#i hope he dies alone and the most painful death

[hellodropbear]

17520 hours.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter (ish)

angst. part of the 'it's time.' series

mapi struggles on the two year anniversary of her best friend's death. Ingrid is right there to help her but she doesn't know how to let her in.

this is a lot more angst than i'm used to posting but i hope you like it.

it was hard to write and partially based on personal experiences so i apologise if it's not very good.

also decided to put it all in one part because i couldn't find a good place to split it!

i hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~

Two years is a long time. 

Two years is 104 weeks, two years is 730 days. Two birthdays, two christmases, two easters. Two summers and two winters, two new years and two anniversaries. 

Two years is a long time to miss someone. It should be enough time to have moved on. 

But when their daughter is in your care, that seems almost impossible. 

It was everyday that Mapi thought about her best friend, sometimes looking at her daughter and only seeing his eyes staring right back at her. 

The day was one that the Spaniard dreaded, the days becoming quicker and quicker in the lead up, the night before slowing right down as she crawled into bed, tossing and turning as she tried to sleep. 

Isabel was almost two. Still too young to understand that there was anything out of the ordinary in her life, anything that raised any questions. Even if Mapi tried explaining, she was sure that her daughter wouldn’t have the first idea what anything meant. 

She wouldn’t understand that Mapi wasn’t supposed to have her even though she gave birth. She wouldn’t understand that her parents had died because her Mami was right there in front of her. 

It was just a part of parenthood that Mapi had no idea how to conquer. She knew everything else, having spent hours and hours with her head buried in countless baby books, countless books that discussed grief and sadness in children. 

But Isabel wasn’t sad, she wasn’t grieving because she never knew Luis or Isabel. 

There were no books about how to tell a kid about her dead parents. It was a taboo topic, of sorts, one that many stand-in parents were reluctant to discuss with their child, hoping that they would just believe that they were their real parents. It was a bridge most people decided to cross when they had to, not at any point earlier than completely necessary. 

Mapi didn’t want that, she wanted her daughter to know who Luis was, who Isabel was. 

She just didn’t know when or how she should introduce the idea of them. 

But the second anniversary of their death left Mapi in a numb state, entirely torn up on the inside as she tried to decide whether she would take her daughter with her on her annual graveyard visit. It was Mapi’s time to chat to Luis alone, no interruptions, no distractions. 

Because while Isabel lost her parents, Mapi lost her lifelong best friend. 

She lost Luis, who meant everything and more to her. Luis who had moved to Barcelona a few months after her, Luis who watched every single one of her games, the first person to text her after a hard loss or an impressive win. 

She still hadn’t got out of the habit of checking her phone after a match, pain settling deep in her chest as her screen remained bare, his notification forever absent. 

It wasn’t a question of where she would be on the second anniversary. She knew exactly where she would be sat and exactly how she would feel as she stared at that obnoxiously large gravestone, big bold carvings of his name, his date of birth and date of death. 

‘Loving husband, son and friend.’ it read. Not father. ‘A man who lit up the lives of everyone he met.’ It was an understatement, Mapi had thought.

She had spent hours there when Isabel was a newborn, cradling her tiny body in her arms as she sat and silently stared at those few words. Loneliness ate her up, wishing for nothing other than her best friend. 

But her daughter had lit up her world as everything else was crumbling down, single handedly keeping the two of them afloat as Mapi grew tired, the sheer weight of her emotions almost drowning them. 

Isabel was an infant, too young to know anything was different. She was completely enraptured by her mother, smiling and laughing everyday they spent together in their small and stuffy apartment, completely unaware of the anguish that her mother was going through. 

It seemed fitting on the second anniversary of their death, only a couple months before her second birthday that Isabel would finally visit their gravestones. 

Even the thought of the graveyard made her feel uncomfortable, Mapi’s skin crawling at the thought of her best friend beneath her, cold and still. Someone she loved, such a warm and constant presence in her life, lying right there in the ground. 

It made her feel sick. Sick with anger because he was gone too soon. With grief because she never got to say goodbye. With guilt because she got to have the one thing he had always wanted. But mostly sick with the heartbreaking realisation that he was down there, in the flesh. 

Luis was dead. 

~~~~~~

It wasn’t a cold day, but she shivered as she stepped out of the car, the cool breeze prickling her skin as she unclipped a groggy Isabel from the back seat. 

“Where are we, Mami?” 

She looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings in confusion, probably expecting to have woken up in her bed. 

Mapi just hugged her, not trusting her voice to not break if she tried to respond. 

Despite only visiting twice before, the graveyard was familiar, she knew exactly how to get to Luis’ plot. She walked with purpose, not looking at the grave as she laid down the rug, only facing her best friend’s name once she was sat down. 

“This is your Papi, Is.”

Saying it out loud, her daughter in her arms. His daughter in her arms. It felt unusual, it felt uncomfortable. She could feel Isabel looking up at her, the confusion that radiated from the toddler’s body. 

She loosened her arms as Isabel wriggled herself free, waddling towards the stone and placing her hand on it. 

“Papi?”

She looked back at Mapi, a question in her eyes. She was met with tears slipping down her Mami’s face. 

“Mami.”

In an instant, she was back in Mapi’s arms, reaching up and wiping away the tears. 

“No sad, Mami. Brave like lion.”

Mapi nodded, a watery chuckle falling from her mouth. 

“I’m going to talk to your Papi, Is. Is that ok?”

Isabel nodded, settling herself on the rug with her lion toy as Mapi stood up, walking closer to the stone and placing her hand on his name, crouching down so it was at eye level. 

“Meet your daughter, Lu. She has your eyes, you know. She’s funny and smart and entirely the light of my life. I love her so much. More than I ever loved you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, really. I promise. I promise I’ve tried my best and I hope you’re proud of her. I hope you’re proud of me.”

She bit her lip, unsuccessfully biting back her own tears. 

“It’s been two years, Lu. I don’t know how I have made it through two whole years without you, really. It’s been so… hard. I still expect to see you, to hear from you. Sometimes I think I do, only to realise that it’s not possible. Because you’re dead. You weren’t supposed to die, not so soon. You were supposed to watch your daughter grow, I was supposed to be her really cool aunt that she would go to when you argued, to give her that tattoo when you said no. ”

She let out a strangled chuckle, trying to alleviate some of the pain she felt. They had discussed Mapi’s relationship with the child at length, knowing that the centre back would love the child as her own because she was always with Luis, she would always be around the couple as they raised their child. That wouldn’t have changed if she wasn’t biologically Mapi’s. 

Back then, Mapi had thought she would have been fine with the situation. She knew the baby wasn’t really hers, she knew that she would still be able to watch the baby grow up, that she would still be able to love her. 

It wasn’t a problem that had actually materialised, but they hadn’t expected both Isabel and Luis to die right before she was born. 

“Now I have to discipline her, Luis, which is the one thing I didn’t want to have to do. But she’s such a good girl, she is so intelligent. Like you, really. She knows how I feel all the time, she definitely inherited your emotional intelligence. She loves everyone too, just like you. I was never supposed to be a mother, was I? You were always the paternal one out of the two of us, you were the one who deserved a child. But I am the one that got her.”

She swallows roughly, biting her lip. 

“Oh Luis, you would have loved her so much.”

Very quickly, she is overcome by her tears, collapsing down into herself in sobs. 

It’s all too much, it’s all too hard. 

It’s unfair that her best friend left her, that she was left alone to grow up. Growing up was something they had discussed at length when they were younger. Obviously they were never going to be married, they’d never live together. 

They had dreamt of adjoining houses, doors that connected their backyards. They were going to grow up together, the two of them. Luis would have his wife and a gaggle of kids, Mapi would have her wife and a pack of cats. They’d have their own families but their lives would be so closely connected because they loved each other in the purest way possible. 

A childhood connection, one that grew and grew into adulthood. 

One that was supposed to last a lifetime. 

It did last a lifetime, it lasted Luis’ lifetime. Just not Mapi’s. 

She calmed herself down after a couple minutes, Isabel unsurprisingly noticing her mother’s sadness and crawling into her arms as a source of comfort. 

They sat there for hours, an easy silence settling upon the pair. Mapi was deep in thought, Isabel knew it wasn’t the time for play, it wasn’t the time for her mindless babbling. 

It had been a couple hours when she heard the footsteps, people approaching silently. 

She hadn’t expected to see anyone there, but upon reflection she realised she had been naive - it was the anniversary after all. 

“Maria?”

She hadn’t heard Ane’s voice in two years. The last conversation they had was full of empty promises, of visits to Zaragoza that Mapi knew she would not go on. Promises that they would get to know the child that was growing in Mapi’s stomach, promises that they wouldn’t lose touch. 

They had lost touch, Mapi unable to visit Luis’ home whenever she returned to her parents. Ane and Mikel were in too much pain to see the child, not sure how they could face it. 

“Ane.” She stood up, facing the older woman and allowing herself to be enveloped in her arms. 

“It’s so good to see you, Maria.”

Mapi could only nod, her eyes still watery and her face still red. It had been a long morning. 

She turned to face Mikel, who was staring straight forward, his eyes only softening as Mapi grabbed his hand and kissed it. 

“I have missed you both.” She smiled softly. It was a sad smile, but a real one. 

They were Luis’ parents, of course, but they were her pseudo parents whenever she needed them. They were so close, especially when Mapi and Luis were in their teenage years. 

“Is this… is that her?”

Ane looked down at the curly headed girl, her eyes softening as she watched her play with her toys. 

“Isabel Luisa.” Mapi nodded. “I thought today would be a good day for her to come visit.”

The older woman looked down at the child adoringly, smiling as she looked up at the unfamiliar adults. 

It was a bit awkward for a few moments, as Mapi, Mikel and Ane sat in an uncomfortable silence. 

Mapi excused herself, moving away to the bathrooms but leaving her belongings by the grave. She knew she wanted to talk to them, that they wanted to talk to her. 

She also knew they needed some time alone before they would be able to. 

But she did return, sitting down on her rug right beside the older couple. 

And Ane spoke, her voice soft, her voice sad. 

She told Mapi how grateful she is, how glad she is that she took Isabel in, that she didn’t even question it. How grateful she is that Mapi did everything to make her son happy all throughout his life, from buying him an extra chocolate bar when they were children to carrying his baby for him when he and his wife were unable to do it. 

Ane told her that she had given him his one dream, fatherhood. It was just unlucky that he wasn’t alive to live it. 

There were tears in her eyes as she told her how grateful Luis would be. How much he loved her. How happy he would be that his daughter ended up with the Spaniard, the person he probably trusted the most in the world. 

Mapi nodded her appreciation, sitting with the two adults for a while longer before Isabel grew tired, the sun falling down, the afternoon turning into evening. 

She said a tearful goodbye, collecting her things and standing, Mikel standing up as well and walking her to her car. 

“She looks just like him.” His words were soft, softer than Mapi had ever heard him. “I have thought about you every day, Maria. You and her. I am so relieved to see you here because I worried so much about you. I worried that you wouldn’t be ok, that you’d not be able to raise her. Not because I doubted you, but because I know how hard it is to lose people.”

Mapi nodded softly, looking up at the man. 

“I don’t doubt that you have had a hard time, but I also don’t doubt that you’re a good Mami. A great Mami to this little girl.”

“Thanks, Mikel.”

He nodded, that was all he needed to say. 

It was all he needed to say for Mapi to tear up again, picking Isabel up and holding her in his space. He looked at the Spaniard, who nodded, before placing a soft kiss on her head. 

“Come visit, Maria. When you come home. Bring the little one too.”

Mapi nodded, a smile on her face. 

This time, it wasn’t an empty promise. 

~~~~~~

She got home to an empty apartment. Quiet, dark. She could have texted Ingrid, the Norwegian likely would have come over in an instant, her warm arms right there for endless comfort. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to open her phone, couldn’t bring herself to stand up and walk over to the kitchen table where it was sitting. Instead, she stayed seated, relaxed back on the sofa with tears tracking down her face as she stared blankly at the wall. 

It wasn’t often that she was left alone with her thoughts. Not when she had a chatty toddler to look after, a loving girlfriend who spent every day trying to make Mapi happy. It worked, because Ingrid did make her happy, happier than she’d ever been. 

And Isabel also made her happy, she was the best thing in the Spaniard’s life. 

So why did she feel so sad? Why was Luis’ death still so hard for her to process?

Two years felt like too long to still be so upset about it all. She wondered when it would go away. If it would ever go away. 

His death was something that Mapi didn’t think she would ever be able to comprehend. She was able to live her life as normal again, plastering a smile to cover up the mess that she was on the inside. But it had taken such a long time to even get to that point, despite her daughter’s positive presence.  

Everyone knew how long it had taken. Mapi didn’t think anyone really knew how broken up she still felt about it. A part of her was embarrassed, embarrassed that she still hadn’t gotten over it. Was still yet to move on. 

Even as she thought it over, progress seemed so impossible. The thought of moving on like so many people had told her to do made her feel sick, because how was she supposed to move on when he was everything to her?

She didn’t sleep that night, barely able to smile as she fed Isabel and put her to bed. The toddler knew something was wrong, of course, a frown on her face as Mapi put her down for the evening. 

Isabel had seen Mapi sad before. Lots of times, really, but her mother usually tried her best to hide it from her. She would push the emotions down and far away as she interacted with her kid but Isabel was so perceptive, so in tune with Mapi’s emotions. 

She knew whenever Mapi was sad. It made her feel sad too. 

But Isabel never would have known that her mother was sitting in the same spot on the sofa all night, her mind a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions, resisting any rest that tried to fall upon her. 

She wasn’t sure if she regretted telling Ingrid that she wanted to be alone for the day, that her girlfriend shouldn’t come over like she usually did. The Spaniard just didn’t know if it would make it better or worse. She didn’t know how to alleviate herself from some of the pain she felt. 

She realised she didn’t know much at all. 

Mapi watched as the sun rose outside, the night becoming morning. The new day arriving along with the sounds of birds chirping, the city happily waking up as the clouds had gone away and the sun had finally come out. 

Two years and one day. 

Her daughter’s whining was audible from her spot in the main room as she woke up. Her daughter’s whining was probably the only thing that would have successfully moved her from her seat. 

“Mami!” Isabel frowned at the sight of her mother as her door opened, dark bags beneath her red and puffy eyes. 

“Good morning, my girl.”

She smiled weakly, kneeling beside her toddler and raking her hand through her hair as Isabel became more aware of her surroundings. 

It was a slow morning; a slow rise from bed and a slow breakfast. The toddler was still in her pyjamas by 10, her hair and teeth remained unbrushed. 

It was no surprise that Ingrid was on the other side of the door at 11, Isabel opening the door when she heard the knocks. The Norwegian had a bright smile on her face as she scooped Isabel up into her arms and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. 

“Mami, Ingrid.” She pointed over at where Mapi was standing, and it was one glance at the Spaniard that told Ingrid that despite her promise that she’d be alright, her girlfriend was definitely not ok. Her smile faded and she frowned slightly, concern etched deep into her features, 

Her steps towards Mapi were tentative, unsure how to approach the situation. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t know Mapi, of course she knew her. She just didn’t know about Mapi’s grief. She had heard from teammates that she hadn’t dealt with the death well, that she had locked herself up in her house for months, over a year. But it was one topic that the Spaniard avoided at all costs, a master of changing the subject whenever it would come up. 

Ingrid never felt like it was her place to pry. 

But now, seeing her girlfriend so… broken, so depleted, it made her regret not being more insistent in those times. Because maybe if they spoke about it then, she would know how to help. 

But in that moment, she had no idea what to do. 

“Maria…” Her voice was quiet. “I’ve missed you.”

Mapi didn’t reply, but she could feel Ingrid’s free arm wrapping around her and she immediately clung onto her girlfriend. She was desperate and Ingrid was a lifeline. 

“Alright. Isabel, do you want to go play with Bagheera for a minute?”

The child nodded as she was placed back on the floor, walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge where the cat was likely waking up from her nap. 

Mapi, still clinging onto the Norwegian’s arm, frowned slightly, still not willing herself to make eye contact with Ingrid. 

“You’re not ok, Mapi, are you?”

She didn’t nod, she didn’t shake her head. Her mouth remained completely sealed. 

But Ingrid knew her well enough to recognise the tears that filled up her eyes, the way her hand trembled against the Norwegian’s skin. 

The brunette softened, her worries confirmed; leaving Mapi alone for the entire previous day was probably one of the worst promises she had ever made. She shouldn’t have agreed to it, not when she knew that Mapi would need her. 

“Ok. It’s ok. You’ll be ok, Maria. I just want you to sit down for me.”

She led her around to the other side of the kitchen bench, sitting down in a seat right beside her and wrapping her arm around the Spaniard’s shoulders. 

The Norwegian could feel herself becoming more and more anxious at Mapi’s almost catatonic state, entirely unequipped and unsure how to deal with it. 

It took half an hour of speaking to Mapi with no response for Ingrid to realise that she couldn’t do anything. A heartbreaking realisation of sorts, but one that she needed to have in order to help her.  

She knew she should be able to do this herself, she wished that it didn’t have to be so hard. But Alexia had been there before Ingrid, Alexia had been there for Mapi during Isabel’s infancy, right after she lost Luis. 

So she sent the Spanish midfielder a quick text, alerting her of the centre back’s state.

She felt guilty as the relief surged through her, Alexia assuring her that she would be there soon. 

However, neither the Spaniard nor the Norwegian could see the toddler’s tears, her quiet whimpers of anxiety and upset. 

Isabel didn’t like seeing Mapi upset, not at all. She was a happy person, usually, a permanent smile on her face, energetic as she played with the toddler. 

But she sat and stroked Bagheera, silent tears streaming down her little face with one thought on her mind. Why was Mami so sad all of a sudden? And why did it make her feel so miserable too?

Alexia arrived in a flurry, her heart dropping at the sight of her friend as she rushed towards her, immediately pulling her into a suffocating hug. 

“Maria, Maria. Come on, please. Say something.” Her voice sounded urgent and Ingrid could only watch, worry and confusion clear on her face. 

With no response, Alexia leaned back, staring straight into Mapi’s eyes. She could read the centre back like a book and her eyes told her everything she needed to know. 

“Ale.”

She frowned, tilting her head at the blonde in front of her. 

“Mapi, breathe. Take a deep breath in.”

Ingrid slipped out of the room as Mapi followed Alexia, breathing in and out slowly until she collapsed into Alexia’s arms, the tears spilling from her eyes easily as she reconnected with reality. 

It was her reaction to sadness, Mapi had realised a few months ago. Disconnecting from the world around her, unable to move, speak. She could barely hear anything, see anything until it was right in front of her face. 

She couldn’t feel anything either, but that was a more common response, something that she couldn’t be pulled out of so easily. 

She hated it, more than anything. Because when she was pulled from her state of disconnect, she felt nothing but terror, an overwhelming sadness that came rushing back as soon as that trap door opened. 

It was like her body was trying to protect her from feeling, the emotions just too much. It would just shut down until she was numb, not really registering that at some point she just had to feel it because there was no way of getting away from those emotions. 

Alexia had seen it all before and she was usually the one to grab Mapi, to shake her out of her headspace and bring her back to reality. 

It was terrifying for her too, especially the first time she witnessed it. 

“Ale.”

Mapi’s sobs had been reduced to quiet whimpers into Alexia’s shoulder after a while, her mind throwing itself through all her thoughts, all her emotions. Luis was gone, Luis had been gone for two years. She has his daughter, her Isabel who she loves so much. Ingrid was here but now she is not, where has Ingrid gone? Alexia, right in front of her, fear visible in the midfielder’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to hide it. 

Luis was gone, Isabel was hers. Ingrid was gone, Alexia was here.

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia.

Her four people. 

She felt her breath hitch, Alexia’s arms tightening around her. 

She felt the tears dripping down from her eyes, saturating the fabric of Alexia’s shirt, the wet fabric now uncomfortable to rest her face on. 

She could hear Alexia’s breathing, the sound of her heart racing. 

Feel Alexia’s arms around her, the floor beneath her feet and the chair that she was sitting on. 

Taste the salty tears. Tears of grief, fear, confusion. 

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia. 

“Ale, where is Isabel?”

~~~~~~

Ingrid slipped out of the room easily, not needed as Alexia dealt with Mapi’s overwhelming emotions. 

Mapi’s cries were audible from the main room she found herself in, wincing as she walked towards Isabel who was still stroking Bagheera, her movements fluid and repetitive, a consistent cycle that easily could have rubbed a groove into the cat’s black fur. 

The Norwegian couldn’t see the tears that had stained the little girl's face, still spilling from her eyes no matter how hard she tried to blink them away. 

But her shoulders shook unnaturally, a shuddering inhale that had Ingrid picking up her pace and sitting down right beside Isabel and pulling her into her arms as soon as she noticed how upset she was. 

Silently, she placed a thoughtful kiss on the crown of her head, her heart breaking at the silent tears, at Isabel's defeated demeanour. 

No toddler should know how to cry silently. 

"What's wrong, Is?"

At her words, Isabel promptly spun around in Ingrid's arms, collapsing into her and crying audibly, her entire body weight relying on the Norwegian to be held.

"Mami sad, Ingrid. I'm sad too!"

Her voice was broken and Ingrid’s heart dropped at the sound of it. 

It wasn’t hard to leave, understanding that Isabel needed to get out of the apartment, that she needed to be away from the inconsolable Mapi who could still be heard crying in the kitchen. 

So she left, slipping out the front door and carrying Isabel down to the street, holding her tight as she cried, walking over to the park. 

By the time they reached their familiar bench, her cries had weakened, only releasing quiet puffs of air every few moments as she relished in the comfort of Ingrid’s arms. 

The Norwegian sat down, loosening her grip on the toddler and manoeuvring her so that they were looking right at each other. Ingrid’s frown was light and her hands were soft as she reached out and wiped the tears away from Isabel’s wet cheeks, cupping her face when she was done. 

Words failed the defender as she looked at the toddler, her uncanny resemblance to Mapi heightened in her upset state. 

She matched her mother perfectly, Ingrid thought, trying to avoid that voice in the back of her head that she would never be enough. Their smiles were identical and their laughs sounded the same. They both carried the same exasperated sigh, the confused frown and those doe eyes that were impossible to say no to. But they carried the same tears, the same cries. 

Mapi’s emotions were often reflected in her daughter, whether it was happiness, excitement, fear, sadness. Isabel was smart - emotionally intelligent. It was like she always knew exactly how her Mami was feeling, even if she wasn’t old enough to understand why, to understand what those feelings were. 

This was one of those times when she had no idea what this sadness meant. She could clearly feel the sadness, feel her mother was sad. But she wasn’t even two yet, how could she possibly be expected to process those emotions like someone years older?

Ingrid wasn’t bad with kids either. There were heaps of children in her family; cousins, nieces, nephews. She’d been there throughout all of their childhoods, able to comfort them and soothe them enough until their parents came back. 

But Isabel’s sadness was completely new territory, there was no waiting for Mapi to arrive because Ingrid knew she wouldn’t. It was up to her to calm down the child but for the first time, she was completely stumped. 

She didn’t know what she could say to calm her down. She didn’t know how Isabel felt, she was too young to be able to express her emotions, to talk through what she was feeling. 

But this wasn’t a tantrum or a small cry over a minor convenience. This was a meltdown, caused by her overwhelming emotions that she couldn’t quite comprehend. 

“Ingrid…” 

She spoke quietly, leaning into the comfort of the Norwegian’s hands on her face. 

Ingrid nodded, encouraging the child to continue. 

“Why my Papi a rock?” 

The Norwegian’s face softened, her heart sinking as she tried to subtly release an exhale that she had been holding in. 

Unsure what she was going to say, she opened her mouth. But Isabel was too quick, raising her voice another time. 

“Why Mami sad at rock?”

“Is…” 

The child looked up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears, pure innocence reflected in her eyes, her features. 

“Isabel. Your Papi, he’s not a rock. Your Papi was a person, a very good person.”

The child frowned, confusion etched deep into her features. Ingrid thought she seemed entirely too concerned for a not quite two year old. 

“He died before you were born though, Is. Mami is sad today because she misses him. She misses your Papi.”

She doubted Isabel would even understand what she was trying to say. She didn’t know when children were supposed to understand the concept of death, the concept of life. 

Definitely not before the age of two. 

So Ingrid decided to try to move away from the topic, her new goal just to bring a smile back onto Isabel’s face. It was the least she could do, really. 

“But it’s ok, Is, because you have Mami and you have me and you have Alexia and you have Leila and Patri and Pina! You love all of those people don’t you?”

Isabel nodded easily, a smile creeping onto her face. 

“I love them so much. Especially Mami. And you, Ingrid!” 

Ingrid chuckled, her laughs a superficial cover of the anxieties and concern she felt. Because Isabel was right here calming down in her arms, but she had no idea of the state of Mapi, she had no idea how long this happiness would last. 

“And everyone I just mentioned loves you too. And your Papi, he loves you as well but he loves you from somewhere else. You have people everywhere loving you!” 

Ingrid beamed, trying to make the conversation feel more lighthearted. It was a successful attempt, apparently, because Isabel replicated her smile and turned herself around, sitting back down in Ingrid’s lap and leaning into her chest. 

“I love you Ingrid.”

The Norwegian could only smile sadly, planting a thoughtful kiss on Isabel’s head. 

~~~~~~

Mapi’s head was a mess, Alexia had realised. Her emotions all over the place, her priorities set in a weird and confusing line. 

The tears had eventually ran out and she was clearly exhausted, her head in Alexia’s lap as the blonde spoke softly. The familiar Spanish was a comfort to Mapi’s ears, the words meaningful, flooded with emotion.

“You need to worry about what is important right now,” Alexia had murmured, her hands combing through Mapi’s hair. It was reminiscent of how the centre back calmed her own daughter, soft hands and quiet words. 

It was reminiscent of how Mapi’s own mother used to soothe her, nostalgic and comforting. 

“Luis is important, of course he is. But he’s gone, Maria. If you’re going to worry about anything it has to be yourself, it has to be Isabel. You have to think about Ingrid, how to prioritise your relationship on top of everything else.”

Alexia shook her head at that, sighing almost silently. 

“Ingrid will try not to let you focus on her, but you have to try. You have to show her how much you love her like I know you do. That she’s your person.”

Mapi looked up at Alexia, her forehead wrinkling as she frowned. 

“She… she doesn’t know that?”

“She does know that, of course she does. But sometimes you need to put her first. Sometimes she needs you the most. Sometimes, she needs you more than Isabel does. She wants to know all of you, Mapi, even this part. She wants to understand your grief, to know what to do when you are having a hard time. She wants me to look after Isabel while she comforts you because she loves you. You are her person, just like she is yours.”

Mapi frowned again, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fill up her eyes. Because Ingrid was everything to her, of course she was. She was the person that Mapi loved more than anyone, the first person she had ever really and truly fallen in love with. But Alexia was right. More often than not, her attention was pulled away from Ingrid, Isabel making an appearance. Maybe she was hungry, thirsty, tired. She could have been bored or overexcited or maybe she just couldn’t sleep. 

Because Isabel was her baby girl, her last connection to Luis; her last connection to her person before Ingrid. 

It was somewhat painful for Mapi to consider how these small things would have hurt the Norwegian, how they would have all built up over time, building Ingrid’s thick skin, the impenetrable strength and sometimes superficial happiness that the Spaniard wished to break down.

“What do I do, Ale?”

Her voice broke and Alexia pulled her upwards, straight into a hug. 

“You talk to her.”

Mapi nodded, falling back down to her lying position on the sofa, the exhaustion of the day overcoming her despite it only being 12pm. 

Alexia could tell the exact moment she fell asleep, her breathing evening out and her body finally relaxing. 

The midfielder had expected something like this to happen today. She knew that Luis’ death was a date engraved in her friend’s mind, one that could never pass without any upset, any thought. 

It was only the second anniversary so of course it would bring up all of the emotions that were left and ignored two years ago, Mapi’s grief pushed away by the little baby Isabel. The same thing had happened a year ago and the midfielder knew it would happen again in another year. 

Only she hoped she wouldn’t be needed in a years time, similar to how she had hoped that she wasn’t required this year. 

She had been somewhat surprised and just a little bit disappointed when she received Ingrid’s text, having hoped that Mapi finally would have spoken to her girlfriend about it, that Ingrid would have expected it and known exactly what she needed to do. It was abundantly clear, however, that it was not the case. 

Ingrid’s terrified and bewildered facial expression was one piece of evidence, but so was Mapi’s silence, her heavy breathing and her complete refusal to speak while the Norwegian was in the room. 

She was disappointed, really. She felt guilt overcome her as she watched Ingrid slip out of the room, a look of pure defeat written all over her face as she accepted that there was nothing she could do to help Mapi. 

Mapi who was an emotional wreck, who needed support and who just needed to let everything out for once. 

Mapi, who needed her girlfriend’s comfort but didn’t know how to ask for it, couldn’t bring herself to ask for it. 

Alexia knew that the Norwegian would have given it to her without a second thought. 

It was all she could think about as Ingrid walked back through the door, Isabel’s hand tight in hers as her eyes scanned the room and landed on the sleeping Mapi in Alexia’s lap. 

Isabel inspected her quietly, satisfied with her sleeping body on the sofa. She was with Alexia and Alexia made people happy. She was sure Mapi would be happy now, so she scampered out of the lounge and into the laundry where she knew Bagheera would be waiting. 

Ingrid was less convinced, sitting beside Alexia with concern written all over her face. 

“She’ll be alright.” Alexia whispered her words softly, an attempt to make the Norwegian feel better. She didn’t expect Ingrid’s eyes to fill up with tears, her head falling into her hands. 

“Why doesn’t she talk to me about any of this?”

Her voice sounded defeated, frustrated. Her watery eyes looked back up towards Alexia and the midfielder could easily see the anguish in her eyes. 

“She’s bad at talking about it, embarrassed by it. She doesn’t like to feel all these emotions so she just pushes them away. But they come back every now and again and she has no idea how to deal with it. I try telling her that it’s normal, she shouldn’t feel embarrassed but she doesn’t listen. It makes her feel weak, she said. You saw her earlier too, she just shuts down. I think it’s because she just doesn’t know what else she can do so she turns into a robot of sorts, on autopilot to get things done. And then someone will come and see straight through her and it’s like she breaks.”

Alexia’s eyes were watering, her hand coming to rest on Mapi’s head. 

“But she loves you so much, Ingrid. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone before. I know she wants to talk to you about all this, she wishes she could just let it all out. We’ve discussed it before, what she could say, how she could say it. She’ll call me the next day and say she chickened out, she couldn’t bring herself to go through it all. It’s mentally exhausting, I think.  She used to be so confident in herself, she didn’t care about anything but her happiness and the happiness of the people around her. She was the person who would cheer everyone else up, make us smile and laugh. She’s still that person, that’s the one that we see everyday. But she never learnt how to grieve or how to let other people cheer her up and this is what happened because of it.”

Ingrid was quiet for a few moments, her eyes focussed on Mapi’s sleeping figure. She looked so peaceful, her golden brown hair falling over her face, completely covering her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. 

“Why didn’t you help her?���

She knew it wasn’t Alexia’s fault; she knew that the midfielder beside her would have done whatever she thought was right. But part of the Norwegian thought that if she had learned what to do with her emotions two years ago when Luis died, everything would be easier now. Everything would be easier for everyone. 

“She just wouldn’t let us. I regret it every day, Ingrid. ”

~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before Alexia left, leaving Ingrid with a sleeping Mapi and taking the almost two year old back to her house with her. 

They didn’t want Isabel to be able to understand what was going on, they didn’t want her to feel those sad emotions when she was entirely incapable of understanding why she suddenly felt so sad. 

So it was Ingrid’s face that Mapi woke up to, the familiar green piercing straight through her, a sad expression all over her face. 

“Ingrid.”

Her voice was hoarse, her words scratchy and her eyes swollen. It had been a difficult few hours and she felt entirely incapable of having the conversation that she knew Ingrid wanted to have. 

“I don’t know how… how do I even start?”

But it seemed she was wrong as Ingrid shook her head, her arms wrapping the Spaniard up in a tight hug as she sat up from her horizontal position. 

“No, you don’t need to. Not right now. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally and I don’t want to talk now. I want you to be ok, I want to make you feel ok.”

Mapi didn’t know it, but the Norwegian’s words were exactly what she needed. Ingrid was exactly what she needed. 

Her emotional perception, the unique ability she had to be so aware of how everyone felt at any given time. It was one of her qualities that Mapi loved the most, one of the things that was so intriguing, so alluring about the defender. 

“What can I do to make you feel ok?”

Mapi smiled weakly, trying to bite back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. It wasn’t just sadness this time, but gratitude, love. Because Ingrid was perfect even when the centre back knew she had been the opposite of that. And despite all of Mapi’s own personal flaws, Ingrid still loved her. 

And if everything else fell apart, Mapi knew that her love would be more than enough. 

“You being here makes me feel ok.”

Ingrid smiled into the embrace, only releasing the hug when Mapi’s grip on her loosened. 

“Isabel is at Alexia’s and she will be there all night. She shouldn’t be in this environment when you are so upset, not when she’s so young. So it’s just you and me, whatever you want to do.”

Mapi nodded easily, somewhat relieved that her daughter was away from all this. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

The evening was a slow one, relaxed and quiet in the calm apartment. They weaved around each other in the kitchen as they cooked with a practised ease, dinner cooked and plated up seamlessly. 

Conversation as they ate was minimal, the Spaniard clearly distracted and the Norwegian happy to focus on her own food. 

“I… I need to talk to you, Ingrid. Not right now, but soon. Maybe tomorrow. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say in a way that makes sense. It’s… hard for me, hard to talk about… it.”

The Norwegian’s attention was captured at the sound of Mapi’s voice, instantly nodding with a comforting smile on her face. 

“I know it’s hard. I don’t want you to feel any pressure to tell me anything.”

But the Spaniard disagreed, shaking her head quickly. 

“It’s not pressure, I want you to know everything.”

Ingrid’s forehead creased, her eyebrows drawing together as she frowned. 

“But why? Why do you want to go through it all again with yet another person if you don’t have to?”

