaving the nest and soaring through the sky.

They came into this world like a soft spring breeze, carrying seeds and dispersing them into your life. The roots emerged from under your home and flourished into a bountiful garden. Each day, there are new blossoms to admire and appreciate. And each day, you aim to help them thrive with support from Harry's sunshine.

Try as they might, the winds of change won't cause harm. Your family's roots are firm in the ground.

——

[sluttywoozi]

Over and Under | ksy x f!reader x ljh

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.4k

Summary: Here’s how it usually goes between the three of you - Jihoon calls the shots, you half listen, and Soonyoung happily plays along. 

Warnings: pwp, it’s all consensual, restraining, threesome, one thigh slap, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, creampie, they’re both ur boyfriend, dom!jihoon, sub!reader, just happy to be there!soonyoung, barely proofread

“Do you have a good hold on her?” Jihoon asks, his eyes caught on the way your breasts peek out from between Soonyoung’s arms where they band around your shoulders and chest. 

“Yep!” Soonyoung confirms, his voice bright and his arms strong. His knees are spread a bit, with your legs thrown over them to keep you open and still. 

You wriggle a bit, half to test his grip and half to teasingly brush your ass against Soonyoung’s hardening dick, and Jihoon lets out a small noise of disapproval before landing a soft smack on your thigh. The impact stings but his big, pale hand immediately soothes it, and Soonyoung presses a kiss to your cheek in sympathy before getting his own revenge by grinding his cock into you. 

Fighting the urge to grind back is difficult, but worth it, you find, as Jihoon rewards you with his hand between your thighs and his lips against yours. He braces himself above you and Soonyoung with his free arm, exhaling a muted curse when he feels how wet you are. 

You must be soaking; they took a full half hour to decide how to take you tonight, and spent all of that time with their hands everywhere but where you really wanted them. You feel even more restless now that Soonyoung has you wrapped up like this, now that you can’t go anywhere or do anything, and you can only hope that Jihoon will be kind and just get the fuck on with it. 

He’s a bit too kind, sinking two fingers deep inside of you and immediately quirking them up to hit your g-spot before sitting up on his knees so he can splay a hand over your hips and get at your clit with his thumb. His circles are quick, rough, the kind he uses when he wants to bring you up to the edge and then either pull you back or shove you over. 

You feel so much, your clit throbbing under the pad of his thumb and your walls clinging to his fingers as he pushes and pulls, Soonyoung’s cock pressing into the small of your back and his heart beating hard against yours. You can even feel Jihoon’s eyes on you as yours flutter closed, feel the passion and possession in them, and it all feeds right into the knot tying itself tight in your belly. 

You don’t know if he’ll let you cum like this but your body doesn’t care, your muscles straining against Soonyoung’s as you start to gasp for breath, every exhale coming out like a whine. 

“Please Jihoon, please let me cum,” you whimper, begging before he even asks it of you in an attempt to sway him away from edging you. 

“Soonyoung, what do you think?” Jihoon asks, his voice unaffected though his gaze is full of heat. 

“Aw, I think she’s been good. Haven’t you, baby?” Soonyoung presses his cheek to yours and coos, clearly trying to win Boyfriend Of The Month (a competition they started). 

You nod, your ability to speak evading you when Jihoon works another long finger inside and digs all three into your g-spot with a wicked smirk. Your hips buck up of their own volition and he slams them back down, pushing you against Soonyoung and making him let out a punched out groan. 

“Alright, baby, you can cum. But don’t forget you’re cumming again on my cock after,” he reminds you, fucking you with his fingers faster and faster until you’re so wet you can hear yourself, until stars are dotting your vision and tears are escaping your eyes, until your legs are trembling on either side of Soonyoung’s and you’re keening your way through an orgasm. 

Soonyoung swears behind you, his arms tightening and his cock twitching as you writhe against him. Jihoon can’t take his eyes off of you, his thumb persistent on your clit and his fingers curling inside you to push and push and push you right into another release, barely letting up even when you weakly cry his name. 

He slips his fingers out of you, replaces them with the head of his cock, and slides in so perfectly it’s like you were made for him. He’s still big enough to stretch you, still long enough your breath stutters and still thick enough you feel the ache in your throat, but the way you open up to accept him is nothing less than exquisite. 

Jihoon shudders above you, one hand on your hip and the other trailing up your body to paint your lips with your own arousal. He cups your jaw, pushes you head to the side, and whispers, “Give Soonyoung a taste,” watching with heavy lidded eyes as Soonyoung’s mouth finds yours. 

Neither bother going slow. Jihoon draws his cock out and pumps it back in at a pace far too fast for you to keep up with as Soonyoung licks your lips and sucks at your tongue, moaning loudly into your mouth like he’s the one fucking you. 

He’s not, but he is leaking against you, his warm precum smearing on your lower back and his cock jumping every time Jihoon’s thrusts force you back into him. You’re caught between the two men you love, and nothing could be better. Except maybe cumming with the two men you love, you decide, clenching your walls around Jihoon’s length and tilting your pelvis upward so you can press harder into Soonyoung. 

Jihoon’s hands squeeze your hips knowingly, but he doesn’t stop you, instead pushing his cock deeper into you and helping you grind back against Soonyoung. Jihoon has always been able to figure you out, and you’re lucky he seems to agree with your plans this time. 

“I’m getting close,” Soonyoung whispers into your mouth, knowing by your movements that you are too. You’re all three aware that all Jihoon needs is to feel you cum, so it only makes sense for Soonyoung to shift one of his hands down between your legs and swirl three fingers over your clit until your pussy locks up around Jihoon’s cock. 

You cry out into Soonyoung’s mouth, the bucking of your hips sending him spiraling into his own orgasm, and shiver as you feel Jihoon’s hot cum fill you. There’s a chorus of sighs, moans, and whimpers, most of the latter coming from you and Soonyoung, though Jihoon does let out a single whine when you intentionally clench around him again. 

Normally that would start a second round, but you’re exhausted and sticky and you don’t think any of you can cum again, so there are no protests as Jihoon starts peeling you off of Soonyoung. He carts you right off to the bathroom, starting the shower for you and rubbing your shoulders as it heats up. You know Soonyoung will join you after stripping the sheets, and when you’re done getting washed up, you’ll all remake the bed together before climbing in and going to sleep. 

It’s a routine you’ve carried out hundreds of times, and it’s one you hold sacred. You can move through the steps with your eyes closed, but it helps that Jihoon is guiding you. Soon enough, you hear a set of footsteps and feel another pair of hands help you into the shower, before they both join you. 

Jihoon is behind you this time, gently scrubbing your back with a washcloth, and Soonyoung is in front of you, his hands cupping your face and his thumbs brushing your cheekbones. None of you speak for a while, an easy silence filling the air as you all get clean and come back down to earth. But you can never go too long without saying it, to either of them, and speak just loud enough for them to hear you over the water. 

“I love you, Soonyoung,” you press a kiss to his waiting pout before turning your head and letting your lips find Jihoon’s. “I love you, Jihoon.” 

“I love you, too,” he breathes into your mouth as Soonyoung mumbles, “Love you, baby.”

AN: had this idea many many moons ago and finally sat down to write it!! yall would laugh if you saw how i took it down in my idea note lmao

pls talk to me!! about this or about anything idk i just love to chat

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗳𝗶𝘅 𝗶𝘁

paring: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

tag(s): idk what this is lol, some angst, a drop of fluff, mostly toxic and dark (?), but it's wanda so it's fine

warning(s): toxic relationship, mentions of death/killing someone, possessive wanda, dark!wanda, mind control, manipulation, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.7k

note: I'M ALIVE. Sorry for disappearing, december was rougher than I had expected lol. But I'm here now, and I appreciate all the love I had gotten while being away. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. Hope you enjoy! <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

The burning feeling on your stomach was creeping all over your body, you felt your entire self giving into the pain and felt your eyes closing as painful tears rolled down your cheeks.

You told yourself that you only needed a second and that you would be alright, so as you could only see the darkness, you let the pain take over. But then, once you opened them, you could only feel a pair of arms exactly where you had felt like dying. 

A tingling feeling on your neck and her hot breath put you at ease. As Wanda kissed your soft skin, you realised that it was just a dream, a really bad one, but a dream nonetheless. And she was there holding your healthy and life full body, keeping it warm with her own body heat and the bedsheets.

“Good morning, detka,” she breathed out, her voice muffled by your skin. 

“Good morning indeed,” you agreed, turning your head for your lips to desperately find hers, making sure she was actually there.  

Her lips were always soft, always fitted against yours, always found some silly comfort when she would bit your bottom lip. But this time it felt off, they had some unknown roughness to them, they felt stiff, not familiar and her teeth bit harder than usual. You instantly pulled away, furring your brows at the discomfort, which didn’t go unnoticed by her. 

“Everything okay?” she whispered, already knowing the answer. 

Wanda felt your body go rigid in her arms, so she did what she had to do to fix it. With a gentle tap to your temple, your eyes flashed red for a second and once they were back to their original colour the frown had disappeared along with the red scarlet hue from her fingertips. 

“Do you want to go take your morning shower and I’ll make us breakfast?” she pretended like nothing had happened, because nothing had actually happened. Nothing she couldn’t fix, at least.

She learned from the first time this kind of incident took place that it was better for the both of you to pretend as if it had never happened. She always made sure to keep her magic strong, but she had to give some credit to your strong human mind. She made a mental note to never put her guard down or she would lose you all over again, and she would rather die than let that happen.

