#i remember feeling more understood by the music than i ever had by anything or anyone else

[stained-glass-mustache]

i have been possessed by my 14 y/o self and am grinning and giggling and kicking my feet thinking about frerard

[burningembers91]

The Beauty of Vulnerability - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up Piece to: Not Who I Want to Be

Synopsis: Thanos is ready to show who he really is

Warnings: Alcohol and drug misuse/addiction, p in v, oral, 18+ only!

Your phone buzzed once, twice, three times before you finally picked it up. Thanos had sent you a selfie of him posing on his balcony, the Seoul skyline in the background. He had his usual goofy expression on his face, his tattoos visible on his shirtless body. He’d followed the selfie up with several emojis and a plea to join him on his balcony. You couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but zoom in on his abs visible in the lower lefthand corner of the screen. It had been six weeks since your meeting in the nightclub, and as much as you’d tried to resist, he’d charmed his way into your life.

Thanos was unlike anyone you’d ever met. He was so vibrant, so full of life and yet so broken. His eyes were filled with such sadness, a sadness that never quite went away no matter how hard he laughed, or how many jokes he told. He was the classic class clown, always striving to make you laugh. You hadn’t believed him when he told you he was a famous rapper, not until you’d Googled him the next day. Your friends didn’t believe you’d met him either, not until you showed them the message you’d sent him. you’d listened to his music, and although it wasn’t entirely to your taste, there was no denying the man had talent.

You’d met a few times since then, mostly at Thanos’ apartment. You’d once made the mistake of heading to a restaurant for dinner and spent the entire time fighting off screaming girls armed with iPhones and killer glares in your direction. You hadn’t quite got a feel of who this man was, didn’t quite understand what made him tick. He was a wildcard, but there was an underlying sweetness about him.

While you were reserved with your feelings, Thanos was head over heels for you. You gave him a reason to wake up in the morning, gave him purpose on days that without you would have been filled with drugs and booze. He hadn’t quite managed to quit the narcotics, but a lifetime habit was hard to break. But you’d inspired him to write music again, had given him an entirely new lease on life. The day after he’d met you, he spent all day messaging you on Instagram. The next day, he removed the parasites from his apartment, the ones who only came round when they wanted to party, take drugs or cling to his coattails. He deep cleaned his apartment, tipping bottles of booze and pills down the toilet. He sat at his piano for the first time in years, penning a song that was so different to anything he’d written before. The music seemed to flow through him, the words coming so naturally. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written something sober, the melody overwhelming him until he was reduced to tears. He’d spent so long pretending to be someone else, it was nice to have a piece of the real him shine through.

He understood you wanted to take things slow, and he’d be a fool to rush into this headfirst. That had always been his mistake. Thanos usually acted first and thought later, but he didn’t want to fuck up whatever this was that he had with you. There were a few times when he slipped back into his old habits, taking a pill when the world got a little too much, drinking himself to sleep when his racing thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. He hadn’t told you about his addictions, but you knew.

You saw it in his eyes, saw the ways his hands shook when he was starting to withdraw. You’d seen friends addicted in the past, and it hadn’t ended well. That’s why you were taking things slow; you were waiting for the moment Thanos would inevitably break your heart. Your head screamed at you to leave, but your heart told you this man was worth fighting for.

You joined him later that evening on his balcony, just as the sky turned candy floss pink as the sun began to set. He handed you a glass of champagne worth more than your monthly salary, kissing you softly on your cheek. His days were long and lonely without you, counting down the hours until he saw you again. You were the anchor that kept him grounded to the world, the woman who stopped him from floating away into the clouds. His fingernails were painted black today, the colour matching the thickly tattooed line that snaked from his middle finger to his neck. you liked to trace that line, smiling as he shivered against you. you hadn’t slept together yet, but every day you found it harder to find a reason not to. His lips skimmed your cheek again, making their way down to your lips. Thanos loved kissing you, loved the way your lips felt against his. You were impossibly soft, your tongue meeting his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the glass of expensive champagne long forgotten.

“I wrote a song for you,” he whispered, playing with them hem of your skirt. “Can I play it for you?” You nodded, tilting your head back as his lips continued to kiss you, trailing across your jawline and down your neck. He was so crazy about you, so head over heels he felt like he might go insane. You made his entire body tingle, from his scalp to his toes, and he found himself constantly getting lost in your eyes.

Pulling you from the comfort of his outdoor sofa, he led you to his music room, offering you a seat on his plush leather stool. He sat at his piano, nerves wracking his body as he took a deep breath. Usually, he’d pop a pill to calm his nerves, or down a few shots of tequila. But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to sit with those nerves, to show his vulnerability to you in a way he’d never shown anyone. As he began to play, his voice singing in perfect harmony with the notes, you watched in silence. Every inch of you was covered in goosebumps, the tune on the piano so beautifully encompassing his feelings towards you. Never had a man treated you the way Thanos had; he made you feel like a Goddess.

When the song was over, Thanos stayed at the piano, his bottom lip trembling. You watched him for a few moments, your heart aching as a lifetime of emotions bubbled to the surface. He was so tired of being someone he wasn’t, of surrounding himself with people who didn’t give a shit about him. Until 6 weeks ago, he had no one to call when he was lonely, no one to hug him when he was feeling sad. He’d had no one to turn to when the world got dark, but you were here now. Sitting across from him, your eyes brimming with tears, he didn’t know how to convey his feelings towards you other than through song.

Nothing about him was real; nothing was authentically him. His name wasn’t even real; he’d modelled it on a fucking purple CGI villain. A single tear fell from his eye, landing on the ivory keys with a splatter. A deep, wracking sob escaped him and his closed his eyes as he felt the darkness closing in. He longed for a release, longed to feel the numbness that came with the pills he popped like candy.

Your arms encircled him, pulling his shaking body into yours. You stood there for a while, stroking his shock of purple hair while he sobbed into your chest. He’d never cried in front of a woman before, had never shown any emotion other than unabashed confidence. “My name isn’t even Thanos,” he choked after a while. “I know,” you smiled, “I doubted your parents named you after a Marvel villain.” You wiped his tears away with the pad of your thumb, placing a soft kiss on each of his eyelids. He looked so fragile, so broken as his head slumped against your breasts, his body still shaking with the occasional sob. “What is your name?” He looked up at you. He hadn’t said he real name for years; Thanos had become his brand, the crutch he used almost as much as the drugs and alcohol. “Choi Su-Bong,” he whispered. “My name is Choi Su-Bong.”

You kissed him, pulling him down onto the soft carpet of his music room floor. “Choi Su-Bong,” you smiled, “My Choi Su-Bong.” He made love to you right there on the floor, the sounds of your moans melting into the sound-proof walls. Su-Bong had never felt like this with anyone before. He was usually completely numb when he fucked someone, if he remembered fucking them at all. But with you, he was sober, perhaps for the first time in his life. He felt every touch, every thrust so deeply. He let you take charge, straddling him as you lowered yourself onto him. Your fingers traced his abs, the sensation overwhelming him as your nails dragged gently across his skin, tracing the tattoos that littered his torso and chest. He’d never known something could feel this good, had never realised that your entire body could feel like it was on fire in the best way possible. He was desperate to touch every inch of you, to feel every part of your exposed skin. He guided your chest towards his mouth, his lips locking around your sensitive nipple as he took it gently between his teeth. Your moans were heavenly, more beautiful than any song he’d ever heard. He came with an earth-shattering groan, his fingers gripping the skin on your thighs as he finished inside of you. He carried you to his room after, laying you down on his silk sheets before drawing out your pleasure again and again. Your body shook for him, your breathy moans spurring him on. You tasted like heaven, your slickness coating his mouth and tongue as he devoured you again and again.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, waking up as the sun broke over the horizon. Thanos was gone, but Choi Su-Bong had replaced him. His arms cradled you as you watched the sun rise, his lips peppering kisses along your shoulder and neck. Finally rousing from bed, he padded through to the kitchen. He was no chef, but last night had worked up quite the appetite. He ordered breakfast from a local café, spreading out the food across his expansive kitchen. He wasn’t sure what your favourite was, so he ordered one of everything. You sat and ate together, smiling at each other over your coffee mugs.

There would be hard days ahead, but Choi Su-Bong was determined to start fresh. New music, new friends, a new perspective. He’d never had anything in life that made him want to be a better person. But now he had you, and you were worth fighting for.

[prael]

Not Quite Home

Kinktember Day 15: Stand & Carry

Kepler Youngeun x male reader smut

words: 1,495 Kinktember Masterlist

She is everything you're not. Everything you hate. How can someone refuse to have a place to call home?

All this about being a free spirit and experiencing everything that the world has to offer all sounds well and good but how is a tree supposed to grow if it has no roots? But Youngeun insists that is exactly what she is after, the constant thrill, the constant novelty, the rush and urgency. In every interaction, she seems to have been in search of the next big adventure.

And you think you do her a disservice by not understanding.