It was Mapi’s turn to frown, her head shaking as she let out a quiet exhale. 

“I haven’t ever gone through everything with anyone. Alexia knows a lot, sure. I know she’s told you what she knows. I want you to know everything. Because I love you more than anything and for you to love me like that you have to know everything, you have to see all my faults, everything that I’m ashamed of.”

Ingrid stopped the tears from forming before they had a chance to materialise in her eyes, but Mapi could tell she was stopping herself from crying by the way her eyes blinked away the invisible tears. 

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice was incredibly soft, her Spanish lilt calming, comforting.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would change the way I love you. I couldn’t love you any more than I do and there’s nothing that will ever make me love you any less. I wish you would understand that sadness and grief isn’t a weakness or a fault, it’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s natural yet it takes a completely different path in every single person. You’re not different, Maria. You’re not weak. The opposite of weak, really. I love you for who you are, because you are funny, you’re kind, you’re caring. You look after people and you’re an incredible mother. I love you because you are strong, one of the strongest people I have ever met. The love I have for you is not… despite anything, there’s nothing that I would change because you’re perfect. So sure, tell me everything because I will listen but it will not change a single thing. Don’t tell me that I can’t love you before I know because I do, so much.”

“Thank you.” Mapi sniffled, her voice thready as she nodded at Ingrid, her eyes dropping back down to her plate in front of her. 

It was exactly what she needed to hear. 

~~~~~~

“Mami!” 

Despite Ingrid’s protests in the kitchen, Isabel bounded into their bedroom, bouncing up onto the bed right beside a sleeping Mapi. 

“Isabel! I said not to wake her up!” 

Ingrid frowned from her spot at the bedroom door, her forehead creasing further at Isabel’s defiant expression. The toddler turned back towards Mapi, shaking her shoulder rapidly. 

“Mami! Mami!” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes, releasing a loud sigh and shaking her head as the Spaniard rolled over, groaning as she opened her eyes. 

The past few days had been rough and Ingrid was sure Mapi hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep each day. The Norwegian was awoken constantly by the sound of her cries or her restless movements in the bed, but had stopped asking if she was ok after seeing the guilt on Mapi’s face at waking her up. 

It was an obvious question anyway, Mapi clearly was not ok.

She had been distant, often unfocused. The Norwegian had to take over the parenting ropes and she hadn’t left the Spaniard’s apartment, helping with cooking and cleaning and the other mundane housework that Mapi just didn’t have the energy to do. 

She would say a few words over meals, and quiet murmurs of gratitude throughout the day. Ingrid didn’t know how rapidly her notes app was filling up, full of dot points about how and what she would say to Ingrid. When she could bring up that conversation that she was so desperate yet so hesitant to have. 

“Morning Is.” The Spaniard rolled over, opening her arms up for the toddler as she fell into them, snuggling easily into her mother. 

“Mornin’ Mami!” 

Mapi smiled, looking over at Ingrid in the doorway and motioning for her to come and join them on the bed. Naturally, the Norwegian moved towards them, sitting up beside Mapi and resting her head on the centre back’s shoulder. 

“We were awake very early this morning, weren’t we Is?’

She rolled her eyes as the child nodded and Mapi bit back a laugh, squeezing Isabel softly. 

“You should have woken me.” Mapi smiled, planting a kiss on the side of Ingrid’s head, ignoring her scoff. 

“Ingrid said don’t wake you up, Mami!” Isabel interjected again, looking up at her mother. “But I missed you!” 

Mapi could only chuckle, planting a kiss on her child’s head. “I missed you too, my Is!”

It was a slow day, but one full of quiet laughter and happiness. The small family of three spent the late morning hours in bed, before getting up and heading down to the park and tiring the toddler out. She was exhausted by the time they got back, passing out on the sofa as Ingrid took off her shoes and Mapi scrubbed the mud out of her jacket. 

The girl had been put to bed by the time Mapi had returned from the laundry, Ingrid sat on the sofa with the remote in her hand. 

“What do you want to watch?”

She had heard Mapi walking towards the lounge room, apparently. The Spaniard didn’t enter immediately, instead steadying herself on the doorframe and taking a deep breath. 

The time had come, she realised. She couldn’t justify pushing this conversation away any longer, pretending that she wasn’t thinking about it when truthfully it was at the top of her mind at all times. 

She knew it wasn’t an easy conversation to have and she knew that it was going to be hard to bring it up. But that difficulty won’t ever go away, no matter how long she leaves it. If anything it will get harder over time because time gives her fears and anxieties an opportunity to grow, an opportunity to overcome her. 

And she was completely adamant that that would not happen. She would not be overcome by those terrors ever again. 

She realised she had paused in the doorway for too long when Ingrid turned around, a small frown settling on her face. 

“Are you ok?”

Mapi nodded, forcing a stressed smile onto her face and finally taking those steps inside, sitting herself on the sofa beside Ingrid and taking the remote from her hands. 

“Yes. No, but.. Yeah.” 

“Talk to me.”

And she did. She started at the beginning, all the way back when she was a small child and meeting Luis for the first time. She told Ingrid how they had been glued to each other’s sides forever, how they grew up and nothing ever changed. How grateful she was when Luis followed her to Barcelona, moving into his own apartment just a five minute walk away. 

The Spaniard reminisced on times where they would eat dinner on the floor of his unfinished apartment, takeaway boxes empty but the room still full of happiness and laughter. She showed Ingrid her tattoo, the little girl and boy on the playground that she had gotten to match with Luis. 

It was his first and only tattoo and he had only trusted Mapi to give it to him. She knew she had to get one the same and it was something they had treasured. A secret of sorts, a little thing that almost nobody knew about. 

The centre back explained how he had always been a paternal person, all the way back when they were those little kids on the playground. He would look out for everyone, act all big and strong to protect his friends even when he felt equally as terrified. He was the person that everyone went to as they got a bit older, his emotional nature and calm demeanour always popular among their peers. 

She told Ingrid that she always felt so lucky that even though he was so popular, she was still his best friend. She was always his number one and that only ever changed when Isabel came along. 

Isabel who was just as lovely as her boyfriend, another person that Mapi learned to love. 

Another person who proved time and time again that she was a mother. 

So she lamented on the heartbreak that the young couple experienced when they realised they couldn’t have a child, that parenthood seemed almost impossible. 

She explained her entire thought process to the Norwegian, how she debated with herself whether it was worth it to miss so much football during what could have been her peak years. Whether she would ever feel comfortable around a child that was half of her DNA, a child that she carried for nine months but technically didn’t belong to her. 

But Luis’ happiness was always the most important thing and when he rang her up for the 10th night in a row in tears, her decision was made for her. 

She told Ingrid how long it took to convince the couple to let her carry their child, having to go through the same arguments that she had with herself only weeks earlier, having to come up with rebuttals to their incredibly valid points. 

But it had only taken an emotional monologue from the Spaniard to convince them, all three of them sat in tears as they finally agreed to it. 

She talked her through the IVF process, every high and every low that she experienced. How easy the pregnancy was at the beginning, the only symptom her small bump and minor cravings. 

But she had Luis and she had Isabel at that point, both of them so incredibly grateful that they practically waited on the centre back’s hand and foot. It annoyed her, really, so she had kicked them out of her apartment, told them to only come over if she called them. 

For the most part, they respected that, only visiting once a week unless Mapi called them for the company. 

She admitted how much she regretted that deal, how she wished that she made them sit with her all day every day. 

Maybe then they wouldn’t have been in the car that day, maybe they would have been safe and sound in Mapi’s apartment. 

She couldn’t have known that their trip to Madrid would be fatal, there was no way of being able to foresee that and to stop them from going. 

Tears started to slip down her cheeks as she recalled what they told her over the phone, how both Isabel and Luis had been killed on impact. A drunk driver, it was, a drunk driver who was miraculously left unscathed. 

She talked Ingrid through her thoughts that followed the phone call, after she had sobbed and screamed. Once the tears had finally ceased and an unsettling silence fell upon her apartment. 

She felt lost, she felt alone. She wanted to call Luis because he was the person that made her feel better in these times, he was her company when it felt like her entire world was falling apart. 

But of course she couldn’t call Luis. She should have called someone else, her mother, her brother. Alexia, even. But that would be replacing her best friend, something she couldn’t bring herself to do. Not so soon after he had died. Not when the wound was so fresh, not before she even got the chance to process it. 

She admitted to her girlfriend that she still hadn’t really processed it, that it was still a work in progress. His death was one she would never understand, she didn’t think she ever would fully process the idea that he was gone. 

Ingrid let tears spill from her eyes as Mapi remembered how lonely she was for the next few weeks, how she realised that now she had this child that she was just supposed to be able to raise. How she felt entirely unprepared, unfit to be a mother, unequipped to be able to raise a child to a standard that Luis would be happy with. 

How she doubted herself even before Isabel was born.

When she gave birth it got so much harder, everything seemed so impossible and she couldn’t think about anything else other than that little life in her arms. 

She had fallen in love with the baby immediately, guilt overcoming her at her selfish gratitude that Isabel was a living reminder of Luis, she was someone that Mapi would always have. A living being that literally carried her father around with her. 

She told Ingrid how she saw his eyes as soon as they opened, the tape over her shattered heart doing little to protect it when it was forcefully thrown back on the ground at the reminder of everything she had lost. 

But as she spent more and more time with Isabel, as she watched the little girl grow up she could feel her heart building itself back together, little pieces at a time supergluing themselves together, creating an indestructible structure. 

Isabel had been the reason her heart was being fixed, the reason that she felt like she could finally breathe again, finally reunited with the organ that pumped the blood around her body, the organ that made her feel alive. 

She smiled through the tears as she recalled how alive she felt when Isabel took her first steps, when her first words tumbled right out of her mouth. As the child laughed, as she played with the cat. As she grew up into a child, something for Mapi to love, to be so incredibly proud of. 

Because Luis was gone and that was something that Mapi would never be ok with. 

But he left her the greatest gift of all time, like he knew that his best friend wouldn’t be ok without him. 

And similar to everything else he had done for Mapi through their lives, this gift, his daughter, had made sure that the blood never stopped pumping, that every single fragment of her shattered heart was still there, ready and waiting for its turn to be glued back into place. 

Isabel had done a good job of orchestrating the reconstruction, even if she had no idea what she was doing. 

“But then you came along, Ingrid, and you fixed my heart too.”

~~~~~~

alright this was very long

i've proofread a couple times and kinda hate this but it's as good as it will get :)

please let me know what you think! send me anything else you would like to see as well.

and i apologise for this taking so long, i have been very busy with uni (as usual) but on top of that i had surgery on my knee almost a week ago so am very tired and in a fair amount of pain at the minute

have a good day

[kasu-meow]

I think this is a bit of an unpopular opinion at the moment, I haven't seen anyone else say this, but... I love Gojo Satoru with all my heart, and because I love him so much, I am so glad that he is dead and is staying dead.

Ever since he was born, he was labeled as the strongest, and he was unable to be anything else except a weapon. He is so far above everyone else that most people don't even stop to consider that he is a human too, and the one time he allowed himself to love and be human, the object of his affection was ripped from him by the same society that put him in a box and forced him to carry all the burden alone.

Ever since then, Gojo Satoru has been shouldering the bulk of the responsibilities of Jujutsu society, living in regret, wondering "what if?" and desperately trying to protect the ones who now walk the same path he used to, because even though he lost what was precious to him, maybe he can make things slightly better so others don't have to go through that pain.

In my eyes, Gojo Satoru's is a story of loss, of pain and regret. The only thing he desperately clung onto was the hope that if he just pushes on a little longer, and mentors the new generation, that maybe he can really affect something in this godforsaken society, make it just a little better for the next generation, but not for him; it's already too late for him. He has already lost everything.

And so he became a teacher, even though he "doesn't want to do any more babysitting," he fought the people who made him a tool to protect the ones he knew could create the change he was seeking, and even though he knew he was walking towards his death, he still put on a smile and reassured his students saying "Nah, I'd win."

Even though he sacrificed himself to wear down Sukuna and let his body be used like the tool it was always perceived as, just so he could save everybody, what did he get? No one cried for him, he wasn't remembered for his kindness or selflessness, but was only blamed for his mistakes because then again, he is a weapon, a tool. Gojo Satoru will never just be a person.

But at least... now it's over. He doesn't have to fight anymore. He left Earth knowing he did his job, and that his students have got it from here on out. He is finally able to breathe and rest, and he was even reunited with the only person who, despite it all, saw him for what he was. Not Gojo Satoru, the strongest, but Gojo Satoru, the guy who likes Digimon, eats kikufuku and smiles despite everything. The one person who was willing to destroy the entire Jujutsu society to protect Gojo Satoru, who really cared about him, and the one Gojo Satoru did everything for. He finally has what he always longed for, and he made peace with his own death. He tied up everything he had left on Earth, and chose to let go because he is no longer needed. The reason he couldn't be revived with RCT was because his soul was no longer clinging to this plane of existence, because finally Gojo Satoru got what he wanted, a new generation of allies who will grow even beyond his potential, and will carry on his vision and make real change in the world.

Gojo Satoru is finally resting and at peace. I miss him, so much, but if he were to come back, what would he be coming back for? He would have to leave Geto Suguru once again, even though the first time almost killed him, and for what? To go back to being who he was, playing the role he used to play, fighting to swim upstream in a world that sees him as nothing more than a machine? What does he have left on Earth now, besides the life of a weapon? He did everything he could, and Jujutsu society will start changing now because of him. He even died the way he always wished for, killed by someone stronger than him, who recognized him, and swore to never forget him.

For the first time in a decade, I believe Gojo Satoru is truly happy where he is. And I really, really want him to be happy. I don't want him to force himself to smile for the sake of someone else like he is used to, I want him to be able to let loose and be himself with the people who appreciate him. I don't want him to go back to a miserable life of loss and regret. So yeah... it pains me, and I miss him, but I'm glad Gojo Satoru is dead, and I hope it stays that way.

[syndrossi]

resonant ch28 dvd commentary

Favorite line(s):

Daemon cradled him to his chest, rocking him as though doing so might take them back to his first moments of life, fresh from the womb and bellowing fury at the world. I was not there for his first breath. I cannot live to see his last.

Sobbed like an absolute mess writing Jon's death, but especially this part. Daemon already has so much bottled-up grief and regret over missing their childhood and infancy, there's something absolutely gutting about him rocking Jon in his arms, like the baby he never held, trying to coax life back into him, this twisted parallel to holding a stillborn child, life snuffed too soon.

And the despair at living to see that moment, at wanting to die before seeing it. (Only to "realize" later that the only way either of them could have died alone like that would have been if he weren't there to protect them.)

Favorite detail(s):

Probably all the hidden meaning and hints/clues scattered throughout the vision? I haven't seen anyone pick up on the bigger (in terms of revelatory rather than being obvious) ones yet, but they're there to read back over later and be like "ohhhh." Or to reread and see if you can tease them out!

One thing I thought about a lot, and wanted to remain consistent about, was the limitations of whoever is sending the visions. The only things they have "seen" is Jon and Rhaegar's deaths, though it's unclear how. (Did the candle extract them from Jon's nightmares? Did the sorcerers peer into their possible futures before stealing them away?)

So that means Baelon's and Aemon's deaths were not visions they could have constructed, they had to have come from somewhere else. Daemon was there for Baelon's death, so it's easy enough to recreate that from his memory. But where did Aemon's death come from? That's sort of the linchpin, if Daemon ever fully remembers the visions. Showing him his father's death doesn't mean Jon's and Rhaegar's deaths were anything other than illusions meant to manipulate him. But the details of Aemon's death felt very vivid, very accurate--if Daemon were to confirm that, he might be forced to accept the other visions.

(So...where did Aemon's death vision come from?)

Uuugh there's so much I want to talk about with the visions and the stuff just before/after the visions, but it risks getting spoilery. Best I can do is suggest that people read and reread the candle's/warlock's/sorcerer's words.

Favorite dynamic:

Oh no, this is hard to pick. I actually loved writing the first scene with Daemon and Viserys. The whole: "Am I one of your problems?" "Do you know how to be anything but?" exchange was another favorite of mine for its breathtaking sharpness, and Viserys's immediate regret afterward. Ironically, I thought that this scene might be one to soften people a bit toward Viserys, but the candle has worked its spell quite well, with most taking the candle's side on the matter.

Viserys is, on the surface, someone constantly getting in his own way, barely more than competent at his job on a good day, and he doesn't have many good days anymore. And he's trying to juggle the mess of the family politics/division on top of everything else, including the Volantis wrinkle and sudden prophecy children + uncertainty over what to do there other than hope Daemon can make more, preferably girls.

He seems like the architect of his own loneliness and isolation, but it's not just him. You have spiders like Otto who benefit from him being isolated and encourage it. Would Otto prefer that Viserys show obvious favoritism towards Aegon? Sure, it would help his case. But his hands-off approach means that Otto can mold Aegon and Aemond to the future he wants.

And then there's the chronic, pervasive pain and fatigue which sap his strength/will and make it easier not to fight. To not steel himself for the conflict of a family supper and instead take the dreamwine so that he can stop hurting for the day. When he's not drinking dreamwine, he's drinking wine, which has a similar numbing effect.

The greatest irony is that in this scene, we get Viserys entrusting various responsibilities to Daemon, a gesture that actually means something. He's letting Daemon choose tutors (usually the queen's job) and he's letting him lead the candle investigation (usually something he'd probably let Otto do). They're fumbling toward an understanding, with Daemon recognizing his loneliness and attempts at connection, and Viserys choosing to trust Daemon--

And then the candle sidles in, determined to nip that in the bud.

Runner up dynamic is the dynamic duo of the twins at the very end, triaging Daemon and prescribing immediate cuddles and a lullaby. Rhaegar is more accustomed to a despairing, inconsolable parent, so he's able to take the lead here. He's also uninjured, so he can be a little more acrobatic than poor Jon.

Quick hitters:

We get a softer, older version of the cut HOTD scene where Daemon tries to convince Viserys to fly off with him on adventures/conquest. Daemon these days just longs for connection with his brother, so it's the Giant's Toe he offers instead as a refuge, with its childhood memories.

Jon is SO GRUMPY that Daemon left them with two Kingsguard to prevent escape. And the Cargyll brothers, no less, who are the most vigilant to shenanigans!

Another runner-up fave line(s) that made me chortle writing them: "Tiresome could mean many things. Merely contemplating Lord Reyne’s existence, much less interacting with him, was tiresome."

It's clear that Daemon's more than a little entranced even before the candle lights up, which is similar to how Rhaegar can get when he's "hearing" it.

This little gut-punch from @cloud-harasser's ao3 comment: "I also love how Daemon carries a piece of Aemon with himself always and feels him everyday in a way when he does his braids. I bet seeing Daemon on Caraxes with his braided hair haunts Rhaenys when the light is just right."

The death that Daemon is least affected by is Baelon's, which is mostly because he was there for it, and it was slow and drawn-out. He had time to prepare and even make his peace with it. He never got that closure with Aemon.

Aemon promising to help Daemon find a dragon when he returned. Only his body came back, and Daemon got Caraxes, so he did fulfill his promise in a way that Daemon never would have wanted.

Daemon's best internal sense of the vision is that he died early, some possible rebellion rose that resulted in Jon's exile and Rhaegar later fighting in it. Their dragons were either taken from them or lost early.

If the twins were overprotective of Daemon before, we are about to see them take it to new heights...

[burningfaith]

dilemma of tonight: committing homicide or suicide

[yrbladie]

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎WHEN THEY LOSE YOU ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ ayato, diluc, kaeya, neuvillette, zhongli

warnings ：angst, hurt no comfort, mentions of death and body (yours), sad bois, some have quite a comforting ending, others not so much, gn! reader, established relationship, implied marriage (ayato, diluc, zhongli), reader is called 'beautiful' (kaeya), spoiler free, non fluent writer

ㅤHe doesn't weep at first. Don't get him wrong, though, it's just that how could he ever fathom the thought of not having you by his side anymore?

ㅤYou were taken from his arms so suddenly that he wondered if you were ever real since the start, or only a fragment of his imagination, something that had always only belonged to his most beautiful dreams.

ㅤThe only way he knew you were indeed real was by the way people would talk behind his back when they thought he wasn't paying attention, talking about how sloppy he had become. Or the way he would still find small bits of you sprawled over his desk. Trinkets you gave him, and the letters you had sent to him the last time you went to visit your homeland for a week, knowing your lover would miss you too much.

ㅤIt suddenly dawns on him at that moment. How you were not there anymore, how he would never see you again, see your bright and beautiful smile or hear your giggle at his poor cooking skills.

ㅤAt that moment when he suddenly misses you, Ayato gets up and goes to visit you. In a place he never thought he would see you. Buried under the Sakura tree you planted with him last summer, the one where you both had wished for it to be as eternal as your love for each other.

ㅤHe sees your grave filled with flowers and gifts from the people you had known, and even finds the bouquet of flowers Thoma had sent under his name. And he kneels beside it, staring at your name written there.

ㅤHe still felt guilty, that he was not there for you when you needed him the most. That he was busy with work above anything else again. He could have protected you oh so easily, and he wasn't there.

ㅤ"I hope you can forgive this stupid lover of yours, my dear."

ㅤForgive him for everything. Forgive him for not loving you better, and for not being strong enough to be there when you died nor when you were buried.

ㅤAyato now knew, dreams are never meant to last.

ㅤWhen people saw you both together on the streets, with Diluc carefully holding your hand or touching the small of your back to guide you through the streets, like you were made of the finest porcelain, everyone thought they were going crazy.

ㅤThere was no way, the master Diluc Ragnvindr, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt, unmatched in every possible way, had gotten himself a lover.

ㅤWhen you arrived it was like a breath of fresh air for everyone who knew Diluc. You made him a different man, made people see a different side of him Diluc himself doubted existed.

ㅤAnd you were everything to him. Until the fateful day you were forcibly taken from him.

ㅤBut still, he couldn't hope to grieve, he had no time to let himself stop and rest, not even for a minute. In a minute so many things can happen, just like in a minute you were gone.

ㅤDiluc still had Mondstadt to protect, and he would focus solely on that for as long as there was still air in his lungs. Even if his torn heart still churned in pain everyday.

ㅤEven if in the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, he would still sit alone in his dimly lit room, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. The walls of his manor, once filled with laughter and love, now seemed to echo with the emptiness of his loss. The air was heavy with the scent of fading memories.

ㅤEverything in your shared room is a bittersweet reminder of the warmth that had once been, now slipping through the cracks of time.

ㅤOutside, the world moved on, without you. And Diluc couldn't understand it, for his world was you. Every moment without you felt like an eternity.

ㅤAnd in those short moments he wept. Letting the pain flow freely, as if by releasing it, he could somehow reach across the chasm that separated you both. And he still could somehow feel your presence in brief moments, a soft whisper in the breeze or a fleeting glimpse in a dream.

ㅤDiluc had experience in mourning, and he knew that one day, the sharpness of his pain might dull, but his love for you would remain eternally vibrant, a testament to the life you had shared.

ㅤIn his own way, he would carry on, honoring your memory with each step forward, holding you close in the chambers of his heart, as he navigated the path of grief, one tear and one memory at a time.

ㅤIn that way, Diluc could forever hold you close to his heart somehow. The idea that you would have liked that he kept protecting those you had come to love, gave him comfort as he got up for another day.

ㅤYou were his first, but also his last.

ㅤOh, to be loved by the Cavalry Captain, with his deceiving smiles and well thought words. People used to call him such a heartbreaker before you came along and showed to all that Kaeya Alberich could be so much more than that.

ㅤIt seemed like he always had a smile reserved only for you. Different from the grins and crooked smiles he gave for others. With you nothing was ever fake, you had managed to tear down the walls he built to keep himself safe each and every time, no matter how much he tried to keep you at an arm's length.

ㅤBefore Kaeya even noticed you had already made a home in his heart and had no plans of leaving.

ㅤBut of course, fate had always found its way to mock him. He could but only watch as your life slipped past his fingers like sand, no matter how much he held onto you and begged the skies not to take you. Not you too.

ㅤIn the end, Kaeya still had to carry back your lifeless body to Mondstadt, back to your home where you belonged.

ㅤBut did he still belong there now? He was once again reminded of his purpose, the destiny that hung heavily above his head, like a death sentence forever haunting and taunting him. A destiny he just couldn’t seem to escape.

ㅤCursed to loneliness, to destruction. He should have known he didn’t deserve all the happiness you had brought along with your love to his wretched life.

ㅤYou had slipped away, leaving behind a void that seemed insurmountable. In the beginning, Kaeya refused to acknowledge the cruel twist of fate. He clung to the hope that this was all a nightmare, a cruel illusion that would dissipate with the morning light.

ㅤDays turned into nights, and reality set in, stubborn and unyielding. The denial that had once shielded him from the harsh truth began to crumble like a fragile dam battered by the relentless waves of sorrow.

ㅤHe still remembered everything about you. While others would talk about how sweet you were to everyone, Kaeya would remember the laughter shared on lazy Sunday mornings, the whispered promises exchanged under a blanket of stars, and the simple joys of a life built together.

ㅤHe still had your portrait on his desk, a painful reminder of how beautiful you looked when you smiled up at him. And he still wondered how you were. Are you happy now, wherever you are? Are you safe?

ㅤOr do you miss him like he misses you?

ㅤKaeya only found solace on those lonely starry nights, where he laid by himself on the grassy field he always hated, saying the grass always got stuck at his hair as you laughed, calling him such a drama king.

ㅤAnd as the first rays of dawn began to set in, he smiled.

ㅤThe pain remained, a constant companion, but it transformed into a tribute—a testament to a love that transcended the boundaries of mortality. With a heavy heart, he got up, in a silent acknowledgment that life, though forever altered, would continue.

ㅤHe would carry your cherished memories with him into an uncertain tomorrow. With a newfound strength—a resilient ember burning in the ashes of loss, Kaeya had to carry on.

ㅤEven if his fate overtakes him once more one day, the whispers of your voice, urging him to embrace life would always remind him that there was something out there worth fighting for. And that one day, when his body and heart rests for one last time, he will meet you again.

ㅤThe skies of Fontaine have never been cloudier than since the day you died. The rain poured down, seeming endless. Like a mourning prayer for another loss the nation held.

ㅤYour funeral was quiet and quite lonely. You had not really been a person that went out each and everyday, or that easily befriended all that you met through your day. You were a common person, like any other in Fontaine, maybe just a little weird with your outlander ways.

ㅤBut Neuvillette still loved you anyway.

ㅤYour love for each other was nothing grand nor loud. It was almost timid, but shined brightly like an unwavering ember.

ㅤSo it didn't come as a surprise that no one knew about your relationship with each other. Neuvillette was, before anything, an important and key figure in Fontaine, his every move scrutinized under the city's gaze, yet whose true emotions remain hidden behind a mask of stoicism.

ㅤEven to the end, he couldn't even attend your funeral. Watching from the sidelines, like an outsider. He watched as your loved ones paid their respects, leaving their flowers and good wishes that you now may be safe, in the arms of the gods.

ㅤNeuvillette wanted to scoff at this. The gods were silent as their people suffered under their gaze. And most of all, there was no space for people like you on their golden mighty thrones.

ㅤWhen everyone parted and left only your lonely tombstone, did Neuvillette finally came to pay his own respects as the rain fell heavier, a reflection of how he felt inside. Like a storm that could never break free from the clutches of a well maintained facade of a composed judge.

ㅤYou made him so vulnerable as each time you touched his skin, his heart longed for more of you, with feelings he couldn't understand.

ㅤIf only he had noticed sooner, if only he had met you sooner.

ㅤIf only you were still here. To show him comfort once more.

ㅤBut as the calm and collected Iudex wept by the lonely grave, you were still gone.

ㅤAnd in the next day and even the next after that, every day became an act. An imperturbable, endless theatrical piece. Worthy of even being presented at the opera house.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still conducted each trial with unperturbed accuracy, the outside seemed to have forgotten about you. But not him, never.

ㅤHe still heard your voice, just outside his office, while you laughed with the Melusines. He still asked for two cups of tea to be prepared and people wondered who the other cup was for. And he still had the official documents where you accidentally doodled on and had apologized profusely for doing it, but Neuvillette had never held it against you.

ㅤAnd he still loved you. Each day when the rain started again, the pitter patter sound followed the judge as he disappeared through the corners of Fontaine to find you once again.

ㅤHis life was destined to be eternal, and so was his love for you, despite the fact you weren't by his side anymore.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still found small flowers and trinkets left on your grave, he knew he would not be the only one to forever remember about you.

ㅤThe God of Contracts was no stranger to loss and to mourning. He himself had buried more friends than he could count.

ㅤHe had an immortal soul and an unyielding memory. His friends were forever reminders on his everyday life, that he got to walk the places they never had a chance to see.

ㅤEvery time, he caught himself reminiscing about you, about your shared laughter under the bustling night time of Liyue, and the dreams over breakfast.

ㅤAnd how fate took you away from him.

ㅤThe town now seemed to be filled with a haunting silence, even if nothing much had changed. The vendors still called for him to eat and buy their products, he still watched the same plays and stories. But now every corner held a memory, a reminder.

ㅤDays turned to nights, and nights into days, but the pain persisted, insistently. Zhongli found solace in the shadows of the past, where memories of your happiness still lingered like a sweet melody.

ㅤHe never thought of himself as someone to be stuck in time. But your presence and your loss seemed to have made an ever deeper impact on his life than he initially thought.

ㅤAs the years went by, he would still wait for you. With the hope and the heartache that the skies would relent at his incessant prayers and return you to his arms, in another form, in another life, it didn't matter.

ㅤStill, he knew he was not alone. Hu Tao would pat him in the back gently in an almost nudging manner every day, encouraging him to go out again, to rest more. And slowly Zhongli felt like he could gather the shattered pieces of his heart again. Like his wounded soul still had a purpose.

ㅤEven if his body and mind eroded until there was nothing more left of him, he thought that all the memories of you would still be his most cherished treasures.

ㅤAnd so, in the quiet town where love once blossomed and sorrow cast its shadow, Zhongli would learn once more to carry the weight of loss with gentleness. The stars above forever witnesses of his eternal and enduring love for you.

ㅤIn the small shrine he built above your grave, where Zhongli could still feel your presence sometimes, through your pictures and the incense. His heart was finally at peace.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ《◇》

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Taste of Sugar (Part 1 of 2)

Alastor x reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Part 1 rated M, Part 2 rated E 18+ for adult content

TW part 1: Light jealousy, trauma related to past food insecurity, trauma recovery.

TW Part 2: Explicate smut, see part 2 for details.

Almost 4k words for part one. Ps- Fuck you Nonny, this is what you get for trying to tell me what I'll write

~<3 Love, Kit.

As you work through the trauma of your life and starving to death, you dismantle your stash of snacks for what you hope will be the final time. Snack cakes, cookies and crackers are given to everyone around you, except one resident in the hotel whom you knew wouldn't enjoy or consume the treats. Then, as the flow of treats tricked to a stop, stash dismantled, small brown boxes containing treats began to appear at your door. Simple, delicious and seemingly homemade treats without so much as a note.

He watched and he waited, each week for your offer. Each week, no offer came and again he left his gift at your door. Why would you not think of him? Why would you not see him? What did he have to do for you to consider him?

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

A Taste of Sugar

You found yourself in Hell after a rather uneventful death that made of for its lack of excitement with lasting trauma. Now, sitting in a circle in a hotel that functioned more like a rehabilitation center and refuge than actual hotel, you were expected to recount it to the fellow residents that had become more like friends. 

It was Charlie’s latest grand idea of how to build trust and bonds between the group and process negative feelings that could hold each of you back from redemption. You didn’t think that was how redemption worked but whatever, it wasn’t your reputation on the line and it got you a safe room to sleep in and three meals a day. 

The others had grand stories of murders, crimes and addictions that all landed them in the grave, one way or another, often taking others with them. They had spoken of dark indulgences. 

Now they teased you, your crimes amounting to nothing compared to theirs. Damned for the simple crime of being born poor and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to survive. 

You had died fairly young, having lived most of your life on the streets only to starve to death, alone, cold and in the dark. The shelters were full and the food banks near useless without somewhere to cook the food. Stealing food could only get you so far when you had little to choose from. You died dreaming of a warm meal, cooked at home. You died begging to world for a simple snack cake to quiet the pain in your stomach. You died alone, cold and hungry. 

The divine didn’t seem to care that you only stole what you thought you needed to survive. Really, not even that considering you starved to death. Maybe you didn’t pray enough. Maybe you didn’t go to the right church. Maybe you didn’t give away what little food you had often enough. 

Explaining that felt like shining a spotlight on every way you failed. You failed in life and you failed in death. Not good enough to get into heaven and yet you were also not bad enough to have a respected place in hell. Weak, unless and fueled by fear of once again going without. 

“So, that’s why you’ve always got snacks?” Angel pointed out, making you blush hard in shame. The trauma of your life hand a lasting grip around your actions even in death. 

“I’m trying to be better about it,” You felt shame in how you tended to hoard snacks in your room, rarely actually doing more than a little nibbling at them. Charlie did a great job of ensuring all residents had access to three meals a day, though someone was almost always missing from one meal or another. “I know I don’t have to worry about starving here, it’s just hard.” 

In the shadows of the hall, red eyes watched the group. A smile stretched in the distance as they discussed how the traumas of life leaked into the afterlife and the ways you could move past your traumas. 

He couldn’t say why he was drawn to you. You were little more than a lost doe and yet you plagued his mind. He wanted to cast you out so you’ll leave his thoughts as much as he wanted to keep you as a little pet for his own amusements. There was time enough to figure out what to do about the conflicting urges. For now, he can simply watch from a distance, from the shadows.

Rosie had told him that in her expert opinion he was ‘catching feelings’ when he had lamented his inability to settle on a course of action. That aggravated him more than anything else, well almost. The utter glee at the concept was more annoying by just a touch. 

He was above romantic sentiments just as he was above the carnal desires of the flesh. Rosie was mistaken, Alastor decided as he also made the decision that he would do nothing about you. There was no reason to let you plague him any longer. Simply look away, move on with his days and it would pass. 