You nodded, placing a soft kiss to her forehead then making your way to the bathroom, as her eyes lingered on your frame. Before you exited the room, you quickly glanced at her with a bright smile on your face, and Wanda felt like she couldn’t breath just by you looking at her. 

She was completely in love with you. It was crazy the hold you had on her, but it was okay, she was fine with being crazy about you. She loved you too much, too hard that she knew the feeling could kill her. But she would die happy anyway, she couldn’t help it, it was the way that she was. She felt as if you were under skin, always on her mind. She had never felt this close to someone before and she knew you were the one for her. 

You were her poison, but Wanda was your disease. You got her weak on her knees. She would do anything you asked her to, any demand or request, as long as you remained by her side, and she would make sure you would always stay with her. 

With a smile on her face, she made her way downstairs to get on with breakfast, knowing she had everything she had ever wanted. 

The moment your naked body got in touch with the warm water, you felt your body going numb. You let the warm water relax all your muscles and with a deep breath you felt as if you were falling asleep. The sound of the pouring water put you in some kind of trance and you felt as if you got back to dreaming. 

It was all foggy, but you recognized where you were: your old flat, before moving in with Wanda. The floor was red, but you didn’t remember ever having a red floor. You tried to focus on the dream too captivated to know what would happen next. And then as clear as daylight, Wanda was in front of you. But she didn’t look like her happy self, she looked mad, and her eyes were shining red. You knew that was a bad sign.

Your eyes shot open at the scary image and scary thought your mind had pictured for you. You felt bile creeping up your throat at the thought that Wanda would do anything to hurt. It was a silly thought, unrealistic even, she would never do such a thing. She loved you, she took care of you, she protected you.

You shrugged it off, letting the water wash away the horrible thoughts and got out of the shower, ready to start your day with your lovely girlfriend who loved you more than anyone in the world. 

As you took a look into your mirror, your eyes wandered around your almost–naked body. You were thinking if Wanda would appreciate the sexy lingerie for later, when your eyes just wouldn't pull away from your stomach. A small scar was on your side, almost invisible to the eye but now that you were paying attention it seemed as if it was getting bigger and bigger.

Your mind wandered around the dream you had, feeling the deadly pain all over again. As your fingertips traced the small healed wound, the memories came rushing to your mind. It was a lot of information for your brain to handle all at once, the more you understood the more you felt like someone was hammering your brain. 

But it was all now crystal clear. The red floor which was never red to begin with, the stern look on Wanda’s face, the screaming and shouting, begging her to stop, and, of course, the pain in your stomach. 

You ran to the bathroom and threw up, not able to contain your body juices anymore. It was all real, none of it had been a dream. Once you gathered yourself and your own thoughts, you made your way back to your bedroom, put on some clothes and ran downstairs to find her. 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted waffles or pancakes… so I made both,” she turned to you with a smile, but it faltered once she saw the look on your face. 

You looked at her in the eyes, trying to hold your chin up. “You killed him,” it wasn’t a question but there was still some doubt in your tone, you didn't want to believe it was real. 

“Here we go again,” she muttered to herself. 

“We broke up,” you went on as you remembered every detail. “I found someone, someone I loved,” you felt tears burning your eyes. “But you didn’t like it, and you had to take that away from me.”

“He didn’t deserve you, he was bad news.”

“You killed him!” your bottom lip was trembling, you were scared and angry. “And you almost killed me,” you called her out as you made sense of the scar on your stomach. 

“I would never…” it pained you would think she would do anything to hurt you. “I would never hurt you, Y/n. Ever.”

“But you did,” you sobbed. “I loved him, I loved…” you were a shaking crying mess. 

“Detka, it’s okay. I can fix it…” she said, getting closer to you. 

“Stay away from me!” you took a step back, but she had already corner you in between the kitchen counter. 

“Shh…” she coed, and though you wanted to scream and make a run, your body betrayed you and found some sick comfort in her hands cupping your cheeks and her forehead resting against yours. “I can fix it,” you heard her whispering as your eyes closed. 

Wanda’s fingertips lighted up against your skin, her scarlet red magic doing its work and fixing up the memories you had in your brain. This time she concentrated longer, making sure the spell wouldn’t falter. She had been so caught up in her fantasy world that she didn’t notice how bad she had been slipping off. She knew you needed her to be better than this, and she promised herself she would be. 

Little by little, she erased all memories of your ex, the year and a half you had spent with it, the home you two had built. But the memory she put all her mind to was the night she made sure you belonged to her. 

“We can be together, baby. You can stay forever,” it wasn’t much of a request but her demanding it from you.

She made sure you forgot how you hd opened up the door to a pissed off Wanda; how she had let herself inside your home; how she had yelled both at you and your boyfriend; how pissed he had got; how one thing had led to another and next thing you knew you were holding your boyfriend���s dead body covered in blood; how you had yelled at her; how angry you had got at her; how angry she had got at you because you just wouldn’t understand; how you had grabbed a kitchen knife, scared for your life with her being present; how she had chased after you; how you had got accidentally stabbed and passed out for all blood you had lost. 

“Nothing else matters,” she reassured. 

She replaced all of those memories —bad memories— with happy ones. Just the two of you, the only thing you needed. She didn’t rush, she took her time picturing every single one for you, making sure her magic would last longer. And as she finished, she pressed her lips against yours, sealing the spell as you kissed her back. 

It took you a second to be out of the trance she had put you in. 

“I think I’d rather have the waffles,” you said with a big smile on your face. 

“Then waffles it is,” Wanda smiled back at you, her heart at ease knowing she had fixed it once again. 

And she would keep on fixing it, as many times as she would have to. It didn’t matter, for all she knew she would happily bury you by her side just to keep you.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[angel-purger]

⁰¹ As Lovers Do - Yandere! Geto Suguru x Gn! Reader

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      Cross-posted on Quotev (@.oc34n1d) and Wattpad (@.heart-stricken)

      9,100+ Words.

      —    Request by the very pleasant Nana ! It took me quite some time to be able to finish this but I really liked how this turned out and I hope you all did too. Again, if you want more detailed one-shots or headcanons, don't be afraid to explain to me in detail about what you want! Writing Geto's shift to obsession was really enjoyable and he's a really complex character. Alongside that, but accurate characterization for both the reader and Geto is so hard to write, so apologies if this took some time to be published. Scroll down for more notes.

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⠀ ⠀Protect human lives, sacrifice your own if you will; devour what is evil. Protect humans, do everything in your power to do so, but never expect to  be appreciated by the public eye, shun away from society's admiration— instead being a topic if scorn for being different. 

⠀ ⠀Geto abides by his ideology, engraving it in his mind without thought.

⠀ ⠀Protect humans, you are a jujutsu sorcerer for that sole reason.

⠀ ⠀Are human lives worth saving? 

⠀ ⠀He can never eviscerate the bitter taste of curses. An unwashed, soiled, and iniquitous taste of death. Like a rag used to repeatedly wipe vomit, feces, and every vile chemical mixed into one. He can taste death, he can feel it lump at his throat at every second; ascending gradually with its acuate, protruding claws. He wants to cry, but every time tears well in his eyes, he is faced with the constant reminder of her death.

⠀ ⠀Riko Amanai, a failed mission, a dead vessel, subsequently leading to the stillbirth of immortality's mortal body to be renewed with Riko's body. Subsequently leading to a doomed future for the lives of people within Japan— a haunting reflection of his failures, failures he could've avoided if he was fast enough, strong enough to predict that fucking bullet.

⠀ ⠀Why wasn't he fast enough?

⠀ ⠀The very morals he so pridefully upheld, all crushed with one single mission. He is a disgrace.

⠀ ⠀Gojo was wrong. Geto and Gojo will never be the "two strongest" sorcerers. There can only be room for number one, and Geto will always be second. Second strongest, second best— so much so to the point that his presence doesn't shine as bright as it ever will be once Gojo is in the room. But that's alright, right? After all, he believes that working under the shadows to mitigate human deaths, without the feel to need gratitude from the very lives he saves, is what is right. And what is right is what is just, right?

⠀ ⠀He discovered that the water inside the shower is frigid when you are alone with only your thoughts accompanying you; like ice shards expending down on his back, like the stab of that human monkey (who defeated him so easily, he can't bring himself to admit). It stabs and it stabs and it stabs. And then he spirals, eyes diluting at the images of defeat. Then suddenly the world around him becomes an audience to his silent suffering. He can hear the cult members smiles, feel every bit of bile rise up his throat, taste the sin of death once more.

⠀ ⠀Geto is done showering.

⠀ ⠀Every day is a loop. Rinse and repeat. Wake up, eat, bathe, missions, more missions, explore some uncharted areas of the city, guarantee that it is safe from curses, go home, rest, dinner, sleep. There are moments where they interchange, but they never change.

⠀ ⠀Very few mention Riko Amanai. After all, she is a topic taboo now, especially since it heavily affected both Gojo and Geto's mentality. In more than different ways in fact.

⠀ ⠀He wants to stop thinking about her. Distractions are not needed in an era full of brimming human life— life that Geto has to, again, protect.

⠀ ⠀Just as he is about to leave his dorm after putting on his everyday school attire (making a mental note to skip breakfast and eat lunch alone), he is notified of a mission. A mission where he has to accompany a rookie sorcerer, a student like him admittedly, and it was a concept he wasn't accustomed to. After all, he was surrounded by talented people, and in a sea of talents, he felt more like a drop of dew— so maybe, despite the strange request from his Sensei, Masamichi Yaga, this would provide him a new opportunity.