Perhaps if you had met each other under other circumstances, things might have gone better for the two of you. But now, you resent how she feels like a stranger whenever you're together. She once brought an element of excitement and risk to a routine, drab life, but that grew exhausting and more than once made you feel like you were suffocating. You grew to loathe her carelessness.

"Your parents?" You ask as she stands in your bedroom for the third night in a row, "Have you even told them you're back in town?"

She shakes her head in lieu of an answer, "You know how they are."

"You're going to blame them for wanting their daughter to visit for once?"

Youngeun laughs. It's one of your least favourite traits—her incapability to take anything seriously. "Not your business. Besides, seven nights, remember?"

Yes. Seven nights. This is what she told you, another expiry date on another chapter of whatever the fuck this is between you. Another unspoken contract was signed for the hell of it. A time limit, for something that isn't even real.

"Just think about it," you continue, hopelessly, "talking with your family. It'll clear your mind."

"Know what clears my mind? The wind in my hair, sun on my skin, music in my ears," Youngeun runs her hand through her silky hair, "Landing in some new town, finding a new local hang out to try something exotic and then exploring whatever is hidden in that town's history, picking up a new person, hooking up with them, letting the excitement course through my veins, knowing there's always something else waiting on the horizon."

Another insufferable thing that she does. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since you tangled limbs in the bed and now she's standing across the room naked making no secret of the fact that she picks up guys and girls wherever she goes. Youngeun looks down at you on the mattress and runs her eyes up and down your body, her fingers resting lightly over her collarbone.

You follow the line of her fingers, nails cut short with traces of peeled black nail paint. A callus on her finger is a reminder of how often she played the guitar. She runs them down her chest, thumb catching a nipple in the process of doing so.

"Look at you. You get hotter every time I come back." And just like that, Youngeun drops a compliment, casual and effortless and you question who's benefiting from this relationship because it clearly isn't you.

You're gonna fuck her again tonight. Tomorrow too, and another three nights after that. After which she'll be gone for another six months to a year. There's a weird emotional emptiness to this routine—you give and she takes and this is all she asks.

"Come here, will you? Pin me to this wall already. Make me feel you." Her hand cups her breast and another traces its way down her abs, a clear intention.

You should hate her, really. Like how you hate the idea that she left home for no reason or how she wasted her potential, hate her for her indifference, for her recklessness and her cold detachment, or hate the fact that it's just meaningless sex. 

She doesn't like strings, it makes no sense to her how people commit. If she was the type of person who asked to be understood, you would probably try to, but that's never something she ever expressed. 

For all of that, you don't hate her. It's why you're still walking towards her and she's backing up into the wall.

So, what does she ask for? Her answer is pleasure and pain.

She kisses like a raging fire. Everywhere her hands roam leaves marks on your skin; she scratches deep in your back as you hook her thigh up around your waist. A hand between her legs, sliding in without any sort of preamble. She's still dripping wet, though some of that may well be your last load. She tastes of salty, sweaty sex and you relish it. She kisses and she gasps as your fingers work at her entrance; crooking them upward so you can press them into her and rub right against the sensitive spot inside her.

Her tongue slides past yours, hot and wet as she grinds up into your hand, claws digging into your lower back. Your hand fucks into her roughly with reckless abandon and her breathing gets shallow as your fingers bring her closer and closer.

It doesn't take long, she's close, you know that when she throws her head back against the wall. "Stop—wait, fuck—wait," Youngeun barely gasps and then with your name in her throat, the friction of your fingers sends her over the edge. A moan escapes as her mouth falls open, eyes clamp shut as you finger her to orgasm.

It's always been easy to make Youngeun cum, but it never loses its magic. There's something particularly thrilling to the way she moans your name in that honey-laced rasp, to the way her entire body arches upwards as the pleasure mounts. A sharp gasp cuts the air.

Her limbs slacken. She leans her head against the wall. She's struggling to catch her breath.

And this is the fucking problem. For every reason to hate her, there are so many more reasons to enjoy her.

That's when you lift her, hooking up the other thigh and holding her by her tight little ass. Youngeun hisses and she's staring daggers and that's always a part of the fun. She'll give you these looks that could kill a lesser man, but you know the only solution is to pound her into submission.

"Be rough with me. Hard," Youngeun pants, sucking air in, breath ragged. Her skin's hot to the touch.

"Like last time?" Your voice comes low, thick and gruff as you hook her legs higher.

"No, harder, faster," Youngeun replies between rapid, short breaths, she grips your arms, rolls her hips and wraps her body tighter around you, "Want me to stay? Fuck me until I can't walk out."

You're incensed and sliding your length over her slick, warm, inviting heat, before slamming her back into the wall, entering her in one long hard motion and enjoying the way her lips fall apart; enjoying the way her hot and messy, fucked-out body arches upward as you hit deeper and the way her cries pitch. You don't even wait for her to catch her breath before snapping your hips over and over and giving Youngeun exactly the type of pounding that she wants.

There's a sharp gasp. A second of silence and then a choked-back scream. You feel a palm on the nape of your neck and a sting on your shoulders as her nails dig deep and scratch. She rakes them over the broad expanse of your upper back and it fucking hurts. It fucking stings and it's delicious. You bury yourself deep inside her, stretch and fuck her all open on your dick.

"Like that. Yes! Like that! Fucking ruin me."

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her moans become a struggle now that you've run a hand roughly up her body and planted it around her neck. Squeezing, not too hard, not to cut her airflow, not to bruise, but firmly enough that she will feel it and feel that she is being held. She loves to feel hopeless. And there, that's what you like: her hot, sweaty body locked between you and the wall and helpless against you as you sink into her.

And as much as she says it doesn't mean anything. Youngeun cries out your name like it means something.

The ever-familiar suffocating grip of her wet cunt grips you as she cums again. Bodies flushed together, grinding and sweaty.

"I can't breathe—" Youngeun whimpers in that cracked, vulnerable and submissive way and you snarl. Fuck her up as promised. Hurt her like she begs for. And Youngeun loves it like nothing else, absolutely nothing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and a strangled groan as you reach another climax and fill up her pussy again. You pound yet another load into her tight hole.

As much as she would hate to ever admit it, this is as close to a home as she has in her life.

[nyeddleblog]

A little piece of heaven [Part 1]

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Original Female Character x Logan Howlett. Summary: In Wade's timeline, Iris is his supernice upstairs neighbor. In Wolverine's, she's his beloved dead wife. A/N: This is a Wattpad Fic with an original character of mine that you can find here. This is just the first chapter that I wanted to share with you. Warnings: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, kinda.

Chapter 1: Refraction.

When they entered the room she was in a corner, elbows resting on the table as she talked passionately to Vanessa. Logan's gaze was instantly hooked on her, ever since he realized how her delicate features were exactly as he remembered. He froze, inhaling sharply as the memories came back flooding. Her gentle touch, her soft melodic voice, her cute laugh.

This wasn't, of course, his Iris. He tried to pinpoint each difference as soon as he could but both her beauty and her lively nature were tearing him apart.

Her silky blonde hair fell in blowout waves and her lips were a glossy crimson color. She wore a strange piano pleated skirt that barely covered anything and a mesh blouse that showed the bright red bralette she wore underneath. It felt like a desecration to his wife's memory. A sexier, younger, messier version of what she used to be.

Yet she laughed, her eyes crinkling, her small tooth gap showing. And her shoulders shook, and she talked, and her voice was gleeful and melodic. Iris swayed to the music delicately, timidly and then smiled at her friend in front of her.

She was a sight.

Logan felt Wade's hand gently tap his back and understood that he knew. Rage filled him. The little fucker knew, even back when Logan had told him about his dead wife. The little fucker knew and he hadn't told him that it wasn't like that in every universe. Wade knew that in his, Iris was alive and well. He was going to stab him as soon as she was out of sight.

Logan turned to leave but Wade put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him into the picture, acting as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"Wade!" Iris turned around, smiling sweetly, "I thought for a second there that you weren't going to make it! This is actually my outfit for your funeral!"

"It's the most hideous thing I've seen in my life and yet you managed to pull it off!" he answered snappily, with a smile as sweet as hers, "I came back and I brought you a gift."

Logan frowned, not remembering Wade taking anything from the void. Then, he felt his hand firmly press against the back of his neck, like he was some kind of kitten being carried by it's mother, as he dragged him and pulled him onto Iris. 

He was actually going to stab him right there.

"For me?" Iris followed him suit, putting a hand softly on Logan's shoulder, but giving him an apologetic look when they made eye contact, "I've always wanted a Wolverine!"

"Oh, sweetheart" Wade pressed his hands together and tilted his head, "I know."

"You shouldn't have..." And then she laughed, and extended her hand out for him to shake, "Iris Finch, a pleasure."

She looked up through her lashes and Iris had always had such plump, soft and inviting lips that, despite knowing it wasn't his wife, he wanted to kiss her. 

He managed a nod, his voice barely audible, "Pleasure."