Without the desire to do anything about this strange draw to you, Alastor settled on watching you from across the room. He watched as you ate, as you threw out the occasional small package of snacks.Turns out, he wasn’t very good at looking away from you. 

It didn’t escape him how you would frown, discussing your decision with Angel. You had decided you would no longer hoard snacks and oh, how proud of you the group was. 

You were growing. Healing. Blooming. 

If you’d talk to him, he’d tell you that very thing. Yes, he decided as you gave away snacks that he would tell you just how proud he was of you when you presented him with a part of your stash. 

He watched and he waited as you gave out cakes, crackers and cookies to everyone else. 

But never to him. No, it was always Angel and the other residents you shared your spoils with. Not once had you sought him out to offer him a cracker, cake or cookie. Not that he indulged in processed snacks or sweets on anything but the rarest occasion but that didn’t stop his shadow from bristling in annoyance behind him. 

He wanted to be offered. To be recognized. To be thought of. To be noticed. 

But he didn’t have feelings for you, he told himself. And that’s what he kept telling himself as the purging of your stash came to an end, drawer empty and flow of snacks becoming a trickle, an occasional treat purchased with the intention of sharing.

Oh, how you’d healed. 

~~~~~<3

The first time it happened, you nearly stepped on it. Someone had left a simple plain cardboard box in front of your room door without so much as a note attached to it. Inside were two equally simple cookies. Nothing large, nothing fancy. 

Setting them on your desk, you debated eating them or not. They looked good but when you had asked around, no one knew where they had come from. 

“Guess you’ve got a secret admirer,” Angel had teased you. “If the cookies are good, you should date them.” 

You didn’t know how you’d pull that off without knowing who left them though. Surely they were safe to eat, it’s not like random people came and left the hotel.

What’s the worst that could happen, if they were drugged? You were safe in your room. If they made you sick you had a private bathroom. You were already dead so what’s the harm?

The cookies were good, it turned out. You had nibbled on them over a few days, spreading out the treat. It seemed as soon as they were gone though, a new box appeared at the door. This time with a handful of crackers, some sliced cheese, fruit and sliced cured meat.

This continued for months, treats that were simple, modest and only enough to last for a few days. No matter how quickly or slowly you had consumed the gift, the night you discarded the empty box always brought a new box in the morning. 

~~~~~<3 

You leaned against the counter watching Alastor work. It was late and though you were not hungry, you often found yourself in the kitchen. Just being able to go down and look at the food you had access to had been helping you resist the urge to hoard food in your room when ever you felt that anxiety claw at you. 

It helped too, that you had been able to look forward to the small snack boxes that showed up. 

“Something on your mind, Dear?” Alastor didn’t look to you as he spoke, instead keeping his eyes on ingredients he was measuring out. 

You hadn’t expected to find him in the kitchen. It was late and those who didn’t leave to party were asleep. Husk was even passed out at the bar. 

“Not really,” You said after a moment. 

“The food is all here,” Alastor said with a hum, “If that’s what you’re here to check.” 

“Oh, No! I-”

“We’ve all got our quirks.” Alastor cut you off, pouring water into a bowl and adding yeast. 

“What are you making?” You asked rather than face admitting that he was right about what you were there to do.

“Beignets,” Alastor said, mildly annoyed.

“Those are like donuts, right?” You asked, hoping that you had imagined the sound. 

“Indeed, they’re similar.” Alastor kept his words curt. 

“For breakfast tomorrow?” 

“At this hour, it’s today.” Alastor swallowed his annoyance at the endless questions and lied, “Yes, for breakfast.”

“I’ll go, sorry for bothering you.” You stepped backward as you took the hint, smile falling from your face. 

“No,” He answered too fast, bitter sigh huffing through his always present smile, “I’ll need someone to try the test one.” 

“Oh.” 

You sat, watching Alastor work. He mixed flour into the liquid. This was a way you had never seen Alastor before. It crossed your mind that he probably didn’t let many see him with his coat and gloves off, smile turned soft and flour dusting his dark hands. 

But he was letting you. 

His coat was draped over the back of the chair you sat in, brushing against your skin as you shifted positions. His gloves were folded neatly and discarded on the table. He worked with his sleeves rolled up and a tune filling the air as he alternated between humming and softly singing to himself. 

It was beautiful. You were engrossed watching him work. The sound of his voice seemed to wrap around you, caressing you with warmth. 

You’d never spent much time with Alastor. You knew he was a deer, like yourself but until now, you’d thought his only deer trait had been the antlers and ears atop his head. It hadn’t occurred to you that he would have a little fluffy tail to match your own. 

It should have, you had fluffy ears to match his though with your longer hair, it was more obvious that they were indeed ears. You watched as his red and black tail moved with him as he put the dough in the icebox to chill.

“What now?” You asked, leaning back from him. 

“We wait, my little doe,” Alastor sat front of you across the table, leaning into your space across the small table.

“For how long?” You ask, not sure what to make of spending so much time with him. 

“A while,” Alastor said, “But I assure you the wait is well worth it.” 

“But you don’t like sweets.”

“You know what I like?” Alastor’s dark hand, stained by blood that could never be washed away dramatically rose to rest over his heart with a flourish as he leaned forward even more. “I’m ever so flattered.” 

You stuttered, not sure how to backtrack. Alastor laughed at your flustered stuttering before taking pity on you, pointing a long claw tipped finger so close to you that you swore he was going to stab you with his nail. 

“You, my dear, do enjoy sweets however.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, face warm. He knew that you cared for sweets. You were tired but seeing this relaxed side of him was thrilling. That chased away most of the fatigue, driving you to stay and find someway to push the conversation along. 

“I didn’t know you liked to cook,” You struggled to decide how to fill the silence.

“I’ve always found it rather enjoyable.” Alastor cocked his head to the side as he watched you. “My mother taught me.” 

“That must have been nice.” You weren’t sure what to say, having never really gotten to experience the love of a mother yourself. 

“It was.” Alastor watched as you leaned forward, resting your head on your arms. There was something about you that he couldn’t put down. “Did your mother not teach you to cook?” 

Your ears sagged atop your head at the question, earning a raised eyebrow from the man across from you. “She didn’t teach me much of anything. I was on my own since I was fourteen.” 

“Oh, Dear,” Alastor said as if he didn’t know that already, “How dreadful.” 

“I never really had enough food for learning to cook to be a thing.” You shrugged your shoulders, not lifting your head as you stretched out your arm to use it as a pillow. You shifted, allowing you to face him even as you used the side of the table to lounge on. 

“But you do now.” Alastor pointed out as he sat with you in a kitchen full of food.

“Full of Charlie’s and the hotel’s food.” You said, “I couldn’t risk wasting it. It’s enough that everyone shares with me what they make and,” You shake your head awkwardly against your arm, cutting off the thought.

“And?” Alastor pressed. 

“Someone’s been leaving little boxes of treats at my door. I wish I knew who it was.” 

“Why?” Alastor leaned back now, putting distance between the two of you, “Does the origin of a gift matter?” 

“I-” Your eyes teared up as your voice strangled in your throat. You sat up, not sure why you were being so open with him. 

“You~?” Alastor asked in a sing song tone as a tear slipped from your eye and ran down. His eyes followed it as it cut a path down your cheek. It was maddening to him, what you made him feel. How watching that tear captured his attention, yet he raged at the fact that it was born from pain in your heart.

“I’ve never had anyone give me treats like that.” You said, wiping the tear away much to his disappointment. 

“Never? Surely a suiter gifted you treats while courting for your attention.” Oh, why did saying that raise bile in his throat? 

“I’ve never-” You laugh, not sure why the idea of discussing this with Alastor made you feel uneasy. “There was never any suiters. No boys. No one.” 

“I struggle to believe that.” Alastor laughed as he stood from his chair, “Come my dear, wash your hands and join me.” 

You didn’t know what he wanted but Alastor was a man to be obeyed. While you were both deer, he had far more power than you could ever dream to possess. If he wanted to demand your help, you had little choice but to comply. 

Sure, the hotel offered a sense of safety but if Alastor wanted to squash you like a bug, shared demonic traits or not, there was nothing that could stop him. Well, Charlie would but she was asleep. 

Alastor had the counter floured and a small portion of dough out as you joined him, drying your hands. “Where’s the rest?” 

“That’ll be fried up in the morning, if it passes our test.”

He pulled you in front of the counter before stepping close behind you. It was hard to ignore the overwhelming presence of him looming over your shoulder as he reached around to grab the rolling pin only to pass it to you.

“Roll it out until I say,” He directed as he covered the pin in flour only to place it in your hands. 

As you worked, his hands rested on either side of you against the counter, boxing you in from behind while not touching you at all. It was hard for you to ignore how close he was. 

It was like the man was taking over your mind, something you hadn’t expected considering you hadn’t given him much thought in the months before. The smell of his cologne seemed to surround, making your head light. You weren’t sure why you were reacting to him like this but it left your nerves buzzing. 

Now all you could think of was the way his breath caressed over your ears, the way his hands looked without the gloves, dusted with flour, the sound of his voice as he hummed and the smell of his cologne. 

“There.” Alastor said, taking the pin from you and replacing it with a dough cutter. “Squares, about the size of your fist.” 

Cool air swept around you as Alastor moved away, checking the pot of oil heating on the stove. You’d only just begun to relax under his looming presence and now he was gone and damnit, you missed it. 

There was just enough dough to form two squares with some left over. Alastor scooped them up before dropping them in the oil. You stood next to him, watching as the oil came to life around the dough. 

“How long do we cook them?” You asked over the sound of the violently bubbling oil.

“Not long.” Alastor said from too close behind you once again as inky black shadow imps swept up the flour and crumbs, wiping down the counters.

On the counter, he set a plate with a rack over it and next to that was a sifter atop a container of powdered sugar. You were boxed in by Alastor as he rested his hands on either side of the fryer, looking over your shoulder as he once again boxed you in. 

“Now.” He said softly, “Scoop them out and put them on the rack.” 

You were timid, scared of being burned as you fished for the squares with the spoon made of wire. 

“Hurry, hurry!” Alastor cried, voice carrying a musical note as he only made your nerves worse, “You don’t want them to burn!” 

Finally, you got them out. Oil dripped off the puffed up pastries as they quickly drained the excess oil off. Alastor grabbed the sifter only to put it in your hands. He moved you as if you were a puppet, placing the sifter in your hands over the rack, steam wafting up to caress your hand. You stood still as he poured a few spoonfuls of powdered sugar into the basket. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He teased. “You can manage to turn the handle, can’t you?” 

“Yeah,” You stammered over the word, mind buzzing with the anxiety of having Alastor, the powerful, blood thirsty Radio Demon spending so much time in your immediate space. Your hands shook as you turned the small metal handle, causing the wire bar inside the sifter to spin, agitating the powdered sugar and helping it fall in a smooth, clump free shower over a square. 

Alastor used his hand on your forearm to move the sifter over the other pastry when he had decided there was enough dusting on the first. You didn’t know if there was any science to how much sugar each got or if he was simply measuring with his long dead heart. 

Once both were covered enough for his taste, he plucked the sifter from your fingers and set it aside. 

“What now?” You asked, unsure still of what was going on. 

“Now you try one.” Alastor said, plucking a square up. When you went to grab the other, he roughly shoved the rack out of your reach. 

“What? Why did you do that?!” Your brow furrowed as you looked at the rack, now well out of reach before looking back at the man standing too close to you. “How can I try it if you won’t let me grab it?”

“Open.” Alastor commanded as he ripped the corner off the beignet in his hand. 

“Wha-” Your question was cut off by the soft, warm, sweet taste that invaded your mouth somewhat forcefully. 

It was delicious. 

“Well?” Alastor asked as you swallowed the bite. 

You hadn’t noticed Alastor rip off another chunk of beignet but found it pushed between your lips the moment you attempted to praise the taste. This time, instead of retreating, his thumb rested against your lower lip as you took in the bite. 

His nails were long and pointed claws, not the thick claws that encased the fingertips of his gloves, but still dangerous. The sharp point of his thumbnail poked between your lips as he watched you chew for a few moments. 

You were spellbound by the way he looked down at you. What exactly was happening, you had no fucking clue but the air between you and Alastor was thick with something you couldn’t begin to understand. 

His touch left your lip to rip another chunk off the beignet slowly as you watched him. His dark bloodstained hands were covered in the white powdered sugar and flour, softening their appearance.

“It’s good,” You whispered as he slowly brought another bite to your lips. 

This time he offered it, waiting for you to open your mouth and take what he was offering on your own, knowing full well who was offering it. Somehow, it felt like something far more than a midnight snack was being offered to you but what?

“It’s been you,” You said, not asked as Alastor presented another bite that you took willingly as soon as you spoke. 

His thumb again lingered on your lips, sugar damp with oil and sticky on his skin smearing. 

“Yes,” Alastor said after a pause to toss the remaining portion of the beignet on the counter and wiping the hand that had been holding it on a hand towel on the counter, cleaning it of some of the sugar. Yet his other hand didn’t leave you. His thumb remained on your lower lip, feeling every twitch and breath. 

“Why?” You whispered, his thumb slipping against your lip and coming dangerously close to falling into your mouth. 

“You never offered me anything of your stash,” Alastor spoke softly.

“You don’t like sweets,” You hadn’t wanted to waste his time when you had made the decision to dismantle your stash. It had been a emotionally difficult choice, one that you had made before and never stuck to for long until now. “Or junk food.”

“You ignored me.” Alastor’s thumb slipped, running along her lower lip but never leaving it. “I thought if you had better options…”

“I’d share them with you?” Your voice was coming out so soft now, Alastor’s tall ears cocked forward to better pick up your words. 

“But you didn’t.” 

“I didn’t share them with anyone.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to share them with anyone.”

“Why?” 

“I wanted to keep them all to myself. They were too good to share. I-” 

Alastor’s thumb slipped into your mouth, cutting off whatever you had been about to say. Sticky sweetness exploded across your tongue as his thumb caressed it. You could feel the point of his nail against your tongue, a hint of danger coated in sweet sugar. 

Your mind was numb as you caressed the pad of his thumb, rolling the tip of your tongue under his nail softly. You were not sure what he wanted from you. The idea of overstepping Alastor’s unspoken boundaries was terrifying. This was uncharted waters. A side of Alastor you had never seen or even dared to dream of seeing. 