⠀ ⠀He hopes it does. Your profile exhibits your meek countenance, like any normal civilian, but you seem strong enough to be scouted. There's not much of a significant presence you display when he read through your documents. Or so he thought.

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⠀ ⠀You became his new, temporary partner (he insists on that status on you, donning a pretty fake smile through his growing eyebags). It was surprising, really, to see you up close after reading through your files. The moment he met you eye-to-eye did he realize you share the same height as him, a few centimeters taller, he could estimate.

⠀ ⠀Geto's preliminary view of you was taken aback when you, albeit awkwardly, mingled with him after both greeting each other. You treated him warmly- like any normal person would- despite being strangers in the eyes of passerby's. Walking on the sidewalk, pretending that the mission you both (more-so you, than him, as he was simply there to accompany you in case of a problematic event) were to undergo didn't involve harrowing exorcism and countless condolences from any deaths involved.

⠀ ⠀Before he could mutter anything further, to proceed on the site of your mission, you'd drag him into, as you state, your favorite chain of street foods. Did you want to distract yourself from furthering your shared mission, or were you idiotic enough to forget to eat breakfast that you'd have to drag his bleary body elsewhere to satisfy your needs? He was pleasantly (or was it hesitatingly?) surprised when you beckon him closer to buy any street food that catches his attention, as long as it is within your school allowance.

⠀ ⠀As he was about to differ from your offer (he didn't want to seem rude to you), your lips thin to a line and your eyebrows furrow (though your entire expression does not scream of angered. Perhaps you are befuddled with yourself?), and you beat him to it, insisting that he was going all his way to entertain you and all; that despite being acquainted only for a short while did you notice how his stomach grumbled loudly and how he didn't even notice the noise his own body made. He realized he was the idiot here, that he ignored his human need to consume actual food rather than curses.

⠀ ⠀Prior to his knowledge of you, you're more caring than what he envisaged. Soft. The qualities very unlike a jujutsu sorcerer should possess unless one wishes for death. Yet, that momentary lapse of emotion in your face tells him you are more than experienced in the field work of jujutsu than what he expected— you are soft, but you are dominating. Caring, but challenging.

⠀ ⠀His mind blanks.

⠀ ⠀Then he finds himself licking off the residue of the bits of fish flakes on the side of his mouth after you both decide on takoyaki. You're both on the sidewalk again, with him stealing (prolonged) glances at you— you acting like nothing has happened, matching his pace as- as equals would.

⠀ ⠀It was strange, for him, to experience this type of casual kindness after a period of solitary confinement from his peers. You were merely treating him, as one co-worker does when wanting to pay a favor to a higher up after given assistance. But why, compared to his other classmates, who in more cases than one pay for their occasional food excursion, does he like it when you domineeringly persisted that you should pay for him. Was he becoming soft? Or was it you that tamed a part of him that he swore was nothing?

⠀ ⠀There were cases your body draws nearer to his whilst you try to make small talk - could you even sense how much he could sense you? - where he could feel the visceral heat off the barrier of the pitch-black fabric you wear. Geto swears he didn't mean to, but he could smell the faint perfume you're donning— it was way different to the smell of crimson he's perpetually exposed to.

⠀ ⠀Your smile. The indistinct crinkle of your eyes, eyes that bounce bashfully from his eyes to the surrounding nature. It's as if, despite your mouth moving automatically, attempting to forgo the small-talk that he started, those sneaky eyes of yours always find it way back to meet his.

⠀ ⠀Were you perhaps admiring him after he regained some energy? It wouldn't be the first time. After all, compared to his white-haired best friend, he was always the more charming one of the two, often attracting ladies he seemingly never bat an eye on. And maybe you were just like them; he would forget you after this mission, and you would simply see him as an unreachable force, a special grade sorcerer whose talents would be a force to reckon with—

⠀ ⠀But maybe he wanted you to idolize him, in a way where you couldn't stand as an equal in power, but you could stand beside him with the power to overcome him more intimately, just like how you, a few moments ago, stood your ground; softly glaring at him like how a lover would to their naturally self-neglectful partner. 

⠀ ⠀What was he thinking?

⠀ ⠀If- if maybe he could have known you longer then he would've loved to share his ideologies with you more, share a deeper questioning of society. With how understanding you are, you would empathize with him in a heartbeat. With how quick you slip into the grasp of blunt truth, how easily your eyes would flitter about once faced with a ridiculous statement ("I think it's funny how oblivious humans are, no? They could be killed at any opportunity by curses. How unfortunate is it to be born with nearly no cursed energy... Shouldn't- shouldn't sorcerers just let them be? To rot? After all, saving them means attaining nothing on our part.") he would docilely express— you'd rebut him, but at the same time you would do so with the thought of his ideas in mind.

⠀ ⠀How invigorating must you be?

⠀ ⠀If you share the same sentiment with him then—

⠀ ⠀Then he'll finally have someone to rely on. In a world full of corrupt notions, you could be the only one who would comfort him

⠀ ⠀And God, your presence was really relaxing compared to the odd bunch he surrounds himself with— like a breath of fresh air amidst the fetid scent of curses he devours.

⠀ ⠀The most tantalizing part of you? You haven't even demonstrated your cursed technique, nor your fighting style to him— you've both just arrived at the scene of the crime too. Yet he's convinced that you seem to hold a lot of power over him.

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⠀ ⠀Protect human lives, sacrifice your own if you will. 

⠀ ⠀The more that oh-so inspiring phrase repeats itself in his head like a broken record, the more he's stuck in a predicament of wanting and unwanting the want. He should protect them, the people, no?— God, humans are filthy, they're weak. And sorcerers; they don't deserve to be hidden, treated less...

⠀ ⠀You don't deserve to be undermined, especially by that loathsome family of yours.

⠀ ⠀A few days pass and he finds himself seeking your presence out, alas he couldn't. You were a lower rank than him, stuck with lower-ranking missions— and he's a special grade, dragged into countless complex commissions that would surely tire anyone. Anytime he tries to seek you out, he would find himself in another mission assigned by those abhorrent superiors; and that is merely another day without you.

⠀ ⠀Another day where he drowns in melancholic thoughts in the shower; drowns in what-ifs and the motifs of his supposed success of saving Riko. Yet the more time he spends in the showers without seeing that demulcent, yet potent expression of yours; Geto's imaginations drift from the need to finding any meaning of being a jujutsu sorcerer to yearning for the normalcy you unveiled.

⠀ ⠀When was the last time he was able to inhale so freely without feeling the sharp claws sinking its ways to his hard? When was the last time he exhaled without bile climbing up his throat? It's you he's thinking of again. You he associates with peace.

⠀ ⠀The erratic sprinkle of water from the showers doesn't sound like the cult members' laughs anymore... When he turns it off, the accustomed silence accompanied by pitch-sharp wringing was replaced by whispered voices; all the same sounding, yet they make his tense muscles relax. They all sound like you.

⠀ ⠀And...

⠀ ⠀The urge to strike another conversation with you struck itself into his nerves once more.

⠀ ⠀But he couldn't, even if he wanted to- definitely would.

⠀ ⠀So he- he simply has to find another way to know more about you; to check if you always wear that expression of yours, the one he wishes to engrave in his brain. Not only that but, he needs to evaluate your strengths so he could - in his mind - protect you, right? All throughout the mission you were efficient with utilizing your cursed technique, but in the end you had still ended up with minor injuries; some bruises, others scratches. They could turn major if he wasn't there to watch over you once you're faced with stronger, more complex opponents, no?

⠀ ⠀The idea terrorized itself into the core of his amygdala. He feels fear. He has to know more about you.

⠀ ⠀Because he couldn't find you in the period you both are working, with minimum time for breaks, Geto convicted himself to obtrusive methods of locating you.

⠀ ⠀By locating, that means he simply resorted to stalking you, hence how he discovered your not-as-kind family.

⠀ ⠀Your parents, monkeys, with no ounce of cursed energy whatsoever. Whose talents don't even do jackshit for society— who has the audacity to ridicule you like you're nothing but dirt. Rummaging through files he shouldn't have access to, Geto was revealed with information that you were scouted by the school after they found you coping furiously with your cursed technique after an argument which led you to being kicked out of the house you used to live in.

⠀ ⠀You were unaware of your skill, yet you managed to achieve what other sorcerers take time to master. He finds you not only endearing, but enough to be revered by others. But his prior admiration turned into aggravation soon enough after scanning through your files again.

⠀ ⠀You have nowhere to live other than the highschool you both reside in, no one else for a support system, nothing at all. Hell, you're even financially dependent on the allowance of the high school, yet you even went as far as to treat him like it won't cut your budget. Again, you have nothing. 

⠀ ⠀But he could change that. 

⠀ ⠀He will give you everything you want.

⠀ ⠀If he finds a way to at least convince the higher ups to be given missions that require your presence - he could convince them that he shall be your temporary, no, longterm mentor - then he could be everything for you, and you could care for him too. You both could depend on each other, and he won't be so lonely, no? Won't feel so utterly useless, with no meaning to live life. You could be the very reason he still maintains his cool, the reason why he hasn't killed off those monkeys yet.