And Logan tried to avoid her for the rest of the night. Emphasis in 'tried', because Wade didn't seem to respect the fact that that was not his dead wife. No, this Iris had dirty blonde hair and she never got her teeth fixed. This Iris used a different perfume, a cheaper one, and seemed to like Wade's jokes far more than what Logan was comfortable with.

But just like his Iris, she had an impecable intuition and every time he wanted to take a look at her, she stared back, giving him a smile. Just like his Iris had, she timidly approached, a known curiosity in her eyes that he missed dearly. And he was back there all over again, feeling endearment for her already.

"I know this is sudden, and maybe a bit forward, but I don't remember you."

"Oh, I'm not from..." he tried to explain, his voice rough, "I'm from another..."

"Timeline, I know" she nodded, fidgeting with the beer in her hand, "I meant..." she looked back at Wade, who was finally talking to Vanessa, and then gave Logan a bashful smile, "What was your Iris' abilities?"

Logan frowned. His Iris. He knew the distinction, he knew the distinction, but how did she know he had a Iris? He licked his lips, feeling uncomfortable, yet he answered "Lucid dreaming."

Iris nodded, "And she never told you what dreamwalking was?"

He felt his nostrils flare and anger start to get a hold of him. He didn't understand why yet, but Iris' existence alone was starting to enrage him. Felt like an impostor, uncanny and profaning.

"No."

The girl, oblivious of his annoyance, smiled widely and started explaining in depth the abilities of his beloved dead wife. To be fair, she was explaining her own abilities but Logan didn't want another version of Iris telling him something about her. 

"...And that's why every time I fall asleep, I usually see a Wolverine." she continued, making him raise his eyebrows "And of course I don't think I've met every single one of them, but I'm pretty sure I would've remembered you if I had!"

"In order for you to dreamwalk into another universe, you need another you inhabiting it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my wif... Iris" he corrected himself, making sure that he was staring straight into her eyes and making himself clear, "Has been dead for over twenty years."

Iris's smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.

"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought..."

Logan's anger was slowly simmering down, replaced by a cold, hard realization. It wasn't really her fault that she was another version of the love of his life, however fucked up that was.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft murmur of the crowd. Iris was the first to break it, smiling yet again. 

"So, you're my new downstairs neighbor, huh?"

A/N: I hope u guys understand where I'm going with this... And yes, I'm going to make a side fanfiction where I write the sweet, tragic story of Logan and Iris of his timeline.

NEXT PART.

[zigrethsnotebook]

[PASSIONATE KISS]

Ford x Reader

words: 1,850

tags: sfw, angst, fluff

a/n: realized i never wrote a proposal story for Ford so here you go<3

Ford had been out on an expedition for three days. He’d told you it would be too dangerous for you to come along and even though you had strongly protested he would not budge. So now here you were, waiting for your boyfriend to return from his trip that he’d assured you would take no more than 24 hours.

“Either I find them immediately or I won’t find them at all.” Was what he had told you. But knowing this and that he considered the whole endeavor extremely dangerous had left you incredibly anxious. What if something happened to him? You’d never be able to find him in those woods.

Stan tried his best to reassure you, told you: “Hey, the guy’s been running around different dimensions for thirty years. Give him some credit. He won’t go down that easily.” It helped. But today you could hear in Stan’s voice that he was beginning to feel a little uncertain about it as well.

You couldn’t sleep that night. You were restless, turning from side to side and trying to shut your thoughts out with music and podcasts and anything you could turn the volume up enough to drown them out. The fears of Ford not coming back.

Eventually, you got up, walked aimlessly around the shack, stared out a window for an hour and then turned to head back to bed, giving sleep another shot. Except your feet didn’t walk you to your bed but instead downstairs into Ford’s lab.

As if you were guided by invisible strings you walked straight to Ford’s desk, sitting down on his chair and wrapping yourself in the lab coat he had thrown over the backrest of the chair. It smelled like him. You pulled it around you and up to your nose. This was the closest to him you’d felt since he left.

You pulled the chair closer to his desk and took his third journal out of its place on the shelf. Ford was carrying the fourth edition with him right now. You flipped through it, chuckling at all the entries the kids had left in it. Then you got the part where Ford got it back. Right around the time you two met.

Amongst his stories of different dimensions and discoveries about the world as it was now, thirty years after he had left it, there were sketches of your face scattered between. Always with little annotations about how gorgeous he thought you looked that day or something new he learned about you. Your favorite Ice-cream flavor, your least favorite beach boys song or whatever he had found the guts to ask you that day.

The memories brought tears to your eyes. What if all of that would now be forever in the past? What if he won’t ever be back?

You turned the page again and found a picture of you both dancing together at the kids’ fourteenth birthday party this year. Mabel had taken the photo and given it to Ford. Seeing you both so happy was too overwhelming. Some tears slipped from your eyes and onto his coat.

You flipped the page once more, not able to keep looking at that photo of you both. The next page had just one sentence that Ford had written. It was the last page of this journal.

To be continued in Journal 4… hopefully with wedding pictures ♡

Your breath hitched. What? No. This… You two had never spoken about marriage. In fact, when did he write this? You didn’t remember this being in here. Your thoughts raced a million miles an hour.

So much so, that you didn’t even hear Ford entering the Lab and walk up behind you. When he saw your hunched up trembling form and the page of the journal you were looking at he softly called out your name. You jumped in surprise and quickly turned around.

“Ford!” You called out, stood up and fell around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I was so worried for you, Ford.” You mumbled into his shoulder, but he understood, hugging you tighter as well. “I know, love. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to take so long.”

After a moment you pulled back slightly and placed your hands on either side of his face. With a stern face you told him: “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me? 24 hours… you were gone for three whole days!” Ford chuckled sheepishly. “Four days, actually. It’s already past midday, love.” Flabbergasted, you stared at him. “That’s even worse!”

Only now did Ford look at you. Like, really look at you. And his face fell as he saw the state you were in. Heavy bags under your eyes, tear lines staining your cheeks that haven’t even dried. You were still in your pyjamas with just his dirty lab coat protecting you from the cold of the lab. And it wasn’t doing a particularly good job - you were shivering.

Guilt flooded Ford’s systems at the sight. He raised one of his hands from your waist to your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. You immediately leaned into his touch. “I am so very sorry, love. I shouldn’t have taken so long. I’m so sorry.” He whispered the last part as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

You sighed. Just having him here with you again felt like a heavy weight was lifted off of your shoulders. In a much softer tone you told him: “Just don’t leave me like this again. If something takes longer than expected, find a way to let me know. I know you can.”

Snaking your arms back around his neck, you pulled his body closer to yours, your own seeking the warmth of his. “I felt so helpless. If something had happened to you, I-” Your voice broke off, unable to finish the sentence. “I know, love.”

After a few moments just enjoying being able to hold each other again, Ford let the hand from your cheek fall to his coat pocket, fumbling around in it. He chuckled, the noise sounding a little bittersweet, when he found what he was looking for. He pulled back from you slightly and looked into your eyes.

“I also know that this is probably the worst moment to bring this up, but: Do you know what I was looking for out there?” You shook your head ‘no’. This better not be about some creature right now. Now was not the time.

“Well, I only told you that the expedition would be dangerous, because I didn’t want you to come along and I knew that would be the only way to get you to stay home.” He smiled warmly at you, your stubbornness being something he loved so much about you.

“But it really wasn’t all that dangerous at all. Because, what I was really looking for was something that would complete… something. Something I’ve been meaning to give to you for a while now and… something I felt wasn’t worthy of being yours yet… It needed something special.”

You furrowed your brows at him, confusion taking over you. Ford softly let his hands wander to your arms, unwrapping them from himself as he continued. “And… I was looking for this something in that spaceship that sits under the town and also in the cave systems beneath the mountain. Well, two somethings really.” You felt him drift off into some sort of story as you saw his eyes start darting around the room.

“Ford. What are you talking about?” His eyes landed back on you. “Right.” He cleared his throat, trying not to freak out. His hand wandered back into his coat pocket and as soon as he found this mysterious object, he got down on one knee.

Your eyes widened in shock and you gasped. Ford didn’t know this, but with him returning you had completely forgotten about the last page of his journal.

He pulled a little black box out of his pocket and held it in front of him. “Right. I went to the spaceship to find the rarest metal in the solar system. Then I went to the cave systems to find the shiniest crystal on the planet. With those I went to visit Fiddleford, who graciously helped me weld the metal into a shape that could hold the crystal.”

Ford took a deep breath and opened the box revealing a marvelous silver ring, welded into intricate patterns that surely held some sort of meaning, holding a deep blue crystal that looked like it reflected the universe itself. You gasped again and let your hands cover your open mouth as you continued to stare at the man in disbelief.

“I couldn’t let you come along because I wanted this to be a surprise for you. I… You deserve the universe and all the good within it and I am more than willing to give it to you. So here I am. Asking you,” then he said your full legal name. “Will you please marry me?”