Alastor watched you as you stood near frozen. “Under some circumstances, I enjoy a sweet.” 

~~~~~<3

See part 2 for the smut.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Cold as ice

a/n I honestly hope you all will cry the way I cried writing this because now I genuinely need four to five business days to recover. Because never have I actually needed to take a minute to sob in the middle of writing.

summary: what happens when Ellie stumbles upon a memorial that turns out to have both your and Joel's kids names on it. When the past pain is brought back to the daylight even the coldest of hearts finally break.

warning: pain and suffering first and foremost, tissues ain't included. Blood, wounds, shooting, killing, multiple death, loosing your kids.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ellie had slipped out of the shower. She hated being separated from you and Joel. So the fact that you walked away from her, leaving her with Maria, didn't sit well with her whatsoever. You had hugged her tightly before leaving, promising to be back as soon as possible and that you three would eat dinner together as you always did.

She had gotten extremely close to you. Yet there was something in Joel's eyes when he watched you hug Ellie that told her that there was more than you two let her know. She was aware that you two had been together long before the outbreak; she assumed you were married from the bent ring that was on your finger. But besides that, she knew nothing. Well, that you could handle Joel's shit the best of anyone Ellie had met.

She had seen and heard Joel mumbling in his sleep. Watched you rub his back with a sad expression on your face. And the same went for you, just when your nightmare hit - they hit you hard. Ellie had been woken up by your screams in the middle of the night. Joel's calm voice tries to make you calm down. She had only once turned to look at all of this unfolding; most of the time she just pretended that she was fast asleep. "Don't let them, Joel", you cried, "Don't", "I'm so sorry", Joel would sway you from side to side. His own eyes glossed over with tears. "Should have let me die instead. I should have died," you choked out, clenching the shirt Joel was wearing. His face looked stone cold as you clawed at him, sobbing.

Ellie never brought those nights up. If she teased Joel for speaking in his sleep, she had never said anything about your nightmares out loud. After nights like that, she would shimmy closer to you. Making sure she would be holding onto your hand more often or just hugging you every moment she could. Ellie couldn't help the feeling inside her that told her that you needed her.

Ellie hurried down the stairs, zipping the pink jacket she despised solely because of its outrageously girly color. Maria had left the note that she was just across the street, and as much as Ellie enjoyed being alone. She needed to kill time before you two came back. Plus, being away from you made her rather uneasy. She knocked on the door a couple of times. Yet no one answered. After more failed attempts, Ellie just let herself in. "Maria," she called out, stepping into the hallway. The house looked nice and was well lived in. Ellie had never seen anything like it. Even the smell seemed homely. She stepped into the living room, where the fire was crackling in the fireplace. Her eyes fell onto the three names written down with white chalk, surrounded by candles. Kevin, Sarah, and Malakai. Ellie couldn't help but frown.

"Ah, good, here you are. Try it on," Maria said, making Ellie jump as she turned away from the bored and took the coat from her hands. "Well, it's super fucking purple," "Eggplant, fits well?", Maria questioned, and Ellie nodded her head. "Who's been cutting your hair?", Ellie gave the woman a crooked look. "Am… world-class salons," she sassed back, making Maria let out somewhat of a chuckle. "I'll go get my sizers," Ellie argued immediately, but Maria stood firm, "Just the ends I promised."

The sound itself made Ellie cringe as she held onto the side of the chair for dear life. She hated this. Hated getting her hair cut. "I saw you looking at the memorial Tommy made", Ellie swallowed hard once Maria spoke up once again. She hoped this wouldn't be brought up, but then again, she was snooping. "I'm sorry about your kids," Ellie choked out, thankful that she didn't have to look her in the eye. Maria's movements stopped. "It's okay and kid. Just Kevin. Sarah and Malakai were Joel's and Y/N's kids", and a cold shiver ran down Ellie's back. Kids. You two had kids and lost both of them. "I'm sorry, shouldn't have said anything", "It's okay, it… It explains Joel's behavior and why Y/N…", but her voice died down. Maria didn't need to know about your nightmares.

"Look, I won't ask you what you are doing with them, especially Joel…" "Good," Ellie bit back. "You need to understand my concerns", Maria walked right in front of her, but Ellie only glared her way, "Be concerned about your husband, who did the same shit, if not worse". Maria let out a surprised sigh, "You have one hell of a mouth," and Ellie quickly stood up, shrugging off the towel that was over her shoulders, "And you are one hell of a sister-in-law if all you can do is throw shit at Joel." The adrenaline rushed through Ellie the moment the words slipped past her lips. She didn't regret them, but at the same time, she knew she shouldn't have. It was, however, too late. So she quickly stormed out of the house.

Her breathing picked up as she ran. Quickly slamming the doors behind herself. "Ellie?", your voice rang through the place, and she almost sank to the floor with relief. Like a lost animal, she darted towards the kitchen, meeting you midway as you stepped out into the hallway. Throwing her arms around your torso as she pressed herself closer to you. You couldn't help but frown as your hands ran through her hair. Confused as to what had happened, "Love, you are worrying me. What's going on?" You tried to loosen Ellie's grip on you, but she just clenched your shirt tighter.

Ellie almost felt like she suddenly couldn't face you. She shouldn't have found out like that. So she quickly stepped back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The worry inside you grew even more as you watched her. "Sweet girl, should I go get Joel?", you asked, but Ellie quickly shook her head, only now realizing that this involved him as much as it involved you. "Okay, well, you know you can tell me anything. I can't help if I don't know what happened," you said, softly reaching for Ellie's hand. Just this didn't feel like anything. This felt like the biggest thing ever.

"I'm sorry," Ellie rasped out, "I wasn't… I didn't want to… but they had a memorial," Ellie cried out, and suddenly it all started to make sense. You moved to wrap her up in your arms once again, "No one is blaming you; you were bound to find out eventually." You ran your hands through Ellie's hair once again. With a sigh, you clenched the necklace that hung over your chest. "You want to know the story of me and Joel?", you asked, making Ellie look up at you with mixed emotions. You nodded your head, "Well, let's make tea and sit down somewhere more comfortable." You knew that this was going to be one painful set of memories to unlock. But she deserved it. She was part of the family now.

And what a journey it had been. You met Joel in a supermarket. Where he was frantically looking for baby formula. The baby he was supporting with one hand screamed bloody murder. "Hello," you said cautiously, not wanting to startle him any further. His helpless, tired eyes snapped your way. You could tell that he most definitely hadn't slept in more than a couple of days. If not his eyes telling you that, then his overgrown and unkempt beard did. This male was a mess. "Do you mind if I", you pointed to the bundled-up baby, "You're in distress, and they feel it. Babies are sensitive to emotions", Joel's shoulders sagged; it looked like your words had finally defeated him.

"Just stand here. If you even think about doing something to hurt her…," you looked at him with a knowing smile. Trusting your blood and soul with a stranger was no joke. Especially being a newly baked parent. Plus, fathers were already way more protective. Especially of their girls. You pressed your hand to the heart, "I'll stand right here, just want to help". Joel nodded his head. Dropping down the box of formula he was holding as he moved towards you, lowering the bundle into your hands.

Even with her face all red and screaming her little lungs out, she was so pretty. You gently rocked her in your arms, "It's okay, gorgeous girl. Why are you crying, love bug?", you cooed at her. Fingers carefully ran down her cheek as you wiped away her big tears. "Shhh, sweet girl, you've got your daddy all worried. We don't want that, do we?" The cries slowly died down, and her big, still-damp eyes stared right at you.

Joel felt like someone had sent this as a cruel joke. His wife, the mother of his child, should be doing this, not some stranger in the middle of the supermarket. "Grab the mixture on the second shelf, more to your right", your voice made Joel snap his head in your direction once again. "I assumed you were looking for a formula. So that one should do her good. Won't upset her stomach if she's also breastfed", Joel clenched his jaw at your words. No, Sarah was not. Her mother had vanished. She didn't even know what a mother was or what it would feel like to have one.

You sensed the tension. Slowly stepping closer to the male, one hand resting on his shoulder. "Don't take this as an insult because I'm sure you are an amazing father. But do you want me to pop by and help out while you rest a little?" You had an odd feeling that the mother wasn't in the picture. That he was all alone. And the baby wasn't older than a month or a bit more. If this man was juggling that alone. Well, that must have been hard.

You hummed to yourself as you fixed up a light dinner from whatever you managed to find in Joel's fridge. Considering the empty cardboard boxes all over the place, it's been a hot minute since he had a proper meal himself. Once he drove you back to his, you quickly ushered him upstairs. Telling him to take a bath and catch some sleep. You knew that he would have fought you on it. If only he wasn't running on the last bits of energy. And you weren't snooping, but while you were cleaning up the kitchen, you found an open letter. A letter you assumed was from Joel's wife. She had left them two without anything, not even a proper explanation. You knew it wasn't your place to judge; motherhood was tough. Not all women were built to be mothers. You had written down instructions for Joel. How do fix a bottle. What different formulas do get, and how to switch them up if Sarah got an upset stomach per se. You wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. Even if you two had known each other for less than a day.

Joel stepped down the stairs hours later. Beard trimmed, eyes less puffy. He found you on the sofa reading a book to Sarah. One of her tiny fists was wrapped around your finger as your soft voice filled the room, "Why are you smiling? Am I that funny?", you cooed at her, making Sarah let out a happy grumble, "Ah, we even lost the pacifier with all the smiling, huh," you pinched her cheek carefully.

Joel was lost for words, to say the least. This was how he saw his family. This was what he hoped he would come down to with his wife. A sob that had held up for weeks, now finally escaped his lips, making you turn his way in an instant. You carefully set Sarah down before approaching him. Opening up your arms in case he needed a hug but keeping a distance in case this was overstepping his boundaries. Yet Joel did fall into your arms. He mumbled out all of his worries and questions that had been bothering him. He had no clue what he was doing. How nothing made sense to him now.

That night, and the many that followed, completely transformed you two. You had practically moved into the Millers' house. You lived not that far away, but the apartment was small, and since the job, you had only managed to cover the rent costs; you were barely getting by as it was. Joel needed someone to look after Sarah while he worked, so having you in the house solved that issue for him. But with each passing week and more, you three fell into somewhat of a routine, and you couldn't help but notice how right this all felt. You always wanted to be a young mom anyway. Sure, the baby wasn't yours, but that meant nothing to you. You cherished Sarah as if she was your blood and flesh. Joel loved that Sarah would grow up having you in her life. A true mother figure and did not doubt that as soon as his daughter learned how to talk, she would without a doubt refer to you as a mother.

Now, almost 12 years later, you still found yourself smiling every time you thought back at the time you and Joel came together, clawing through the struggles as one. "Morning", Sarah ran down the stairs, quickly coming to kiss your cheek as she moved to grab plates for everyone. "Morning, darling, is your father awake?", "Banged on the door loudly, but he's getting old wouldn't be surprised if he didn't hear", you let out a chuckle at her words. She often teased Joel about getting old. Especially now that his first gray hair had sprouted.

"Is Momo up?", Sarah asked, missing the sight of her brother in the kitchen. You turned to the living room, "Tommy is watching cartoons with him." Malakai was a surprise baby, to say the least. You and Joel weren't trying to get pregnant, but at the same time, you weren't always all that safe when it came to sex. When you feel pregnant, you generally couldn't help but have the fear of Joel walking out on you. Yes, you two had gotten engaged not that long ago, but the conversation of having kids together was never a thing.

Yet Joel didn't do anything but cry once you told him. He wrapped you up in his arms as you two swayed in the kitchen at two in the morning, where you had waited for him to return from his shift. "Tell me again; I still can't believe it," he muttered into your ear for what felt like a thousand times, "I am pregnant with your baby." Joel shook his head still, "Baby Miller..", he let out a breathy laugh. Hands coming to hold his head. With you? A baby with you? The most amazing woman on this earth. He surely didn't deserve it, but he was more than grateful for it.

"I know we might get tight on money. I do want to work till I get too big..", you blurred out, letting your biggest worries out. Joel quickly cupped your face, "Don't you worry your cute head about that. I will take more shifts, and we will be fine", yet you still frowned at him. You didn't want him to work any more than he already did. It felt wrong to let him carry the income burden on his own. "I can still work", "I will only agree to that if you are feeling one thousand percent sure that you can do that. I would much more prefer you stayed at home." You did figure it all out, as you always did. Sarah was over the moon to get a sibling, and now more than ever, this felt like a family.

Joel hurried down the stairs just as Sarah came back with Malakai in her arms. Your husband quickly leaned in to kiss you as he grabbed a cup of coffee. "Birth-a", Malakai clapped. Sarah leaned in to whisper something into his ear once again. "Daddy Old," he said happily, making you let out a laugh, especially when that proud smirk painted Sarah's face. Joel shook his head, "I'll send Cooky Monster after you two. Come here and hug me, you crazy bunch." Watching your kids wrapped up in Joel's strong arms always made you feel some type of way. He was the best father a child could ask for.

"No pancakes?", Sarah grumbled as she looked at the scrambled eggs in front of her, "Frown at your father, he forgot to buy it". It was a tradition to have pancakes on birthday mornings. One that all four of you took very seriously. But with the job load only getting bigger, you couldn't blame Joel for forgetting to get it. "Will we at least get the cake?", "I'll buy one on my way home, I promise," Joel said, scuffing down the egg. Sleeping in meant more rushing, especially when he still needed to drop Sarah off at school.

"Good cause it would be a shit birthday if we didn't at least get that", she said in frustration, "Language young lady", you nudged her shoulder. "Your shirt is insane out, handsome", you pointed your fork Joel's way as he dropped the empty plate in the sink. "No, it is not," he argued, looking down, "Dad, you are seriously getting old," Joel grumbled while taking off his shirt. You moved to feed Malikai, trying to hide your smile.

"You and I, tonight after the kids are asleep. I have special plans with you", Joel cupped your face, leaning in to kiss you a couple of times. "Gross!", Sarah shouted from the hallway, making you two laugh. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Miller", you packed his lips one more time. God, was letting go of this man hard. "I know what I am still capable of," Joel teased back, making you raise your eyebrows, " I'll be the judge of that tonight, sir."

You three had already eaten dinner. Malakai had been sleeping on your chest for quite some time. Sarah dozed off slightly as you waited for Joel to come home. He was late. That, of course, upset Sarah. You wished it was different. That she would see more of him. You hoped that now that you had landed a pretty good job deal, you could balance it out. That Joel could be home more often, and the kids wouldn't have to miss him that much.

The sound of the keys jingling made you stir as you noticed Joel walking into the living room. He was tired, as always. Sarah stirred from beside you. "You're so late," she mumbled, leaning more into you as you ran a hand through her hair. "I know, baby girl; I'm so sorry." Joel kneeled in front of her, carefully tickling her side in hopes to make the grumpy go away. "Did you at least get the cake?", Joel cursed under his breath. All the way home, he knew he had forgotten something, but it only hit him now. "Are you for real, dad?", "I promise I'll get the biggest cake I can get for you all tomorrow."

Sarah looked up at him, letting out a sigh as she reached to wrap her hands around her father's neck. Joel pressed her close to his chest, holding her just a tad harder than most evenings. "I got you something but it's upstairs", she said rubbing her sleepy eyes. Once she had disappeared from the room, you turned to Joel. "I'm so sorry for messing it up," he muttered, sitting down next to you. "Jokes on you, you messed your birthday up." You leaned closer to him. Malakai grumbled in his sleep, his eyes opening for a moment. The sight of his father finally being home made him reach for Joel. He instantly scooped the boy up, pressing a loving kiss to the top of his curly hair as he rocked him a couple of times. Malakai eased into sleep immediately. And you weren't too surprised about it—the warmth Joel carried was enough to make anyone fall asleep within seconds.

"Open up," Sarah said as she handed Joel a box. He shook it a couple of times, trying to inspect it without seeing it. "I know it was laying in your drawer for some time now", "Where did you get the money for it?", Joel looked at the old watch that he had to give up on years ago. "Drugs," Sarah said casually, making you let out a laugh that Joel joined soon after. "I think you got mugged, though it's not ticking." Joel pushed the watch to his ear, and Sarah's face paled as she moved to grab it out of her father's hands. The sound of ticking filled her ears, making her roll her eyes and say, "Not funny, dad."

You moved to wrap your arms around her, dragging her onto the bed with you. She would be sandwiched between you and Joel. "How about a movie, and then I'll tuck my two gremlins into bed", Sarah playfully hit Joel's chest, "Mom, will fall asleep within minutes", she turned to watch you already almost dozing off. "I won't say I won't, but I'm giving you ten minutes, and you will be out as well", you hugged her closer, eyes falling onto Joel who looked down on you two fondly.

"If I knew what was going to happen that night… I would", your voice died down, "I don't even know what I would have changed, but I wish I could go back, you know? To try to do something differently", Ellie looked at you. If you had let yourself smile a little at the thought of the happy memories she knew that now was the time when the real shit was going to go down. Ellie inched closer to you. Leaving her cup on the table as she took a hold of your hand once again.

"I have four civilians by the river," the male said sharply into the radio. "Joel," you whispered, pressing Momo closer to your chest as your breathing picked up. Joel wished he could reach for you and hold you close as well, but he knew that now that was impossible. "We'll be okay, love. All of us will be okay," Joel whispered, his eyes not leaving the soldier in front of him. "Uncle Tommy," Sarah whispered, looking between you and Joel. "We'll get you two and mommy somewhere safe, and I'll go back to look for him," Joel said as calmly as he could, pressing Sarah even closer to him.

The soldier lifted the gun, making you shake your head. "We're not sick", Joel managed to say before the shots rang out. Everything that happened after that was a blur and a slow-motion movie at the same time. The fall off the curb. The cries from Malakai rang out even louder than the bullets. You fell right beside Joel, your hands clinging to the boy and pressing him closer to you. The light from the gun made you close your eyes once again. "I'm sorry", you heard the soldier rasp out, "No, please", Joel exhaled, moving as quickly as he could to shield your body with his own as yet another shot fired. Joel's hand pressed down onto you tightly, not even letting go when the sound around him died down.

"Oh god", Tommy's voice made Joel lift his head, turning his attention to where his younger brother was looking. And there was Sarah. Her breaths were shallow as she pressed down on her side, which was bleeding heavily. Joel felt as if his world stopped for a moment as he crowed towards her. "No… no," Joel breathed out, "You're okay, baby girl, you're okay." His eyes fell on the wound that was pouring out bright red blood. "Sarah", you called out, inching towards her, gasp leaving your mouth as you saw just how bad it was. Joel tried to move her up, but Sarah only screamed out in pain, "I know, baby, I know. I need to help you up."

Joel's eyes were on you as you sobbed by Sarah's side. Hands were now just as soaked as his with sticky blood. Joel looked at Tommy, who was holding Malakai, then back to Sarah, who was gulping down air. He couldn't let his baby die. Not here. Not now. Not his little girl. Not his butterfly. Joel pressed his palms to the shot wound harder, making Sarah roar in agony, "I know it hurts, but you will be okay". You brushed your hand over the side of her face, not trusting your words anymore.

"Tommy, help me!", Joel shouted, but once he turned his attention back to his brother, his breathing stopped. Your eyes followed Joel's gaze. Eyes grew wide at the sight of Tommy standing there with a gun pointed at his head. Malakai being dragged away by another soldier. You quickly rose to your feet. "Give me my boy!", you shouted. No longer sounding like yourself. More like a wild animal out for blood.

"That's a child. Are you going to kill a child?", you stepped closer, but only got met with the back of the gun hitting your back, making you fall back to the ground. "Please, please, I'll do anything," you croaked out, pulling yourself up as you watched the soldier stop in its tracks. The boy in his arms reached out to you as he cried. The soldier let go of Malakai, and for a split second, a rush of hope flowed through you. He was going to come back to you. Your baby boy was going to be okay.

You reached your hands towards him as he took wobbly steps towards you. "Come here, baby, come here, Momo," you called out, barely being able to see through the tears streaming down your cheeks. "Mama," he cried out, making you nod your head. And then the shot rang out. The sound that you knew was going to hunt you for the rest of your life. You saw the bullet pierce Malakai's head as his body sagged to the floor.

The scream that fell from you was far from human. The pain that pierced you was as outrageous. You quickly moved forward, ready to kill the man who had just killed both of your kids cold-heartedly. You didn't make it far as two hands quickly pulled you over to the side. Turning you away from the lifeless body of the toddler.

Joel knew he had to get to you before you joined the kids on the ground. He held onto you for dear life as you trashed in his hands, "I will fucking kill you, do you hear me? I will rip you to pieces, you fuck," you screamed, trying to get loose and out of Joel's embrace. "Let go of me, let me kill him," you spat, nails digging into Joel's arms as you tried to push them away. "I've got you; you need to breathe." His words made you stop. You looked him in the eyes for the first time that night. Another sob escaped your lips as you sank to the floor, hands ripping at the skin of your chest, "Kill me, let me die, I don't want to live", your words were broken in between harsh intakes of breath. Joel shook his head once again, wrapping his arms around you, "I need you, please, I need you".

The sound of the door closing made you jump. You had no clue when you finished telling the story. You don't remember zoning out. Ellie was still holding your hands, her own eyes puffy from crying. Joel stopped in his tracks. The sight of him was not something he imagined coming home to. Your face was pale. Streaks of tears are still visible on your cheeks. Ellie didn't look any better. "What happened?", Joel quickly closed the distance between you. "Did someone hurt you? Are you hurt?", he took a hold of your trembling hand before turning to Ellie. "I…", she started, but the world failed her. The panic inside Joel only grew.

"Ellie found out about Sarah and Momo," you whispered, closing your eyes in hopes to stop the tears from falling once again. To the sound of the names, Joel's jaw clenched as he sat down on the table that was behind him. "I'm so sorry. I just saw the memorial." Joel only shook his head. "I swear I didn't", "Ellie," Joel said firmly, making her stop.

He knew this day would come. He might be half deaf, but he wasn't blind. Joel knew that Ellie was up most nights when you would scream. And was quite surprised that she hadn't yet brought this up in any way. But then again, she wasn't a stupid girl; she knew her boundaries. You rose to your feet, and Joel was quick to steady you, yet you brushed his touch away. "I need some fresh air", "I'll come with you", Joel insisted, but you shook your head, "I want to be alone for a moment". He was going to fight that choice, but by now he had grown to understand that in moments like this, letting yourself feel it out alone, at least at the beginning, was the best option.

Ellie couldn't bring herself to look at Joel as she fidgeted with her fingers, "I didn't mean to…", "I thought I was going to lose her after it all", Joel's words took Ellie by surprise. She quickly turned her gaze toward him. Joel was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. "She did everything she could to die. I didn't sleep; I couldn't. Was too afraid that I would miss something, won't be able to stop her", he exhaled sharply, hands coming over his face for a second.

"You had the biggest impact on Y/N. I saw her smiling for the first time in twenty years when you came by", Joel shook his head. Ellie couldn't utter a single word as he continued to stare at him. "I never meant to hurt you," "You never did. I feel the safest with you. I love you both as my parents. You have been the closest thing to a family that I've ever had," Ellie blurted out quickly. Joel turned to her, his eyes glistening with tears. "I won't let anyone hurt you," Joel whispered, clenching his jaw. Ellie fell into his arms, wrapping herself around his torso. "I know because you've never let anyone down, and you're not about to start doing that now."

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n) comforting her husband Gojo after he was forced to kill his best friend

Pairing: husband!Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: The man who seems goofy all day, who never takes anything serious breaks down in his wife's arms after he killed his best friend.

Warning: hurt/comfort, death of Suguru, just a lil oneshot from that anon request I received yesterday, like/comment/reblog if you enjoy <3

„Satoru“, you whisper softly into the night, his frame standing in the door of your shared apartment.

You weren’t able to get there on time, to be there for him when he needed you the most. While you were out there fighting curses, Satoru was forced to kill his best friend. Why? Why does he have to endure this never-ending pain, the torture of being the strongest? Wasn’t it enough that he lost his best friend? Why on earth did all of this happen? You can't even imagine how horrible he must feel.

“Oh, hey babe! Hope you’re doing fine!”, he greets you with a wide smile, his blindfold hiding the pain in his bright blue orbs from the world.

You can feel your heart shatter inside your chest. He is never able to be sad, never able to show how he truly feels. Not even when he’s alone with you, his wife, he lets go of his façade. And while you were always able to accept the stinging fact that he’ll never let you see everything, this doesn’t seem to be enough tonight.

“How are you feeling?”

He simply shrugs his shoulders while letting himself drop onto the couch next to you casually.

“Definitely better than the rest. Damn, have you seen how beat up the kids were? Oh, do you remember that one curse who-“

“Satoru”, you interrupt him softly.

Gently, you caress his cheek the way he always loves, watching as the wide grin on his face disappears with every skilled stroke of your hand.

“You know that this wasn’t what I meant.”

He lets out his breath, body suddenly so firm against your touch that he seems to tense every muscle in his body.

“So there’s really no way out of this conversation, huh?”, he mumbles.

The man right in front of you isn’t the Gojo Satoru everyone loves and curses at the same time. No, at the moment he isn’t the strongest, the teacher, the savior.

At the moment he’s just Satoru.

“Come on, take that mask off.”

Gradually, your fingers open the knot of his blindfold. You wait a second, give him the chance to protest against your actions. But when he stays silent, you slide his blindfold off his gorgeous face, revealing the heaviest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I’m tired, (y/n). I’m so damn tired”, he finally gives in with low voice.

You have to swallow hard, concentrate all your composure on not breaking down and cry. His eyes don’t shine as bright as they usual do, the dark circles showing more than urgently that Satoru is far beyond being exhausted.

“I still don’t get why he did all that shit, why he had to die today”, he continues, resting his head against the couch while plainly staring at the ceiling.

“And that I’m the one who finished him. He’s my best friend, (y/n). The one and only…”

“None of this is your fault-“

“Is it really, though? I should have been more attentive back then, should have been there for him, I-“

“This is not your fault”, you insist.

No, you simply can't allow him to talk about himself like this, to load even more responsibitly on his very own shoulders.

“Who says he wouldn’t have chosen this path even with you by his side? Who says you would have been able to stop him? Suguru was surrounded by friends and horror, had multiple chances to change his mind. He knew that this would happen someday, he was ready to die for this. None of this will ever be your fault, Satoru.”

“And what about all the others? Yuta, Maki, Toge and Panda almost getting killed, Haibara, the countless sorcerers who lost their lives. All these non-jujutsu sorcerers who died because of me. How long will it go on like this? And what if I’ll snap just like Suguru did? I…I can’t do this anymore.”

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes on the brink of overflowing with tears. Never in your life have you seen your husband this vulnerable, brought down by life itself. And the worst is that you can’t help him. No, there are no word that could take away his pain. There are no words to comfort him over his best friends’ death, over the countless other people who died because he’s alive.

“There is nothing I can say to cheer you up”, you finally admit.

Gently, you sit on your knees and bend over him, hands cupping his cheeks.

“But even though you don’t deserve this, even though you feel like you’re worthless I want you to remember that you are loved. Haibara loved you, Suguru loved you until the very end and I do. I will love through no matter what, I’ll stay right here by your side through it all. You don’t have to hide your tears from me, you don’t have to pretend that you’re fine when you’re far away from being fine.”

“I’m not, (y/n). I’m so far away from fine that I feel like I’ll never be happy again”, he mutters with trembling lips.

Just before a tear falls down his cheek you catch it with your finger.

“And it is more than natural to feel this way”, you reply softly.

“Do you think…Do you think he was my friend until the end?”

“Oh, he definitely was. Even though you didn’t have the same opinion, Suguru will always be your friend.”

He gifts you a small smile when another wave of tears haunts him.

“Can you hold me please?”

Your husband doesn’t have to ask twice. You let yourself fall against his chest, caress the back of his head while he swallows you with his arms, presses you firmly against his body while crying his heart out.

“I love you, (y/n). God, I love you so much”, he mutters against your neck, covers you with tiny kisses until you don’t know how to breathe anymore.

“I love you too, babe. Let’s just stay here for a while.”

“Yeah. Staying here sounds good…”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[icysnails]

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking that because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of their extremely harsh training sessions the reader decides to run away especially after one particularly rough training session where the reader was injured after they accidentally talked back and that night the reader starts packing their stuff but they accidentally left behind their late mother's pendant and Blade found it the next morning. (I hope you're okay with writing this and I wish you a good morning, afternoon or good night ☺️)

Family.

A/n: Hello Anon!! Thank you for your request!! I am so sorry this took so long- school + extracurriculars started so I had way less time to work on writing outside of school (TvT) But this was so much fun to write! I got a little bit carried away and it ended up being a found family type thing with all of the Stellaron Hunters– I tried to focus on Blade being a father figure as much as possible though! I hope you have a fantastic day, and I hope you enjoy!! ૮꒰ ˶• v •˶꒱ა ♡

Warnings: all relationships are platonic, found family trope, betrayal, suicidal ideation (Blade), mentions of death, reader's parents are dead, flashbacks, reader runs away, mention of bullets + broken glass, overthinking, Blade being insecure, reader uses a sword, reader gets injured a couple of times (If i forgot anything, please let me know!!)

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: father figure!Blade x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), mother figure!Kafka x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), sister figure!Silver Wolf x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC)

Word count: 7.3k

Blade is a cruel man. 

There is no love in the red pools of his irises, no signs of any humanity. Dark circles adorn the skin just below his merciless stare, eyebrows slightly furrowed in an eternal state of aggravation. It was no wonder enemies cowered at the mere mention of him. He holds nothing back, and if an enemy was unfortunate enough to meet the steely edge of his sword, they were sure to be broken and lifeless by the end of the encounter. Unfortunately, he isn’t much different off of the battlefield either. 

Blade is bitter and selfish and cold, to the extreme that even Kafka and Silverwolf are convinced that he has forgotten how to feel.

The thorns of the mara in his veins torment him constantly, the pain never faltering, even after decades. The other Stellaron Hunters had begun to wonder if those thorny, agonizing vines had punctured through his heart as well. It would be understandable, to an extent. After all, he is a man who has experienced endless with suffering and loss, his mind poisoned with grief and the sole desire to die. No more pain, no more fighting, just darkness- the mere thought was enough to drag a bitter smile out of him.

He was used to the dark, used to feeling like an empty vessel. 

But why, if he was so familiar with agony, would he impose that same feeling on you as well? 

You had always been alone. You were only a toddler when your parents were taken from you, the only proof of their existence being a necklace your mother left with you before she died. You had spent your youngest years void of any parental guidance, hopelessly wandering between foster homes and planets, hoping someone would take you in. You gave that up by age ten, running away from your home planet to travel the galaxy. From that point on, most of your time was spent sneaking onto Starskiffs, hiding in empty cargo compartments on any moving vehicle you could find, and even stealing authorization keys to search occupied space stations, all in search of someone whom you could call family. 

But what exactly did the word family mean?

You always thought it was a strange word. It had such a subjective meaning, yet it was talked about so often. You didn’t understand what it meant, and no textbook definition could help you. All your efforts to find its meaning were in vain. And yet, your curiosity haunted you. 

With every new destination, the word family buzzed among the crowds constantly. No matter where you had landed yourself, all you could do was spectate. You watched as children laughed and clung to the legs of their guardians, as relatives sobbed in unified grief over flower dressed gravestones, and as teenagers linked arms with each other, growing away from the protective grasps of their parents. 

Every planet you traveled to, every dragging, lonely step you took, that sickening, seemingly joyous word that made you feel so isolated was there.

Six months after you had ran away, you went out alone to buy food. It was late at night, and you were preparing to head off to another planet the next day. Luckily, you bumped into a nice shopkeeper earlier who gave you some extra credits because she thought your coat was cool (in reality, she was just worried about you wandering off all alone, but didn't want to pry about your parents' whereabouts). So, you headed out amongst the crowds as you always did, pouch of credits in hand and determination plastered on your face.

But a woman stopped you on the way there and asked why such a young child was wandering around alone at night. She had a little girl with her, who looked no older than you. 

She asked you if you had any family she could call to come and get you, with the assumption that you were lost. You couldn't say anything. Instead, you just stared, your wide-eyed gaze pinned on the child that almost mirrored you. Almost. Perhaps if the world were kinder, your eyes could have donned the same innocent, joyful light. One of her hands was encased by her mother’s, while her other hand kindly reached out towards you. A cheerful “hello!” rang through the air as she tried to shake your hand. 

You stepped away from her. It was hard to breathe. You had seen all this before. Yet why was it so painful this time? 

Internally, you demanded the Aeons to tell you why the truth of your situation had to be rubbed in your face so blatantly. You were alone. You wondered if it might be good to explain that to them, to create some kind of connection with these people, but no words would leave your throat. Your heart felt like it was splintered in two.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring, but you were sure the devastation tearing you up inside was evident on your face. The woman called out to you one more time, her worry falling on deaf ears as you backed away slowly. You took one more look at the girl before turning on your heel and running as fast as you could, sobs wracking your chest so deeply it hurt. 

You hadn’t returned to that planet since then.

You wanted the life that little girl had. You wanted to have a guardian.

But as the years went on, nothing changed. Your travels continued, and you came to terms with the fact that you might never know what family felt like. You made acquaintances as you traveled, friends, even. They never stuck around for long, though. The darkness always swallowed them up one way or another. And with every loss, the painful void in your chest numbed and steeled over a little more.

You thought that your life would always be this way. In truth, you had forgotten that there was any other way to live.

However, that was before a certain group of Stellaron Hunters swept you away from your life of solitude, and recruited you into their dangerous yet thrilling world. 

A year later, you found yourself on a sand covered planet. You were on a train, heading to one of the planets' larger cities from a smaller town. There wasn’t any way you walk- it was too hot and the distance was too far. Otherwise, you would have spent your savings on something other than train tickets.

The trip was uneventful and for most of it you just stared blankly out the window, exhaustion and boredom settling in your bones. You were tired from running errands for the previous town's residents- it was onerous but it happened to pay well. Though you were happy to have a break, your mind wasn’t used to the quiet. The barren landscape outside did nothing to help. It was a dry, flat expanse that was dotted only with dead weeds and the scraps of broken automatons. In short, nothing of interest.

Aside from that, all was going well. You had enough credits to last you at least six more train rides and get food and extra supplies, and you had several acquaintances with whom you could stay in the next city. You made a point not to talk about your budgeting skills, as it would usually spur a torrent of questions from whoever you were talking to. You couldn’t blame them though, children your age typically didn’t devote themselves to a life of aimless travel. 

The train stopped right on time, and you stepped onto the platform that was crowded with people. As usual, you were met with the sight of teary-eyed relatives hugging each other, children running around and playing, and couples greeting each other. You kept your head down, feeling more inconvenienced than sad. In their excitement, the crowds always seemed to block your path to the other platforms. Besides, they say time heals all wounds, so why would you care, anyway? You awkwardly shoved your way toward a nearby stairwell, grunting as several people bumped into you. Just as your fingers made contact with the stair’s banister, ear shattering sirens echoed throughout the station.

Emergency lights flashed on and off in a blinding rhythm, the red glow engraining itself into your mind. Suddenly, pixelated bullets flew towards the ceiling, shattering several of the glass panels. Screams rang out in response, and the previously happy crowd flew into a panic, ducking to avoid the broken glass. However, the glass shards evaporated into more pixels before they could hit the crowd, preventing any damage from being done.

Amidst the swarms of people trying to escape, you cautiously walked closer to the source of the commotion. You really shouldn’t have, but the nagging curiosity in the back of your mind compelled you to do so. And even if it seemed dangerous, there was something off about this incident. After all, if the initiators were out for blood, wouldn’t they have attacked the crowd directly? If whoever caused this wasn't intending to cause harm, they must be looking for something.

As you got closer, you saw three figures: A magenta haired woman with lightless eyes, a pistol in one hand, and a glowing thread of purple silk in the other. She was leaning back against one of the platform’s pillars, watching the whole scene with fake amusement. The second person you saw was a smaller girl decked out in a myriad of purples and blues, her drill style ponytail swaying as she typed up coordinates on a hologram screen. And lastly, you saw a red eyed man with a glare so sharp it made your heart sink. You certainly did not want to be subject to whatever rage he had stored away. From the looks of it, he could kill you in a split second.

For some reason, all three of them seemed familiar. You couldn't quite place it, but you quickly realized, you knew who they were. Their faces were plastered on all of the IPC’s wanted posters, which were scattered on literally every planet you had been to so far. You couldn’t remember their names exactly, but you knew that, together, they were known as the Stellaron Hunters- the universe’s most wanted criminals. You should have recognized them from the pixelated bullets earlier- how could you have been so naive?

You could have tried to run, but it would be futile. You were already out in the open, and they had already seen you.

Your eyes widened in sheer panic as the man dressed in black set his gaze on your shaking form. There was no way you’d survive this encounter. Absolutely zero chance. He stepped toward you but was interrupted by the sound of a clanging of a spear. The station’s security officers surrounded the Stellaron Hunters, demanding that they freeze and turn themselves in immediately.

You covered your ears and ducked as a fight broke out, the Stellaron Hunters throwing themselves into battle. Your eyelids were screwed shut in fear until the sounds of fighting had ceased. When you opened your eyes, you looked up to see that all of the guards had been knocked out, and that the taller woman standing above you, watching you in a way that was eerie, yet... comforting somehow. Even so, your better judgment caused you to back away, frantically scrambling on the hot cement of the platform. The red eyed man yanked you to your feet before you could stand up, and a panicked noise left your throat as he dragged you toward his two companions. you caught a glimpse of his sword that was poised in his other hand, taking note that he was ready to strike if necessary.

“It’s a kid.” He grumbled, still glaring at you. 

The tall woman chuckled and took a step forward, observing the way you struggled to get out of her companion’s grasp. You were getting more anxious by the second, she could tell. No matter how strong and collected you acted, you were still just a kid, and you had the minimal strength of one.

“Let them go, Blade. I don’t think they mean any harm.”