⠀ ⠀He will find a way.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru always finds a way. He is, after all, a jujutsu sorcerer.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀And so you were suddenly wormed beside Geto once more, though you were convinced that this wouldn't be the last time you will be paired with the mysterious man who keeps a composed smile, opposite to when you first met him. His eyebags, too, were smaller, like he has been regaining sleep once more. You couldn't deny that it made him even more handsome than your first impression of him.

⠀ ⠀His curt smile broke into a beam once he noticed you eyeing him up and down. 

⠀ ⠀Compared to last time, he seemed healthier. Was there something that induced a sudden change in him? Of course, you can't really assume anything since you have met him only once, but there's something about him that you couldn't pin-point. Despite shining brighter than before - you could describe him akin to the serene atmosphere of winter - there was a hidden undertone to him that scorches you, and you don't know why but you chose to ignore it in favor of prioritizing the newly assigned mission.

⠀ ⠀Looking back, the superiors' evaluation of you suddenly increased; and now you were paired with the special grade again, with no arbitrary explanation as to why him specifically. But it didn't really affect you personally, so there's no need to worry about anything.

⠀ ⠀In the blink of an eye, he was meticulously closer to you, right hand finding its way to your chin as his index finger beckons you to stare into his eyes. He mutters something under his breath, words you couldn't catch on. Then his smile grew wider than ever, you couldn't deny that it charmed even you.

⠀ ⠀"You sure do love staring at me, huh?" Despite the back of his fingers tenderly rubbing the sides of your chin, you couldn't bring it in yourself to pull back, a magnetic force compelling you to linger in your compromising position. Noticing barely any signs of discomfort, Geto's left hand finds itself holding your right and he brings it up near your chest and squeezes it affectionately.

⠀ ⠀Is he flirting with you?

⠀ ⠀"You must be undressing me with your eyes." He purrs, taking it further and kissing your knuckles whilst maintaining eye-contact with you. To that, you unhurriedly take your hand away from his grip (you swear that you nearly feel his clasp on you tightening for a slight second), and chuckled lightly.

⠀ ⠀Your response was curt, "Well, it feels like you are doing the same thing, no?" It's as if you were pretending the abrupt, sensual action he did didn't affect you one bit. He is, you couldn't deny one bit, incredibly attractive and you'd love to reciprocate the flirting but a reminder that he was a year above you and that you barely even know him clashes its way to your mind. And, for the most part, you only met him once. In that one singular meeting did he not display such provocative insinuations. It was just now that there was a sudden fondness that was triggered.

⠀ ⠀Can you really stand your ground against such a courteous man? Although he was a tad raunchy, maybe it wasn't only towards you? Does it really matter?

⠀ ⠀You're overthinking it, you figured as you snap out of your trance. Looking back at Geto once more, you gaze at him, leisurely, with not a negative thought but instead with goals aligning to your mission once more.

⠀ ⠀It was back again, your tender visage salted with rationale mentality. You've no knowledge about Suguru's increasing fondness of you, but you do know you would, by all odds, reciprocate his adoration of you soon enough.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru is a man who works between the line of preservation and consumption. To preserve the preciousness of human lives is a goal he doubts, and to consume curses is an everyday activity he comes to dread— but he was willing to preserve only your life whilst ultimately letting the image of you consume him.

⠀ ⠀Instead of you treating him to a snack before your mission, you find yourself entangled with Geto-kun - he insists on you calling him informally albeit the short time spent together - in your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite foods and beverages, and chattering with him casually as "friends" do— after the mission. You were about to refuse his invitation but you halted as you were well aware that you did the same for him and it would be hypocritical of you.

⠀ ⠀Geto snickered lightly at your modest display, but was most definitely pleased as he reiterated what you said at your first meeting.

⠀ ⠀"Your stomach grumbled on our way out. You should eat, my treat. After all, a way to a man's heart is through food, yes?"

⠀ ⠀At that statement, you smacked him lightly in the arms and glared, amused, at him with thin lips— your expression then broke out into a laugh as you walked alongside him.

⠀ ⠀At least you could confidently say that by the end of the night that you had thoroughly enjoyed conversing with him. He was not only intellectual with words, but he was persuasive all throughout your debates with him in the restaurant. There were moments you disagreed with his sentiments, especially about humans born with no cursed energy, as you did. Though if you were to weigh it all out, you have made more agreements with him than disagreements and you weren't afraid to voice out your reasonings without invalidating him; he seemed to really like that about you, as you note his pleasant smile all throughout. He never broke his eye-contact with you too, eyes following your mouth forming the counterarguments whilst also acknowledging his assertions.

⠀ ⠀This was the first time in a while that actually liked the concept of debates, since Geto was so pleasing, so receptive of the things you say; like every word matters.

⠀ ⠀You really, really like this man.

⠀ ⠀Since you're aware of the new position assigned to you as his colleague despite not being in the same grade— you find yourself wishing for these "dates" to occur more often by the near future. And by future, you mean at least every week.

⠀ ⠀Perhaps it was a shared sentiment, but you really do feel a spark between you two, a linked closeness that transcends more than just acquaintances despite it being a second meeting. Or... you are perhaps consumed by fatigue from the mission as it is trickier by default when you find yourself working with a special grade.

⠀ ⠀And... Maybe your brain was too preoccupied, but you have never once had the thought of Geto knowing all your favorites cross your mind.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀Hours turn into days, days into weeks, and finally weeks turn months— and within that time frame did Geto Suguru experience a blizzard of emotions. All these burst inside of him like fireworks blazing through the midnight sky.

⠀ ⠀Everything was going well with you, of course. Every single day was a period of time where he was able to keep track of you; the time you wake up, eat, shower, even sleep. He knew your hobbies, too, after visiting your dorm whensoever. He even memorized the smell of your room, the various trinkets plastered around your walls, he could locate your bed without hesitation even with a blindfold— Geto could even recall the spots where the early sunlight hits your bed.

⠀ ⠀Every moment spent with you was an opportunity to know you better, on more personal levels. He was the first to know about your habits, those that you typically hide at face value, the ones you were embarrassed to show to your friends— ones only he (not even you were aware) notices and treasures. 

⠀ ⠀It was only fair that he lets you know about him in an equal amount. After all, every known boundary he has ever set were practically nonexistent when it comes to you. 

⠀ ⠀So he lets you in on his deepest darkest secrets. He whispers to you, nightly, about his interests, about his passions, about his greatest fears— the one thing he fears the most, one he has never told anyone; not his family, not his friends, nobody but you— is the alienation he feels from everyone. He has been through everything, he tasted death, and no one could relate to the taste of rot, not even his closest friends. Only you would know, you'll be the only one who holds his heart in your hand, even if he knows that you could betray him at any given moment.

⠀ ⠀But you won't.

⠀ ⠀He tells you all about all the vulnerable parts of him in hopes of garnering your attention on him. And yes you did, every part of you felt pity for him, and he loves the way you react. Geto loves your expressions. Loves the way your face twists to disgust one time, when he described what a mouthful of curses taste like. Or when you'd press your body behind him (he loves just how much you trust him enough to be intimately close to him), arms wrapped around his back, eyes tightly closed, and mouth slightly agape as the cool breeze of the air hits your face violently, as he flew both of you to take an arial view of the city at night, using a curse, of course.

⠀ ⠀Every face you make, obscure or not, triggers intense reactions from the man. So much so he feels like he could die from perspiration the first time you reciprocated his flirting, by kissing his cheeks, taking him aback. Goodness, he won't ever let anything get in between you two, and he most definitely would never forget the instance you smiled lopsidedly at him right after, a slight flush on your face.

⠀ ⠀Menial conversations became in depth discussions when it came to you, even if your responses would sometimes have frivolous undertones in them; Geto would still want to crawl deeper into your brain, have a need to disect every single information you know. Every course of action you make, the black-haired man would always find examples to love about you. Sometimes, it feels like you're a specimen living under his care, but God does he worship you like you are divine in every way.

⠀ ⠀And Geto wasn't merely a special grade sorcerer for nothing (and they are known for using eccentric methods to get what they want). He was right to assume that the more he initiated on displaying his liking for you, through actions especially, the more you grow increasingly fond of him, but not to his levels of... obsession.

⠀ ⠀But you bask in the attention of your sensual sorcerer, so it wasn't a surpise that, well—

⠀ ⠀It only took a little bit of time to pass - though it felt a very long period of Geto; he had to remind himself that patience and perseverance is key - and then suddenly you two were finally official.

⠀ ⠀And like lovebirds, everywhere you went, you were accompanied by Geto. Hand holding, hands on your waist, eyes finding its way to look at only you, even if there is another person in the room trying to talk to him— it's like he wants to connect himself to you in every way possible. You don't mind it at all, though, already aware enough of his circumstances when it comes to attachment issues.

⠀ ⠀You have been so close before, but even more intimate now, to the point his colleagues and teachers alike were aware of your tight-knit relationship. Even Gojo Satoru, resident tormentor of Jujutsu Tech, teased Geto about his increasing PDA with you, often guffawing in the background whenever he spots you two inseperably cuddling and pressing kisses into each other's cheeks like immature, hormonal teens.

⠀ ⠀You had even slept in the same bed as him.

⠀ ⠀When he woke up the next day, with your head nuzzled into the crevice of his neck, his arms squeezing your body against his, warm sheets entangling both of you together like a cocoon... When you utter random noises in your sleep, snuggling closer to him whenever your dreams become unpleasant... He watches over your slumbering form, sometimes even shifts to make sure you're in a better position, to make sure that the duvet covers you entirely.