By now there were new tears running down your cheeks, but this time they were tears of joy and happiness. You nodded your head as you sobbed out a “Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you, Ford!” and fell into his arms again. Ford hugged you tightly, all the worries that had plagued him for taking so long washing away in an instant.

You pulled away again slightly, giving Ford the opportunity to slide the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, like it was made to be there. That’s because it was.

Ford held the hand that wore the ring in both of his, cradling it like it was made of glass. He looked at it with so much love and affection that you felt your own heart swell with love as well. When he looked up at you again, you leaned in for a kiss.

Your first kiss in four days and also your first kiss as an engaged couple. You basically devoured the man. Ford wasn’t any better. Both of you took this kiss and put all the emotions of the past four days into it. All the stress and worries. All the hope and love.

Ford was first to turn his head slightly and deepen the kiss, one of his hands wandering to the back of your neck, holding you close. Not that you wanted to leave. You parted your lips slightly and nibbled on his lower lip. This caused Ford to moan softly and his tongue to leave the confines of his own mouth and instead explore yours.

While this was happening you both moved your bodies so that Ford and you fully sat on your legs. You didn’t sit on his lap like this because you knew his legs would fall asleep immediately. It had happened before.

After a while you broke the kiss, panting slightly. Ford let his forehead rest against yours again. “I don’t think I’ll leave you again any time soon.” You chuckled. “Yeah. You better not.”

[goodbyeyellowbrickcloset]

From Swiftie to Gaylor: Why I’m Writing This Blog

For as long as I can remember, Taylor Swift’s music has been my constant. Since 2008, she has been my favorite female artist, a defining voice in my life as I grew up. Through every era, every genre shift, every reinvention, and every controversy, my admiration never wavered. Taylor Swift and her art have, dare I say, been the most consistent thing in my life since I was 12 years old.

But as time passed, something changed. Not my love for her music—if anything, that deepened—but the way I understood her storytelling. The media painted Taylor in countless ways: America’s sweetheart, the perpetual victim, the cunning businesswoman, the girl who dated too much, the girl who couldn’t sing, the girl who annoyed people just by existing. I sat through the ridicule, the scrutiny of her body, her voice, her words, and her relationships—always knowing that there was more to her than what the world wanted to see.

Her music, no matter how the press tried to twist her image, remained a deeply personal, poetic, and revealing archive of her life. But was it telling the full story?

The Turning Point: When Gaylor Clicked

For most of my time in the fandom, I took Taylor’s narratives at face value. Boys, relationships, heartbreak, self-discovery. I could always feel something deeper—something more layered—but I never had the language to fully process it. That all changed in 2019.

It was the day ME! was released. I was in architecture grad school, caught up in the excitement of a new era, when something clicked. Wait a minute… is she trying to tell us something?

Unlike most people who found ME! silly or confusing, I was immediately intrigued. The vibrant color palette, the overt queerness of the imagery, the suspiciously timed release on Lesbian Visibility Day—it was too obvious to ignore. At the time, I didn’t know what the "Gaylor" theory even was, but the notion that Taylor could be queer just made sense.

I started asking my friends, "Do you think Taylor Swift is coming out?" The responses were either deeply disturbed by the idea or completely uninterested. I didn’t push it, but I knew something was there. As the Lover rollout continued, everything screamed ‘she’s coming out’—but she never did. Instead, I watched as that potential narrative was brushed aside, ignored, or aggressively dismissed.

Finding the Gaylor Community

2020 changed everything. In lockdown, I had more time than ever to explore the corners of the internet that I had never fully gone down before. Some were terrifying, but one stood out as something different—the Gaylor community.

I stumbled upon the Whatiwillsay podcast and suddenly felt like I wasn’t alone. Here was a group of insanely intelligent, detail-oriented, and open-minded people who saw what I saw—who had been seeing it for years. Through their work, I started piecing together a narrative that had always been there, hidden in plain sight.

The deeper I went, the clearer it became:

Taylor Swift’s storytelling is deeply queer-coded.

The public narrative of her relationships has always felt… curated.

Hollywood and the music industry create impossible constraints for queer artists.

I realized that, like many queer people throughout history, Taylor may have been telling her story in code. Suddenly, the Easter eggs, the secret messages, the obsession with colors and symbols—it all made sense.

And it wasn’t just a theory. It was a lens through which everything became richer, more layered, and more meaningful.

Why This Blog?

Over the past few years, I’ve been obsessively researching, analyzing, and recording my thoughts on Taylor’s music and career through the Gaylor perspective. I’ve watched as creators on TikTok—people like planntika, Jordyn, Mia, and Lexa—have taken this discourse to new levels, making the connections clearer and more accessible than ever. I’ve studied Taylor’s work through this lens for more hours than I can count—probably second only to my actual career in architecture.

And now, I want to finally put my thoughts into words.

This blog is not about proving anything. Taylor Swift’s personal life is her own. But what I am here to do is explore:

The art she creates and the narratives she weaves.

The deeper meanings hidden in her lyrics, performances, and aesthetics.

The ways queer people have always had to ‘read between the lines’ in mainstream culture.

Why I believe her relationship with Karlie Kloss was more than just friendship—and why Karlie is her true muse.

Why I think she remains closeted today and how she ended up in this position in the first place.

The Journey Ahead

I’ve been a diehard Swiftie since 2008. I’ve loved her music unconditionally, celebrated her highs, defended her lows, and analyzed every Easter egg she’s ever planted. And now, after years of recording ideas and observations, I’m finally ready to share them.

The Gaylor perspective isn’t just a theory. It’s a way of seeing Taylor’s work as something deeper, something more complex, something that, for so many fans—including myself—has made us feel seen in ways mainstream culture rarely allows.

So, welcome to my blog. Whether you’re a longtime Gaylor, a curious skeptic, or someone just beginning to explore this world, I hope you find something here that makes you think.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Taylor Swift, it’s that there’s always more to the story.

[junrenjun]

Wait

alpha!dino x beta!reader (implied ot13 x reader)

genre: fluff, slight smut (more suggestive than actual smut)

wc: 922

warnings: suggestive (18+ please!)

a/n: little blurb inspired by the spell mv. part of the understand series. don't worry though, dino will still his own focus in a longer, normal fic later on! said i wasn't going to write smut but this music video said otherwise

The door to Chan’s room opened so forcefully he thought it was going to put a hole in the wall. He was expecting one of his hyungs to walk through the door and yell at him for leaving dishes in the sink. He really should put those away. But instead, he saw you making your way toward his bed. “Yah noona, what’s your problem?”

You don’t respond, simply glancing toward Hansol’s empty side of the room before pouncing on Chan. His hands go instinctively to your waist as you both fall onto the bed and it practically has you purring. You may be a little riled up from…prior events. 

The alpha doesn’t mind the attention though, savoring the way his skin feels against yours. His eyes flick up yours. Finally, he says, “Can I help you?” 

You resist the urge to smack the smirk off his face. Smartass baby alphas. You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you bury your head into his neck, teeth nipping at his Adam's apple. He curses Seungkwan for ever telling you that the area in the center of his throat is more sensitive than his scent gland. You’re playing dirty and he knows it. His breathing speeds up and you know the smug look that previously adorned his face is gone. 

After a few moments of blissed silence, you finally give Chan some reprieve. As you pull away, his eyes flutter open. “What’s gotten into you noona?”

It’s your turn to smirk. “Spell,” you reply nonchalantly. 

The alpha looks incredibly confused. Sometimes you wish you could lend him an extra brain cell. You wait until it hits him. “Are you talking about the spell music video?”

Yes, yes you are. “Mhm. And you looked so…damn…good,” you reply, kissing the tip of his nose between each word. 

He giggles in response. “I’m glad you liked it, baby. But the rest of the performance team looked pretty good too, don’t you think?” 

You don’t think, you know. “Mm they did. I understand why you guys wouldn’t let me come to the shoot or send me pictures that day. I think I would’ve combusted on the spot.”

Ah, that’s right. Hoshi had insisted that you weren’t allowed to see anything about the music video until it was officially released. Chan himself hadn’t understood why until he was getting styled that day. Yeah, you were going to be a menace once you caught a glimpse of them looking like this.

It had gotten on your nerves though. You usually accompanied the boys to most of their shoots, so when Minghao broke it to you that you weren’t allowed to come, you didn’t understand why. They told you it wasn’t anything personal and that they just wanted it to be a surprise for you. What they forgot however, was that you hate surprises.

You had pestered the performance unit for days, trying to get them to reveal anything. None of them budged. Minghao was closest to giving in, but Hoshi caught him before he could show you any pictures. You lost your mind trying to get the smallest glimpse of the concept, but to no avail. Life went on and you left them alone, so the boys thought you forgot about the ordeal. Which is why Chan was caught off guard. The video had come out less than an hour ago. You clearly still remembered. 