Small, scared breaths left your throat as you were released, your shaking legs failing to hold you up. You fell to the ground, staring in shock at all that had occurred. What would have happened if they didn’t let you go? How much danger were you really in, and how the hell were you still alive?

Then, the monotone voice of the grey haired girl met your ears. 

“What a waste. Looks like those signals were nothing but a glitch.” She sighed. “There's nothing for us here.”

The scary man who grabbed you- Blade, as the woman called him- looked down at you crumpled form, eyes softening just the tiniest bit. Your fearful gaze met his, and you didn’t dare move. The two other hunters made conversation about their next moves in the background, while Blade narrowed his eyes coldly.

“Why aren’t you running?”

…What?

“Go. Lingering here will only bring you suffering”

Your fearful gaze then turned to one of confusion. It was unclear if his words were meant to be a warning or advice. Either way, it gave you the strength to pull yourself off the ground and attempt to respond, but all that came out of you was a strangled groan. Your body hurt, and everything had happened so fast that your mind was still trying to catch up. It wasn’t that you were trying to make an impression by staying, you just couldn’t bring yourself to run because of the adrenaline coursing through you. You hunched over and placed your hands on your knees to get your bearings. After a few minutes, you finally responded.

“Y- yeah, I… uh…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “...I have another train to catch...?” 

It came out like a question, which was unintended. It was the truth, but you were so nervous that you would say something wrong and provoke him. Your life may have been spared for the moment, but they could still change their minds, and you didn't want to re-dig your own grave.

The man beside you let out a small sigh before turning his gaze back to his two companions.

“Fine.” He muttered.

A few moments passed with you and Blade sitting in comfortable silence. or, it was comfortable him, at least. He was still and silent, ignoring you entirely. You just kept fidgeting the whole time, unsure if you should stay or run for the hills. It was borderline suffocating. thankfully, the tall woman came over again, ending your misery.

“Well, we’re off.” She said to Blade, prompting him to walk towards the edge of the platform where the smaller girl stood. Before walking off, she turned to you one last time. 

“Take it easy, kid.”

Something in your heart screamed at you to speak up. A strange urge began eating away at you, telling you that if you didn’t do something right now you’d regret it for the rest of your life. But do what? What could you do without potentially dying? It was stupid. And dangerous.

But that old feeling of longing, that desire to be a part of something wouldn’t leave you alone. Your desperation to attain a family of your own had been reawakened. Your undying hope, which laid dormant for years, was now ruling your judgment.

Just as they turned to leave, you stumbled forward and cried out.

“Wait!”

All three heads turned towards you. 

A purple set of eyes knowingly scanned you as you trembled, a smirk growing on the woman’s face. 

You anxiously gripped at your clothing, trying to summon up the courage to put on some kind of brave face for them. Before you think, pleas for them to take you with them were spilling from your throat. You told them that you wanted to see the universe and that if they gave you that opportunity, you’d do whatever you could to assist them. It was a partial lie- exploring the universe did sound fun, but it wasn't what you were truly after. Your true motivations were far too personal to tell them just yet. It felt like a wound had unexpectedly reopened ever since they arrived, and you were sure you’d crumble if you forced yourself to explain.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. You had the strangest feeling that they already knew your story to some extent. Even without the influence of your longing, you couldn’t deny that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. It wasn’t every day that you came across three highly skilled fighters who could quickly travel anywhere they wanted. You could save years worth of credits and injuries if you went with them.

Once you had finished your frantic explanation, you took a breath to calm your pounding heart. The silence you were met with was deafening, which you took to be a bad sign. A deep chuckle reverberated through the elegant woman’s chest as she took a decisive step closer to you. She hummed in amusement, holding her hand out for you to take.  

“You may not be crucial to our mission,” she leaned down to your height, voice almost a whisper, “but if that’s what you want, then who are we to disagree?”

You took her hand, heartbeat slowing to a calm pace as you did so.

The days you spent with the Stellaron hunters were some of the most peaceful days you had ever experienced. 

You weren’t constantly slinking around trying to find information and resources for your travels, and it was the first time you had slept in a room that had officially been dubbed as your own. You weren't hopping between inns and the homes of your few friends. Even expenses weren't an issue anymore. It felt strange to have time on your hands. Guilt inducing, even.

You didn’t get too caught up in that though, since the confusion and questions plaguing your mind happened to be stronger than your melancholy. It was beyond your understanding how three of the most dangerous criminals in the entire universe could be so kind and willing to take you in. Perhaps it was because you had seen too much. You were a witness to Blade knocking out over ten armed guards. However, they were so powerful that they seemed to be able to get away with anything. Either way, you were a part of their goup, and that's what mattered.

As time went on, you grew closer to the Stellaron Hunters. Especially Kafka, who you learned was much less intimidating in regular life, and Silver Wolf, who was still as deadpan as before, but seemed subtly happier with you around. You also were officially introduced to Blade, and were promised that he wasn't always so brooding. That was hard to believe, though.

Silver Wolf was like a sister to you. She dragged you with her everywhere. She said it was a part of your duties to accompany her on errands, but in reality, she just enjoyed having you with her. Whenever a battle presented itself, she would have you on the sidelines cheering for her as she obliterated enemies in the blink of an eye. It was clear that your support went straight to her ego, but she also secretly wanted to impress you so that you'd view her as some sort of mentor. Silver Wolf wanted to be a reliable guide and friend to you, especially after you had been alone for so long. Thankfully, you didn’t mind spending time with her. In fact, chatting and playing video games with her became one of your favorite ways to kill time. The latter was clearly her passion– after all, her combat techniques were solely revolved around her exceptional hacking skills. 

Silver Wolf taught you how to play all her favorite games, staying calm and patient with you when you kept losing. Often, she would discreetly take you out to arcades during your free time, and every time it would be humbling due to your lack of gaming experience. However, losing meant that you had more time to watch her win, which was never boring. In any other situation, you might have been jealous, but it was just so mesmerizing to watch her play. Besides, she gave you all her prizes, so you weren’t going to complain. But what you found to be even more amusing was watching her lose it over the few games she hadn’t mastered yet. Her face would contort into one of sheer disbelief and anger as she held onto the machine tightly, aggressively mashing buttons and mumbling insults. You would always laugh and try to cheer her up in response. It always gave her a huge ego boost, and convinced her to try again, despite still being angry. You never expected to gain such a dear friend when you joined the Steallaron Hunters, and you wouldn’t trade any part of your friendship for the world.

Kafka was another story, though.

At first, Kafka terrified you. She held so much power over the other hunters- well, really over everything, that you were sure she’d destroy you if you stepped out of line. Her empty eyes and ruthless reputation didn’t help either. 

Ever since your arrival, Kafka kept a close eye on you. She made sure that you were alright as you settled in, and that you weren’t feeling unsafe or lonely in your new environment. She offered you comfort and advice and cared for you like the mothers you had witnessed on your past journeys. 

One night, a month after you had arrived, you hurt your leg on a walk and Kafka was right there to patch you up. She shushed you gently as you tried to protest that you were fine, and dragged you to the nearest chair so you could sit. She took a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet, and began tending to your wound. You winced as rubbing alcohol combined itself with your blood, and you quietly explained that you had been doing this your whole life- that it wasn’t her job to take care of you. Kafka paused and looked at you, eyes showing a rare glint of sadness. She whispered to you that those days were over. You weren’t alone anymore, and you should ask the three of them for help whenever you needed it. You weren’t a burden to them. 

Kafka wasn’t sure what the cause of it was, but something in her chest began to ache when she saw you injured. She had never felt fear before. She deemed it impossible before you came along. She had always been known as a ruthless, unshakeable force of danger, who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. But now, she had to keep you safe. Part of her wanted to berate herself for getting so protective over someone, for willingly weakening herself by caring about you. But you needed safety and a group of loving people to return to. You were just a kid, after all, and even after the short time you had been traveling with them, she had begun to feel like your guardian.

Tears filled your eyes, her words weighing down on your lungs. You couldn’t truly believe her. Not after all you had been through. But even so, Kafka was right in front of you, smiling softly, waiting and willing to take care of you. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was a foreign feeling, one that scared you more than anything else. But you were safe. You were at home. 

So you let yourself cry. Your heart split open, all the bottled up agony from your past finally bursting out. You curled into yourself, the gash on your leg long forgotten. Kafka kneeled before you and gently wrapped her arms around your shaking form. One of her hands carded through your hair, while the other rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle whispers fell from her lips, promising you that she was with you. You were safe.

You weren’t sure how long had passed when you calmed down. Maybe it had been hours. Whatever the truth was, Kafka remained by your side, not pulling back until she was sure you were okay. After you had stopped crying, she leaned back, meeting your sad, exhausted stare. She looked down at your bleeding wound, grabbed a roll of bandages, and cautiously wrapped it around your leg. When she was finished, she smiled and stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You matched her smile, assuring her that you were fine.

However, after a moment, Kafka’s comforting smile was replaced with a teasing smirk. Confusion sparked in your eyes and your eyebrows furrowed as if to silently ask what the problem was. She just chuckled and took a seat across from you, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back as though she was assessing you. Her next words not only shocked you but caused your entire being to wilt in annoyance and anxiety.

“I think it’s about time we start training you in combat. If a scrape has you in this much pain, imagine the damage a real battle would do. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?” 

She paused, thinking for a moment before reaching her conclusion. 

“Yes… I’ll have you train with Blade. His abilities never disappoint.”

And that was how your ongoing feud with Blade began. 

When Kafka decided to pair you up with Blade, you were pissed. However, you knew she was right. If you were falling apart just from accidentally scraping yourself, how were you supposed to handle actual threats? You would be utterly useless in a fight. And if anyone managed to get past the Stellaron Hunters and attempt to harm you, you would be dead on the spot. There wouldn't be a fight, just abrupt darkness, and a very disappointing end to a life such as yours. It would shatter the hearts of Kafka and Silver Wolf, who had already sworn to protect you at any cost. As you got older, the target on your back only became bigger. With the Stellaron Hunters’ reputation becoming more notorious by the day, civilians and authorities alike were bound to find out about you. Self-defense was a necessity.

But Blade never spoke to you. You felt as though you were a nuisance to him. Just another issue to be dealt with, another soul to pester him throughout the day. The way he glared at you made you wonder if you had done something wrong, or if you were imposing by being around. He made you feel out of place. Even after thorough reassurance from Kafka and Silver Wolf that his behavior was entirely normal, you still couldn’t help but worry. It was only after several months had passed that you came to understand that it truly wasn’t you- he was just grumpy. And that began to annoy you. If he wasn’t open to being somewhat nice, then why should you bother? You could glare back just as hard, and ignore him just as easily. If that's what he was getting at, then so be it. However, Kafka was the leader of both of you, and she wanted you to train. Despite your mild hatred of Blade, Kafka already had done so much for you. She only wanted the best for you. You could at least attempt to abide by her wishes.

So you gave in and begrudgingly stated training with Blade. 

For a few hours every day, you and Blade would find any open area and he would walk you through different defense techniques. You expected the technical side of it, but you did not expect that you would be sparring right off the bat. On the first day of training, he threw you into your first match and charged at you with the assumption that you had sharp enough reflexes to block him successfully. Obviously, you weren’t at all prepared since you had zero experience with combat. Turns out Kafka really wasn’t kidding when she said Blade knew how to fight.

Lessons carried on like this for weeks. You would return from sparring exhausted and bruised, feeling completely done with everything as you limped to your room to sleep. You felt generally bitter, making it hard for Kafka or Silverwolf to help, and Blade just acted like it wasn’t his problem. The most he did was help you up, and that was only if you put up a good fight. But thankfully, after a while, Blade began to notice how badly the sparring affected you. It wasn’t like you were on the brink of death, but you were still in pain. And given your age, there was no doubt that it was a lot more overwhelming than anticipated. So Blade subtly began to take care of you a little more. It wasn’t much- he mainly just gave you icepacks whenever you needed them and helped you walk, but it was the most he knew how to do. He was clueless when it came to caring for people, especially children.

You were a persistent kid, which Blade found surprising. He thought you would have given up within the first week of training, but you just kept working at it. And while Blade found your stubborn behavior annoying most of the time, it assured him that you had enough courage to fight alongside him and the others. He knew you didn’t like him much, and he knew a part of you blamed him for the injuries you got, which was reasonable. As annoying as you found him, Blade never gave up on you, even when you messed up or got so frustrated that you cried. He never babied you during these moments either. Instead, he would walk you through what went wrong and have you run through the solution until you had it down cold. Even if you were upset, he wanted you to push through it and use your anger to become stronger. You had been fighting your whole life. You had the tenacity and potential to gain the strength that you required. Blade could tell that, even after joining them, you wanted a purpose. You wanted to explore the universe and find your place among the glowing webs of stars. However, the beauty of the galaxy came with dark and unfamiliar territory. If you were to traverse the universe, you had to learn how to handle to darkest parts of it.

Little by little, you improved. You worked as hard as possible until you were able to withstand Blade’s strength and evade his attacks properly. You had a long, long way to go before you could actually defeat opponents, but you could at least hold them off, which was just as important. Despite how grueling Blade’s teaching methods were, you did come to respect him more as your mentor. He looked out for you in his own distant ways and seemed to actually care about you. In truth, Blade had started getting protective over you- not that he would admit it. It wasn’t an overbearing kind of protectiveness- he just wanted you to stay out of trouble. It was nice to pass knowledge onto someone, and protect them from the world's dangers by doing so.

The truth was, even if Blade acted indifferently toward you, he secretly was really proud of you. He admired your kindness, even after all the pain you had been dealt. You kept smiling and picking yourself up, finding your back to the light time and time again. Perhaps that's what made you so different from him. His will to keep fighting was growing fainter by the day.

Even with your differences, you both became closer. Blade kept an eye on you whenever you left the ship, talked with you whenever you got bored, and even helped you whatever chores you had to do. Sure, you were stubborn, but Blade never grew to dislike you. Your relationship felt routine and safe- it held a sense of comfort that felt normal. Blade caught himself questioning if this was what family was meant to feel like. He couldn't remember, but a faint, distant memory assured him that it was. If he could contribute to the familial safety you longed for so much, he would gladly do so. 

Was that even possible, though?

Blade had very little experience with love of any kind. Any memories he had of his past friend and family were long gone. His own sense of self was unstable, so how could he provide stability for you? He couldn't bear the thought of causing you pain. Or, there was a chance that he would rub off on you. That you would start to become like him. That prospect was enough to make him feel sick. So he began distancing himself from you in any way he could.

Now, whenever you crossed paths he would treat you especially coldly. Most times he saw you, he walked past you and pretended you didn't exist at all. He was back to being rude and dismissive, even more so than when you first met him.

Instead of encouraging you during training, he would call you weak and pick apart everything you had done wrong. This was not received well by you. After all, you didn’t know if Blade’s behavior was your fault, or if this was just how he truly was. You felt dejected and lonely, even with the support from Kafka and Silver Wolf. Though you loved them immensely, Blade was also someone you cared about, and you didn’t want to lose another parental figure. After weeks of being ignored, hatred replaced any good image you had of him. What used to be a safe, happy friendship soon morphed into an incessant rivalry. 

It felt like Blade only wanted to see you unhappy. You imagined that he was secretly gloating over your distress- that you were nothing more than a temporary amusement to him. But you were wrong. So, so very wrong. Blade hated seeing you upset because of him. He was failing you by ignoring your wellbeing. You were just a kid. More importantly, you trusted him.

But it was for your own good, wasn’t it? His past was dark, and perhaps he was too, by nature. He would never forgive himself if he allowed harm to come to you. Even if that meant leaving you behind. No, he would much rather watch you grow up and live happily from afar. 

Kafka still wanted you to train though, so Blade couldn’t avoid you entirely. Sparring was the only time he saw you anymore. Your sessions with him were difficult, but not because the material was hard. In fact, it was harder for Blade than you. You would glare at him constantly and show complete indifference to everything, making it nearly impossible to communicate with you. He wasn’t doing much better either- he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you. It felt like the consequences of his neglect were crawling up his back, ready to snap at him at any moment, and he knew that any day now, you would finally break. Soon, everything would fall apart.

You knew Blade was heartless, but his cruelty was amplified when you trained with him now. He went all out, forcing you to scramble for scraps of knowledge he had previously given you to win. But that wasn’t enough this time. You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to continue. You felt smaller and weaker than you had ever felt before.

Lightning-fast blows struck you from all sides, the scent of bloodstained spider lilies clouding your senses. You weakly pulled your sword out of its sheath and tried to block his attacks, but doing so would knock you off balance from the force of his blows. You fell back on the ground, coughing and clambering to your feet, promptly hurling yourself towards Blade with hopes of hitting him just once. Built-up anger from the last few weeks rushed through your heart, tears of desperation dripping down your cheeks. God, you were tired of this. Blade used to be your friend. You wanted to know what changed, and you wanted that piece of your family back.

In your fury, your reaction time fell short. Blade darted behind you and shoved you to the ground, watching coldly as you crumpled over in defeat. A glint of regret shone in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up by turning his back to you. Once more, you picked yourself up, your throat burning from the lack of a break. It must have been hours since the start of your match, but it might have just felt that way because you were the one getting injured. Never before had Blade fought you this hard. You weren’t prepared, and he knew that. You internally questioned if he was actually trying to make you despise him, albeit sarcastically. It hadn’t occurred to you yet that it might actually be the case. You shakily lifted your head to look at him, angrily mumbling something that Blade couldn’t understand.

Blade took a breath and turned around to face you, blank expression unwavering. 

“What was that?” He growled. The world seemed to fall silent as you locked your gaze with his in an act of defiance.

“I said, I hate you!”

You hated that you were crying. You hated feeling weak. You hated what he had put you through.

But you didn’t hate him. Not entirely.

You wanted to hate him fully. You wished you were strong enough to. But even then, as you wiped your tears and walked out, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. Maybe it was the memories you had of when he felt like family, maybe it was inherent kindness or just plain stupidity. You couldn’t feel hatred. All you felt was dejection. So naturally, you began spiraling. 

If Blade didn’t want you around, there was a chance Kafka and Silver Wolf didn’t want you either. If it was possible that they secretly hated you too, you wouldn’t allow yourself to withstand their rejections as well. You might as well just get out of their way, and save yourself the trouble. It was nice feeling happy for a while. But it wasn’t what you were made for. It wasn’t how you were used to living. Perhaps this was a sign that your destiny rested in the familiar arms of solitude, away from the glowing crowds.

That night, when you returned from training, you bid Kafka and Silver Wolf goodnight and began packing your bags. When you were sure everyone had gone to sleep, you took your leave. You slipped out of the ship’s main entrance, the frigid night air numbing the uncertainty in your chest. You started walking, not sure where you were headed. You were out of practice with your usual travel routines, but that wasn’t important. As long as you were away from the Stellaron Hunters, you would be safe. Lonely, but safe. But even with your half hearted reasoning, you still felt a sinking feeling that this wasn’t right. That you might regret this. You shoved it off, cursing at yourself quietly for getting so softhearted. It was time to cut ties. It was for the best.

However, you had made one vital mistake. While preparing to leave, you had purposely left behind any photos or items given to you by Kafka, Silver Wolf, or Blade. In your rush to leave, you accidentally left behind something incredibly important to you: your mother’s necklace. 

You took it off and left it on your desk by accident. It was the last existing link between you and your biological parents and you cherished it because of that. So when Kafka found it the next morning, along with your neatly made bed and discarded photos, she knew something was very wrong. Silver Wolf burst into your room shortly after she found them, questioning Kafka about your whereabouts. She had no answer, all she could do was say she hadn’t seen you. Silver Wolf left worried and agitated, grumbling about how they had to find you. As Silver Wolf left, Blade approached your doorway with the intent of finding you for your training session, because at this point you would have been late. Gripping the necklace tightly, Kafka turned to face Blade. She knew there tension had been growing between you and him for the last month. If he was the cause of your absence, she would not let him get away unscathed.

Blade’s expression was serious, but Kafka could see the glint of confusion in his eyes. He seemed entirely clueless, so perhaps interrogating him wouldn't do much.

“There’s no sign of them anywhere on the ship,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s only this.” Kafka gestured to the thin chain that lay forgotten on your desk. Dread immediately shot through Blade’s heart.

You had left.

And it was all his fault.

He neglected you. You had every right to leave. He was meant to be a guardian to you. It was his job- no, his privilege to keep you safe, and failed to do so. And now you could be anywhere in the galaxy, wandering aimlessly once again. Blade carefully took the necklace, trying to keep his composure as questions and visions of the worst raced through his mind. What if they never found you, or what if you had gotten hurt? What if it was too late, and you were already–

He didn’t allow that thought to finish itself. Catastrophizing would only slow the process of finding you. 

But would you even want to come back? Why would you, when you felt unwelcome enough to leave in the first place? And even if, by some miracle, you came back, would you ever trust him again? If you ever granted him forgiveness, would he even deserve it?

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he pushed you away- so you would leave him alone. You were gone now, and he had gotten what he wanted. Was he truly so terrible that he would still be unhappy, even after he had achieved his desire?

It wasn't meant to go like this.

You weren't meant to leave them. It was his fault though, so maybe it was best to let you go.

Kafka’s piercing gaze bored into the side of Blade's head as she watched the gears turning inside his head. She took a short breath before heading towards the door. She was scared of losing you, and angry that they hadn’t noticed your absence until now. There was no time for emotions such as anger. You were missing. They had to find you.

Blade stood in the center of your room, now entirely alone. The metal of your necklace dug into his skin as he clutched onto it for dear life, his eyes falling to the pictures on your bed. You seemed so happy before. So did Kafka and Silver Wolf- he was happy too, though he was reluctant to admit it out loud. He had broken the loving family you had brought together. A strange family, but a family nonetheless. 

Blade kept staring. He wished he could go out looking for you. Unfortunately, wishes are not reality.

Blade would not search for you that day. He would be chained to where he stood, fighting with himself internally as time slipped by quietly. You could have died already. And he was just standing there, staring.

No, he would not look for you.

Because the truth cannot be denied, nor masked with excuses- in the end, Blade is a cruel man.

One who cannot be changed by anything.

[azrielbrainrot]

When Prayers Fall on Deaf Ears

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: For the first time in his life, Azriel is not ready to accept death.

Warnings: Death, All Hurt No Comfort

Word Count: 1500

Notes: I'm so sorry. I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for that too.

How could the Mother be so cruel?

After centuries of walking this world alone, of throwing himself at dangerous missions and surviving multiple wars, how come when he finally found something worth living for, his life gets taken away?

Azriel can hear you anguish cries for help, screaming at Rhys to get a healer, can hear your reassurances that he's going to be okay, but the truth is he can barely feel your hands on him, can barely feel his body at all. He's taken several falls like this, but this pain is different. He knows better than to check, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the sight, - probably wouldn't even be able to complete the movement on his own - but he knows his left wing was mostly ripped off, his arm and leg might be in similar ruined states. The realization that he'll never be able to take to the skies makes him close his eyes for a second, tears gathering in them.

Everything happened so quickly, he had barely reacted in time, sending up a shield around him at the same time Cassian did. He doesn't know what kind of magic that was, had never seen anything like it before, but he knows if it hadn't been for the shield, there wouldn't be any piece of his body left, and his brother would have met the same fate.

His shadows were completely silent, uncharacteristically so, unmoving as they lay under his body, but, even if they weren't singing to him, Azriel could feel them mourning, could feel them disconnect, no longer following his command. They had been with him for most of his life, and he hopes they know how grateful he is for them, for the way they stayed by his side, protecting him and those around him, and they remain until his last breath escapes his body. He truly couldn't have made it this long without them - they were part of his identity.

It's your frantic calls of his name that has him opening his eyes again, blinking a couple of times to try and focus on your beautiful face. This is probably the last time he'll be able to see it so he should enjoy it as much as possible. You send him a relieved look when you notice him watching your face, leaning closer until he can faintly feel your breath on his skin. “Rhys went to get Thesan, alright? You're going to be okay, Az,” you promise, struggling to keep your voice from failing while trying your hardest to choke back your tears, and he struggles to focus on the words, the sound reaching his ears as if he was under water.

He won't be okay, you both know that. No matter how good a healer is, there are some things that can't be helped. Sometimes they forget given their long lifetimes, but fae are still mortals. Everyone around him seems to have come to the same conclusion, but they're all unwilling to accept it, stubborn as they are. Gods, he's going to miss them so much. Azriel almost wants to tell you to call Rhys back, so he can see his brother one last time. No healer is going to be able to fix this anyway, not even Thesan. He's not sure if he can form the words though, even breathing is becoming too much to bear.

Trying his best to pay attention, Azriel tries to focus on his family - the people who have made his life worth living. He can hear the three Archeron sisters crying somewhere at his side, holding onto each other. They've all lost so much in their short lives, Azriel hates that he's going to add to their suffering. After a particularly loud sob escapes Feyre, he realizes his mental shields are probably down, making her privy to his thoughts, but he can't bring himself to care, not anymore.

Amren is studying his body a few steps behind you, staring at him with a conflicted look in her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. This might be the first time she sees someone she cares about die right before her eyes, as she watches on, unable to do a thing about it. Right next to her stands Mor, an uncharacteristically blank look on her face as she watches one of her bestfriends take his last breaths, shock seems to have taken hold of her. Emerie stands behind her, ready to comfort her. He couldn't see Cassian but he feels him kneeling right next to his head, can hear his choked breaths as he desperately tries to keep his tears from coming, can feel the familiar thrum of his power. He had also been injured, but it seems that Azriel had taken the worst of it, his brother would be alright.

And you. He doesn't even want to imagine how much pain he's going to bring you. You, who's trying so hard to be strong for him, to keep on a brave face and make him feel better in his last moments, even though you probably want nothing more than to curse the Mother and any deity responsible for this. If it had been the other way around, he's not so sure he would survive it, or that he would want to, but he knows you're more resilient than him, so much stronger, always have been.

None of you deserve this. To have your family ripped away from you like this. And he doesn't either, after suffering through so much, he knows he deserved a few more good years with you and his family by his side.

“I don't want to die,” the words escape him in a whisper before he has the chance to keep them down. The sobs that escape both you and Cassian almost make him want to take the words back, knowing he's going to give you guys enough pain as it is. Your hands raise to hold his face, bringing a smile to his lips even at a time like this.

He was almost surprised to see that he meant it. Azriel had never been afraid of death, would gladly do it to save the ones he loves, as he is doing now, but that had always been easier when he felt like he had nothing to lose. Aside from his friends and his mother - who he knows should be more than enough reason - Azriel had never truly felt fulfilled or content with his life. Throwing it all away would have been easier then, but now he had you.

He's been waiting for a love that would give his life purpose ever since he can remember, as pathetic as that may sound, and now that he finally met you, he's going to die without ever getting the chance to give you the ring he keeps stored on his nightstand. He had been waiting for the right time to give it to you, it seems like fate had other plans for him. He can only imagine what you will feel when you find the silver ring engraved with both of your initials.

A sudden pressure in the air tells Azriel his brother returned with Thesan. He feels a strange sort of relief at this, not because he thinks the healer can still help him, but because he didn't want to go without knowing Rhys was here as well. His heart seems to echo this sentiment, as he can hear it slow down with each painful breath he takes into his lungs.

Azriel uses his remaining strength to hold up his hand, trying to feel your skin against his rough palm one more time. He can't quite raise his arm high enough, the blood loss catching up to him, but you hold his hand in yours and hold it up to your cheek. You always knew what to do, what he was thinking.

“I love you,” he struggles out.

Your tears are flowing down your cheeks freely as you repeat the words back to him, having no choice but to resign yourself to your cruel fate. Rhys and Mor kneel at your side, the latter resting a hand on your shoulder, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Rhys stares at his brother, the normally striking purple not visible behind his tears.

As scared as he was, he could admit this wasn't so bad, dying surrounded by his family, surrounded by so much love. He feels comfort that the last thing he felt before everything turned cold was the warmth of your body against him. Enough so that it almost catches him by surprise, barely registering his shadows moving from his body to yours, covering your body the same way they've been covering him all these years, barely feels his arm drop from your face, his strength completely leaving his body until he can't hear anything, can't see anything as the world goes black, and the last thing he feels is your head falling on his chest as a wail of his name escapes you.

[sukioyakio]

The Silent watcher

A/N.:this not my original idea I saw someone else do this I can't find it but it not my idea.And I think I didn’t ate but also taking out my ass on this one but who cares.

Did not proofread this,I’m sorry for the grammar errors.

Sukuna x reader

w/c: 1,124

Your whole life has always felt owned by him,Your life has never felt normal.Following your mother path as a servant.You follow her steps,listen to her words,learning to speak respectful,and memorizing your mothers favorite song by heart.But it ended quick.

And you were there to watched the devil killed your mother right before your eyes for a simple mistake and that all it took for you loss your voice.You could remember the painful begging of your broken mother voice in your head.You could remember how you didn’t say a word but just how your tears ran down your face,there were like quiet fire marking of rolling down your cheeks.

And all you could think of is making it alive and never being attention to yourself and just make it under his radar.

And you did,You were just like any filthy rat he saw in his path.But it didn’t mean that you weren’t going to stop seeing people dying in-front of your eyes while working for him.

At the age of 12 years you saw him ended a simple life for doing a huge mistake on the job.That simple life was your best friend who you always enjoyed being around,the only person who you could talked to.You loved her for being so positive about the future and being able to talk about her dream goal in this nightmare of a place.

‘I always wanted us to be free from this nightmare and we get to travel the world together,and have a happy family and husbands together that will the best’ That was her dream.Sadly she wouldn’t ever get it but at least she was able to be free from this nightmare.But she wouldn’t have been died if you never switched jobs with her.

You never forgot how her face looked like.The puddle of red blood , blood of your best friend surrounding the floor with it mistakes and sin.The crying and begging that followed throughout your head and the hallways.

The pain and guilt that ran through your soul and you finally loss your voice becoming silent.Your fate has already been painted by his sins. You loss the sparkle in your eyes to continue to think about living a normal life.But you still have some sort of hope living a silent life living with shadows of the darkness of this hellhole.

You have watched and seen throughout the years of the many women he had brings along the way.So many deaths that you were sent to clean up.Just for you to go back and deliver him a drink or another plate of food. It disgusted you to no end,to some point of throwing up the whole night just the thought of him being satisfied from the death of others.

Your body started to change,bloom into a more beautiful woman;your body slowly shaped itself showing out your curves and chest.You could hear or sometimes be talked with about your health such as you being quiet or sometimes just being pretty from other maids and servants.

But you still do your job,sometimes doing chores for the younger ones who needed a break from the torturous chores.Even if they said they could do it themselves.

25 years old that year alone would sadly changed your silent life forever.Just by taking care of another concubine who was a bit of a feisty,untamed and bitter woman.You were assigned to taking care of the concubine for the night,to prepare her ready for the lord.Putting on makeup the way lord ryoman likes and normally it would take you rather quickly.

But for this certain concubine it took longer then it would usually take.Usually when doing this it was rather fun hearing things from the concubines.Without the need of having to reply back.

But this woman was the most difficult person to deal with.Calling you names constantly,glaring at you,slapping your hand away from doing your job,Yelling disrespectful things about you and You were this close to losing your temper towards her.

You even wonder how does the lord Sukuna find this woman interested but either way it doesn’t matter.In the end they have sex and afterwards end up wanting more and latching onto him and then they’ll become boring toys to him then killed them off,just to repeat the cycle.The concubine that had last longer then a month always amazed you with how they managed to keep going.

Once you were done with the look,she just look at the mirror and start to say everything foul out her mouth and you tried to calm her down with your words but it ended up with you getting slapped and choking you with hers claws.While yelling at you for making her look ugly in her terms.

You couldn’t breathe,and sound of your gasping for air could be heard throughout the room even outdoors but your eyes were still with the coldness as well as disgust at how utterly awful the concubine was.You whispered towards her “May hell find your cursed sinful body you disgusting Bitch”.Your voice showing anger and hatred towards her and for him as well.

And then suddenly your eyes started to go out but before it turned black the woman instantly disappeared and so was your vision.

There he wasStanding there by the door with his large frame and four arms crossed,the air around him thick with his authority.With his red eyes shinning in the night sky,As he looked at the bloody mess he create.He had killed his concubine and decided to save your soul for some sort of reason.

And That would be the exact day where your silent watching days would be done.

—————

He found you interesting. He found you interesting enough to spare you.Instead of taking your life with that annoying concubine.

The air felt dense in the room. Silence followed, no one knowing what to say. Your body lay there, unconscious and vulnerable. His eyes were like those of a predator. Like the eyes of a snake observing its prey; he was simply biding his time, watching. Analyzing.

He had always seen you,but nothing about you was interesting to him before.You were a good servant,doing whatever your told to do without any hesitation or any words you were rather completely silent.And maybe you being silent made him interested in you.

He slowly took a step closer, his eyes not breaking away from you. His boots lightly echoed against the floor.

Suddenly, he knelt down to get a closer look at your face. His long, black nails gently grazed the side of your cheek, following down your jawline. His fingers were warm against your skin;His ruby eyes staring holes into you.His hand moved down to rest on your neck, feeling your pulse.

‘Your really are just as quiet as you are,huh?”He thought while looking at your bruises.His nails making red marks on your neck,completely unintentional.Before leaving the room and calling uraume to come and clean up the mess and making sure to cleaning you up and putting you back to the dormitory.

“What did the maid say about her?”-he says as a question to himself-“The silent watcher. . . that what they called her,mhmm” he hum to himself as he walks towards his chambers,smirking at the thought of that.

That all I have I hope you liked it. And i think I wanted to make like reader somewhat like a background character.

If you have any suggestions or ideas please share with me in the comments I’ll be more than happy to hear them out.

made by @sukioyakio 2024

Have a great day.Reblogs and likes are always welcome. @mononijikayu @ciggrx @urprettylittlething

part two and part three are out

[deathbxnny]

HI LOVEE!!!

ok, this is a once in a lifetime occasion because I am obsessed with WuWa.

May I request an angst to fluff fic with Husband! Jiyan?

So, fem reader as always! As we all know the busy General spends most of his time at the front lines, but he always makes sure to send his sweet wife some gifts back! But she can't help but feel a bit neglected by him, missing him too much and some people's loud mouths talking bad about their relationship did not help either, so what happens when Jiyan returns home to surprise his wife but finds her crying silently instead? I'll leave that to you!!

I just love him sm, he's my lovely main! what's your team pookie? I'll share mine! Jiyan (main DPS) Encore (sub DPS) and Verina (Healer), sometimes I switch Encore with Rover (I chose the female one, which one did you choose?)

anyways, love you, keep yourself hydrated and rest! sweet flowers for my sweet bxnny → 💐🌻🌺

I saw angst and felt the voices (angst demons) attempt to take over lmao.

But my current team is usually made out of Calcharo, Verina, and Yinlin (I sometimes change out either Calcharo or Yinlin with my boy Jiyan tho, depending on what I'm fighting-). I also chose the female Rover, btw! She's just so cute!^^

So with that all said, thank you for the request, and I hope you'll love this too, dear moot!!<33

Content: Female/afab reader, husband Jiyan, some angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of paranoia, death (not of reader or Jiyan), mentions of war, sfw

Reader is afab!

((Not proofread))

When he's gone for too long. (Husband!Jiyan x Fem!Reader)

Your excitement dies when you open the front door in the hope of seeing your husband, only to be faced with a soldier instead. He stands there calmly, face expressionless like all the others before him, as he holds out an intricate package to you. If you didn't know any better, you would've knocked it out of his hands.

"A package for you, my lady. From the general." The man hummed, waiting patiently for you to take it. He didn't shy away from the anger in your eyes, the pain and pure annoyance, that was then stilled with a deep breath. They were used to it by now.

"Thank you." You said, the package feeling heavy in your hands when you shut the door behind you again wordlessly. Not seeing the way the soldier opened his mouth once more to say something else.

Something that would've quelled the anger in your heart.

You threw the gift on a pile next to the door, dust slightly filling the air when it hit the many others that came before it. It wasn't that you weren't grateful or happy. But you also just wanted your husband to be here instead. You wanted him to hand you these gifts. Him to be the one that appears at your door after being gone for so long.