⠀ ⠀Geto has never thanked any being above, never intended to, believing that sorcerers are the truly divine beings that humankind should worship— but he laudes whoever is out there, his ancestors perhaps, that for once he was endowed with someone beyond anything he would ever want. You are everything Geto needs in his life.

⠀ ⠀So why is it that..?

⠀ ⠀With everything going so well, so perfect...

⠀ ⠀It was all so perfect until...

⠀ ⠀The notion of prosperity came tumbling down, like a world-ending meteor, when one of his close juniors died from a curse, with his fellow partner in the mission suffering gravely after him. Haibara Yu, a bubbly underclassman who you was also your classmate, so it was no doubt that you, too, grieved.

⠀ ⠀He never wants to see that solemn expression in your face again...

⠀ ⠀The lump of flesh that was presented to Shoko Ieri and the other students, all shoved inside a cadaver bag, reeked of flesh— a scent all jujutsu sorcerers were accustomed to, but never coped with if they bare the knowledge that that someone is familiar with them. He shouldn't have been so affected; in ways where despite caring for his junior... He feels a mixture of animosity brimming inside him.

⠀ ⠀He shouldn't have been so jealous of a corpse gaining the slightest bit of your spotlight, shouldn't be so envious of the way you spill tears over someone else... But most importantly, he hates it when you'd be stuck in a dissociative trance afterwards, just like the one he was in when Riko died. 

⠀ ⠀Everything snaps the moment he remembers his discussion with that fellow blonde-haired special grade, the dead-beat who never did her job. Geto didn't enjoy conversing with her, finding her reasonings meaningless, her words of persuasion only reserved for her interests. He didn't indulge in her as he did you. But that particular conversation cemented itself in his brain, and now he's stuck with questions swirling his mind, questions he knew would be answered with vehement solutions.

⠀ ⠀Then he was back at it again, after rediscovering his memories, in a spiral of neverending speculation. Why do sorcerers need to protect those foul monkeys? Why is it that it is the sorcerers who have to adjust to the norm? Why are they regarded as the odd bunch? Why do they have to die for useless beings lower than them?

⠀ ⠀Amidst all the questioning he does, there were relevant ones that struck a particular nerve in him.

⠀ ⠀It all circles back to you. You, you, you.

⠀ ⠀Why would it not be you?

⠀ ⠀And what if...

⠀ ⠀What if you had died instead of Haibara?

⠀ ⠀Tears, salty and brimming with bitter feelings, for the first time in ages, trickled out his eyes, sliding uncomfortable against shivering skin. Uncontrollable and inevitable. What came with despair was also hysteria.

⠀ ⠀He couldn't cope with that idea. No, not at all— he wants to extinguish the very possibility that you, of all people, could die very early just because— because you would forfeit your life for worthless ones. You're way more than just a sacrificial lamb; you're Geto's everything. He couldn't afford to lose you, couldn't even grasp the prospect of your death.

⠀ ⠀The shower water plummeled down his head like a hailstorm, to his torso, until it nipped on his feet with its unforgiving frost.

⠀ ⠀But he knows you. He's aware that despite the rocky relationship you have with your family, or the demeaning comments from your supposed friends, that you would die for those untalented monsters. You're too considerate. He wants that consideration all for himself.

⠀ ⠀ He hates it, he hates everything whenever you consider everyone but yourself. He will take care of it, of you. But how could he? Not when you insist on sitting quietly and receiving all those harsh treatments forced on you.

⠀ ⠀ He has never felt so helpless before. It devours him, inside and out, like insects crawling on his skin, nipping and biting flesh— like he himself was merely a corpse for maggots to pig through.

⠀ ⠀ It's almost class time, and even if he dreads coming to the class of three (minus one, as Gojo is now consistently busy with missions), burden running down his spine at the notion that you would be in a separate class.

⠀ ⠀Geto overlooked the fact that, despite suffering from the solitude of the bathroom showers, ​​​​​​he isn't as alone as he thought, not anymore. For in his misery, you share the sentiment.

⠀ ⠀ You await him, in his room, eyes sore from incessant tears, body especially nearly letting you down after countless bouts of harming yourself over being unable to comfort your boyfriend over his turmoil. Yet you're unwavering from your seated position, ready to confront your boyfriend shall he ever lead into a path of self destruction.

⠀ ⠀Geto stumbled out of the showers, somber mind neglecting the very schedule he has plastered all over his head, a display of utter patheticness. At this time of the day, you were always loitering around his dorm.

⠀ ⠀ How could he have forgotten? As he rubs fatigue off his eyes, he ceased in his tracks, ears picking up a slight wringing. His wet hair drenched the t-shirt he threw on, but the sharp, frore water isn't the cause of his shivering— it's you, who he saw in the corner of his eyes, sat on his bed.

⠀ ⠀He should've expected it, it was already part of your daily routine to visit him, yet it still shook him when he found a blob of your hair color in his peripheral vision— so much so to the point that even breathing betrayed him.

⠀ ⠀Why was he crying again?

⠀ ⠀ There's no other way to describe Geto's situation, other than that of a trapped dear, with no way to outrun a speeding car in the middle of the road— but you're not the type to harm him - maybe in bed you would, pleasurably - but you wouldn't hurt him because you wanted to. Yet he still fears showcasing vulnerability, afraid of betrayal, especially from you. So all he could do was stand, feet losing sensation, unable to move an inch; to even breath was to move, and he couldn't.

⠀ ⠀ But it was you who cut into the thick atmosphere, standing up, footsteps unheard, towards Geto who was rooted on the floor, body tense.

⠀ ⠀ The first thing he saw when he glanced up with ruddy eyes was your gentle gaze.

⠀ ⠀ He visibly relaxed, albeit unmoving. It doesn't matter, though, not to you at least— because you see his tear-stained cheeks and puffy, tired eyes and uptight body that tells you he won't be emotionally recovering soon. You want do to nothing more other than to spoon him wholly and tell him you'll deal with everything. But you can't. You can't because you're not of the same status as him, not strong enough you stress. And you can't because you're tired, too, just like him and all the others, but especially him. And although you tell yourself that you're an intrepid Jujutu sorcerer who should bare no weaknesses; you can break as easily as the others.

⠀ ⠀ But you have to be strong for him.

⠀ ⠀ Holding his hands in yours, you give it a gentle squeeze, looking down on him with loving eyes. You beat him to it, beat him at his game and questioned him if he's alright, if he needed space to think. To which his answer was to strongly grip your palm a second after the question, gaze hardened on you, as a confirmation that he did not, in fact, want you out his room, for others to look at you and comfort you.

⠀ ⠀ You ask him what's wrong, only for you to sputter back and tell him that he's not​​​​​ obligated to answer any of your questions should he not be stable enough.

⠀ ⠀ Not a single response... You ask again, eyes now harboring a demand for answers, but there's nothing.

⠀ ⠀ Slight irritation follows your countenance when all you were met with was silence...​​

⠀ ⠀Then your stark personality displays itself once more, your voice a deeper octave as you palm his face and stare deeply into his eyes; he falls in love all over again That's when you began mumbling to him, like you're sharing secrets nobody else could access. When you tell him that he has every right to grieve and be frustrated at the same time, that he shouldn't hold back tears; he felt bare naked in front of you. But you weren't scrutinizing him, even if all that comes out your mouth is the truth, ones that should've hurt him for making him feel defenseless in the arms of danger, but didn't. Because those words were from you.

⠀ ⠀Your word is God, and he calms down just enough to stare back at you, shaky figure and everything, and brings his hands to cup your palm, rubbing lovingly.

⠀ ⠀ You peck his cheeks, giggling when you felt the sheer wetness it was drowned in. But before you could pull back as quickly, Geto's head moved faster to kiss your mouth, passionate and seering, hands resting on your waist. It took a few seconds of nuzzling into each other, but it felt like eternity before he withdrawed, palms tenderly rubbing your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru didn't just love you— he loves you, every part of you. And he decides, from now on, whether you'd consent or not, that you'll never leave him. Familial bonds are nothing to you, now that your parents have finally passed away (and you've no idea on their cause of death, nor the fact that they were brutally mauled by an amalgation of curses), your friends are nothing compared to him— you are the- the only one that matters to him, and he wishes you would reciprocate that notion. 

⠀ ⠀So a choice (one where you, perhaps, will never have a say in) was set in Geto's persistent mind; now or never.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀Geto hopes you would forgive him after everything. He hopes that you wouldn't mind it if you were to be permanently separated from the entire civilization, only to be admired by his greedy eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 'Protect human lives?' No, he will not even spare a glance at to those monkeys. He'd prioritizes on a new goal— to protect your life, firstly. From any harm, any danger; from something as small like a prick of a needle to even death itself.

⠀ ⠀ He loves it when you look at him, eyes shining with adoration every time he saves you from momentary danger. So he'll do it again. Though, only now will you be permanently safe, where no filthy nothings may lay hands on you.

⠀ ⠀He hopes that you wouldn't notice how he has an apartment set up just for both of you, that you wouldn't wonder why all your belongings - that were left in your bygone, desolate house - were now moved into the multisectioned rooms designed just for your taste.

⠀ ⠀ He sets a date on his calendar for the day you would be relocated in a new space far more homely and spacious than the dorms in Jujutsu Tech.