And here you were, laying on top of him, blabbering on about how good they looked. Yeah, their plan was definitely falling into place. He looks up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you can imagine and softly lets out a, “kiss?”

You roll your eyes, but the eyes work their magic and you give in. He’s savoring the taste of your lips on his when he feels you sit up to straddle him. He doesn’t think anything of it until you give an experimental roll of your hips. Chan can’t help but pant into your mouth. You pull away a bit and he whines, “...y/n.”

You ignore his protests and look right into his eyes. He holds your gaze for a second and you take the opportunity to push your hips down again. This time a lot harder. The alpha almost comes right there and then. His head is thrown back and a soft sigh leaves his lips. You take the opportunity to continue moving yourself against him. 

Soon, he’s gasping for air as you grind on him and mouth at his throat again. You’re working him up so nicely and he’s content to sit there and take it, even if his sweatpants end up ruined. But then suddenly, nothing. Your mouth leaves his neck, your hips stop moving, and you’re getting up from the bed.

Chan is confused. He watches as you slink back toward the door and he catches his breath. Eventually, he gathers his thoughts and calls out to you before you have the chance to leave. “Noona! Where are you going?”

He watches an evil grin spread across your face. You completely face him again before simply stating, “you and the rest of the unit knew what you were doing, making me wait. Now it’s your turn to wait.”

The alpha watches as you turn on your heel and walk out the door, heading toward what is likely Hoshi’s room. The thought of warning the others of your little plan crosses his mind, but he quickly shakes it off. Nah, they all deserve it now.

[wontmindd]

in having ✨ideas✨ again, and this one’s very fluffy

could we maybe have a sinner! adam oneshot where the reader plays a mandolin and decides one day to play this song in a very low key attempt to impress romance the guy? and maybe adam’s all like “yeah it’s alright I guess” but he’s totally transparent.

please, and thank you

SHOW AND TELL | sinner!Adam x sinner!Reader

word count. 1.7k

tags. Adam being in denial, Reader plays mandolin, fluff, sinner!Adam, gn!sinner!Reader

a/n. aaaa sorry for taking so long! hope you'll enjoy this because the prompt was so cute and funny 😭

This could be a chance.

You rotate the wooden instrument between your hands. A mandolin, your musical companion for so many years. You would have never thought that one day you'd be using it for trying to pick up someone. Especially not the First Man, Adam.

It's "Show and Tell" night at the Hazbin Hotel. The monthly occurrence you never understood, because no one really ever showed anything worth talking about. Angel Dust would put on some of his old porn videocassettes, Husk a cheap bottle of booze that he'll come up with a story for right on the spot, and let's not talk about the time Cherri Bomb showed one of her most recent, newly advanced creations that almost blew the whole Hotel up to pieces.

Also, the last couple of months, Show and Tell night has been graced with the addition of Adam. When he set foot in the Hotel it was clear that he still didn't really believe in Charlie's project. He just didn't have any other options. But, after some time, a hint of comfort was starting to show on the arrogant fallen angel. He became tamer, more sufferable to be around, almost pleasing sometimes. At first, you thought that you would have never had anything to share with Adam. But then conversations started to flow in the common rooms, and you two started to hang out outside the Hotel, even opening up to each other.

Adam wasn't that bad. Adam was funny to be around. Adam was easy to talk to. And Adam was pretty and...

Oh. Oh!

You crushed hard. Denial was the first stage, because c'mon, that's Adam, the former leader of the Extermination, a sadistic bastard. But he was also the one to greet you first when you came down for breakfast in the morning, who sat next to you at dinner to have some small talk, and the one who laughed more at your jokes. You learned to accept your feelings, but then a new problem presented itself. How exactly do you pull Adam?

He was more interesting than you thought that you could ever be. Not to inflate his ego, but he was the First Man to ever be created. He named the animals of Earth, he has been around for so long that he has seen it all. And he had two knock out ex-wives! How could you even compete? He played the guitar and was in a rock band in Heaven. But then, remembering that information, you glanced over at the wooden mandolin hung up to a hook on the right wall of your Hotel room. Maybe Adam didn't like you, but he for sure liked music. And mandolin wasn't exactly his type of instrument, but you still had music on your side. Yeah, this could be a chance.

——

You and the other guests take a seat each on the couches and chairs of the common room. Adam is sitting right in front of you, your eyes interlocked for a second before you both look away. Geez your cheeks feel hot. Then here comes Charlie, waltzing in the middle of the circle traced by the seats, smiling happily as she announces Show and Tell night. She suggests Angel to go first.

"I hope it's something a little...different from your usual presentations" she proposes.

Angel cocks an eyebrow upwards "No miss, this is exactly what you're all thinking of".

Husk groans, dragging a paw down his face as Angel puts on one of his porn movies he starred in. You look everywhere but the screen, and this includes Adam. He's not paying attention, playing with his VPhone behind his crossed legs so that Vaggie won't notice and threaten him with her angelic spear. As you throw him quick glances throughout the night, you realize that he quite literally didn't pay attention to anyone, not even a second. Concern starts to build up in you. What if he doesn't even look at you?

Adam only intervenes when it's his turn, positioning himself in the middle of the circle with a loud sigh. He then rummages in his robe, and takes out his designated object.

"A bra?!" Cherri Bomb asks.

"Yeah" a sly smirk spreads on Adam's face "this is the first bra a chick ever threw at me during a show. The first of many, many bras"

"How the fuck did you even bring it down here?" you question, more worried about that circumstance than the origin of the underwear article.

"You don't know my ways" Adam replies.

He keeps rambling some more minutes about how he broke Heaven's record for bras thrown on stage, with the smuggest, biggest shit-eating smirk known to man. After he's done, he plops down on the couch again, ready to not listen to anything the next guests have to show. And he does, either by taking a nap or playing on his phone.

"It's your turn, (Y/N)!" Charlie announces, clasping her hands together.

Shit. You reach for the case resting near your ankles. You open up the hard cover and take out your wooden mandolin.

"You play instruments?" Angel Dust asks, surprised.

"Yeah, I practice everyday" you say.

Of course no one knew, because Adam always has his rock music and amps blasted on max and he obliterates the hell out of any sound from your Hotel floor.

"I used to play mandolin when I was alive, it was my first instrument. I thought that I might as well bring it down here with me".

"C'mon, play something!" Charlie encourages you, a bright smile sparkling on her adoring face.

Here comes the difficult part. You gulp, feeling your guts squeezing from nervousness. Because Adam is staring. Since Charlie called your name, you noticed that Adam had put down his phone and he's now actually paying attention to you, unlike how he did with everyone else. This is sending you over the edge. Out of embarrassment and excitement at the same time. Damn butterflies in the stomach. You just hope to not mess this up.

You stroke the chords with your thumb to make sure they're correctly tuned. You shoot Adam a quick glance. Still staring at you, nonchanlanty, but he's watching. Just like you planned. You take a deep breath, you position your hands correctly and then you start playing the mandolin. The tune is relaxed, dreamy, mesmerising as you pluck the strings with ease. Your fingers almost flow with the sounds coming out of the instrument. You make sure not to mess anything up. Your technique is flawless, so there shouldn't be any worry. What's worrisome is trying not to look at Adam too much. You do give him a few glances to check for any reaction, but this could lead to missing pieces. You take a deep breath and go on strumming. Finally, despite Adam's wanted but feared attention, you manage to relax and let the sweet serenade curl around the room. As the delicate melody unfurls, you notice Adam shifting, placing his chin in his palm as he gives you his undivided attention. Then, you signal the end of the tune by finger picking a calm, lingering chord progression. The second you put the mandolin down, an excited clapping of hands makes you jump on the spot.

"Bravo! Bravo! That was amazing, (Y/N)!" Charlie erupts.

You chuckle "Thanks, Charlie"

Your gaze shifts from Charlie to Adam. He was still staring, but something's different. Is he blushing? Are his pupils dilated? Or maybe is just the result of your delusional imagination. Maybe not, because even someone else noticed Adam's change in attitude.

"Sooo, Adam, whatcha think?" Angel Dust cooes, a pointy smirk curling on his face.

Adam snaps out of his state, his eyes shooting up at Angel.

"Uh?" he goes, defiant but at the same time confused.

"You seemed to reaaaally enjoy it" Angel inquires.

Adam's eyebrows shoot upwards, his lips tight and reduced to a thin line. Oh he's blushing.

"I ehm-" he stutters.

"Right!" Charlie is quick to interrupt him "What did you think about it, Adam? Share it with us!"

Adam looks at you for a brief moment. You don't say anything, you're probably as embarrassed as him. He breaks eye contact, scoffing.

"Yeah I don't know, whatever" he mumbles, crossing his arms in an attempt to look unimpressed.

His own body is betraying him. His foot rythmically tapping on the floor, his heart racing, his scrunched, nervous face and his cheeks now turned into a hot mess.

"You sure? Seems like Cupid hit you in the right spot" Angel elbows Cherri Bomb, who giggles "Your face looks as hot as me"

Adam grits his teeth, clenching his fingers around his clothed arms.