It angered you that he wasn't here, even if you knew why.

Being a general was difficult and draining. It forced him to stay out on the frontlines for weeks and even months on end with minimal communication, if any at all. His solution was, therefore, to simply send his wife lavish gifts in hopes of making her feel less lonely, but he knew better than to believe that it ultimately worked in the long run.

Your anger made you feel selfish, and the guilt made you feel worse. You were stuck in an inescapable cycle that was impossible to break out of. Leaving the home for a break was impossible as well. No matter where you went, the pity filled looks and taunting whispers seemed to haunt you. It made you barely step out of the house. You couldn't do it, not without him.

It was a miserable existence, and yet you never voiced your woes to Jiyan either. You didn't want to burden him with such troubles when he had worse things to worry about. He had been through atrocities he could never even speak of, so surely you could survive the couple weeks without him, right? He was keeping you all safe, his sacrifices were important. Even if it was at the cost of your sanity.

But now that you sat here in the darkness of your living room all alone, you realise that you perhaps never accepted the neglect as much as you wanted to. You felt horrible, the guilt eating you alive whilst you shed endless tears and hid your face in your hands, body shaking and trembling with every sob. It was unfair. It wasn't right. You had to wipe away the agony and be strong for him. You shouldn't act like this.

What would the people think if they saw the generals wife crying over him performing his duties? They'd mock you even more, shake their heads in disappointment, give you lethal looks that burned you from the inside out. The embarrassment, the shame... you internalized it all until this very moment. You had finally burst at the seams, and just as you thought that you'd have to suffer through this alone as usual, a gentle, calloused hand cupped yours softly.

"My love?" His voice startled you, a gasp leaving your lips as you attempted to pull away and turn your head in panic. You didn't hear him approach you. Heart sinking in your chest, you realised that he was sitting right next to you, his other hand resting on your back to keep you in place against him. You couldn't breathe, as you panted heavily.

"What happened to you? Did something happen in my absence? I sent a soldier to send you a message about my return, but..." His eyes swayed to the pile gifts near the doorway, his heart clenching when he began piecing together what may have caused your plight. Despite you thinking otherwise, his observant eyes caught onto more than he let on. He wasn't blind or deaf to what the general public seemed to think of you, nor was he that unaware of your pain and neglect. He himself felt pain for his actions, even if he had no true choice in them. It's a sacrifice that had to be made as long as there was a threat to the city and most importantly your life out there.

But now, as he sat there, your face pushed to his chest as you cried, and his heart cracked under the pressure of your tears, he realised that he didn't need to sacrifice your well-being this much as well. You didn't deserve it.

"Please... don't leave me like this again." Your words were quiet, so quiet that he nearly didn't catch them, but his mind and soul were only focused on you. His gaze softened as his hand ran through your hair before he pressed his head against yours in solidarity. He didn't want it to get this far. He didn't want to make you cry until even air couldn't enter your lungs.

Perhaps he had overworked himself far too hard. Perhaps he had been gone for longer than he needed to... but that will stop now.

"My apologies, my love. It won't happen again. I will try staying for longer now..." He trailed off, as he kissed your forehead and wiped away your tears. He knew he had alot to make up for, but he wasn't the type to back down from such an important mission.

And the smallest relieved smile on your tired face made it worth it.

Alrighttt... I hope this was okay! I admittedly wrote this half asleep, so I'm praying it's not terrible lmao... Anyway, thank you again for the great request, moot!!<33

[topmalereaderblog]

Five More Minutes // Miguel O'Hara

Breathe the air again, it's a beautiful day

I wish this moment would stay with the Earth

Some primal paradise

But there you go again, saying everything ends

Saying you can't depend on anything or anyone

When there is creation, there is destruction, life, and death. The universe has a balance, and when disrupted, it collapses, taking away everything and anything with it, leaving nothing but a blank void.

But Miguel didn’t know that, how was he supposed to. He wasn’t thinking straight, he wasn’t thinking with his brain but with his emotions the same emotions that kept him grieving the same, emotions that made him cry himself to sleep. He had lost everything in his world and was left with nothing. Living a lonely life, but then.

Then there was hope, hope that showed up in another universe, a universe where his husband was alive and they were happy. He was happy. He had a family, a father to a little girl, married to the love he had lost.

His thoughts consumed him, plagued him, and haunted him. Five minutes, that was his most recurring thought. Five minutes is all he needed, five minutes to act like another version of himself, five minutes to hold you and tell you he loves you one last time, five minutes to get to know the daughter he never had even if it was just a little bit.

But he couldn’t, the guilt eating him alive, the pain in his chest swallowing him and consuming him every day. But he couldn’t, it would hurt too much to go and then leave. Going back to his life a life where you weren't there and he was alone.

If the end of the world was near

Where would you choose to be?

If there were five more minutes of air

Would you panic and hide

Or run for your life

Or stand here and spend it with me

If we had five more minutes

Would I, could I, make you happy?

He did everything he could to distract himself while keeping an eye on the other version of himself the pain in his chest filling with hurt and jealousy. Instead, he waited, watched, and observed. Miguel questioned if this version of you would fall in love with him too if he could make you happy. Soon.

His opportunity arose when the version of himself that he grew jealous of died. Shot in the chest and left alone on a sidewalk. He felt guilty but relieved he knew his thoughts were sick when he felt a sense of relief wash over him but sad that the version of himself that was happy died. But it was his turn to be happy to play a role and act as another, taking the place of another as if nothing were wrong.

He was nervous. But as he walked into the house the thoughts in his mind crashed seeing you again. His heart skipped beats you- you’re his love, and you were back alive standing in front of him. A warm feeling spread around his body.

Five minutes, that's what he told himself, having a home dinner with you and Gabriella talking and enjoying the moment, a moment that soon turned into five days, then five months. Distracted with his own selfishness, happiness, greed, and lust.

And we would live again

In the simplest of ways

Living day after day

Like some primal animals

We would love again

Under glorious suns

With the freedom that comes with the truth

His brain couldn't function, and his senses were overwhelmed. His body felt hot sweat beading down and sticking to his body. His ears filled with your grunts as you thrust up inside him while simultaneously hearing the bed creek.

His hole stretched around you so perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece being filled and abused. His tight warmth sucking you inside as if trying to keep you inside him. His prostate was hit multiple times with every thrust you gave.

Grunts turned into sweet talk, your hot breath near his ear sending goosebumps all over his body.

"You like this Miguel- like me fucking you." You asked, watching as his whimpers and moans increased.

"Por favor no pares-," his legs wrapped around you, his hands feeling up and down your body as if making sure you were real, making sure you wouldn’t go anywhere.

Your thrust went faster and harder plunging into Miguel. His cock bounced with your thrust being neglected by stimulation leaking precum onto his stomach.

Your lips and hands wandered his body as words of praise fell from your mouth.

"You are such a good husband for me, fuck~ you're taking me so well," his hole tightened against your cock as he pressed his chest onto yours.

Your hands worshiped his body, treating it like porcelain. Go near the spot where he needed your touch the most but never fully.

"P- please." He gasped just a little more he needed this needed you to fuck him and worship him to take the guilt he had and make him forget even if it was for a little while.

A moan left his mouth as your hand grabbed his aching cock moving it with your thrust. "Come on baby cum with me."

And all too soon enough you came inside his reaching deep within him as your cum painted his hole. He bit your shoulder moaning and cumming with you as his thighs shook by the intense orgasm.

Was it wrong? Possibly, maybe, definitely. It's been five minutes since you fell asleep after another passionate night with Miguel.

How- why, why should something so wrong feel so right? He knew he had to give up the act, but nights like these, where you both could show your love for one another was something he lost, and now that you were back he didn't want it to leave.

You were his husband, his true love, and while he lost you in one world, you were here with him in another.

Nights where you would fuck Miguel were always his favorites. It was the time when he didn't care if he was right or wrong or crazy or sane he was with you and those thoughts that plagued him left his brain with every thrust every word his mind went numb.

If the end of the world was near

Where would you choose to be?

If there were five more minutes of air

Would you panic and hide?

Or run for your life?

Or stand here and spend it with me?

If we had five more minutes

Would I, could I, make you happy?

But then it happened again after spending the day with you and Gabriella. Something weird happened, everything around you started to crumble and disintegrate. He ran, holding onto you and Gabriella. Not again. He wouldn't lose you. He couldn't lose his new life, his new daughter, not now.

As he ran, Gabriella disappeared in his arms. He turned around, holding onto you tightly around your wrist.

"Miguel!"

"Well, be safe. We have to run." He said, not looking back. Tears fell from his face, sliding down his cheek. Five minutes and everything went quiet. He turned around only to see he was alone.

And with that, Miguel was alone again. He stood there sobbing and falling onto his knees for five whole minutes he sobbed but recomposed himself, trying to figure out what to do. Five minutes had passed, and the only thought on his mind was that he was back to square one alone and by himself.

So it finally came to pass

I saw the end of the world

Saw the madness unfold like

Some primal burial

And I looked back upon

Armageddon

And the moment of truth

Between you and me

Five years have passed and a lot has changed. He created his own organization filled with other spider people, each with their own story.

Then hope arose again a new spider person not just any but you, his mind went blank seeing the screen in front of him. Wearing a suit and taking out bad guys. Was this the universe's way of giving him a second chance? Were you made just for him? Did you have your own version of him? If so, could he take them out just like the last time?

The last thought in his mind echoed in his head. This time, it would be different, just five minutes. And with that, he opened a portal and stepped inside. Leaving his lab and getting ready to (stalk) recruit a new spider.

If we had five more minutes of air to breathe

And we cried all through it

But you spent them with me

On our last few drags of air, we agreed

I was, and you were happy

[jessikahathaway]

Tainted Love - JJK (M)

Hello hello everybody!

Here is Demon!Jk as promised~

Thank you to everyone who expressed excitement from the teaser! And a special thank you to my bb Ella (@oddinary4bts) for betaing this fic for me and listening to me scream about Demon Jk on discord for the past month. Love you babes!

Alright, fasten your seatbelts, I went a lil AWOL with this but I hope you all enjoy regardless! Please let me know what you think~

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Genre: Fantasy!AU, Demon!Jk, Witch!Reader, unrequited love, romance, smut, angst, lil fluffy bits in there too.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, main character death (not permenant), Demon!Jk can be toxic, reader is in love and knows she shouldn't be, darker themes - Jungkook is an old demon and isn't a very happy one, they use each other a bit but they work that out. SMUT WARNINGS: Multiple smut scenes (you heard me), unprotected sex (don't be silly), oral (f and m receiving), creampies, rough sex, emotional sex, standing/wall fucking, Jungkook is pussy whipped confirmed, dirty talk (jungkook and reader freak nasty), switch!Jk and switch!reader, hair pulling, vaginal sex.

Words: 16.4k

Summary: Jungkook sometimes forgets the time. Except the time he's spent with you, he's certain those times he'll remember until the day he turns to dust. As a demon with a time limit on his life, will he let you in? The witch who has shown him tenderness instead of a blade at his throat. Does he trust you with his life? Or will you be too late?

Jungkook sometimes forgets the time. 

And not in the sense of he can’t remember the time of day, or the day of the week itself. No, it’s gotten much worse over his millenia of life. He legitimately doesn’t remember if it’s the 1700s or 2020s some days. Time is a much more relative construct than most people believe. Life isn’t always linear. Things can happen backwards, things can happen too fast or not at all when someone has believed it to be otherwise. 

Jungkook had forgotten the time again today. The smoke of his cigarette rose up above his head and swirled and flowed along with the fan spinning slowly above his head.

He laid on his bed in this dingy apartment that he pays for with money he conjures. Being a demon has its perks. But, to remain under the guise of a regular human, he works at a local mechanics shop. 

He lives life as a typical low level human being. He has a backstory and everything. His parents passed away when he was little and his great aunt cared for him until he was old enough to move out on his own. While away she passed and he’s been alone ever since. This small village had accepted him, unfortunately for them. 

Now, Jungkook was a demon, but that didn’t mean he was wasteful. Nor was he ruthless and bloodthirsty. No, he was nothing of the sort. He was far too old for childish nonsense like that. His temper had almost fizzled out with the will to change his fate for the better. At this point? He’d rather disappear and be done with it all. Constantly looking for new souls to take, it had been exhausting in the beginning, and now? Now he didn’t care really one way or the other. 

He had one year before it all went away. 

One year before he dies.

The reason? Jungkook had betrayed his brethren. His fellow demons sentenced him to a life on Earth until he could fulfill a quota of ten thousand souls. Specifically, ten thousand souls of those who are the victims of the painful fate of unrequited love. As that was his crime.

He loved a human woman, and so? He was forced to kill the poor saps that had fallen into his own trap. 

A painful irony, but Jungkook had quit feeling pain a long while ago. Five thousand years to complete his task, to take ten thousand souls that were suffering the same pain as himself all those years ago. And finally, after far too many years, his task would be ending. And him along with it all. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to care much about himself. He was far too tired.

There was, however, one Earthly pleasure that he’d found himself enjoying. 

You. 

A witch in your own right, a member of the coven in the area. You’d moved in a few years back and noticed Jungkook immediately. He was handsome, he was dark and mysterious. How were you supposed to resist?

Jungkook initially hadn’t taken that much of a liking to you. But you were persistent and perhaps even a little desperate for a friend that knew at least some of your true identity. Jungkook had finally relented on his reluctance and had let you in. Not much, there were things you were certain he would never tell you. Perhaps some things you wouldn’t want to know in the first place. But, it didn’t take long for you two to start fucking after that. 

He was weak for very few things. However, cheap spicy ramen from the convenience store down the street, cigarettes and sex had proven to be nicely distracting.

You were pretty and nice enough, although Jungkook didn’t particularly care for you at first, once you two fucked a few times he could see himself forgiving your little nuisances. They didn’t really matter on the large scale anyways. 

Nothing did, actually.

A knock at the door brought him from his stupor. He didn’t have to work today, he’d be pissed if Hoseok came to ask him to cover again. He’d already done it five times in the past month. He put out his cigarette and moved towards the entrance. With a scowl on his face he answered the door to see your frame standing in the doorway. 

Jungkook raised a brow at you before looking down to see you dressed in your work uniform. You also had a regular job, but you worked as a bartender at the local joint in town. You took notice of his scowl and gave him a playful pout. 

“Aw baby, you look so much cuter when you smile,” you said with a pat to his cheek. Jungkook rolled his eyes but let you in as he saw you carrying his favorite booze in your hand. You set the bottle on the table and went to take your shoes off when Jungkook saw a flash of your panties up your skirt. 

It was Saturday. You and Jungkook usually fucked during the week as it worked best with both of your schedules. It was rare to see you on the weekends, as this was when the most tips came from the bar's patrons. 

“It’s Saturday,” he said, eyes trailing back to your face. 

You’d noticed his staring, but you didn’t care-this is usually what happened when he hadn’t seen you in a while. 

“Does that mean we can’t fuck on a Saturday?” you asked, head tilting to the side. 

Jungkook lit another cigarette. “Why aren’t you working?” he asked, taking a deep drag off the tobacco stick. You smiled at him and Jungkook sighed deeply.

You only smiled like that when you were up to no good. 

“I’m trying to set Sana and Alex up,” you said with that same damned smile. 

“Why the fuck do you want to do that?” he asked, tapping some of the ash off his vice into a glass. 

“Because they love each other, they just need a push to figure it out for themselves. So I asked to take an earlier shift today because we had a date,” you said, walking closer. Jungkook watched the sway in your hips and felt the stirring in his lower stomach. He wouldn’t mind fucking you tonight. It was better than forgetting what time it was. Again. “Plus a few of my sisters from the coven are coming over tonight.”

Jungkook sighed, decidedly ignoring the mention of your coven. “A date, huh?” 

You pouted and he smirked at your disappointment. “What? Can’t I say that’s what it is? Got something against dating me?” 

He inhaled deeply. “Not particularly, but demons and witches don’t mesh well.” 

A sharp jab to your heart, but Jungkook was great at those. Without realizing it, he broke your heart day after day. It was ridiculous honestly, you shouldn’t have fallen for him in the first place. Really, you shouldn’t have. You knew it was wrong. Jungkook wasn’t incorrect when he said witches and demons don’t get along well. Some witches had a strong moral code and demons could go against all of them without even a second glance. 

Jungkook technically could get you kicked out of your coven. 

But he was too enthralled with the fact you put out on the regular and you were too enthralled with him in general.

Overall, it wasn’t the best situation, but Jungkook had done you some favors in the past. Acquiring materials for your coven’s spells, summoning a few extra hundred dollars when you’re short on rent, and giving you an equally satisfying sex life. 

Hopefully, tonight was going to prove no different. 

“You seem to mesh just fine with me,” you said, voice teasing and obviously hinting. 

His eyes flashed a deep crimson at the thought of being able to fuck you. He’d been wound up and needing something besides cigarettes recently. Your body would be a welcomed distraction.

 “I do, don’t I?” he said, voice turning smoother.

Jungkook was an attentive lover, always making sure you came multiple times. As a demon he had good refraction period and was able to fuck you after cumming-sometimes multiple times a day. Especially if you hadn’t been able to come over often enough.

You hadn’t seen him in probably two weeks, you had to travel for a coven meeting. But it seems those two weeks left him needing you. 

He crowded your space, hands winding around your body and squeezing your ass. He rested his head against your collarbone, hiding his face in your neck. Jungkook did this sometimes, almost as if he could shrink his world and thoughts down to just this moment. This space. This breath happening between the two of you. 

You were about to ask if he was alright when he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You responded, letting him back you up towards the wall. Your thighs clenched at the attention. Jungkook had to be the best sexual partner you’d ever had in your almost one hundred years of life. Being a witch had its perks as well.

He was desperate against your mouth, panting and eagerly licking in between your lips, parting them so he could tangle his tongue with yours. His hands wound up your lower back. 

“Jungkook, baby,” you whined softly, as he swallowed your lips once more. “I gotta be quick today,” you frowned.

“That’s fine, I won’t last long anyways,” he said, already painfully hard in his jeans.

He turned you around, having your palms flat against the wall. “Think you can stand while I fuck you?” He asked, licking his lips at the sight of your ass presented nicely to him in your short skirt.

“Yes-I can,” you bit your lip, mind reeling with the fact you were about to have him again. You and Jungkook fucked fairly often, probably three times a month, sometimes more if he could swing it. And this had been your arrangement for almost a year now.

People at work knew Jungkook, he was a regular at the bar and people often referred to him as your boyfriend. In their minds you two were just young adults figuring out life and it would all work in the end. You two cared for each other-right?

“Hey,” Jungkook said, voice softer. “You there?”

Ah, you slipped into your thoughts again. 

“I’m here, it’s fine-please,” you whimpered, looking over your shoulder at him, the burning in between your thighs causing you pain. Jungkook nodded before flipping your skirt up and tugging your panties down your legs. You were soaked, wetness pulling away with your panties that had Jungkook hissing between his teeth.

“Fuck, do I have time to eat you out? Just a bit? Fuck please,” he begged, kneeling behind you and kissing your ass hungrily. “Let me, I need it baby, please?”

You really did have to be quick, members of your coven were coming over tonight and you’d have to scrub yourself stupid in the shower to not smell like demon. But fuck-when he begged like that?

“Whatever you want,” you said, voice breathless at his eagerness. 

He was so good at getting what he wanted. It always worked with you, and it always would unfortunately.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, placing his mouth on you in needy kisses. Jungkook’s tongue threaded between your lips and found your clit almost immediately. You cried out and gripped the wall as he ate your pussy like a starved man. 

He liked it.

He liked eating your pussy so much. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the flavor, the amount of slick you produced for him, the way you rutted your hips back against him whenever he did it. You made the sweetest noises when he had his mouth on your cunt and now was proving no different. Jungkook almost felt high at the feeling of your wetness collecting on his face.

Maybe it was that part he was addicted to. Or maybe it was worse than that. In times like this, he really could forget. He could forget he was a demon, not many people willingly share this much of themselves with a demon and know the consequences. But as a witch, you knew what would happen if your coven found out. You knew and yet? You still let him in. You let him touch you and fuck you. All of it.

“Kook~” you cried out, head pressing against the wall. “Please, gonna cum,” you whimpered out. 

Damn, he was hoping to get a little more than that. The next time you came over he was going to want to eat your pussy for hours.

“Then cum for me, baby, get yourself nice and wet for my cock,” he said.

You didn’t need much today, you were just as needy as he was. Probably more so. A few more heady sucks of his lips and you were cumming.

“Jungkook-fuck,” you gasped. He smirked and stood up, licking his lips as he undid his jeans. You panted harshly against the wall, mind whirling in pleasure.

“That’s it, pretty thing,” he cooed, approaching with his now crimson eyes. You knew he must be needing this if he’s so worked up already. 

“Please baby, give me your cock?” you asked, reaching behind you to grab the front of his undone jeans. Jungkook followed easily when you tugged, your hand dipping underneath the fabric to grasp his cock. He sighed in pleasure, pushing his pants down further and head tilting back just a touch. He pushed his boxers down as well, freeing his cock entirely before you smiled back at him and taking him in your hand once more. 

“Fuck, yes,” he said, voice turning raspy and dark. 

You winked and pumped him a few times before lining him up with your dripping core. He hadn’t stretched you but you wanted the burn today. “Fuck me then,” you said, inviting him inside you once more. 

Jungkook held your hip as he started to lead his cock between your lips. “You wet enough?” he asked, raising a brow at you.

Such a smug bastard. But his cock was big enough he needed to ask-because he didn’t want to hurt you. His demonic nature was there, but honestly hurting someone that had continuously done him favors didn’t seem that important.

“Y-Yeah,” you whimpered, rubbing against him. “Please put it in, want your thick cock in me so bad Jungkook!”

He nodded, finally pushing in just a touch. You whined, head falling back as you felt the full sensation begin. Jungkook growled out at your tightness gripping his cock just right, giving him the rush of tingles down his spine. He gave gentle thrusts into your heat to ease you open, although you were really squeezing him today and his eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of your sweet cunt letting him in inch by inch. 

“Fuck I love your pussy,” he groaned, rolling his hips into yours fully. 

“Love your cock,” you cried, walls clenching down on him harshly. Jungkook couldn’t stop his reaction of bucking into you roughly. You let out a sharp cry at his cock hitting deeper than usual.

“Sorry baby, m’sorry,” he murmured against your skin, kissing your neck and shoulder. Moments like that were the ones you remembered with pain in your chest. The way he easily apologized for the slightest harm to you. All except the harm to your heart.

You shook your head. “It’s okay, don’t worry-just, oh! G-give me more!” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, holding your hips he started thrusting inside of you with firm pushes. He huffed in his own pleasure, watching your puffy pussy swallowing his cock with each rut forward. “Look so good like this, take my cock so well,” he sighed, the sweet sensations of your warm, wet walls sucking him in had shivers rocketing down his spine and pooling heat in his stomach. 

“Cock so good, made to take it baby, love having you inside me like this,” you mewled. Jungkook smirked at your pleasure cries reaching his ears. 

“Made to take me huh?” he asked, giving harsher thrusts inside of you and watching as your face morphed into shocked pleasure. 

“J-Jungkook!” you sobbed out.

He was panting against your skin, thrusting inside you with eager pushes of his hips against your ass. The sound of skin slapping echoed through his apartment.

Jungkook could barely think at this point in sex. He was driven by your high pitched cries and the boiling need in his stomach. “Cum baby, cum all over my cock. Gonna let me cum inside today baby?” He teased, huffing sex driven laughter across your throat while he bit down.

“Mmm~ah! Y-Yeah, it’s fine, I have the potion for it,” you cried, grabbing his hand that was gripping one of your hips. He wound the other around your front to start playing with your clit to get you there faster.

“Then I’m gonna fill you up baby, feel it dripping inside of you huh? Wanna cum baby, fuck I really want it, say I can have it,” he groaned.

He loved hearing you beg for his cum. It did something to him, made his high that much sweeter because you pleaded for it. You wanted him that badly. There was something hot about having your watery eyes beg with his to finally let you cum. 

“You can, you always can baby,” you promised, holding his wrist while he pounded inside you brutally. 

Jungkook smiled against your skin before husking permission to cum against your jaw. With a deep gasp you came, Jungkook following not too shortly after. Your pussy milking him with each pulse of your afterglow. 

“Thank you-fuck, oh baby,” you shivered against him, leaning into the kisses he trailed along your shoulder. 

“Fuck give me a second, I came so hard,” he said, slumping against you while he pressed you against the wall with him still inside of you. But soon enough you felt him soften and with a deep sigh he pulled from you.

You shivered as his cum trickled down your thigh. 

“Ah shit, sorry baby,” he said, running to grab a few tissues. You panted softly against the wall, keeping yourself steady so as not to make a mess. He came back and helped you clean up a bit and offered you his shower. 

“Can’t, got sisters coming over tonight, if I shower here they’ll smell demon on me from a mile away,” you stated. “But thanks,” you said with a smile. 

He nodded, sitting at his tiny coffee table smoking a cigarette. 

Jokingly, you teased him. “Those’ll kill you one day,” you said, pulling on your shoes. 

Jungkook’s face didn’t smile like you were hoping. Although it rarely did, you felt the difference. He was… upset?

“No, I’ll be dead by next year regardless,” he whispered. 

The room went eerily quiet. Your heart was hammering in your chest. What did he mean he would be dead by next year?

“What the fuck does that mean?” You said, walking towards him in concern. “The fuck do you mean you’ll be dead by next year?”

Jungkook wasn’t phased by your anger. You hardly knew his story and he preferred to keep it that way. Because he knew this would be your reaction. And he hated fighting with you. It never made any difference. 

“Didn’t you find a demon, on its own-no contracts or groups or general mayhem happening-a little odd?” He asked, putting out his cigarette.

You swallowed thickly. It was odd. But you weren’t going to argue with a good thing and, perhaps you’d hoped that there was maybe just a happy coincidence, for once.

Of course you were wrong.

Naïveté hadn’t served you well in the past and it seemed to stomp your heart once again in this long life of yours…

“I never found you odd, Jungkook,” you said. 

“You should’ve.”

Your heart was racing making your next words slightly frantic. “What’s wrong with you, huh? What’s going on? Are you finally gonna tell me?”

He sighed deeply. He hated the sound of your voice right now. You sounded like you were going to cry, and he didn’t want to make you upset. Watching you cry was painful. 

“I have a quota of souls to collect. If I don’t collect all of them by the time set-I disappear,” he said. “The souls of those who know unrequited love.”

Your throat felt dry at his statement. What could you say to that? Was there anything to be said? It’s not like you two were dating, it’s also not like you ever could with you being in the coven.

“How many souls do you have left?” You asked, voice sad. 

“Ten,” he breathed.

Ten. Ten souls before next year didn’t seem crazily difficult. But the specificity did complicate things.

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll help you,” you said. 

Jungkook’s head snapped to you, and he stood quickly. “Don’t fucking say that,” he said, voice shaking with anger. 

“But why not? Why can’t I help you? I have the ability to find souls like that, we can travel and you can collect.” You explained. 

“We?” He asked, raising a brow. “You really think I trust you enough to let you do that? How do I know you wouldn’t take me right to that coven of yours?”

You felt your heart break. “Is that what you think I would do?” You said, voice sad and in disbelief. Jungkook knew it was a low blow, but he had to get you to leave if this is where this conversation was going.

He didn’t like hurting you, or your feelings. It usually wasn’t necessary but sometimes you dug too deep, and he had to back you off somehow.

“The fuck is your problem you asshole,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes. “All I did was ask to help you, is it so wrong that I actually want you around? That I actually like hanging out with your crabby ass… call me when you’re not being a massive dickhead” you said, grabbing your bag but intentionally leaving the booze. All it would do was make you think of him anyway. Jungkook was about to call out your name but you slammed the door right in the middle of his sentence.

“Fuck…”

He knew that wasn’t fair, he knew that he shouldn’t have snapped at you like that but… sometimes you did get too close. Jungkook knew what his end would be, and there wasn’t anything you or he could do about it.

At least, nothing he wanted to do about it…

—

You hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in a week or two now. He hadn’t reached out and you weren’t particularly interested in fighting with him again, not right now. He really did hurt your feelings… He could trust you, you wondered briefly what it would take for him to listen. To hear that you wanted him to collect those souls. 

You were just as damned as he was, you knew that. Even more so if your coven discovered what you were up to in your bedroom. And heart…

Just as you were about to suck it up and call him, your phone rang. It was a number you didn’t immediately recognize, but the area code was local.

“Hello?” You answered. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Hoseok’s voice echoed through the phone. Hoseok was a fellow mechanic at the shop Jungkook worked at. 

But what would he be calling for?

“Yeah? What’s up Hoseok?” You asked.

“Um… Jungkook, he collapsed at work, he might need to go to the doctor but we’re slammed. You’re his emergency contact so I’m calling you to let you know what’s going on?” His voice sounded worried and confused. Jungkook never got sick, he was a demon, but they didn’t know that. They just knew he was a healthy young guy. 

But this was odd. 

“I’ll be right there,” you said, hanging up and grabbing your keys.

The drive through town was relatively quiet, but when you got to the shop you could see that there were several people waiting for their usual tune ups and repair work.

You walked in and Ashley, the receptionist, smiled at you. “Hey Y/N, thanks for coming. Jungkook’s in the office with Namjoon,” she said softly.

With a nod you headed back towards the office. You heard Namjoon speaking to Jungkook, but it seemed like he was either not responsive or just choosing to ignore him. The latter seemed more probable. Namjoon was the head mechanic at the shop and ran it for his friend Chen who owned a couple different car places throughout the area. 

You opened the door and Jungkook’s head turned towards you. “Baby,” he called. You tried to keep the smirk off your face but you crossed your arms and leaned back against the door.

“Oh, so now I’m your baby?” You said, running your tongue along your teeth with an unimpressed look on your face. Jungkook sighed heavily, knowing that you were going to be pissed with him, he was lucky you came at all. Especially after how he treated you the last time you two saw each other. 

Namjoon sighed, used to the bickering and sour looks shared between the two of you here and there. “I don’t know what caused it Y/N, but he seems pretty sick. He might need to go to the doctor.”

Jungkook was about to protest when you nodded. “I’ll take him,” you said. His eyes flashed red in annoyance but it was brief. 

“Chen’s already given him the rest of today and tomorrow off,” Namjoon said. “So hopefully that’ll give him some time to recoup, but if he needs more just have him give us a call.”

You nodded, reaching for Jungkook’s hand. He took it, sitting up slowly. You read his energy and found yourself immediately concerned. He seemed to notice your worry and sighed deeply before standing and leaning against you. Without much more ceremony you ledhim to your car.

Neither of you said much as you got him in and started off towards his place. You would have to do an energy transfer for him tonight, luckily it would just take a few potions or a spell to replenish his energy, sex worked as well but ultimately the cause had you concerned. 

His human body was starting to deteriorate.

When you arrived you grabbed him and helped get him inside his house.

He was panting softly and laid back on his bed in a huff.

“You need energy,” you whispered, leaning forward to give him some of yours to ease some of his pain. Jungkook turned his head to keep your lips from connecting in the way he needed. “You’re being a shit, either let me help you or delete my number.”

Jungkook frowned, swallowing hard before turning his head so your lips could connect. He breathed deeply in relief as your energy flowed through him softly. Your energy had always been soothing to him, but right now it seemed to help immensely.

He’d missed you.

When you moved to pull away he grabbed you by the back of your neck and connected your lips again. You kissed him with a gentleness that he wasn’t used to, your lips gliding over his softly and with a warmth that was addictive. 

He loved your bites and eager kisses but this… This had things stirring in his stomach that frightened him.

Jungkook was afraid of very few things. But your genuine care for him scared him most of all. Because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Jungkook wasold and angry and yet, more exhausted than anything.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and settled in his lap. Kissing him a bit more to relax him. The energy would settle soon enough and he would at least be able to tell you what happened. 

“Baby,” he called, voice raspy and tired.

“Yes, Kook, what’s wrong?” You cooed, running your hands through his hair to ease him into accepting your energy. The more he fought it the less it would work. “Relax baby, I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

He nodded, head dropping into your neck as he simply tried to feel you. It had been a long time since he’d needed a transfer from you but each time he always forgot how easy you made it. 

“Good job, sweet boy,” you praised, kissing his cheek and temple.

Jungkook sighed heavily against your skin, placing tender kisses there as well. “Can I have more energy baby… please?”

You smirked. “Do you want the potions? I know they taste bad but they work, or we can do a direct transfer through sex-”

“Yes,” he said quickly. 

You chuckled softly before nodding. “That’s fine then, lay back baby,” you said, undoing his belt and getting his pants unbuttoned. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, head tipping back in bliss as you touched him. He felt encompassed by you and your soothing energy.

Your hand slipped in his pants and squeezed his cock gently to encourage him to harden. Your kisses on his jaw and neck stayed sweet but they were firmer, something told you he needed to be babied today. And even though it was rare, you adored it every time. You pushed his pants down further so they wouldn’t be in your way, sending him a look as you spat on his cock. You wrapped your hand around the shaft and pumped slowly, watching the pleasure write across his features. 

“F-Fuck, yeah-ah,” he whimpered, eyes shut and brow furrowed in ecstasy.

“Getting so hard so fast, gonna feel so good in my pussy baby,” you cooed, taking his hand and leading it under your skirt. 

Jungkook’s eyes practically sparkled at the fact you were so wet. “Soaked-you’re soaked angel,” he moaned, touching your core carefully.

You hiccuped a soft sigh of pleasure before leaning down and taking his cock in your mouth. Jungkook’s breathing stammered at your hot and wet throat swallowing his cock.

You’d always done it so well, and Jungkook could say he would die happily if you were sucking his dick. “F-Fuck, angel, please-mmm,” he groaned, his other hand gently caressing the back of your head. “Sweet tongue, feels so fucking good.

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock before eagerly swallowing it again. Jungkook’s submissive whines had you clenching your thighs together as his fingers snuck inside your panties.

“O-Open your legs-please, wanna touch your pussy, need to feel you,” he whimpered.

Without much ceremony you did as he asked, opening your legs to let him touch you. Jungkook moaned at the feeling of your slick heat against his fingers, he plunged two inside of you causing your throat to tighten around his cock, giving him a rush of heady pleasure down his spine. He could feel you everywhere. Your energy coursing through him, your hot mouth on his dick and your juicy pussy dripping down his fingers. He was quickly getting overwhelmed in the best way. He wanted more of you, more and more until there was nothing left to give. He wanted to give you more too.

He desperately wished he could sometimes.

“Koo~” you moaned on his cock, rutting your hips gently to remind him you were currently soaking his hand and needed some stimulation or you were going to lose your mind. 

“Yeah angel baby, soaking pussy feels so good...”

You whimpered on his cock, using the vibrations to pleasure him that much more. But his fingers were working so much slick from your core you knew you needed to have him inside or you were going to go insane. He cried out when you pulled away, eyes wide with need. You kissed him then, giving him a touch more energy to help ease his frantic breathing. He shivered when you climbed on top of him, your warmth and wetness seemingly everywhere. 

��Ready baby? Want me to put you in?” you asked, tugging your panties off and slipping your skirt down and off of your legs. 

Jungkook nodded quickly. “Please, please baby let me feel you,” he said, reaching for you as you crawled back into his bed. You smiled and rubbed yourself against his cock teasingly for a moment before Jungkook looked about ready to cry. 

“Alright sweetie, I’ll stop teasing now, take what you need,” you said, easing yourself down on him. Jungkook’s hands settled at your hips, huffing out desperate breaths of pleasure as your tight heat swallowed his sensitive cock. 

“Yes! Yes fuck, feels so fucking good angel, oh baby,” he cried, sounding wrecked already. 

You had a feeling you would be doing most of the work today, so you started gingerly bouncing on his cock. Jungkook’s eyes were sparkling, turning a soft purple color as your magic intertwined with him. You had been training for years to have this level of mana and Jungkook knew he’d only scratched the surface of your abilities on days like this.

Sometimes he wondered how strong you really were. You handled him like you weren’t afraid of him or his powers. Albeit his strength was significantly less than it was back in hell.

Even then though, he was curious.

“Fuck~ Jungkook!” you whined, grinding your clit on his lower stomach. “Please, please baby, wanna make you cum,” you pleaded. “Cum inside me baby, please? Give me your cum and I’ll take it like such a good girl. Your good girl Kook,” you said, reaching down to play with yourself.

Jungkook groaned in pleasure. “So close baby, so close-ah fuck!” he gritted out through his teeth.

“Gonna fill me up? Please give it to me, Jungkook. Wanna have your cum so deep inside.”

He couldn’t hold it back anymore, Jungkook sat up and pulled you close as he rutted deeply in your pussy for a few quick thrusts before he shivered in release. You felt your core pulsing at his whimpers and whines from the pleasure your body gave him. His head was flush against your chest as he panted.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Your energy was mellowing nicely with his giving him more color in his face that eased your own heart. “Kook,” you said softly. “D’you feel okay?” you asked, hips and thighs burning from the effort to fuck him, but the pleased look on his face made everything worth it in your mind. 

“You didn’t cum,” he said, reaching down to touch your sensitive clit. He was still decently hard inside of you, but you knew he didn’t have long. “Wanna make you cum angel,” he said, rolling his hips up into your gingerly.

“Mmm, baby,” you called in a pitched tone. “Won’t take much, I’m so close,” you hiccuped, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Jungkook grunted, his cock was sensitive but your sweet moans kept him up long enough to feel that tight squeeze from your pussy and the rush of slick that soaked his cock in response. “Fuck, yes, yes give it to me,” he begged. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly. You scanned his energy quickly and felt relieved to know it was almost back to normal. “Thank you baby,” you said, patting his cheek with a dizzying smile. 

“It’s not as good if you don’t cum, love feeling you squeeze me,” he sighed in bliss, your warmth still holding his cock nicely. 

Sometimes he liked this. He liked just feeling your body against his, his cock inside you for a few moments after you both came. You got wetter and slicker and your walls felt so nice on his cock he thought it would make him cum again some days. 

You smoothed your hands down his back, holding him close as your energy finally settled and his eyes changed back to their regular brown color. 

With wobbly knees you got up and headed towards his bathroom. 

Jungkook laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. He wanted a cigarette but he’d run out the night before.

You came back and stood before him. Jungkook could see up your skirt and he was trying not to focus on that as you stood there with a waiting expression.