⠀ ⠀ By the time the moon engulfs the sky with its dim light, he'd drug your favorite dinner whilst you're comfortably oblivious to his ministrations. He'll be conversing with you while sometimes feeding you portions of his food, as couples always do (except for the part his tongue would linger a bit long on his chopstick after he fed you with it), laughing tenderly with each others' jokes and simply enjoying the solitude of being together... Then after a while you would be too hazy to comprehend anything, and Geto, being your ever-so loving boyfriend, will guide you to your now shared dormitory, and he'll tuck you in, not after you briefly snuggle with him in bed— and, well, he didn't want to get up from your tight embrace. But he has to, for the sake of your safety and his sanity.

⠀ ⠀ The travel would be made as smooth as possible, with silent promises that you won't even feel a wee bit of discomfort despite your heavily drugged state; he'll guarantee you won't awake from your slumber— he would curse himself if he wasn't gentle with your while you were in your most vulnerable state. The look he has on his face as he stares at your closed eyes and stable breathing is so soothing, just like all the times you've treated him nicely. He'll be so... so good to you. He'll secure himself with the position as the only one you'll ever need in your life. If he can't abide by his promises, then he doesn't deserve to be called your lover. 

⠀ ⠀ You'll- you'll give him another chance, wouldn't you? Even if the chances see your friends (they're unworthy of your presence, never appreciating you for all the things you've done for them) or family (as if you have any to come back to; he eliminated those worthless beings) would be zero— you'll understand, no?

⠀ ⠀ You don't have to do any arduous chores inside the apartment. Everything would be given to you as long as you stay with him. Everything. You'll be granted limited access to internet, with all your history rooted into his tracking devices— though you'd have every means of entertainment you want. Food isn't a problem, your device would only have access to Geto's phone, so you could call him any time your stomach buzzes with hunger, and the fridge is always stocked with your favorite snacks. Every hobby you would garner would be indulged in— you had once briefly mentioned your interests in crocheting, but never having the opportunity to due to clashing schedules between school and personal life. Now is the perfect opportunity to do anything, as long as it stays within his radar.

⠀ ⠀ All you have to do is, as hard as it may be, is to accept your new living environment. Nothing else would change, even if you choose to fight him back at first— because Geto loves you, and he'll deny his heart the turmoil of ever losing you.

⠀ ⠀ So once you'd arise from the bed with an unfamiliar, yet cozy blanket, (that he bought specifically catering to your tastes), he would be at your beck and call before you could even properly sit up (still sober from the heavy dosage of sedatives your boyfriend forced on you without your knowledge).

⠀ ⠀ Any concerns you would ask, it would be entertained with Geto plastering a silvery smile, even if your tone harbored unease. If tears ever came running down your eyes, Geto wouldn't shut you up, but he definitely wouldn't leave you be, to your thoughts alone - like he was back then - not at all. He'd approach you so steadily, careful if you'd flinch the slightest bit once his legs hit the mattress, and he'll hold you so tightly (worst part is, you've no chains or ropes tied on your limbs, no evident scars that was whilst Geto was on the process of kidnapping you. You have nothing to be mad about. He is just so gentle), apologizing profusely as if he wasn't the reason why you're even weeping in the first place once he thoroughly explained the reason for your abduction.

⠀ ⠀ He hates it when you cry, but God does he love it when, despite susceptible state of anguish, you'd reciprocate his hold; as if even your mind, body, and heart couldn't deny that it ultimately belonged to Geto.

⠀ ⠀ So you have to bargain your way through this, not out of it— you're logical enough to know your strengths and weaknesses and you know that in terms of strength, your lover would win. You know him better than everything, and you don't accept easy defeat, you want to fight your way out of this but... The look of adulation in Geto's eyes is way too familiar, that you're the one falling in love again, albeit the strange circumstances.

⠀ ⠀ Then you weigh everything that has been happening for the past for months, and all the signs hits you in the damn face. Geto didn't flirt with you with the intentions of playing with your heart as you have thought so in your second meeting— because if he did, he wouldn't have known all your favorites, didn't say all the words you wanted to hear. He planned everything from the start. Yet you don't feel an ounce of malice from him, you didn't do anything wrong— you weren't abducted because he wanted to torture you; you were abducted because he wants you. For himself, away from the world that wants to tear you to shreds. You brought this onto yourself, so willing to give your heart and soul to the man you thought you love, the man you still do love.

⠀ ⠀ Fuck. A new batch of tears painted your already tear-stained face. You stare at him, his furrowed brows, his handsomely sculpted countenance - the one you held so fondly, kissed a thousand times, worshipped eternally -  yours so incredulous, so filled with utter disarray. Why do you forgive him after everything? Why, nothing more or less, do you want him to tell you everything is alright, since he's there for you?

⠀ ⠀ Perhaps it's the emotions building inside you that bursts like a dam. The resentment you built upon your childhood, or the tears you've wasted on past crushes, or the whole entire world pressuring you to endure through its own faults. Maybe you were similar to him in more ways than one.

      And maybe that's why instead of convincing him to let you go, you tell him you won't be going anywhere. His appalled reaction motioned you to continue, to tell him that you're tired, of life, of everything that's been going on so far. You never wanted to be a sorcerer, but you've no choice lest you wish to sleep on the cold sidewalk of the streets. Every single day was constant pressure, dread that one day you may be disposed of by the high school you reside in shall you ever display a single flaw.

      All the built up secrets that you confided in him shattered his heart to pieces. And it breaks him even more knowing he shares the same sentiment with you. No more. The abrupt kiss to your mouth promptly shut you up, before you could even continue, and you let it be. You willingly open your mouth when he softly nibbled on the bottom of your lips, wet tongue already attacked by another the moment his entered your mouth. The bitter ache in your heart receded. You let him be.

      There was nothing inherently sexual with his and your actions, it was nothing but romantic in your eyes. Tongues entwining, saliva mixing, choaked moans, and all doubts and burdens ceasing in one heated moment— your kisses never lasted long, nor did it ever lead into a make-out so intense like you're both fusing; but it's exactly what you need right now: To get drunk off the passion of Geto's heavy lips and the lack of oxygen that comes after...

      It's enough to make you sleepy, as you gently push your boyfriends slightly ruddy face off of you, at a distance where he was close enough that your noses could still touch. Your face flushes even more at the string of saliva interconnecting both your mouths, but your eyes find itself back into his already piercing eyes, clouded with dizzying passion. Every part of you feels like it would burst into flames the more you relish under his intense gaze, so you opted to move quickly and bury your head into the side of neck, hands lazily plastered on his waist, mouth readily nearing his ears. He reciprocated your actions, chuckling fondly at your affectionate gestures as his knees adjusted to pin both your thighs together, whilst his arms act as a cage to trap you against his chest.

      Before you could utter a word, Geto beats you to it, telling you that you should both sleep already. Despite you having been knocked out for an entire day, with a buzzing headache and numb limbs, it's no doubt you were still tired, and he was too... You move your head from the comfortable position nested on his shoulders and look back at him, at the small eyebags that once again found itself on his face— it takes you back to when you first met him. Burnt out, mellow, but undeniably handsome. You kissed him again, shorter and sweeter this time, nodding as you shifted to lay on the bed, leaving space for Geto, who is still seated, watching you with an indiscernible expression.

      Beckoning for him him drowsily, to join you, you've promptly felt the confines of sleep taking you further into the world of dreams. Dreams where you'd wake up with your loving and compassionate Geto, rather than that of escaping the cage he set up for you. It took a few seconds for your boyfriend to finally move, laying down beside you with arms creeping to your waist. Not a single word was said, only the ruffling of the blanket was heard. You're the one who spoons him when it comes to sleeping in a shared bed together, but his hands found itself moving your head to his chest - the thumping of his heart entrapped in his ribcage tells you he's calm enough, trusting that you won't escape from his ministrations - as though to tell you that only you can have his heart in your hands, nobody else. It didn't take long for you to slowly shut your eyes once more, admitting that his heartbeats was a comforting source for slumber.

⠀ ⠀'You're just so adorable,' he thinks to himself, drifting into the same land of dreams as you, holding you tightly and never letting go.

⠀ ⠀ ...

⠀ ⠀ Geto Suguru is a man of a few words, who dons a plethora of promises, shall you ever be wanting. When he first saw you whilst looking through your files, he at first thought you were average, unmemorable by standards. But even in first impressions would there always be a magnetic draw, strong enough to make it last eternally. (Un)fortunately for you, Geto has always loved you without even knowing it, and the way your first night together - you being away from the tainted hands of civilization - was beyond tranquil, unnatural traits from a prey who was taken unwillingly.

⠀ ⠀ But nothing else matters. Not the concept of healthy relationships, nor the opinions of family or friends, and most certainly not the ridiculing of society's norms.

⠀ ⠀ Nothing matters other than the two bodies entangling themselves on a bed for two, settling in for the night, as lovers do.

Fin.

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      —       PLEASE ! Leave comments, follow me and share this to anybody if you enjoyed this one-shot. It would be appreciated greatly. I've been through writer's block for nearly a year or two now, and writing this helped me combat it. I thoroughly enjoyed making this, and I hope that it's good enough for the readers too! It took me very long to write all these out, as I am rusty wirh writing (and I struggle with English), but really, I would appreciate interaction and likes over anything else! I might publish this as a stand-alone one-shot in a separate book. As always, don't hesitate to request! Thank you for reading this!