"Yeah!" Cherri Bomb intervenes "you need a hand? A cup of water? Some air? (Y/N), you broke this guy!"

Adam jumps in his own seat, pointing a furious finger towards Cherri and Angel who are laughing their asses off.

"Cupid didn't hit shit! I said that I don't give a flying fuck about (Y/N) and how fucking good they look when they play mand-FUCK!"

"Ooooh" Angel and Cherri sing song in unison, a devilish grin.

"Aww, Adam! That's so sweet of you!" Charlie chirps, genuinely proud of him.

Adam lets out a frustrated, anger-boiling growl before hurriedly getting up from his seat. His newly sprout horns grow bigger, his tail quivers and his wings puff. He starts to hysterically point at everyone in the room.

"You know what? Fuck this shit! Fuck this stupid Show and Tell night, fuck this Hotel, and fuck you, and you, and you, and fuck everybody! Except (Y/N)- no wait shit!"

And then, Adam punches the air and just storms off, leaving Angel and Cherri Bomb laughing behind him.

"Oh my God..." you whisper, incredulous as you rub your shoulders up and down with your hands.

Angel gets up and plops down on the couch next to you, leaning towards you with a smug grin.

"I dunno why would you hit that, but good job" he says, offering your a fist bump.

You let out a small chuckle before pounding Angel's fist.

Nailed it.

[just1cefor4ll]

—You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader

part 8 || epilogue

A/N. sighhhhhh its the end guys :(((( idk if im too happy w this chapter butt i still hope you enjoy!! and im so sorry for the wait ive been busyy

‘You will never walk alone

You can always reach me

You will never ever walk alone’

Months had passed since you and Viktor got together—and it had been worth every second of waiting and ‘dancing around each other.’Your relationship was effortless in all the best ways. He needed you, and you needed him. It was as simple as that. And yet, you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around how you’d ended up with someone like him—someone who, at first glance, never seemed to think about love, yet here he was, utterly and hopelessly in love with you. Just as you were with him.

You both had your moments of realization—those quiet, startling instances when the depth of your feelings hit you all at once. Viktor had his just a few weeks into your relationship. It had been the worst week imaginable for him—exams, assignments, endless experiments. By the end of it, he was completely drained, barely holding himself upright.

When he showed up at your door, you weren’t sure whether to greet him or offer your condolences. He looked exhausted, circles under his eyes darker than usual— if that was even possible, and he looked like his mind was everywhere all at once.

Without hesitation, you stepped aside to let him in. “Yeah, no thinking or touching anything related to school for at least a day,” you said with a soft smile. He didn’t protest, didn’t even try to argue. He just let you pull him into your bed, where you lay together, his weight pressing into you as he let himself rest for the first time in days.

It was in that moment, as you ran your fingers through his hair, that he understood—this was what it meant to have someone. To be cared for without asking. To be loved without condition.

And he never wanted to go without it again.

truly.y/n posted to their story

For you it was how he admired and noticed every single detail about you. It started when he noticed your fidgeting with your guitar strap before shows, the way he held your hand right then and there and kept your overthinking thoughts calm down in just a second. The way he said things you mentioned months back and he still remembered.

“Hey I’m bored and i’d really want to go somewhere..” You said through the phone, a soft huff escaping your lips since you’ve been rotting in bed for the past 3 hours. Viktor reacted almost instantly, your heart skipping a beat— face getting a bit warm. “How about we go get you those new guitar strings? You said you’ve been wanting to get new ones along with a guitar pick and I’m pretty sure you’ve had getting a new vinyl in mind for a while too.” He rambled, making you stutter out a response after staying quiet for longer than needed. “O-oh yeah sure that sounds awesome! Also I—” You’d want to go to that new cat café down to street of the music shop?” You smile, getting up and going towards your closet. “You know me so well.”

“I know, love.” You could definitely hear the smug smile on his face making you chuckle. “Alright then I’ll give you some time to get ready. Be there in an hour?” You nodded, saying your goodbyes before you went into the shower.

Your heart felt warm— full of his love and you couldn’t be happier. In your past relationships you didn’t really bother mentioning your interests since no one ever bothered to remember— but he did..

It was nice being known.

vik.tor222

vik.tor222 my girl 🤍

liked by ishaaq, ekk0stime, j.talis and 42 others

3 commented

truly.y/n 🤍🤍

mmedarda cuties

ishaaq finally our girl is happy omg

Hang outs became more lively— you didn’t have to awkwardly interact or just glance at each other all day. Everything changed for the better and it was just the best your lives have ever been.

You still spent most of your time at the Last drop like you have for years before you even started dating— or you ended up at the venues bar you had just played at and laughed until they had to kick you after closing time.

Tonight, the usual chaos unfolded—Ekko and Powder bickering over some ridiculous bet, Isha sipping her drink and listening to Mel talk, and Viktor sat beside you in the booth, his arm resting lazily behind you. "You two are gross," Powder groaned, watching as you absentmindedly played with Viktor’s fingers. "Like, actually sickening. I miss when you were just pining idiots."

You smirked, tilting your head at Powder. "Oh, we’re disgusting?" You gestured between yourself and Viktor before pointing at her and Ekko. "That’s rich, coming from you two."

Ekko raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Viktor chuckled, catching on immediately. "Ah, yes. I suppose staring at each other like lovesick fools doesn’t count?"

Powder’s face scrunched up. "We do not—"

"You totally do," you cut in, grinning. "And don’t even get me started on how you two kick me out of our dorm room so you can make out."

Ekko smirked, unbothered. "And? At least we don’t subject people to whatever this is." He waved vaguely at you and Viktor, who still had his arm draped behind you.

"Please," you scoffed. "You guys were worse before you got together. At least Viktor and I had some self-control."

Powder rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, real subtle. Because begging me to change the setlist and making me play the guitar— which I haven’t in like years— last minute so you can sing Iris to Viktor in stead of just saying ‘Hey! I’m in love with you!’ was totally not doing too much."

You opened your mouth to argue but hesitated. "Okay, fair point."

Viktor just smiled beside you. "I still think it was a lovely confession."

Ekko snickered. "You would."

After a few hours of talking and laughing, you decided to slip away for a bit, stepping out back for a cigarette. The night air was cool against your skin as you sat down on the small, weathered bench—probably older than the bar itself. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your pack, but after a few seconds of searching, you sighed.

powpow

powpow love my girls (and my drinking buddy ig)

liked by ekk0stime, truly.y/n, ishaaq, vik.tor222 and 207 others

2 commented

truly.y/n we love YOU!! ❤️

ekk0stime replied stop trynna steal my wife tf

ishaaq replied you mean OUR wife?

vik.tor222

vik.tor222 an angel sent down just for me

liked by truly.y/n, j.talis, mmedarda, powpow and 42 others

4 commented

j.talis credits to us, we sent the angel

ekk0stime replied clapping for me and the band

powpow replied a pat on the back is def deserved

truly.y/n replied kindly stfu

“Shit—”

Before you could finish the thought, Viktor pulled out exactly what you were looking for. He flicked the lighter to life, the small flame casting a glow over his face as he held it up to your cigarette.

“You know,” he said as you took a drag, “this will kill you one day.”

You exhaled slowly, smoke curling between you. “Yeah, yeah. You tell me every time.”

“And yet, you never listen.”

You grinned, nudging his knee with yours. “If I did, I’d be boring.”

Viktor shook his head, but there was no real disapproval in his expression. He just watched you, eyes flickering between your lips and the cigarette before landing on your face.

“You gonna keep staring, or do you want a drag?” you teased, holding it out to him.

He scoffed. “Tempting, but I’d rather not die faster.”

“Suit yourself.” You took another slow inhale, then blew the smoke just enough in his direction to make him roll his eyes.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, the distant sounds of the bar filtering through the alley. Then Viktor spoke again, softer this time.

The distant hum of the bar faded into the quiet of the alley, the only sounds between you the occasional drag of your cigarette and the soft scuff of Viktor’s cane against the pavement as he shifted beside you.

For a moment, it seemed like he was content just sitting there, but then he spoke—his voice careful, like he had been thinking about this for a while.

“You know,” he started, “I have.. come to a realization.” You exhaled slowly, glancing at him. “Oh? Do tell.” Viktor rested his forearms on his knees, fingers loosely intertwined. “You and I… we spend a great deal of time together.” You smirked. “Usually how relationships work, yeah.” He nodded, but there was something almost hesitant in the way he continued. “It is not a complaint, I assure you. Rather, I find it interesting.” You took another drag. “Interesting how?”

Viktor turned his head toward you, studying you in that way he always did when he was gathering his thoughts. Then, with the same quiet certainty he always had in moments like this, he said:

“That, despite seeing you nearly every day, it never feels like enough.”

The cigarette nearly slipped from your lips. You blinked at him, caught completely off guard by how blunt that was.