He inhaled deeply. “I know you read my energy. You know what’s happening to me,” he said.

“I want to hear you say it to me,” you stated.

Jungkook nodded, agreeing with your demands of honesty. Finally.

“Not all demons are without humanity. Some have more than others, yet I always seemed to stray towards more rather than less… there was a woman, I slowly found things I liked about her. Then things I enjoyed… then things I found myself smiling about on my own. I was endeared to this woman… I loved her in a sense,” he said, staring at the ceiling.

“And yet, it wasn’t enough,” he breathed. “My fellow knights laughed at me, then berated me for genuinely showing care towards a human. As one of the high knights of hell I was expected to have higher standards than disgusting humans. So they bound me in a human body, locking most of my powers away, so I would no longer be able to communicate with the human I once cared for. And then I was given the quota I told you about… and five thousand years to make it happen. If I didn’t collect a thousand souls then I cease to exist, it’s starting. My timer is running out.”

You swallowed thickly. “How do I help you stop it? How do I help you?”

Jungkook gave you a tired smile. “Baby, I don’t want to ask that of you. I’m so old now, this life doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

You felt a few tears well up in your eyes despite yourself. “It fucking matters to me…” you whimpered. “You matter to me.”

Jungkook was stunned. “Y/N,” he said, reaching for you.

You sat on the bed next to him. “I don’t want you to disappear. What will happen if you collect all one thousand souls?”

“I will be reinstated in Hell,” he murmured. “I won’t disappear and I will be back to full strength once more.”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head. Either way you’d lose him, but at least one way he’d still be alive… “Then let me help you, I don’t want to see you die like this.”

Jungkook sighed deeply. He’d never had many friends. He had people he kept around for convenience, but overall he’d kept to himself throughout the years. You were the only one in recent history that he’d told anything to. Perhaps he could truly do this. He could be reborn in hell once more.

And when he got back to hell… he could rip those knights apart for what they put him through…

He nodded. “I’ll need your help,” he said.

“You have it,” the words fell easily from your lips. “I won’t let you die like this.”

“Then I won’t.”

—

Jungkook hadn’t expected you to take this so seriously. And yet, here you were in his apartment. You had your glasses on and were gazing at your spellbook as a potion boiled on the stove. Jungkook alway thought you used a cauldron.

‘You think my tiny ass apartment could fit a cauldron?!’ You’d cried in annoyance at his teasing.

So here it bubbled and boiled and no doubt would cause trouble for Jungkook when he would ultimately have to clean it later.

“Baby,” he called, moving closer to you with your cup of coffee.

You’d stayed the night last night-Jungkook may have fucked you stupid enough he was worried about you driving. There weren’t any sisters of the coven stopping by soon so you could spend the night wrapped in his sheets. And you did exactly that.

You had ten months and twelve days to complete the task Jungkook had been given.

Ten more souls in ten months.

You’d already gotten a list together of possible cities you could look into. Once you had your potion perfected, Jungkook could go out and find his prey with minimal difficulty.

You took the cup from him, setting your spellbook aside as he sat across from you on the couch. You sighed and removed your glasses, rubbing your sleepy features before taking a sip of the hot coffee.

Jungkook watched you and gave your knee a squeeze. “Don’t use up too much energy baby. I’ve got ten months,” he said.

“Ten months isn’t a long time for a witch, nor is it for a demon, we need to work quickly before your condition progresses,” you said, drinking more of your coffee.

Jungkook crawled forward, taking your coffee from you which caused a pout to befall your features. He set your coffee down and crawled on top of you, laying his head right under your chest. He’d crawled between your thighs and was lying entirely over you.

“Need more energy?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair. 

“No, I’m fine,” he said, resting against you.

You chuckled before resting back, hand still playing with the hair on his head. Recently, Jungkook had been craving these more than his cigarettes. Simple touches, soft kisses and conversations. Jungkook had never felt so at ease before. Even in his life as a knight of hell.

Jungkook rested heavily against your stomach, laying in between your legs. You knew this could be a side effect of your energy transfer-but it had been a while since he’d needed one. Usually the clinging from your energy would dissipate in a day or two.

It had been at least a week at this point. So what made Jungkook so snuggly? You didn’t want to complain about a sweet thing however.

Jungkook leaned into you more, curling around you as you kept rubbing his scalp. He seemed happy to just stay like this for a while. And you wondered what was causing such a change in him. Was this what he was like with those he trusted?

Sweet and softer?

Or was this purely for you-

No.

You couldn’t think that way, not about Jungkook. Either way this ended with him leaving you… you had to keep focused, you were doing this for your friend.

Your truest friend.

Jungkook snoozed on your belly, content to laze about while you did the hard work. But your heart broke a little more that day.

As you slowly started to fall for a man without a soul.

--

You’d been stressed today. 

Jungkook could tell that you were just by the cute frown on your face, it seemed to have a permanent place on your pretty features today. It always appeared when you were frustrated or angry. He’d seen it directed at him several times, but right now it was at the potion you were working on. 

There was a new ingredient you were sampling in it or something to that effect, Jungkook didn’t really understand much of what you were doing to be honest. But it was clear you were stumped for now. It was almost two o’clock in the morning.

“Y/N...” he trailed off, approaching as you sighed deeply.

Jungkook rarely said your name, so to hear it come out you knew whatever he said next he either was serious. 

“Time to take a break,” he whispered, standing behind you in his kitchen. There were bags of ingredients all over the kitchen and it would no doubt be left there until later when you two woke up. You’d been staying at his place more and more lately and he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. He had access to your sweet lips and body daily, but it seemed rare that he wanted sex recently. Not that he wasn’t attracted or he was disinterested, it was merely there were other things about you that he was finding more and more interesting. Sex would always be one of his favorite activities with you, but right now he felt that he was learning new things about you everyday. It had him excited in ways he hadn’t been in centuries. 

It also had him concerned. 

Jungkook was a demon, he shouldn’t be having feelings like this. It almost shouldn’t be possible. It was not in his design to care much about people or have interest in them other than striking deals and killing them to collect their souls. 

But Jungkook pushed all of those worries and thoughts to the back of his head. 

Because your frown had appeared again, and that sweet pout he wanted to kiss. 

“I’ve almost got it,” you said, voice soft and sleepy. 

“I’m sure you do baby, but you’re tired and you won’t work well when you’re falling asleep,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Come to bed...”

You leaned back heavily against him, looking up at his face while you sighed. With a tired smile you patted his cheek. 

“I don’t want to give up for the night yet, you go to bed, I’ll join you in a bit...”

Jungkook wasn’t going to take that for his answer. So he turned the burner on his stove off and lifted you into his arms deftly. You didn’t have it in you to fight him, you expected this result anyways. 

He laid you in bed and crawled in next to you. He pulled you into his embrace and sighed heavily as you snuggled in. He wrapped you up in his arms and you looked at his expression and gave him a smile. A real one. In reward he returned it, kissing your lips before laying back on the pillow. 

“Sleep baby, we can try again in the morning.”

His words soothed something inside of you, the desperate thirst to have this potion done so you didn’t waste any more precious time. 

You could waste a little time though, right?

Here in his arms you thought you could waste a lot more time than you had...

—

A weekend trip to the city was easy to conceal from your coworkers and sisters. You claimed you wanted a weekend away from coven activities-which was a bold-faced lie as you would be using magic in public which was almost exclusively forbidden. And doing it to help a demon. 

Needless to say you hoped no one in your coven ever found out about this.

Jungkook grabbed his bag and tossed it into the back of his car as he got your stuff in too. “Got my keys baby?”

You tossed them across his car and he caught them, moving into the drivers side and opening your door for you. You climbed in and buckled up and shortly thereafter you were on the road.

You and Jungkook turned on a playlist and drove out of the town's limits and made it to the highway. Jungkook changed the playlist and you two settled in for a while.

After a bit, Jungkook reached over and grabbed your thigh, driving with one hand on the wheel. You looked down at his hand before gazing back at him.

“What?” You asked softly.

Ten months and three days. That’s how long you had left.

“Just wanted to.” 

Your mouth curved into a shy smile before you placed your hand on his, afterwards your fingers intertwined in your lap.

Soon, you rolled into the city. Jungkook had gotten a decent hotel room for a few days for you two to have a home base. You’d find sections of the city where the next soul was and Jungkook could go out at night and collect.

His powers made it discrete however. Usually the attack was made to look like a natural cause. Rarely did it arouse suspicion. All by design.

When you two made it to your hotel room, Jungkook was quick to attach himself to you. He’d been less interested in solely gaining sex from you recently. However it had been a while since your last romp.

His lips found your neck as you tried to get your stuff out of your bag.

“Kook, what do you want?” You huffed as his hard length brushed against your ass. An aroused shiver rushed through you, sex being a little less frequent between the two of you had you more sensitive to his touch than usual.

“Wanna fuck baby, please?” He asked, rutting against your core softly.

You rolled back against him, unable to help yourself in this instant. His body felt so good and you were more than willing to have him between your legs.

“Yes, fuck me, Kook,” you breathed.

Jungkook didn’t waste much time, he hooked his fingers in your pants and pulled them down quickly. Your panties were damp and Jungkook purred at the sight. “You’re so wet baby,” he smiled, his hand dipping in your panties while he kissed your jaw.

You couldn’t help the soft juts of your hips into the cup of his pelvis, causing your ass to grind against his cock. “Fuck… Jungkook,” you whined, head rolling back on his chest. A soft chuckle escaped him at your needy tone.

“Yeah, m’gonna fuck you so hard baby,” he said. His fingers found your wet folds, sinking two inside your entrance shallowly, causing you to clench desperately.

You held his wrist, whimpering in need. “Please, please,” you panted. “Need something inside. Need you inside me, Kook.”

Jungkook kissed your jaw, a smile on his face. “Want my cock baby? Want it in that sweet little pussy?”

“Yeah~” you pleaded. 

With a deep sigh Jungkook took his hand from inside your panties, tasting your slick and moaning. 

“I need to eat your pussy first,” he said, turning you around and laying you on the bed. You laid back on the bed, peeling your legs open so that he could lay between them. Jungkook grabbed your panties and tossed them away. He breathed out in an eager pant. His eyes were locked on your core and then he looked at you. 

“Wanna eat it baby?” you asked, smiling at his hungry eyes. 

“Yeah,” he whined. “Let me have it, please baby let me eat your pretty pussy. Make you cum so nice,” he said, licking his lips.

Jungkook looked at your core, furrowed brows as he seemed as if he was almost in pain. “Please…”

You nodded. “Okay baby,” you said with a grin. “Take it then.”

He captured your lower lips in a hot kiss, moaning deeply as he licked between your folds to gather more of your sweetness that had him addicted. “Fuck… yes,” he groaned, moving to hold your thighs apart so he had better access to your dripping core.

“Kook!” You whined, head falling back on your shoulders as your fingers wound into his hair. “Fuck, fuck your mouth!” You cried.

Jungkook was eager to eat, it seemed that no matter how much time he spent between your legs it wouldn’t be enough. He’d always wish for one more minute, your sweet cunt on his mouth and your wetness gathering on his tongue had his cock pulsing in need. But he didn’t care about that, getting you soaking wet for his cock was all that was on his mind.

He took your clit between his pretty lips and started sucking harshly. He swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud before going back to suck again. You mewled in pleasure, thighs trembling at his heady touches. His middle and pointer fingers rubbed over your core before catching at your entrance. With a soft smirk he pushed his two fingers inside your hot walls. 

“Jungkook!” you cried, grabbing his hair harshly. He just moaned in acknowledgment, happily slurping the wetness you leaked as he thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy slowly. His eyes shimmered at the sight of your slick coating his digits as it always did. 

“I love your pussy so much, fuck,” he growled, lips and chin covered in you. 

“So close, Jungkook,” you begged, the throbbing in your walls a clear sign of your oncoming orgasm. 

He smirked again, before pulling away. You were about to cry for him to keep going when you heard him unbuckling his pants. With eager hands you moved forward to grab at him, pulling him closer as he chuckled at your neediness. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you scowled.

“Sorry baby,” he cooed, kissing your jaw. “Gonna make you squirt on my cock to make up for it huh?”

You felt the rush of his words tingle down your spine. He rarely didn’t mean what he said. And you were his good girl. If he wanted you to squirt on his cock then so be it.

You two quickly got worked up as Jungkook kissed you breathless and you tugged his pants down his thick thighs. He pulled his shirt off of his body and your eyes always widened. His tattoos were on full display and his toned body moving on top of you had stars forming in your eyes. 

“You’re such a slut for a hot body,” he smirked, eyes dark and swirling with red undertones. 

“I’m a slut for your hot body, yes,” you corrected. His eyes widened at your statement, but you were pumping his dick in your hand and he quickly felt his need for you taking over. 

“Then let me put it in,” he sighed, naked now.

You were pulling your bra off when Jungkook leaned close. You looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. 

There was this... sensation in Jungkook’s chest. Your bright eyes, teasing smile and sweet kiss encasing him and making him feel...

Lighter.

You laid back once you were naked as well and Jungkook moved eagerly to get in position. You giggled as he dragged you closer, adjusting you so his cock was now level with your pussy.

“Gonna put it in now baby,” he said, pushing just the tip of his cock inside before pulling out. You cried in impatience and Jungkook nodded, listening to both of your desires and pushing in further. Your fingers gripped the sheets of the bed and Jungkook rubbed your clit with his thumb to ease any tension from you so you could take him easily. He pulsed inside your cunt, a shiver of bliss running down his spine. It felt like electricity flowing through him. Your pussy was warm and snug around his cock and he could feel your wetness leaking down onto his balls already and he smiled. 

“Jungkook! Please, please move,” you whined, eyes watery and pretty. 

“Yes angel baby,” he agreed, thrusting inside of you with a steady pace. 

The two of you moaned in appreciation of the other. Jungkook’s thick cock filled you in every way you wanted and needed, hitting all the right fucking spots. You’d never had another partner make you feel this way in the over one hundred years of your life. You clenched tightly and Jungkook swore he almost lost his fucking mind. He grabbed your thigh as he ground his pelvis against yours after every other thrust, holding himself up with the other hand. He was rewarded with your decadent cries.

“Fuck! Jungkook, fuck me baby, please, more-I need more,” you begged, grabbing his upper back and shoulders desperately. 

Your wish was his command. He moved your thighs so your knees touched your ribs and started fucking you harder. The sound of your wet pussy swallowing him filled the room and he could hardly think. The only thing driving him was your cries and the pulsing in his lower stomach. 

“Fucking wet pussy, yes-yes!” He sighed, his head tipping back for a moment as the pleasure of the moment overcame him.

“So big-so full!” you whimpered. 

Jungkook smiled at your mewling cries, they coursed through his veins and made his chest tighten. Bringing you to this point was always so exhilarating. He loved pushing you to your limits and watching you shudder and gasp as he forced you to take it over and over again while the sparkle in your eye never faded. You wanted to take it, take him. You loved challenging him and bringing him to his knees just as often as he did to you.

“Yeah, take my big cock, snug little pussy takes my cock so well,” he growled, leaning down to kiss you with dark passion. He sucked on your lower lip before capturing your tongue in between his lips instead. 

“Ahhh~” you whined, his hips pushing harder and harder against yours. He finally released your tongue and pulled you into another deep kiss before giving two more firm thrusts before looking at you, his eyes swirling with their beautiful red hue.

“Wanna fuck you from behind baby,” he purred, pulling from you and encouraging you to roll onto your belly. He spanked your ass, gripping the flesh between his fingers and watching you writhe in need for him.

“Please Kook,” you begged. “Put it back in...” you said, wiggling your hips to entice him. Jungkook spanked you again, causing you to gasp in pleasure. 

“Wait for my cock you needy girl,” he said. “I’ll make it worth it,” he promised, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. You leaned your head to the side and reached up to cradle his neck. Jungkook trailed his hand down to your soaked pussy, throbbing with the need to cum. He slipped his fingers inside of you, reaching his other hand around your throat to tilt your head up. You watched him tower over you while his fingers plunged in and out of your sopping pussy. 

Jungkook bit his lip while watching your eyes glaze over with the desire to cum. He loved bringing you to this point. Needy, eager and pleading for the pleasure he can deliver to you. “Sweet pussy baby, wanna cum? Wanna cum on my fingers?” 

You couldn’t even form words with how good he felt. Your mouth was open as you panted your pleasure out in desperation. 

“Or do you want my thick cock making you cream and squirt?” He teased, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside you that had stars swirling in your vision. “What does my angel want?”

“Kook, p-put your cock in, need it!” You rasped, feeling far too fucked out to handle anymore teasing.

Jungkook honestly couldn’t wait much longer either. His stomach felt tight with desire and he really needed to cum. 

“Okay baby,” he cooed. Honestly, Jungkook was at his limit too. He couldn’t wait to feel the walls of your pussy wrapped around him while he plowed you into the bed and finished inside. Fuck, he wanted it so badly. 

Finally he lined up with your entrance and pushed inside slowly. A soft cry came from your lips that Jungkook shushed, a lazy smile on his face. “Don’t cry at me baby, I’ll fuck you even harder for it.”

Little did Jungkook know, you wanted the rough treatment right now. You wanted more of it. He sighed in bliss when he bottomed out in your tight cunt, a deep seated pleasure boiling in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to feel you cream around his cock. You were flat on your belly, legs together but ass perched slightly up so Jungkook slid all the more easily. 

“Yeah... just like that, good girl angel, that’s my good girl,” he said, starting to pick up pace rather quickly. You didn’t need him to be careful, you needed him to make you cum. 

“Kook-Jungkook!” you cried, gripping the sheets between your fingers as he started pounding you just as he promised. 

He couldn’t help the grin that fell over his features when he saw that ring of your cream forming at the base of his cock. “Fuck, fuck baby you look so good like this. Letting me fucking cream this pussy, ah~” he whined at your clenching walls sucking him in-begging in their own right for his cum. 

“Please kook, so close, let me cum baby, please-I need it, need you Kook!” you cried. Jungkook’s hands found yours as he leveraged his hips so he could go even harder inside you. 

“Gonna make me cum baby, make me cum fuck,” he huffed out, breaths coming in short pants. His brow was sweaty and the muscles in his thighs were trembling from the position he was fucking you in. But he didn’t care. Because your pussy was working him over and his balls were tensing as he waited for you to rut those cute little hips back. 

Like clockwork you did as he expected, one of your tells you would be cumming soon. “Fuck, Jungkook! So close-so close!” you squealed, gripping his hands desperately as he was slamming into you. The wet squelching noises of your pussy were driving him up the wall and the view of your ass while he wreaked havoc on your body.

“M’gonna cum, angel, tell me where you want it,” he said, panting against your ear as he leaned over you. 

“Inside baby, want all your cum inside me,” you whined. 

He growled deeply, kissing your neck and biting down while he rutted inside harshly. “Take it then, cream my cock while I fill you up,” he said, another passionate snarl leaving his lips.

You answered with your own sweet mewls of pleasure, egging him on, whispering more naughty things to make him fuck you that much harder. 

It didn’t take much longer before you both found yourselves thrown into orgasm. You first, walls squeezing him tightly, pulling him over the edge of bliss alongside you. He breathed hard against your shoulder, kissing along your skin to ease both of you through the intense sensations. 

His cum started seeping past his softening cock and Jungkook finally found the ability to move once more. He wandered to the bathroom and got a few washcloths to clean the pair of you up with. Soft kisses were placed along the crown of your head, your cheeks and lips. “Such a good girl, angel baby,” he praised, more words of affection lain across your skin with his mouth. 

Jungkook crawled into bed with you, pulling your frame close. “You alright?” 

A soft chuckle escaped you, curling into him with practiced ease. “Yeah, m’good,” you said, eyes drooping slowly.

He smiled at you then, and you felt an odd pulse go through you. 

The sooner you helped him, the faster he would slip from your grasp. These moments with him were fleeting, each time closer and closer to the last time you’d be entangled like this. Each kiss counting down in big red numbers. Your heart squeezed, and before you knew it, tears started to fall from your eyes. 

Jungkook startled at the sudden change in emotion from you. “Hey, what’s wrong baby? Y/N?” 

For a moment you really thought. 

You really thought that you two could love each other...

--

Jungkook left your room late that evening. He kissed your head as you slept, curled up in the sheets naked. Jungkook almost didn’t want to leave you, he wanted to sleep as well-he wanted to hold your warm frame against him as he did.

These thoughts were starting to concern him. These were the very kinds of thoughts that had damned him to spend five thousand years on Earth. He wasn’t keen on suffering for another five thousand.

As a demon, Jungkook wasn’t sure if he should be able to feel these things. He was starting to care for you. He wanted to spend time with you, he wanted to be around you. But he knew that your time together was limited. Either he died or was sent back to hell, and either way you two would lose each other in the end. 

It made him angry that this was your fate.

He didn’t want his time with you to be on a countdown. But the world is cruel by design and there was nothing Jungkook could do. You would ultimately be ripped from each other. 

As he walked down the streets, Jungkook took your potion you’d made to help him navigate all the different souls at once. Jungkook wasn’t used to hunting like this anymore, it felt like decades since his last hunt. Perhaps it was, he wasn’t sure at this point. One thousand souls is a lot of people to collect from, and five thousand years is a long time to be on Earth. He was always forgetting the time before he met you.

Now, his time had never felt more limited. 

Jungkook weaved through the people of the night, watching with keen eyes that were enhanced with your potion. Your potion also enhanced his other abilities, his strength and allure were heightened as well. 

Everything would increase Jungkook’s likelihood of taking a few souls tonight. 

He slid into a seat at a random dive bar, he charmed the bartender to give him a free drink as he walked through the people. There was a woman here, she was in her early thirties. Jungkook followed her, projecting a different face to lure her in. 

Jungkook approached her cooly, speaking in soft tones and shy smiles to coax her into divulging her name. He handed her the drink and she blushed softly. The poor woman was in love with her boss, who was married. There was no way they’d ever get to be together. He always felt moderately bad for these people, but before he met you he thought they almost deserved it in a sense. That’s what they got for getting their hopes up. But now.... 

He led her outside into an alleyway where he seduced her just a bit more. Jungkook breathed her name out, capturing her lips in a kiss, and soon her soul was traveling from her to him, absorbing into Jungkook as he caught her, laying her down on the ground. It looked like she merely had a heart attack and fell over in the alleyway. 

A sad ending for her. 

Kerri Jesen...

Jungkook walked away from the scene, his old persona melting off and his regular human form, although the feeling of a soul coursing through him had his heart pounding in his chest. It was a rush, almost like getting high. His head was spinning and his mind was reeling, but he knew this was simply due to the fact he hadn’t been collecting souls as frequently. 

Usually demons didn’t get this kind of rush.

Jungkook was wandering the streets towards the hotel when the distinct feeling of being watched fell over him. 

He didn’t stop moving, but he knew it was a witch tracking him. His mind was still a little hazy from the collection but he knew that it wasn’t supposed to last much longer. He didn’t head back to the hotel yet. He didn’t want to lead an angry witch right to you if he had a choice.

Just as he was about to turn another corner, a blade was presented to his throat. Jungkook stopped moving, the witch brandishing her blade scowling at him. 

“Demon,” she spat at him.

“Witch,” he spat back.

“You murdered my sister,” she growled, slicing at him with her knife. He dodged it easily, but he really didn’t want to fight. She wasn’t going to count towards his quota so there was no point in killing her, except to get her off his back. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he answered honestly. 

“I saw you!” she yelled. “You were at the bar! Then you shifted,” she said, taking another deep jab at him. 

He dodged again, but he could tell she was going to cause a scene with the way she was going. He had to get out and fast. When she lunged again, Jungkook took her by the wrist and threw her onto the ground and took off running. He ran towards the hotel, his only instinct was telling him to head for you.

He bolted into the elevator and then took off towards your shared room. It was almost two am, he didn’t want to wake you but he was afraid he wasn’t going to be given an option. 

“Baby,” he called, walking into the room. 

You were asleep on the bed, curled up right where he left you. He moved closer and kissed your shoulder. “Baby, Y/N, we gotta go,” he said, urging you to wake. 

You did so slowly, exhaustion filling your limbs and making them heavier than lead. “What? What’s wrong Kook?” you murmured, reaching for him slowly. 

“Need you to get up, we’ve got trouble,” he said. 

Your eyes cleared and you moved to get dressed quickly. Jungkook was starting to grab your stuff when the window to your room shattered. 

“Fuck!” You screamed, falling back on the floor as the witch jumped through the now broken window. 

“Y/N!”

The witch stood and glared at you. You felt the hostility and rage pouring off her in waves. Whatever Jungkook did, he really really pissed her off. Without much more ceremony you stood and blocked her from Jungkook.

“What are you doing?” you asked, voice firm. “What the fuck is going on?”

“That fucking demon killed my sister-and you... you’re a fucking witch! What the hell are you doing with a demon anyways? Did you summon it?”

“Him,” you corrected. “I didn’t summon him, I’m helping return him to hell,” you stated calmly.

“And helping it return to hell involves fucking it?”

You bristled at her tone.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you warned, feeling your magic swirl in your fingertips. 

“Baby-”

“Don’t Jungkook, you stay behind me right now,” you stated. 

The witch looked at you with curious eyes. “You love this demon?” 

Jungkook’s head snapped to you as you stared straight ahead. This witch was bad news. She wasn’t from your coven, but she was from one in this region you were certain. This was exactly what you didn’t want to happen. Because now she was picking a fight with a different coven. And she knew. She knew you were falling in love with Jungkook and it was her greatest weapon against you in this moment. 

You hardly had time to blink before she made her first attack, a flash of lightning directed for Jungkook. You didn’t even move in order to cast your magic,  you made a ward that protected him entirely without even the lift of a finger. 

“You’re strong, how old are you?” she asked, like the question was an average thing to hear from another person.

“Old enough to know when to pick my battles. I don’t want to fight with you, and Jungkook doesn’t either-”

“That demon killed my sister! I won’t let it live,” she growled. 

“I won’t let him die,” you said with a deep tone. Your eyes flashed purple and you sent magical flames towards her feet. They wouldn’t burn anything but the intended target. She shrieked and jumped onto the bed, rolling and throwing a knife towards you. With a quick flash you stopped the blade in the air and turned it towards her, propelling it forward with your magic. 

Jungkook was stunned to say the least. He’d never seen you use your magic like this before. He didn’t even know you were capable of this much mana manipulation and things of the like. He knew you were strong before because of how much energy you’d always been able to give him, but this was on an entirely different level.

“You’re betraying your sisters for this?!” the witch cried. 

“I am,” you said, a shot of ice towards her. Elemental magic was much more complex than most witches understood, so to have you wielding it so effortlessly had Jungkook impressed all over again. 

She dodged it. 

“What’s your name huh? What coven do you belong to?” you asked, warding against another attack. 

“My name is Maya Tudor, I’m from the Coven of Nyx Rienhardt, and we will not tolerate the murder of one of our own,” she hollered. 

“You’re not supposed to act on your own,” you said, blocking more of her attacks. “You’re meant to report this to Nyx herself. She would then dispose of me how she sees fit,” you said, pushing back against her. “Acting on your own without the thought of your sisters is just as damning. Isn’t that what I’m doing? You’re acting no better than me, little witchling.”

Maya shoved back against your wards, causing you and Jungkook to stumble onto the floor. Jungkook caught you, holding you close as Maya attempted another strike when you snapped back with a whip of ice. 

She cried as the magic burned her skin, causing a blister to form along her arm. “Fucking bitch!” she snarled, standing back as Jungkook pulled you to your feet.

“Come on,” he said, pulling you towards the door. 

The pair of you booked it down the hallway, the sound of Maya hot on your heels made you concerned. People weren’t supposed to know witches and demons or anything in regards to the supernatural. Maya was breaking more rules than you were at this point. 

Jungkook and you made it to the parking garage.

He was just trying to get you to the car so you could gather a bit of your strength to help the pair of you get away. At least for now. 

“Jungkook, slow down!” you cried, stumbling over your feet. 

“Can’t, we gotta get out of here Y/N,” he said, pulling harder. 

“Jungkook she’s gonna hear you-fuck!” 

With a pained whimper, you fell to your knees. The car was just a hundred yards away. “Y/N?!”

You held your side, as a small dagger peaked between your fingers. Jungkook kneeled with you, looking at the damage. You’d survive, he just had to get you in the fucking car. 

Unfortunately, it seemed you had different plans. 

You lifted yourself up onto your feet, wavering slightly as you stared at the brat of a witchling who you knew wouldn’t know any better. But honestly, this was too much. You weren’t going to lose Jungkook to her.

Yourself on the other hand...

“Enough,” you said, pulling the dagger from your side and dropping it to the floor. Maya looked at you with disdain evident in her eyes.

“I will get revenge for my fallen sister,” she growled.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” you declared firmly.

Jungkook swallowed hard. This witch was different then he’d originally anticipated. He was starting to sense a difference in her magic. You were taking most of the hits and he wondered why, up until now. 

She could slay a demon with the blade she’d hit you with. 

Banishing magic. 

No wonder you were being so fiercely protective. One hit with those blades and Jungkook would be killed. Or at the very least, sent back to hell.

But you were already hurt, he didn’t want to see you get injured even more. 

“Baby,” he called softly. 

“Don’t, don’t distract me or she’s going to-”

She sent rapid fire bolts towards you that you had to work hard to dodge, messing with your orientation enough that you stumbled. Jungkook tried to support you but you waved him off. “Go, go baby, get out of here.” 

Jungkook scoffed in shock. You were going to sacrifice yourself... for him?

That’s when he understood what Maya said in the hotel room. 

You loved him...

Jungkook’s throat got tight as he thought about you. However, his heart didn’t race. It couldn’t, he couldn’t love you the way he is now. Even if he was more human than most demons, he was still-ultimately-a creature of chaos. A creature that didn’t have a typical set of emotions. 

Although he knew... He knew deep within himself had he been human, he would love you. He’d love you with everything he was if... if only he could. 

Perhaps he should do this for you. He should make the call and give you the last thing he can.

His life. 

It would always be yours.

You and Maya were going back and forth. You were doing harder work, protecting yourself and Jungkook as Maya made ground with her attacks. The wound on your side was aching, and there was nothing you could do about it. Not without losing more of your energy that could be spent protecting and hopefully getting this bitch to leave you and Jungkook alone.

You were sweating, the magic energy finally starting to drain. However, the witchling didn’t look much better. If you could just hold out a little longer. 

Unfortunately, there was a hidden trump card. 

Maya shouted an incantation before you were surrounded with bright light. The pain hit you first as you thudded to the ground gasping, Maya had slammed you with lightning. You weren’t even able to get a ward up to protect yourself from the exhaustion coursing through your veins. Jungkook moved in front of you.

Maya stalked towards Jungkook with purpose. You whimpered from the ground, looking at him with a pained expression. He just gave you his smile before turning to face the witchling once more. 

“If I let you kill me, will you leave her alone?” Jungkook asked.

“Jungkook, no!” you cried desperately.

Maya considered it for a moment. “Yes, her coven will take care of her.”

You tried to get up, sending a bolt of ice towards her once more. It threw her on her ass for a moment before she was aiming another lightning bolt in your direction. 

“Y/N enough!” Jungkook said, looking back at you. “I’ll do this for you, okay?”

“No, no please don’t do that,” you begged. 

Maya approached Jungkook, taking the invitation and slamming a blade into his back. With a grunt Jungkook fell to his knees. 

It hurt like a bitch.

But the look on your face was infinitely worse. You looked so sad. 

“Justice for my sister has been served, I will leave you to your coven.”

With that, the witchling limped off, her powers effectively drained just as much as yours. If not more so. The only reason she won is because you were doing the work of two people. 

It didn’t matter now. 

“Jungkook,” you cried, crawling forwards to grab him. 

He was bleeding black blood, it was pouring out of the deep gash from the knife in his back. The banishing magic made it so he couldn’t heal himself. Not even your energy would save him now, not like you had enough of it to spare. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly, looking up at you. “This should be enough,” he huffed. 

“No, I don’t want you to die please,” you said, voice watery and eyes tearing up. 

Jungkook smiled at you. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry-I hate it,” he said, reaching to wipe your tears with his thumb. “I’m not worth crying over.”

“You are to me!” you sobbed. “Jungkook... I lov-”

“Shhh,” he shushed you. “I don’t deserve to hear those words,” he said, laying back. “I couldn’t even use my powers to protect you because of how far I’ve let myself fall... You had to make me a fuckin potion so I could hunt, baby,” he coughed. “Don’t say those words to me, I want to say them back but I can’t...”

You were crying hard enough for your shoulders to shake. “Please Jungkook, I don’t care if you can’t say them. I don’t care,” you promised.

“I do,” he whispered. “I want to say them to you someday. But not yet, save it for then...”

You nodded, barely able to speak anymore. “Don’t go...”

Jungkook breathed out slowly. “I’ll see you... again... Promise...”

With those words, Jungkook’s human frame disintegrated into ash, his clothes left behind in your lap and the blackened blood from his wound staining your hands. You gripped his shirt and cried desperately. You cried until your head ached.

You’d lost... everything.

--

Jungkook woke up in a forest. He wasn’t familiar with this place. 

Was he wrong? Did he not get sent back to Hell? 

“Nope, you didn’t,” a calm tone called from behind him. Jungkook whipped around to see a shorter man with blonde hair looking at him with peaceful features. 

“Who are you?” he asked, stumbling backwards. Where was he? And what was going on?

“I’m Jimin - and to answer those questions stumbling around in that head of yours - we are currently in purgatory,” he said. 

“How-”

“Can I know what you’re thinking?” he asked, finishing Jungkook’s statement. He rolled his eyes.

“Stop that,” he demanded. “I thought I would end up in Hell, why am I in purgatory?”

Jimin sighed deeply. “It’s complicated. But, I’ll explain it the best I can... You are a demon that is being punished by the Knights of Hell for acting in the interest of a human - is that correct? You’re Jungkook?”

“Yes, I am,” Jungkook confirmed. 

“Very well, then I am here to offer you a wish.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “A-A wish?”

Jimin smiled, eyes disappearing as he chuckled. “Yes, a wish. Just one. You were a demon that sacrificed your life for the life of another. We Angels have deemed that you are entitled to a wish for your acts,” he explained. “Choose wisely,” his voice turned serious. 

Jungkook could hardly believe what he was hearing. A wish? For saving you? The woman he wanted to love. He still had this feeling in his chest that he didn't deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. But, maybe he could. If he tried. If he made his wish and found you again, would you take him back? Would you let him love you properly this time?

There was only one way to find out. 

“It seems you’ve thought of a wish?” Jimin said with kind eyes. 

“A life - with her,” Jungkook breathed. “I wish for a life with her.”

“It will be a human life, you won’t have any magical abilities or powers. I can give you enough money to sustain you for a time but nothing longer than a year. From there you are on your own. If you die or are injured before finding her there is nothing I can do about that,” Jimin said. 

Jungkook nodded. “I want a life with her, that is my wish. As long as I can be with her that is all I want.”

“Then that is how it shall be.”

--

How had three years gone by already? 

You asked yourself this as you wiped down a counter at your job in a local cafe. Your coven had exiled you. You were extremely lucky they didn’t kill you. But they’d taken your magic-giving you enough to leave town and never return.

With that you hadn’t looked back. You only looked ahead, the only person you wanted could be out there right now. Right this very second. You only had enough magic left for a few tracking spells, and they’d led you to the countryside. A smaller town, but big enough to hide in if necessary.

You were hoping he was here. Your magic had never steered you wrong before, you just wanted to see him again. 

Was he alright? Did they hurt him in Hell? Was he still a demon or was he able to become human... 

All these thoughts swirled in your head. You cleaned the counter tops and the other tables and helped your boss, Seokjin, lock up for the evening.

“Alrighty,” he said, wiping his hands off and smiling. “You’re free to head home! Felix comes in tomorrow morning so you can take the day off if you want?” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

You tilted your head but nodded regardless. “Alright...”

What an odd one this guy was, but you decided to let it go-just appreciative of the day off tomorrow as you’d been working doubles the last week. 

Seokjin came closer with a smile. His irises flashed a bright neon green for just a moment. You could’ve sworn it happened but somehow you almost doubted your own eyes.

“Go home safely, Y/N, don’t worry about tomorrow here Felix will cover for you,” he said. “Have a good evening.”

With that, he placed his baseball cap on his head and trotted away.

Your mind clicked for a moment but all you could feel was appreciation.

No wonder Seokjin accepted you so quickly.

One exiled witch helps the other...

A small smile was on your face as you made your way back home to your apartment. It was tiny, but it was home and you honestly rather preferred the small space. You’d worked hard to make it cozy and welcoming and-

What the fuck?

The door wasn’t latched. You’d locked and latched that door when you came home. The only other person who had a key is Seokjin which you gave to him for emergencies only and this-

“Baby?”

Your head snapped up at the voice you thought you heard. But when you finally laid eyes on him, it was hard to believe he was actually here.

You looked at him, unable to process that he was actually there. Right there in front of you and you could just reach out and touch him but... the tears started faster.

“What...?” your voice was weak and breathless.

Jungkook stood before you, looking almost as if he’d never left. His hair was still long and curly. He was dressed in decent enough clothes, nothing fancy but he looked strong and well fed. Your heart was trembling in your chest at the mere thought of him coming back to you.

He was a demon, he didn’t have to do anything like this for a simple witch turned human. But here he was, standing inside your apartment.

“Hi...” he trailed off, looking sheepish.

“How did you...?” you asked, slowly moving closer into the apartment and out of the chill of the night. “How did you find me?”

Jungkook shut the door behind you and you turned to fling your arms around his neck. He caught you easily with a shy smile on his face. 

“I’ll always find you,” he said, like in some cheesy romance movie. But it made your heart throb in longing all over again.

“Are you a demon? You don’t feel like a demon-”

Jungkook snorted at your questions, knowing that you still couldn’t quite believe he was here. He held you close by your waist, kissing your temple as you breathed him in. “Baby... I’m not a demon, I’m human, just like you,” he said. 

It couldn’t be possible. You didn’t just hear those words from him. “H-Human?”

He pulled back from your embrace just enough to look into your eyes. “Look, I don’t have any demonic energy,” he said, his eyes deep brown and there was nothing underneath them but warmth. 

Human.

“How?” you asked, reaching forward to touch his face with a shaky hand. He held your hand against his face and leaned into your touch.

“Because I didn’t want to live without you,” he said. “I wound up in purgatory, and Angel granted me a wish due to me sacrificing my life for yours-I wished for... for a life with you, because my time with you-well... I only got a taste of it and I want more, I want more of those days like the ones at my place. I just want to be with you.”

Tears thatched along your lashes as you pulled him closer again.

“Can I say it now?” you whispered against his chest.

Jungkook laughed softly and kissed your head. “I hope to hear it often,” he said, leaning down and pulling you into a sweet kiss. “But wait just a bit longer,” he said, kissing you again.

You were wrapped up into his embrace as he pulled you back towards the couch. You eagerly followed, letting the moment of your reunion fuel this passion boiling in your stomach. 

Jungkook kept kissing you, almost as if he were trying to remember every inch of your lips. His hands trailed down your body, squeezing and moaning softly at the alluring softness. “Fuck... Fuck baby,” he grit out.