26.1 Pages

Published: 02/25/2024

Word Count: 9100+ words

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[threadbaresweater]

parent teacher conferences are coming up and i'm praying a man like hiromi shows up and falls in love with me

hi, this was supposed to be a little daydream but I got carried away. this concept is full fanfic material. bless your beautiful mind, anon.

-

You've been talking with parents all afternoon, going over each student's progress, highlighting their strengths and weaknesses. You've argued a couple of times with some particularly opinionated parents who insist that their children aren't being challenged enough, or whose children are disruptive in class (contrary to what they say they're like at home). As you're scanning the list to make sure everyone scheduled has come, your eyes fall on one name in particular that never bothered to show.

The Higuruma kid.

You sigh, letting your shoulder slump forward in silent disappointment. She's a bright young girl- top of your class, reading at two grade levels above her peers, working through middle school math equations and making art that a college grad would envy. you knew her father to be the top defense attorney in the area, so it came as no surprise that he would have a child so brilliant. Tonight was an opportunity for you to tell her parents everything they probably already knew, but it would have been exciting nonetheless. you were sure you were almost as proud of her as they were.

The clock on the wall creeps past eight, so you start to tidy up. As you're filing away the last of the papers, your stomach calls for attention and you reach for a granola bar from your desk stash and cram half of it in your mouth just as you hear a breathless voice at your door.

"Am I too late?"

You look up, cheeks full of oats and honey, and your eyes go wide at the tall, lanky figure nearly falling over himself as he enters your classroom. His dark hair looks like at some point today it might have been meticulously styled, but now it's disheveled as he runs a hand through it, his deep brown eyes offering you some kind of silent plea for just a minute of your time. He's wearing a well-made suit that somehow looks too big and too small at the same time, tie loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

"Hiromi Higuruma," he offers, stepping forward to offer a hand. When you accept, his fingers are cool and a little damp, but his grip is strong and confident. Your eyes light up, and you muster a tired smile after swallowing the rest of your snack.

"Ah, Mr. Higuruma! I thought maybe you'd forgotten about our meeting."

"I'm sorry. I– work. It's always work," he says, and you realize that he's had to excuse himself probably dozens of time for his erratic schedule. "I usually ask my wife to come to these things, but she's got her own thing going on these days. Uh. Ex-wife, I mean." He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks go pink. "Divorce is still fresh. Haven't really gotten accustomed to that yet. Sorry. Sorry, I ah..." He trails off, leaving you to pick up and change the subject.

You wave him over to have a seat at your desk. "It's alright, you don't have to explain. I'm just glad you made it. I wanted to sing your daughter's praises, because she really is doing a wonderful job."

He positively beams at you, leaning forward, hanging onto each and every word you say, nodding along as you detail all of her achievements. His gaze is intense, his eyes locked on your face so completely that it makes you feel a little hot under the collar. When you look up to meet his eyes, emphasizing key points of his daughter's progress, you have to pause and swallow around the dryness in your throat before continuing.

"So, um, as you probably already know, she's gifted. Extremely so. I'd like to place her in our accelerated seminar. It will give her, ah–" you clear your throat, watching the way his lips curve into a genuine smile, how his eyes seem to shimmer with tears. "Uhm, give her a chance to really grow and thrive with other students like her."

You take the last few minutes to explain the process- there will be further testing, then placement based on her cognitive function, though you know she'll score high in all the areas. When Higuruma signs the consent forms, you watch the strong, confident stroke of his hand as he weilds the pen (left-handed, you observe), his long, agile fingers, the way his suitcoat rides up past his wrist in a disheveled, endearing way. You wonder if his ex-wife ever paid attention to the fact that his clothes were ill fitting, or that the bags under his eyes were as dark as his hair.

"Thank you, Mrs, uh–"

"Miss, actually." Oh God, your face is hot. You give him your name, and he nods, pressing a finger to his temple.

"Right. I'll remember that." He digs around in his breast pocket and produces a business card. Sleek, simple, elegant, with just his name, email address, and phone number. At the corner is a tiny graphic of the scales of justice. He reaches for the pen and flips the card over to scrawl another number on the reverse side of the card before sliding it across the desk to you.

You pick it up, and he must pick up on your puzzled expression because he chuckles, rubbing the side of his neck. "If you need anything else, please call. And... thank you. For taking such an active interest in my daughter. It means...more than you might know."

"It's my job, Mr. Higuruma."

"Please, call me Hiromi." Call me, he thinks.

You nod. "Hiromi."

[asimpwithfreetime]

What if the sickly born reader went behind her families back and bonded with an ikran and maybe got hurt in the process. What would they all do after finding this out?

I love the ideaaaa! Let’s do this!

Caught red handed (Yandere! Platonic! Sully family x sickly born! Sully! Reader). [ Our baby part 2 ]

General warnings: Yandere! Behavior, cursing, violence, all the yandere warnings you can imagine, guilt tripping.

Content warnings: English isn’t my first language and this hasn’t been proofread yet

[ 3rd Person POV ]

Eclipse had fallen upon Pandora, the bioluminescent plants shone with their bright colors.

Y/n had planned this for a while. She felt tired of having her family always with her, treating her like a baby. The real baby was Tuk not her.

She sneaked around her house. Trying not to wake anyone up. She didn’t want to imagine how her family would react to this. She went towards the Ikran hive, determined on getting one. She didn’t want to always fly with Jake or with Neteyam.

She tried to be silent, some of the Ikran were sleeping and probably startling them wouldn’t be the best idea.

Walking around she found the one, it was a beautiful (your favorite color) tone. The Ikran was wide awake but unmoving, looking at her closely.

Soon he started running towards her, she had been chosen. This is something she hadn’t planned. The part were you have to fight the Ikran to be able to create a bond with it.

She rushed through the hive trying to avoid getting bitten. She jumped and squirmed. Once she didn’t move so fast and the sharp fangs from the Ikran pierced her thigh. “Shit!” She wailed. She felt pain go over her, but as the Ikran was moving his head, she formed the bond with it. “Ha, gotcha, bitch!” She laughed wholeheartedly while softly whining. She got on top of it and it took a few minutes to be able to have a connection with it.

She flew until dawn. “How am I going to hide this?” She thought to herself while looking at her leg and stoping her ikran close to the hive again. She went to her grandma’s, the Tsa’hìk would help her.

“You shouldn’t be here” her grandma hissed as she fixed Y/n’s leg. “Your mom will skin you, then skin me, then skin you again!”.

Y/n smiled softly at her grandmother. But suddenly, the tent flew open. “Y/n!” Neytiri’s voice sounded strong and terrifying.

Neytiri hissed at her daughter “where have you been? All of us were worried sick” she hollered when she saw the bandages on her leg. “Y/n!” Jake screamed too. He came in and scooped his baby in his arms, angrily.

“You shouldn’t have done that!” Jake said, looking at her. “What have you done!” He was really mad. It scared Y/n. “Dad, please don’t scream at me”.

Neytiri hissed “it is making me use all of my strength not to pluck your eyes out!”. Y/n shut her eyes close, a few tears sliding through her cheeks.

“She bonded with an ikran” the voice of the Tsa’hìk took both adults by surprise. “Grandmaaaa” Y/n whined.

“She did what!?!?” Neytiri hollered, Y/n retracted more into her dad’s arms, trying to hide her face on his neck. “We will talk later” Jake said, his voice dangerously low. Y/n shivered as Neytiri walked past them hollering blasphemies.

Once they got home Y/n whined. “Hey guys, where were yo-“ Neteyam cut himself mid-phrase when he saw his parents’ faces. “What happened?” Lo’ak asked.

“Your sister bonded with an ikran and hurt herself in the process” Jake said coldly. Neteyam’s and Lo’ak’s looks darkened as they heard that. Where was she trying to go? Did she try to escape? Would this all end?

Neteyam decided on taking a soft approach, seeing how scared his sister was. This would give him point with her and maybe she would come to him instead of taking an ikran. He could almost imagine how it would feel to have her undivided attention.

Once Jake put Y/n down on the floor, Neteyam went and hugged his sister. He didn’t say a thing, knowing full well that their dad could find a way to blame him. Y/n sniffled softly and tried to hide her face in Neteyam’s chest. Even though she was scared and the situation was not good, Neteyam felt satisfied seeing her reaction.

He knew she would always count on him.

Jake grunted and hissed before leaving the tent and talking outside with Neytiri. “I am so sorry! I just wanted to have an ikran like all of you” Y/n sniffled. Neteyam patted her hair. “Hush now, Y/n. I am here with you” his sweet tone and soft touches made her feel better.

Lo’ak hissed under his breath, muttering insults at hos brother before he got up and also hugged her. “We are here for you”. The girl was startled by the sudden voice behind her but she turned around a little bit to hug both her brothers.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Kiri appeared. “I heard mom and dad talking about you right now”. She went straight to her sister, pulling her in a hug and trying to calm her completely around. “The world out there is dangerous, they are so mad because you know how fragile you are! They don’t want to loose any of us.” Kiri explained, making Y/n’s behavior change.

She suddenly felt guilty of causing pain to her family. “I am so sorry” she started crying again. Kiri smiled at her brothers knowingly. Neteyam nodded while Lo’ak didn’t understand what was she doing.

Later on, all of them expressed their fear of loosing her, making Y/n feel more and more guilty. She wouldn’t plan on doing anything anytime soon, that’s for sure.