And yet, Viktor looked almost unaffected, as if he hadn’t just casually said something that sent your heart into overdrive.

You cleared your throat, forcing out a chuckle. “So you’re basically saying you’re obsessed with me?” You smirk, thinking you got him right back.

Viktor huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “If that is how you wish to interpret it.”

You turned more toward him, resting an elbow on the back of the bench. “You are obsessed with me.”

His eyes flicked to yours, something unreadable in his expression. Then, as if accepting the accusation completely, he simply said; “Yes.”

Your breath hitched. No hesitation, no awkward stammering—just the truth, laid bare between you.

He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice just enough to make your pulse stutter. “And you?”

You swallowed. “What about me?”

Viktor tilted his head, gaze steady. “Are you obsessed with me as well?”

You hummed, thinking about it. “Maybe I am.” He chuckled, grabbing your cigarette and throwing it away even after your protests. “Maybe it is then.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to Viktor. "You regret it yet?" He looked at you with a raised brow. “Can’t say I understand, love.” He stated, confused.

“Us? Am I not too much or too little? I don’t know I’ve never been in a healthy relationship before.”

He hummed in thought, tapping his fingers against your upper arm— a habit he developed whenever you had long conversations while his arm was around you. "Hmm. Let’s see.. I get to spend time with you, no longer have to agonize over if you like me, and I get to do this—" He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back with a smug grin. "So no, I don’t regret a thing and you are perfect.”

Viktor’s words lingered in the cool night air, settling between you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. You huffed out a soft laugh, shaking your head.

You hummed, still not entirely convinced as you took one last drag before flicking your cigarette away.

Viktor tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Not convinced?”

You scoffed, nudging his side. “Bold assumption.”

He just hummed, stepping closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth of him even in the chill of the night. “Not an assumption,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered just slightly, his touch impossibly gentle. “I’m simply observant.”

Your breath hitched, but you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse stuttered. “Alright, genius, if you’re so observant, then you should know that Powder’s probably already looking for us.”

Viktor smirked. “Let her look.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a way that was both effortless and deliberate, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment. His hand found your waist, holding you there as he deepened it just slightly—slow, lingering, like he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it.

By the time he pulled away, you were left blinking up at him, lips still tingling from the kiss. Viktor, of course, looked entirely too pleased with himself.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the heat rising to your face. “You’re ridiculous.”

He only chuckled, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together. “Mm, and yet, you are still holding my hand.”

You huffed, tugging him toward the bar’s back door. “Come on, obsessed boyfriend. Before Powder drags us back herself.”

Just before stepping inside, he gave your hand a small squeeze, voice light but certain.

“Whatever you say, obsessed girlfriend.”

You groaned, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. And as the noise of your friends filled the air again, Viktor still at your side, you couldn’t help but think—yeah, you were both absolutely gone for each other.

vik.tor222

vik.tor222 don’t regret a single second spent with her<3

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© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

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[angelsnkisses]

Hi, can you write a one shot inspired to this tiktok? https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSLP3jkQy/

Apologies ♡ - Spencer Reid x fem!reader

‼️ NSFW - MDNI ‼️

A/N: hello, anon! thanks for the request, i actually really liked writing this :). it's pretty long so enjoyy <3!

Summary: You get into a fight with Spencer, and he decides to make it up to you. <3

warnings: slight angst, drinking/intoxication, dom!spencer, sub!fem!reader, brief choking, fingering.

You and Spencer had lived together for a few weeks now, and it was bliss so far. The only downside was how often he was gone, constantly working with his team to solve crimes and catch what he calls 'unsubs,' which was all pretty new to you. None of your other partners had ever had such a serious job, but then again, all your exes were total losers.

You loved Spencer, he was so good to you. You had been together for about a year, and he finally convinced you to move into his place with him. He said he felt better knowing you were safe with him. It was honestly cute. Despite all that, you often missed him. He was always out of state, or at the office working on god knows what.

That's how you ended up alone on a Friday night, half a bottle of wine in your belly and the music up loud. You were dancing around carelessly, trying to ignore your thoughts. Spencer had to work late, again. You felt more alone than you cared to admit to him, but you decided it didn't matter much.

Moving around helped, something to get your blood pumping for some kind of excitement, hence the solo dance party. You weren't drunk, but you definitely weren't sober. Your blood felt warm, making you all fuzzy inside.

You were so caught up in your dancing that you didn't even notice how late it was. When you caught a glimpse of the clock, you slowed to a stop. It was one in the morning, and of course, Spencer wasn't home. You groaned, turning off the music.

Maybe it was because you were a little tipsy, but you were pissed. Before you knew it your phone was in your hand, ringing and ringing as you pressed it to your ear.

"Hello?" Spencer picked up, almost immediately.

You paused, not really sure what you wanted to say. You were mad, you wanted to say something.. you probably should of thought about what exactly that was before calling.

"Y/N? Hello? Are you okay?" his voice came through again, and you remembered you had to actually speak.

"You're late," you stated, leaning against the dining room table.

"Yeah, we're working on a pretty big case right now," he replied.

" Yes, I know that, because you've been working late all month, Spencer. You come home when I'm already asleep and then leave before I wake up. I miss you," you grumble, hearing a heavy sigh on the other end. You felt a small pang in your chest at the sound. It wasn't like you to be so confrontational, and you understood he was busy.. you were just too heated to shut yourself up now.

"I know, baby. I'm just busy, it's not personal," he assured you apologetically.

"It's not personal? That doesn't matter, Spencer. What matters is I am lonely, and horny. That doesn't bother you?" you stumble over your words a little, a lot more blunt than normal. Maybe you were drunk.

There was a long, agonizing pause before his voice came through the speaker once more.

"Y/N, have you been drinking?"

You don't say anything, just gritting your teeth and releasing a frustrated groan before hanging up and slamming your phone down on the table. What an asshole, you open up and all he's curious about is your state of sobriety? Fuck that.

You were too angry when you drank, you needed to sleep it off. You picked your phone back up, ignoring Spencer's texts and walking towards your room. You flopped onto the bed, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

**

"Y/N? Baby, wake up," a voice broke your sleep, familiar and quiet. Your eyes fluttered open, feeling a hand rubbing up and down your back. You lifted yourself up a little, looking up at whoever was disturbing your rest.

"Oh, it's you.." you mumbled, laying back down and turning away from him. You heard him sigh, the bed dipping behind you as he sat on the edge. He leaned over, laying a hand on your arm as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, angel," he whispered, guilt leaking into his tone. You felt your stomach turn, feeling like a total bitch now that you were pretty much sobered up. Drunk you was such a menace, you were embarrassed. Still, he was never home. You were somewhat in the right.

"It's fine, Spence," you said shortly, your voice flat. He gently moved your hair from your neck, moving his kisses up.

"No, it's not," he disagreed against your skin, "You're right, you shouldn't have to feel so lonely all the time, I'm sorry."

You felt a smile twitch at your lips when he apologized, unable to stay mad. He sounded so genuine.

"Let me make it up to you.." he suddenly said, a seductive hint in his voice as he moved his hand down. You shuddered slightly, instinctively moving up into his hand. You almost turned him down, not wanting him to feel like he had to.. but fuck, you needed him. It had been too long.

"Okay," you whispered, thankful you were facing away so he couldn't see your cheeks were flushed and red at his words. You felt him smile against your skin, beginning to pull you closer.

He moved quickly, sitting up on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He opened his arms for you, watching you move closer. You were about to straddle him, when he interrupted you.

"Ah, not like that, sweetheart. Face away from me," he corrected. You raised a brow, but still did it, pressing your back to his chest as you sat between his legs. You felt more exposed feeling his fully clothed body against yours, only wearing underwear and one of his sleep shirts.

"So sexy.." he muttered against your neck, his hands slipping under the shirt as he nipped at your skin. You sighed heavily, your eyes fluttering shut and your head falling back on his shoulder.

"Good girl, just relax.. I'm gonna take care of you," he promised, sending a shiver up your spine. You felt his wandering hands moved down to your legs, one of them grabbing hold of a thigh. He forced your legs open, his free hand moving between them to start touching you.

He gently pressed the pad of his index finger to your clothed clit, earning a sharp gasp from you. He rubbed over you halfheartedly, the tiny bit of pleasure setting your nerves on fire.

"Fuck, please don't tease me," you whimpered, hearing him chuckle darkly in your ear. He shook his head, long hair tickling your cheek.

"You're not in charge here, baby. Be patient," he cooed, making you whine and squirm. He just tutted. "So needy."

He eventually slipped his hand into your underwear, groaning quietly when he felt how wet you were. You could feel his hardened bulge against your back, your heart pounding as he worked. He shimmied your underwear down, and you helped him pull them off your legs eagerly before leaning back into him.

You shuddered when you felt a finger go back down there, circling your clit slowly. Even that was enough to make you moan softly, so touched deprived and desperate. He relished in your noises, the sound music to his ears. The hand on your thigh grew tighter when you squirmed around, looking down at what he was doing.