A teasing smile made its way onto your face. “Yeah? What do you want, Kook?” you nudged your nose against his. You sat down on the couch and pulled him closer by his pants. 

He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, watching with hazy eyes as you fished his hardening cock out of his pants. “Please baby, suck my cock for me, missed your pretty mouth so much,” he said, running his thumb from your jaw to your throat and pressing gingerly.

Your lips ran over his cock tantalizingly and Jungkook had to swallow to make sure he didn’t cum on your face. He hadn’t been touched since the last time you two were together and having human stamina now made it a little harder to refrain from his eagerness.

But, Jungkook knew what patience meant, so he calmed himself but his cock was heavy and throbbing in your hands.

“Fuck... must hurt to be this hard,” you said, and before he could growl at you to get started you swallowed his cock with practiced ease. You ran your hands up under his shirt and dragged your nails down his lower stomach while you sucked his cock deeper into your throat. 

Jungkook’s hand made it into your hair, gripping it as you bobbed your head to pleasure him. He sighed out harshly through his nose and you knew he was enjoying it. If you could smile you would’ve, his little tells were still the same. He smirked down at you, watching as your pretty eyes locked with his.

“Suck it so well baby, always so good for me my angel,” he groaned, voice turning whiny at the end. “Fuck!”

You took his balls in your hand and palmed them gently. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back in his head, breaths coming out short and stilted at your pleasuring him. You pulled off him for a moment to catch your breath. “Love sucking your cock baby, love it so much,” you smiled.

Jungkook laughed a breath out and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. You bit on it gently causing him to smile. “You wet for me?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. 

You dropped his cock and quickly pulled your pants off as you sat on the couch. Jungkook mirrored your actions, taking his clothes off as you laid yourself on the couch with your knees up, hiding the place he wanted the most right now.

Now, Jungkook wasn’t above begging. In fact, he rather enjoyed it from time to time. He crawled to you, naked and smiling. His hands wound around your calves and squeezed them gently before placing kisses along your shins and ankles. 

“Please baby,” he said, lips trailing along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Please open your legs?” he asked, voice sweet and pleading. “Gonna let me eat this pussy? Want my tongue on you?”

You smiled and pulled him in for a kiss while opening your legs so he could touch. He kissed you passionately before leaving tender smooches along the soft swells of your skin. Your breasts first, capturing a nipple between his sinfully sweet lips as his hand trailed to your dripping pussy. He let out a desperate breath against your chest when he pushed a finger inside your heat. “Fuck, fuck baby your pussy-fuck,” he said, moving from your chest to your core with deft movements.

Jungkook looked at your core swallowing his fingers and you couldn’t help the mewls falling from your lips. “B-Baby!” you whined softly, running your hand through his hair. 

“Yeah,” he breathed against your core. His eyes flicked up to yours and they swirled with hunger. “What is it baby?”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip. “Eat me baby? Please, so needy for you,” you begged. 

One of your favorite things about sex with Jungkook was he could be in charge one moment, then the next second you could take it from him. It made the intimacy between the two of you spontaneous and alluring. Jungkook knew you just as well as you knew him and that was exciting. It made you cry for him, begging for the pleasure and bliss you knew only he could give you.

“Alright angel, lean back and let me make you cum,” he said, pulling you closer by your thighs so he could eat your pussy the way he wanted. He placed several warm kisses along your inner thighs before running his tongue through your folds with a fat lick to your clit. You cried softly for him to continue, which he did.

Jungkook made each lick on your center hotter than the last, running his tongue over your clit differently each time. Your feet twitched when he sucked on your core with his plush lips. “Fuck, fuck-Jungkook!” you whimpered, pulling his hair back and away from his face so you could see his flushed face between your thighs. 

“Taste so good baby,” he moaned, smiling before licking into your cunt once more. 

“K-Koo,” you said. “Please baby, wanna cum,” you moaned sweetly.

His chest throbbed at the sound of your pleased noises. He really wasn’t sure if what he felt with you before was love, but now? Now he knew it wasn’t, because the feeling in his chest... the one taking home in his heart right now was absolutely love. 

“I’ll get you there baby,” he promised, sucking your clit into his mouth. He pushed two fingers inside you this time, making your stomach clench in bliss. 

“Yeah~ Right there Kook, right there baby please!”

He worked you up further and further, pushing his fingers along with his tongue to create a tension in your belly that had you fit to burst. But just as you would feel yourself cresting to that perfect orgasm waiting for you, he’d slow down or remove his mouth from you entirely.

After the third time you cried at him for it.

“Koo! Baby, please-lemme cum, wan’ it,” you begged, your hairline was sweaty and Jungkook smiled at your desperate sounding voice.

“Tell me one thing baby, then I’ll let you cum,” he said, working you up for the fourth time.

“Anything baby, anything you want.” Your weak tone made him smirk.

“Tell me you love me baby, say you love me and I’ll make you cum,” he said, moving over you to kiss your lips while his fingers still played between your legs.

Your heart stammered in your chest at his request. But it was an easy smile that made it to your face as you answered him after your kiss. “I love you,” you murmured, kissing him with those beautiful words fresh from your lips.

He wanted to kiss those words, he wanted to kiss you and tell you the same... “Baby, Y/N,” he breathed, capturing your lips in a reverent kiss. “I love you,” he said. 

Jungkook was stunned at how simple it was to say, and yet it made his heart quake. “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated.

“Jungkook,” you gasped when he pulled his fingers from you to put them in your mouth. You cleaned them as he seemed to want and he moaned with the need to be inside you. Although you were just as eager. Your hand reached down to pump his woefully neglected cock. Jungkook moaned against your temple, hips rutting slightly at the stimulation.

“Want me to put it in now?” he asked, voice breathless.

“Yes,” you whined. 

Jungkook didn’t make you wait, taking his cock and lining it up with your soaking pussy. He gave you a look and you just nodded, giving him your consent and with that he pushed inside slowly. You both moaned in pleasure. “Fuck... fuck you’re so wet,” he panted. 

“Jungkook!” you cried out. He kissed you desperately then, his mouth searching and hot against your own. 

“M’right here baby, always gonna be right here,” he said, voice tender against your skin.

You mewled at his gentle thrusts to open you up. It was so much and yet not enough. “More,” you pleaded with him, hands finding his back.

A sharper thrust made your eyes roll back. “Right there?” he asked, eyes wild and chest heaving. He’d been holding off really well but now that he was inside of your pussy it was game over. He loved being inside of you like this far too much. “Baby your pussy feels so good. Fuck, fuck please,” he gasped.

You smiled at his frantic features. He didn’t want to cum without you. It was sweet, but he really didn’t need to worry. You had almost cum just from him putting it in. 

“Jungkook, c-close,” you said, eyes watery and pretty in the evening light.

He nodded. “I’m right there too,” he whispered, thrusting harder and harder into you. It had you seeing stars. He kissed you, sucking on your lips and tangling your tongues together. “Yes, yes, fuck...”

The tightening in your stomach was finally on the verge of snapping once more. Jungkook was whispering sweet words into your ears as he pounded you against your couch. “Fuck-fuck!” you sobbed, arms wrapped around his neck as he covered your body. 

You felt a heat in your belly as your orgasm rushed through your body in deep pulses. Jungkook was stunned as you creamed his cock, pulling him along shortly into his own climax as he painted your walls white with his release.

He groaned your name against your neck, shivering and gently coaxing the pair of you through your two highs. You turned your head to kiss him, smiling softly. 

“Holy shit,” he laughed, looking at you with a dizzying smile. “Give me a second baby, your pussy almost killed me.”

You snorted at him, kissing him once more regardless. “I missed you,” you said tenderly, pulling him closer. Even as his cock softened inside of you.

Jungkook kissed you back, cradling your head as he pulled out. His eyes met yours and he gave a sweet smile. “I missed you too, but I’ll be here from now on... I’m yours, if you want me.”

“I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook,” you said, kissing his jaw and relishing in the afterglow that was settling into your warm body.

“Keep me then,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll keep you-forever...”

[sanemistar]

bibi, hi again! i just noticed your requests are still open! any chance you could do something with rengoku? the lack of soft kyojuro appreciation on this app is insane to me. maybe something hurt/comfort? if this is too broad, let me know, i'll try to brainstorm something! im just so desperate for sweet sweet kyojuro <3 much love!

safe and sound | kyojuro rengoku

pairing: rengoku x hashira fem!reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

wc: 794

warnings: brief mentions of death and blood

a/n: i love rengoku sm he's a cutie :(( he deserves more love and appreciation !! thank u for requesting and i hope u enjoy reading <3

you'd been through a tough fight with an upper moon demon all by yourself since you were the only hashira there and all your comrades were lower ranking demon slayers who were defeated by the demon. it was so long that it lasted until sunrise, but you managed to defeat it with your great talent and abilities. you were one of the strongest hashiras out there after all. however it left you severely injured that you had to be taken immediately to the butterfly estate, and it surely traumatized you. being put in a life or death situation and seeing your comrades die one by one was quite the harsh experience, you wanted to save everyone, you wanted to come back victorious without losing anyone. but it wasn't the case.

your boyfriend, kyojuro, once the news of you being transferred to the butterfly estate reached his ears he instantly dropped whatever he had in his hands and headed to where you were. he slowly walked in and sat right by your side. and there you were, eyes closed and your body was covered in bandages. he clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white, he watched you with his heart full of concern and with a pained look all over his face.

his body flinched slightly when he heard you murmur some incoherent noises in your sleep as your eyebrows furrowed. he gently held your hand as his thumb soothingly stroked the back of your hand. kyojuro's heart shattered when a few tear drops fell from your eyes and down your cheeks, he began blaming himself for not being there on time to help you out and left you all alone.

his train of thoughts was immediately cut short when you startled him by getting up with a panicked expression on your face, wincing in pain from your injuries and panting as drops of cold sweat had formed onto your forehead. you had an awful nightmare, the horrific events of earlier replayed themselves ruthlessly and violently, the sight of the spilled crimson blood was very clear, the faces of those who died were so awfully vivid, their desperate eyes and screams haunted you.

“i-i failed… i couldn’t do anything, kyojuro. i couldn’t save anyone..” more tears continued to escape your eyes and fell onto your cheeks, a strong feeling of guilt mixed with sadness and regret took over your heart.

upon seeing you in distraught, kyojuro extended his other free arm out and rested a hand on the side of your cheek, and the moment your cold skin came into contact with the warmth of his hand you felt all your fears and worries washing away slowly.

“you tried your best, y/n. you did everything you could. you surely didn’t fail.” he tried to console you, his hand still tightly holding onto yours.

“but we have to move on, we have to keep fighting. for the sake of our lost comrades.” you nod as kyojuro slowly began wiping away your tears, his thumb gently rubbed against your cheek and you leaned into his comforting touch. the one thing you loved about your boyfriend the most was his ability to say the things you needed to hear the most at the perfect timing.

"i'm so glad you came back alive, not that i didn't trust your abilities or anything but i was so worried about you, and sorry i wasn't there to protect you, y/n. it must’ve been hard on you." his grip onto your hand began to get tighter, and the genuine concern in his voice broke your heart a little. you knew your boyfriend has a high sense of responsibility, and he'd blame himself for not doing any better in regards of your safety.

you freed your hand from kyojuro’s grip and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him so close to you to the point where it felt like your bodies were glued together. your fingers run through his fiery, blond hair. he let a heavy sigh escape his lips as he secured his arms around you, savoring your scent that he missed so much.

“don’t blame yourself, kyojuro. none of this was ever your fault.” you gently patted his back, you could feel him slowly relaxing as he rested his chin on top of your head.

“i’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, i promise i’ll protect you with my life.” kyojuro’s oath of protection had brought a sense of comfort and relief to your heart. at this exact moment, you were very grateful for having him by your side. you always felt safe and sound around him, and he provided you with the strength you needed to overcome any hardships, so this too, shall also pass.

[lis-likes-fics]

Shijetra Nyke, Mandia

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader Word Count: 5.9k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon bc coercion, fingering, implied age gap (she's laena's little sister), multiple orgasms, p in v sex, breeding kink, sort of cheating, mentions of death and war, swearing, technically reader is black but she can be read as any race, High Valyrian, Daemon is not a good person... A/N: Hey, everyone! Was trying to hold off on this one but I decided to just post it anyway. Super excited for HOTD S2 to come out in June. I promise there are ideas for Aemond but writing sucks so much ass so it's just taking a while to get to it. Thank you so much and happy reading!

The seas are steady tonight. As the moon glints off its gentle waves, the water seems to mourn as you do. It was hard to find sleep. You came all the way out here to watch the crashing waves, in hopes of finding some solace in the sea, but even it does not seem to have the strength to roar tonight.

Your nightgown blows in the soft winds of the night as you watch the ocean.

The rustling of sand pulls a sigh from you, and you grit your teeth as you turn away from the man coming to stand next to you. You don't have to look at him to know who it is. You could tell him anywhere.

“I wish to be alone,” you whisper.

Daemon clasps his hands in front of himself as he looks out at the sea. “That is understandable, my lady.”

“And, yet, you are still here.” You look up at him, your features hard as you glare.

His voice is soft. You're not quite sure it fits him. The non-confrontation in his voice feels strange.

“I thought you might need company,” he says, examining your face as he does. For a moment, you think he can see the ghosts of the dried tears you've shed. “It has been a tiring day, after all.”

You huff, turning away again. Looking at him for too long makes your skin crawl. “I have not want of company.”

He hums. “I said ‘need’, not want.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, I have no need for your company.”

He seems unphased by your hostility. “Even so…” he looks down at you, the look in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine, “you shall have it.” You stare at him, wanting to step back but not wanting to give him that satisfaction. He turns his body to face yours, craning his head down to watch you better.

He lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans in, as if there were thousands of people here and the secret he is to bestow upon you is too dangerous to say aloud. “It is in times like these, I hear, times where we are most vulnerable, that a bit of presence does one good.”

Despite your urge to stay planted in your sandy spot, you take a small step back without breaking your feigned confidence. “Very well, then,” you say. “You may go and fetch someone else to give me presence. I do not need yours.”

He almost seems amused, though he dies it well. He leans his head back a slight. “You despise me so, yet I have done nothing.”

You let out a breathy scoff, turning away from him and toward your humorless response. “Well, that's the whole of it, isn't it?” You shake your head, your frustration piquing once more. “You've done nothing.”

He hums. “I don't think I understand.”

You look at him, and he can see the anger simmering in your gaze. “Don't you?” You step closer to him, invading his space as he does yours, daring to play his game. “Where were you when my sister left her birthing bed? Where were you when she left the walls of the castle to give herself to her dragon's breath?” Your voice broke as the pain threatened to tear apart your anger. “Where were you when she ordered Vaghar to take her life?”

He almost rolls his eyes at your accusations. “I tried to stop her.”

“But you didn't try hard enough,” you seethe. “Or she would be standing next to me.”

He steps closer, taking the control back. His voice is still quiet, though his level tone is twinged with annoyance. “Laena had her own spirit,” he insists. “She did as she liked well enough. I see not why I should have blame for her own decisions.” His near lack of regard fuels you. “And besides, she would have died anyway. The maesters told me so.”

You shove him back, and your rage is flared by the knowledge that he only moves because he allows you to move him.

“She was everything to me!” Your uneven breaths have your chest heaving as your voice echoes across the water. “Not only my sister, my blood—she was my protector.” You sigh shakily, angrily wiping away the tears welling in your eyes. Your voice softens, though not because you want it to. “Now she is gone.”

He remains silent for a moment, letting it sit until it's no longer comfortable. He tilts his head, still standing so close. “And yet, I am not to blame.”

You roll your eyes, unable to look him in the eyes anymore as you look past his head. “Do you even care?”

“Of course I care,” he insists. “She was my lady wife, after all.”

You raise a brow. “Yet you do not mourn.”

He shrugs a shoulder, entirely unconvincing. “Everyone mourns differently.”

You nod. “And you mourn by shedding no tears and strutting through the castle halls?”

Daemon hums. “You must forgive me if I have offended you, my lady.”

You stare up at him, unblinking as your rage and grief continues to give you the strength to look in his eyes and speak your truth. “You have, and I don't.”

A huge part of that strength crumbles when he steps so close to you that you're forced to step back. You falter, a momentarily fear in your eyes at the predatory gaze in his own. His eyes seem to examine you, taking in each and every little curve of your body every crease in your dress. You try not to shrink under his scrutinization.

His voice is so soft, and your flesh crawls with the sound of it. “What do you need from me?”

You have no choice but to break eye contact. It's too much, too close. You swallow thickly, your voice quieting to a low request, rather than the command you had wanted. “I need nothing from you but for you to remove yourself from my presence. Hastily.”

He stands completely still for a while, his eyes just as fixed on your face. When he moves, it almost startles you. His hand reaches up to touch your face, his fingertips brushing your cheek. You're quick to swat him away with a harsh swipe of your hand, taking a step back. “Do not touch me.”

He says nothing, and the silence is unbearable. He just…watches you. His gaze is intense, focused, terrifying. He stands there, still as a statue for the longest time, before making another attempt for your face. You're just as quick as the first, if not quicker with your flickering frustrations.

“I said don't–”

He grabs your face, not caring this time for gentleness as his dull nails dig into the flesh of your jaw and hold you, pulling you close and keeping there, no matter how much you fight him. Your heart pounds against your ribs, beating so heavily that you think it'll stop any moment now. The fear that washes over you is both a searing chill and a molten burn. “Get off of me!”

Leaning in close, he shakes his head. “Shh, “ he bids. “Hush, little river.”

You hate that. Your family calls you that on occasion because you're the youngest of the Velaryon siblings, Laena especially. It's meant to be kind, for rivers are the waters that feed the sea, but when Daemon says it, you feel so small. You feel so insignificant. He taunts you with it.

“Don't call me that,” you hiss. “Get off of me!” You try to push him away, but as you suspect, he doesn't budge. But his next words make you freeze in your spot.

“You are just as beautiful as her,” he says, tilting his head as he stares. “Your sweet sister.”

You're stunned into silence, into stillness. You stare wide-eyed at him, holding your breath as the sound of the waves slowly beginning to build and the sound of your own heart beating away in your chest fill your ears.

You blink, confusion and shock coloring your face. “What?”

He tilts his head. “I wanted you, you know,” he whispers, his words lingering in the tiny space between you. You can hardly breathe, but you can't look away with his iron grip on your face. “When I married your big sister, I wanted it to be you I would bed that night… I only settled for her.”

Your shaking breath became loud as you tried to remove his hand from you, grasping his wrist with all your strength in an effort to pull him away, to no avail. “Daemon. Don't do this–”

“Now that she has taken her leave of us, bless her…” the slightest smirk slips onto his lips, “I am free to pursue my true desires.”

You shake your head, “Daemon–”

You turn your head just in time to avoid his kiss as his lips press against your cheek. Your squirm, squeezing your eyes shut as frightened tears spring to your eyes. Daemon chuckles darkly, taking a slip of your flesh between his teeth in a nip.

You have no control when he turns your head for you. His lips press hungrily into yours, forcing his lust down your throat whether you want it or not. Your protest comes out as a whimper, and it fuels his fire as his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against his body.

You push against him, struggling to get any traction to shove him away. You reach around to grab his hand at your waist, pulling at his pinkie until you've bent it too far for him to continue holding you. He pulls away, pride shining in his face as he smirks. You push him, but this time he doesn't move.

“Get your fucking hands off me before I call for Arlaryx!” Your command is sharp, but he doesn't seem all that phased by it. You honestly hadn't expected him to be.

He inclines his head back, sneering. “And bring her against my war-grown beast?” He stalks forward, invading your space again, no matter how far you stumble back. “You know your dear thing would not stand a chance.”

The thought of your precious creature in the jaws of Daemon's monstrous demon makes your blood run cold. He's right. She would not be enough against Caraxes.

You shake your head. Your voice is weak. “Please.”

He sighs contently, his smile curling into something especially evil. “I like you begging,” he purrs. “So small and sweet you are, when you do not spit venom.”

A deep snarl just barely resounds over the waves picking up about the sea. As you look over your shoulder, you both take in the sight of Arlaryx, her scales almost as blue as sapphires, a color that blends with the deep seas.

Her towering figure stalks out onto the beach, smoke billowing from her nose as she watches the both of you. Another snarl rumbles in her chest.

The faint sound of another snarl, one much different from her own, is heard seemingly in the back of your mind. But you know you did not imagine it. By the smirk on Daemon's face, you know you have not imagined it.

He bends down, his lips by your ear as he whispers. “Do you want to do this, little river?”

You stare at her, your eyes watering at the haunting images of her torn apart on the sand. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you know she feels it because she begins to snarl again. Her claws dig into the sand, her long tail swishes the water when she takes another step forward.

You steady your breath, opening your mouth and hesitating for a moment. You clear your throat, speaking as level as you can manage.

“Dohaeris, Alarlyx,” you command, swallowing roughly. “Dohaeris. Nyke sȳz.”

The beast makes no move to leave, and you sigh heavily. Curse her and her loyalties. They will get her killed.

You steel your voice, trying to sound stronger than you feel. She will not listen to you if you sound weak. “Lyrkiri,” you insist. The smoke diminishes, becoming thinner and thinner until it has stopped. “Sōvēs, Arlaryx, sōvēs.”

She lifts a heavy claw, easing slightly like she'll actually listen.

Then Daemon wraps an arm around your midsection, pulling your body against his as he presses a kiss to your forehead. You wince, squirming in his grasp.

Arlaryx’s mind seems to be made up. She crouches again, advancing slowly once more as her snarls become louder. Smoke arises once again from her nostrils as she opens her mouth, the burning heart of her rage billowing inside of her.

You both know it's just a threat. She would not put you in such danger, but Daemon's crimes against you have officially enraged her.

But Caraxes’ distant croaks and growls fill your head, and you can't stand it. You nearly shout, sounding almost as desperate as you feel as you drop your voice and command her.

“Dohaeris, Arlaryx,” you bellow. “Dohaeris se sōvēs.”

Her warning snarls are replaced with a sort of whining sound as she takes a hesitant step back. She grunts, and you watch the smoke dissipate. Unfurling her great wings, she takes flight as she disappears into the night.  Caraxes’ sounds have ceased. You sigh, almost relieved until Daemon's teeth nip at your ear. Anxiety fills you once more.

“That one is just as stubborn as you.” He kisses your cheek, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. He inhales your scent, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Shutting your eyes, you let out a shaky breath. “Just get this over with.”

Anticipation swirls in your belly, the prospect of his hands on you, his mouth, his…

But he just laughs at you, pulling away from your body and leaving you cold. You turn, surprise on your face as you try to figure out why he'd suddenly pulled away from you. Is he so fickle in his interests that he should let you go before having his way?

You have half a mind to run.

“Ȳdra daor gaomagon bona.” Don't do that. He remains close, his predatory gaze follows you. “Nyke gīmigon jaelā nyke, riña. Tepagon isse, byka qelbar.” I know you want me, girl. Give in, little river.

You clench your jaw, balling your hands into fists as you step closer. “Nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon ao,” you spit. I don't want you.

He chuckles, leaning in until your faces are inches apart. “Pirtra.” Lies.

He takes a step forward, continuing this back and forth dance—you step, he steps, forward and back, left and right. Then he begins to circle you as you stand there, feeling as small as he probably views you.

“You think I don't notice when your eyes follow me down the hall?” he asks, and the question makes your blood run cold. “You think I don't see you peeking over your cup at dinner?” He stops behind you, pressing his chest to your back and whispering in your ear, his lips caressing the shell. “You crave my touch so deeply, it makes you look pathetic.”

His arms snake around your waist as he pulls you close. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand teasing you, reaching down, down, down.

“I hear you.” Your breath hitches. “At night when you touch yourself to my name.” The smallest breath slips from your lips when his hand cups your heat, his finger teasing your clit over your gown.

“Does it feel good?” His voice is a purr in your ear. “Imagining my fingers plunging inside of you? Wishing it was my teeth sunk into your flesh and not your own nails digging into your skin?”

Your legs tremble, his words resonating in your bones. You shake your head, taking a breath for courage as you object.

“You are not mine,” you whisper, your voice weak. You break out of his hold, turning to watch him as you try to recollect your wavering dignity. “Dead or alive, you are my sister's. I will not sully her memory this way.”

“Oh, come off it.” He comes closer. “Either way, your sister is dead. Why deny yourself pleasure for the memory of a dead sister?”

You slap him. His head whips to the side as your hand inspires a large red blush over his cheek. His fingers brush his skin, a large crooked grin taking his face as he slowly turns to look at you.

You take a small step back, anxiety creeping into you at the way he watches you, like prey being stalked by a cruel beast. He says nothing as he stands there. He begins to walk forward.

And you run.

Sand kicks into the air as you bolt away, your breath loud in your ears and your heart heavy in your chest. Tears spring to your ears as the exertion, the cold thrill of his hunt encourages your escape.

You don't get far. He's faster than you, and his strength is far superior to yours as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you from the ground. You kick your feet, trying to break free from his hold. But it's of no use. You shout over the crashing waves of the tides, waves that have picked up since Daemon arrived. Like they mourn with you, they fight for you, too.

He wrestles you to the ground, flipping you onto your back as he pins your arms down by your head. He looms over you, positioning himself between your legs and ignoring your fight like you're nothing against him. And perhaps you are.

“Go ahead,” he grins, spurred on by your struggle. “Pretend you despise me. Perhaps, now, you do.” He leans in close, whispering in your ear. “But we are all the way out here, with no one to hear your screams but the sea.”

Your fight diminishes, the reality of his words sinking in. You look at him, your eyes wide and struck with adrenaline-coated tears. His gaze is dark, his smile even darker. He shifts one of your arms to the other, grasping both your wrists in one of his big hands as the other strokes your side, dipping beneath your thin gown to touch your bare skin beneath. You shudder at the feeling, anxiety pooling in your belly at the knowledge that you can do nothing to fight him.

“Will you lose breath screaming or cumming?”

Your voice is weak and broken. It's barely a whisper when you speak. “Please.”

He shushes you, his lips so close to yours. You can almost feel it, the heat of his kiss as he would devour you.

And then he does. He presses his lips roughly against yours, his tongue slipping past them to taste you. He grips your side, his dull nail digging into your flesh. You can't help the whine you let out into his mouth, regretting the way you seek him out, especially after he pulls away. And he smiles triumphantly, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

“Don't worry, little river.” A quiet gasp erupts from your chest when his hand cups your bare cunt, his fingers rubbing against your folds before he parts them to plunge his finger inside of you. Your mouth falls open, sharp breaths teetering in and out at the way he touches you, at the way you clench around his finger like you'll die if he pulls away now.

“I'll give you what you've been craving all these years.”

He moves like fire. His hand is insistent as his finger plunges in and out of your wet heat, pulling more and more arousal from your already damp folds. You clench your jaw, stifling your moans as he forces the pleasure down your throat.

When he thrusts another finger inside of you, you moan at the stretch, your eyes rolling back at the way he curls them inside of you. You grab his arm, gripping it tight, though you're not sure if you're trying to stop him or not.

He moves quickly. You don't have time to catch up with the harsh thrusts of his fingers, so you lay back and take it as the pleasure explodes all over your body.

It feels so good. His fingers reach deeper, faster, too. The feeling of someone else's fingers inside of you instead of your own is so foreign. Your frantic breath makes you light-headed, and you can hardly keep your thoughts straight.

“I know it's exhausting,” he mumbles as his palm slaps against your clit, “fighting me.”

But you must fight. For your sister, who meant so much to you. You must fight against this man who let her die. Who would you be if you allowed yourself to succumb to your late sister's husband? She practically raised you, and this is how you repay her?

But here you are. She died hardly two days ago, and you were laying on the sand with Daemon's fingers in your cunt.

Being in this position is surreal. Because he was right, you had been craving this moment for years, wanting so deeply to feel Daemon's passion on your skin. His lips brush your cheek, and he murmurs into your ear. “You'll feel better when you let go.”

Your breath hitches. “Daemon.”

“That's it,” he smirks, feeling you leaning into him. “Close your eyes and give in to me, little river.”

Your eyes flutter shut. The pace of his hand, the feeling of his fingers thrusting so deeply, the pleasure scours your body until you feel yourself reaching your limit.

“Ȳdra daor keligon, Daemon,” you sigh, your voice high with bliss as you pull your hands away from his grasp. “Nyke jorrāelagon ziry.” Don't stop. I need it.

“Qilōni?” Who?

“Ao!” You! You moan, rolling your hips into his hand as he continues to coax your release from you. Your head is spinning, and you've long since left reason behind. “Nyke jorrāelagon ao,” you beg. I need you.

You turn your head to lay your eyes upon the sea, the pleasure within you swelling like the waves crashing against the shore. “Shijetra nyke, mandia.”

Forgive me, sister.

Your lips part and your back arches off the sand as you come undone. Your moans echo off the waters, becoming all the worse when Daemon's teeth nip the flesh of your neck.

It feels amazing, freeing almost. His hand continues to work out through your pleasure, even when it all fades into oversensitivity. He lets go of you, pulling away from your body and staring down at you. You watch through hooded eyes as he examines his hand, watching the way your arousal glistens off his fingers in the moonlight. He looks at you as he licks his fingers clean.

The scene is so erotic, the way he groans at the taste of you on his tongue. “Such a magnificent treat you are,” he hums. He bends down and takes your lips against his own, his tongue licking into your mouth as you taste yourself on him.

You watch as his hand reaches for his belt, and you can't help the way your legs close at the thought of him revealing himself to you. He reaches a hand out, gripping your knee and pushing your legs apart again. “Do not move.”

You do as you're told, waiting with bated breath as he unlatches his belt and sets himself free. You gasp silently at the sight of him, long and solid and flushed pink at the tip. When your eyes lock with his, he looks quite proud of himself.

Daemon turns you on your belly, positioning you as he wants you, with your face shoved into the sand and your hips in the air. His harsh hands grope your body, your ass, your waist, your thighs. You groan, your hips jerking when his thumbs spread your folds apart.

“You're fucking dripping,” he says, a dark smirk in his words as he runs a finger between them.

“Kostilus,” you whisper, taking handfuls of sand to try to control yourself. You were in too deep. Your desire for him has turned to a desperate need embedding itself in the pit of your stomach. Please.

He chuckles, “Say it again.”

You have no mind to refuse him. You've long since lost your dignity, and you've betrayed your sister like you never thought you would. It's too late for you. Why deny yourself pleasure over broken promises?

“Kostilus, Daemon,” you whine, shuddering at the way his hand strokes down your spine. “Nyke jaelagon ao.” I want you.

He puts you out of your misery with a harsh thrust into your needy cunt. You moan, your heavy breaths blowing sand into the air. “Ondoso se gods…” By the gods…

A long groan rumbles in his chest as he closes his eyes, relishing in the feel of your tight pussy. “Fuck,” he curses as he bottoms out. “You are a virgin.” He grips your hips, burying himself so deep that you feel like you can't breathe. “With all your supposed virtue, I thought you were pretending you weren't a dirty whore.”

As he grips you tight, Daemon doesn't take you, he fucks you. He holds you, digs his nails in your flesh. He thrusts his cock in and out of your tight hole, fast and rough and with the recklessness of a starving man devouring his food. The ocean rages. You're not sure if it's a reflection of your betrayal or your need. The sea is strange in that way, it's versatility.

You wish you could disappear into the dark waters, break away from this beast of a man and let the sea consume you. At least then you'd be at peace with yours, part of the waters of your bloodline.

But here are you, consumed by fire as you ignore the burn of the sand scratching your skin. It's a molten kind of pleasure, the kind that oozes out of you in lingering bliss and deep desires. You're slick with arousal, which makes it easier for him to glide in and out of you. His relentless pace smacks against you, the sound of it echoes through the air with the heavy heat of his passion.

Your position is so compromising. Anyone could happen across you. Anyone could walk the shoreline and find you being fucked into the sand by your sister's husband.

Your rationale falls short because the fear of it is nowhere near as strong as it should be. If the lords of Pentos saw you, they would surely gossip. Word would spread through the city, and that word would spread all the way across the sea. Everyone would know, your nieces, your brother, your mother and father. They would reject, disown you. They would strip you of Velaryon, you would be just another Waters bastard of Driftmark.

You could say he made you. You could tell them he threw you to the sand and took you as he pleased, ravaged you as though you were nothing but meat. But Corlys would go to war over you. To have your honor destroyed in such a way, it would be a war of sea against fire, a war full of bloodshed and hatred.

The idea has you running cold, but the chill doesn't last long with the way Daemon's hips thrust into you, full of his own fire.

“What I wouldn't give to spend every moment snug in this virgin cunt,” he grunts, reaching forward as he flattens his hand against the back of your skull. He twists your hair around his fingers and pulls, keeping you secure in his grip. You go limp at the feeling, the weakness seeping into your bones.

“Perhaps I should breed you,” he sighs with a laugh. “I'll fill you full of my seed, maybe even keep you as my broodmare. I'll keep you round with my children, always ready for me to fuck as I please. Is that what you want, little river?”

So truly blinded by your pleasure, you have no choice but to agree. You lean into the way he makes you feel, letting your troubles melt away, your concerns and your hesitations a thing of the past. They will do you no good now.

“Yes,” you gasp, allowing yourself to be ravaged. “Yes, Daemon, I want that.”

The triumphant look in his eyes shines at the way you give in so completely. Empowered by your submission, his thrusts become more merciless. He grunts and groans behind you, tugging on your hair and holding you still as you return the passion.

All of the sudden, he pulls out of you, leaving you cold and shaking. A stray whine seeps off your tongue, but you have no time to let it linger before he’s flipping you onto your back. He throws your legs onto his shoulder and shoves himself back inside of you in just a couple fluid motions. His ruthless thrusts have you nearly crying for him. The blunt head of his cock reaches so deeply like this, punching against that spongy part inside of you as stars swirl in your vision.

“It feels so good,” you moan, though you’re sure your words are nearly incoherent. It feeds Daemon’s ego either way, encouraging a rougher fuck as he gives you what you want, gives himself what he’s been craving all along. He was right. You do feel as good as he thought, better even. You’re so tight, so inexperienced and untouched that all of his cruel pleasure wrecks your body in your sensitivity.

“You can get louder, can’t you?” he asks, bending down to fold you in half for a different angle.

Your head falls back against the sand. You must look a mess, covered in tiny grainy crystals, hair all over the place. But it doesn’t matter. That’s probably what he wants. Your hands reach up to touch his face, pulling him close as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are shorter, harder now. You’re running out of breath quickly, struggling to keep up.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” The breathy wail feels almost like it was forced from your lungs. As he reaches his hand down to touch your clit, you’re done for and you know it. “Oh, Daemon, please.”

He’s intent on making you cum, and with the skill he’s acquired throughout his years, you know he’ll be successful. He’s already got you crying his name.

“Are you going to cum on my cock, girl?” he questions, his breath heavy and his hair messy upon his head. “I know you want to, you’re squeezing me so tight.” You cant your hips up into his own, seeking out your sweet release as he hangs it over your head. “Tell me who you want.”

Your eyes, blurry with tears, watch him hazily. “You.”

He tuts. “You can do better than that. If you want to cum, you will tell me who you want to breed this tight little hole of yours.”

You have no mind to refuse him—you have no mind to do anything but follow where the pleasure takes you. With shallow breaths, you blink pleasure tears from your eyes. “I want you, Daemon. Please, I want you to cum in me and make me your whore.”

He doesn’t know if you could have said it any better. Making harsh circles over your clit, he fucks you with all the strength he’s got. You feel like he’ll bruise you with how brutal he’s being. You feel a tightening coil in your belly, one that just clenches and clenches and clenches with every circle on the sensitive pearl he attacks.

“Cum for me, little river,” he commands, leaving you and your body no room to refuse him as he pulls it out of you. “Cum all over my cock and scream my name like the perfect whore that you are.”

And you obey. It’s like a lever being pulled. One moment you’re teetering on the edge, the next you're arching your back and feeling pleasure consuming your body in a fire that makes you shiver. He doesn’t stop fucking you. If anything, the way you tighten around him only makes his thrusts shorter and his grinding rougher. You’re dizzy and your moans are high and pathetic.

He doesn’t stop attacking your clit. You’re so sensitive, once the pleasure wanes and the movements sting, you squirm away from him, but he doesn’t care. He holds you in place and commands you as though you were one of the dragon beasts he meant to train. He wraps his free hand around your throat, leaning down to bite and suck at your neck. “Dohaeris,” he hisses, his tone sharp and quiet but full of so much of a threat that you bear through the discomfort until it twists in your gut into the dizzying sensation of overstimulated pleasure again.

His name falls from your lips like a chant. The sound of it continues to spur him on, his thumb becoming faster as he searches for that same release for himself. “Please, Daemon,” you whimper, “please cum inside of me. I need you to cum inside of me, please.”

You tip him over the edge. With a growl, he shoves his cock as far as he can go, far enough that it hurts when he buries himself so deep. Grinding into you, his hot release fills you to the brim. Encouraged by the adrenaline, his ruthless thumb carries on until you’re cumming with him.

Your sounds mix in the air, his grunts, your moans, the squelching sound of his cock thrusting into your clenching cunt. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he praises, his voice rough with the effects of his release.

With two more thrusts, as rough as he can make them—just for the fun of it—he pulls out of you. You whine, laying limply on the sand. He watches you, smiling at the way you seem to struggle to stay conscious.

He considers just leaving you there to recuperate on your own.

Daemon adjusts himself, stuffing his cock back into his trousers and fixing his belt. He stares at your cunt all the while, using his fingers to shove his cum back inside of you every time it begins to leak out.

He sits you up, fixing your gown and pulling your face to sit inches from his own. “Iksā ñuhon,” he mutters into your ear, his words clear. “Daorys kostagon renigon ao sir.” You shudder at his claim, your eyes fluttering shut as he whispers to you. You are mine. No one can touch you now.

”Do you understand me?” he asks, and you know you cannot refuse.

Not that you ever want to.

You nod slowly, looking up at him as you accept your fate. “Kessa, Daemon.”

He hums. “Good.” Staring at your lips, he leans in and kisses you. He kisses you with force and power, using a kind of domination that was quite unnecessary—given the fact that he’d already taken your virginity and, quite possibly, bred you with his children. There’s a hint of something in the background, however, a hunger, a desperation that seeps into your skin and makes you feel warm.

Under the cruelty is a gentleness that is entirely foreign to you. You chalk it up to imagination as he pulls away, pinching your cheek. “Come with me,” he orders. “I am not done with you yet, my little river.”

Shijetra nyke, mandia.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa Tag yourself here...