Jake and Neytiri, once they calmed down, saw what their kids had done and they were very proud. Neytiri still punished Y/n with doing more chores and Jake also guilt tripped her into feeling bad for what she had done.

Taglist: @maxinej

[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

[comfortless]

hello beloved 🥰 🫶 every time you mention ‘The Dungeon’ whatever da hell that is my brain just goes dungeon crawler! könig! dungeon crawler! könig! so might i request a dungeon crawling könig?

what the hell. do not send König down here… get him away from me…. *immediately forgets everything else i was doing to begrudgingly write this*

sigh… dungeoneer! König x fem! reader

content / warnings: violence, sexism, suggestive.

Retrieving the golden eye of a wyrm to be made into a lovely pendant for the Queen would pay well, keep him afloat and drifting from land to land for long enough to decide upon where to settle. The posting tacked to the wall of the inn, detailing a handsome reward, was surely the sign from a benevolent god that a glorious fate had been handed to him on a silver platter. He stuffs the parchment into the pocket of his trousers as he downs the last of his ale, tosses his coins to the barmaid on his way toward the door and sets off for the deepest dungeon in the kingdom.

There are no bright-eyed knights lobbying around the entrance, a good sign that the wyrm’s bounty was all his to claim. It makes him elated, really, and the idea of finally having his own place, bedding down with a pretty maiden each night is even more of an adrenaline rush than the actual fighting that comes the moment he steps foot into the darkened underworld. The dungeon is filled with the reanimated skeletons he’s grown so accustomed to— a quick jab with his claymore to the center of the spine leaves them a crumpled heap of bone and dust. They’ll rise again when the moon hangs lofty in the sky, but he’s done this enough times to know the best way of navigating such a place. The other beasts haunting the cavernous ruins are a bit trickier to deal with, and he’s fortunate that most shy away from the light of his torch.

Only, she does not.

The woman standing before him in full plate armor is poised for battle, blade making a steady ascent above her head in preparation to strike as her lantern is cast aside. She charges at him before he can even breathe out a word of protest, swinging the heavy sword at him so quickly that at most, he can only thrust his torch before him to prevent her plunging the tip between his ribs. She’s quick to draw back when the wood splinters and the fire sparks up on dry bone and the tattered remains of clothing from all that came before layered upon the dirt and grime coated floor. The blaze of the fire seems pale in comparison to the flames in her eyes as she pivots towards him again, and once more— he merely blocks.

“A maiden shouldn’t be here,” he says through gritted teeth as he easily pushes her back against the wall, caging her between the flat of his blade and the bulk of his body.

He hadn’t realized the ache in his groin until the woman tilts her head up to spit in his face. König doesn’t bother to wipe it away, to even pretend to be disgusted by her actions. From this small breadth between them all he sees is divine beauty— even as her eyes narrow like that of a viper preparing to strike.

“A knight to be,” she corrects him as he gives her blade a shove, the sounds of steel hissing against steel and crackling fire echoing throughout the cavern.

“Not likely.”

Their fight drags on for what feels like hours before his flask his split at his hip and she finally does back down. Even this lady knows well enough that being lost in a dark dungeon with no source of light and no water is a death sentence, and she finds him both incredibly frustrating and fun enough to keep him a live just a little longer. He’s adept enough to block even her quickest strikes, parry her with a gentle jab to her side with his index rather than his blade. He’s shown her her own weak points during their little battle, and she’s garnered a bit of respect for him for that.

As she sheaths her blade and locks eyes with him, his erection is practically trying to tear through the seams of his pants. She’s so pretty, so strong, so unlike the barmaids and damsels in distress he’s come across so often and it’s all gnawing at the recesses of his mind. The bounty almost entirely forgotten, he wants not to penetrate the wyrm with his blade but rather spear her with his cock.

He reaches for her, almost tentatively hoping to somehow melt through her armor and feel the warmth of her flesh. She’s doesn’t pull away when his hands rest against her waist, just gives him a little flutter of her eyelashes before rearing a hand back to almost playfully strike his face just before she turns on the heel of her boot and gathers her lantern.

König follows along behind her, not just out of necessity, but because she asks him to. Beckons him along with the curl of her gloved finger, coos at him when he falls behind trying to picture her body beneath the layers of chainmail and fitted steel.

“I’m taking the bounty,” she tells him when they stop to take a sip from her flask, feast on the preserved fruit and dried meat from his own satchel.

It reminds him of why he’s come all this way, what he’s supposed to be doing here. He’s a little tense— on one hand he wants to give this lady the entire kingdom, make her his wife and rid away those silly thoughts about becoming a knight, but she’s so determined!! He’s at a loss on how to tell her that there are no women knights in the land, that no matter what she brings back for the King she’ll probably only be mocked and sent on her way.

“Let me help you,” he says instead.

“You would lend me your blade?”

He just blinks at her… this silly woman has spent far too long dreaming and watching the knights in the castle yard, he just knows it. Down to the way she speaks! She’s incredible and infuriating, just as he is to her. It makes him want to push her just a bit, see what she’s capable of entirely before they part ways (she is never getting rid of him).

“What do I get in turn?”

The little knight mulls that over for a moment, as she leads him down a long corridor; everything all gilded and decorated, lit aglow by the dim orange of lantern light. The golden coins, rolls of fine silk now muddied and trampled littering the floor are enough of a sign to show they’ve nearly made their way to the heart. The wyrm would no doubt be lying in wait at the end, resting protectively over its hoard of cattle bones and shiny objects, golden eyes piercing through the darkness as it prepares for the fight to come.

It’s when the wyrm’s first hissing growl rings out through the darkness that she does turn back to face him, a mischievous little grin tugging at her lips.

“Only to live another day.”

“Nein… something else.”

He can’t stop himself from pawing at her again, curling a hand around her neck to tilt her chin up to face him. Her breath fanning over his face, her scent like peony and lantern oil make him feel drunk enough. The hand that slides between his legs to grasp at his cock is far from anything he ever anticipated from her. She was bold, too bold and too pretty for her own good.

Fate had blessed him more than he could even begin to fathom, after all.

[turvi]

Helloooooooo! I saw your clingy Severus fic, and absolutely loved it so muchhhhhhh!

If possible, could I request something a bit like the opposite? I would love to see Severus with an s/o who’s BEYOND cuddly, and will kind of just find him between classes (or whenever they can rlly) and just cling to him like a needy cat XD.

They won’t do it if he’s not comfy with it, but I could also see Sev melting if s/o would just cuddle up to him even if people are around lol

Ahh, thank you so much for this request. I am glad you loved the fic. I hope you enjoy it.

WARNING: HINT OF SEX (LIKE ONE LINE?)

Severus was returning back to his office for the lunch break. The students make way for the potions master. His ominous presence scares all the living souls present in Hogwarts. All except one.

His wife.

She waits in his office preparing tea for him. As soon as he enters his office the smell of cinnamon and tea fills his senses. He never liked the strong smell of spices. But he never even told his wife either. He wondered why. He would always look for opportunities to ridicule or critique people. But he could never do that to his Y/n.

His sweet Y/n. She is an angel really. But Godric it feels like she keeps making an excuse just to cling to him. But he doesn't hate it. No. Even though he doesn't show it he accepts the warmth Y/n has for him. He has been cold and lonely without her.

She feels like the spring that comes after a harsh cold. The kind of spring that mother earth celebrates. The kind of spring that brings out life.

As if on cue Y/n turns back and smiles brightly at his sight. He thinks she might be the only one who is this happy to see him. And he is thankful. And as expected before Severus could even greet her she took him in her arms.

Even after being together for Godric knows how long (because it feels like he has known her for his whole life), his heart still flutters when she holds him like this. He can only pat her back. And she gets it. It's his way of saying he loves her. He loves how she gets he is still not used to this type of affection.

As she busies herself in making tea for him again he remembers how she had unexpectedly shown up in his life. So full of love and life. He previously hated how bright she is. How she could find the good in the bad. Heck, she found something great in him hence she decided to spend her life with him.

He remembers how he would be annoyed at how clingy she is. How he would grumble and groan when she would hug him tightly. How he would frown and tell her she is constricting his breathing. But he wouldn't admit how he would look up at his office door every time it would open, expecting her. How it would break his heart to find it was someone else and not her. When she got sick and had taken leave for a few days..he missed the feeling..he craved it. How when he finally saw her he had to control himself from taking her into his arms then and there.

Like usual she put his tea on the coffee table and took a seat right beside him, nuzzling her nose in his neck. He shivered when he felt her breath against his skin and surprisingly his hands as if they had their own mind dragged her closer to him.

He didn't even pay attention to the tea sitting on his coffee table despite its strong smell. His onyx eyes focused on her. The sunlight seemed to have been glowing brighter as it hit her skin. He was almost afraid to touch her even though he had ravished her last night. He was afraid his touch would ruin something so beautiful like her.

He looked into her eyes. They always looked soft and kind. His touch is featherlight on her cheeks. She leaned into his touch even though it was light. His heart raced as she leaned into him, her eyes asking for permission.

He knew he couldn't love her anymore. His eyes teared up watching her still being respectful of his boundaries as if he will say no and she will still love him as much as she did on the day she met him.

He met her halfway and kissed her passionately. Y/n was surprised when she felt his arms tightening around her waist. She smiled at him as they broke from their kiss. He was slowly but surely accepting the kind of love she had for him.

A/N: I hope you like this. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.