You winced when his finger moved down, his fingertip dipping inside before disappearing, his action repeating a few times. You breathed a shaky whine again, sounding more desperate by the second.

He finally eased his whole middle finger in, your head falling back as you gripped onto his upper arm. Sure, it was just his finger, but it had been at least two weeks now, and you were all kinds of sensitive. He began pumping it in and out of you at a leisurely pace, ignoring your inability to handle such a simple action.

"W-wait, wait stop," you whimpered when he sped up, already overwhelmed with the feeling. He hummed against your neck, not halting his movements. Instead, he curled his finger up, earning a pleasured cry from you. You trembled, warm delight filling your veins as your body convinced you to adapt. The pleasure wasn't too much anymore, you wanted more of it.

"Hm? You want me to stop?" he repeated, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. You breathed a heavy sigh, shaking your head timidly, and he chuckled at your indecisiveness.

He kissed your cheek sweetly, pulling his middle finger out and rubbing over your clit again. "Good girl, you're being so sweet for me," he praised, making your face heat up and your eyes flutter shut. You were never all that subby, but holy shit, he was doing a number on you.

"Think you can take another finger?" he asked, the lewd question slipping from his lips as if it was nothing. You whined, turning your head to hide your face in his neck, embarrassed. He shook his head, the hand on your thigh snaking up to your throat as he forced you to look down at his hand.

"Answer me, do you?" he repeated, more stern now. You gasped softly, finally nodding. "Yes! Yes, please just do it," you begged, much to his enjoyment. He squeezed your throat just barely, his index finger joining his middle as he pushed back into you.

The stretch made you wriggle in his grasp a bit, the dull, sharp sting less than comfortable for you. He was trying to go slow for you, but he was eager to see you fall apart under his touch. He started pumping his fingers at a snails pace, paying close attention to your reactions as he did.

As soon as he could see you were ready, he sped up, feeling proud of himself when you moaned loudly at the sensation. Pleasure was coursing through your body, your legs instinctively closing when it became too much. He removed his hand from your neck, clearly unable to release your thigh for even a little bit.

"Stay still. That's your last warning," he hissed in your ear, making a tremble run through you. You whimpered, clutching his arm for dear life and trying to do as he said.

His hold on your thigh wasn't as harsh as before, but it wasn't gentle, either. You breathed heavily, a burning tightness building up in your abdomen. You dug your fingers into his covered bicep, fighting to keep your legs open. "Fuck, Spencer," you moaned warningly, trying to signal you were close. He got the memo, his thumb pressing to your clit and circling firmly with his pumps.

That was enough to push you over the edge, a strangled cry leaving your lips as you felt your orgasm washing over you. You couldn't stop your legs from closing around his hand, stopping him from overstimulating you as you rode out your high.

Then you remembered his warning.

"Wait, wait I'm sorry-" you started to plead, heart pounding. Before you could say more, he grabbed you roughly, flipping you around and pinning you to the bes. He crawled over you, leaning down to soeak darkly in your ear.

"You should not have done that.."

**

A/N: well this was an adventure, i've never written anything based of a tiktok before, but i loved the challenge :). thank you to whoever requested, hope you enjoyed <3!

[hms-no-fun]

Oh yeah the big pickups to work in an office job infuriate me to no end. A whole parking lot full of death machines that have never known the touch of a gravel road or hauled anything larger than a big Costco run. I have a nice lil electric hatchback tho.

the thing is, i always wanted a car. my parents took me on a lot of road trips when i was growing up (i remember a couple years before he died, my dad told me he was very proud to have shown me so much of the country when he himself had grown up poor and could only travel as far as the next job took him), so of course i have in me that quintessential American longing for The Road. in high school, i fantasized about getting into a car and disappearing into traffic, traveling to some distant corner where nobody lived and finding a situation to occupy. god help me, as a teen i bemoaned being born too late and longed for the naive vision of the 60s i'd received from my parents and pop culture and the rusted-over kitsch that dotted the remains of Route 66 (which my dad loved to talk about).

i hate car culture in part because i used to love car culture. it's a microcosm of indoctrinated American patriotism in general. they sell you on the dream, right? the freedom of travel, of expression. i wanted to be the millennial Jack Kerouac, whose work i did not actually read because i was young and dumb and drowning in dysphoria. but as i got older i saw how quickly little bumps and scratches can turn into massive financial burdens, to say nothing of cracked windshields or flat tires. then my mom died and i was given the responsibility of handling her car, a silver scion xb. i was 19, i did not have a license and had next to zero experience driving, nor had i ever had a job before. when i say "given the responsibility to handle her car" instead of "given her car," i mean that i didn't just get her car. like, i had it, i had the keys and no one was around to tell me not to drive it. but in order to get the title signed over to me, i had to go through an insane bureaucratic process of proving that my mom was dead, and that i was her kid, and that i should have the title to the car. this took months of back and forth miscommunication as dated notices were sent and bills piled up. because it wasn't just the car i got, but the debt as well. some $30,000 of it left unpaid by mom, which i was now expected to pay in her stead. my first job was working night shifts at a wal mart stocking the frozen food department, and that was the job where i rode my bike on the highway to get to work. i didn't drive because i didn't have a license, didn't have experience, was terrified of highway drivers, and knew very distinctly that if anything went wrong i'd instantly be in so much more debt (monetary and bureaucratic) than i already was. eventually my sister, a career nurse with three kids and a house, took over the car from me.

nobody understood why i didn't drive that car more. even my mom, when she was still alive, she said "when i was your age, i was dying to get out of the house." i was too! but for all that cars culturally represented freedom, in practice what they came to represent to me was the expected cost of participating in society. i was already sensitive to adults sneering at me for my perceived immaturity (the joys of being a millennial), which only compounded on learning that i didn't have a car or license, that i wasn't proactively joining Clubs or Organizations, that i wanted to pursue the arts of all things, that i wasn't Christian, etc etc etc. i never got out to see live music because i didn't have a car and didn't have money. i didn't get my first smart phone until late 2015. i spent a lot of my college years feeling alienated because i was at least two years older than everyone else (i already didn't want to go to college straight out of high school even before my mom died), still used a flip phone, and didn't have a car. which is to say i was a working class person trying to get by in a middle class institution. and i only got in because i was very good at peddling my sob story for sympathy points. FAFSA loves to finance the odd tragedy, i'm telling you (don't worry, i still had to take on a ton of student loan debt). when i expressed to family that i didn't want a car because i didn't feel safe as a driver, and felt that i shouldn't need to have a car in order to participate in society, they said "everyone feels that way at first, but you just have to get over it. or move to a big city. good luck affording that!" as a related aside, when i told those same people that i liked being in college for the pursuit of knowledge and wanted to graduate towards being a sort of generalist, they flatly insisted that that's not how college works anymore, and that i should instead put my energies towards a Useful Degree that would Get Me A Good Job.

of course they were sympathetic, at least on the surface. they told me these things in a kind tone, the way adults always do when what they're saying boils down to "it's not fair, but life ain't fair." and i've just never been able to accept that. before i knew anything about socialism or communism or materialist dialectics, when i was still very much under the thrall of post-Clinton liberalism, i still felt this deep-rooted conviction that when people said "life isn't fair," they were giving up something. that it was an excuse, an appeal to a higher power, a resignation to the status quo. my experience with cars, by the time i hit 25, was that you bought them for the freedom they promised, and then spent of your life driving that car between one of maybe five locations on the regular and doing very little else. the only time i ever felt free in a car was on a road trip, which happened with vanishing irregularity as all the associated costs skyrocketed in the 2000s. all the other time was spent driving in circles looking for parking, only to balk at how expensive it was. spent stuck in traffic for hours, amid concrete dunes of overpasses tangled with one another like a four-year-old's first try at tying their own shoes. spent angrily judging the poor driving conduct of other people, spent resenting anyone and everyone who inconvenienced their drive, spent rubbernecking at horrific accidents on the side of the road, spent worrying about car payments and insurance payments and how much it's gonna cost to get a tune-up, and then someone breaks in and steals all your stuff and your insurance doesn't want to pay for it, and then you get into an accident and you spend months haggling with your insurance and their insurance in the hopes that someone will maybe pay for the debt you've had to take on in getting your car repaired, because of course professional life doesn't take a break just because your mode of transportation got totaled.

and if i was applying for a job and the employer found out i didn't have a car, i was denied on the spot. i learned very quickly to lie about such things as often as possible. but i also learned that i could only bluff for so long before the lack of a car became a genuinely insurmountable hurdle. which fucked me up tremendously because at no point in my adult life, to this day, can i ever imagine being able to afford all the associated costs of having a car. in many respects, not having a car was the only reason i was able to survive the way i did. it meant i could work part-time while i was in school (with student loans making up the shortfall), share an apartment with two or three or four other people, and just barely have enough to eat the bare minimum and go see a movie sometimes. of course i wanted the freedom all my car-owning friends had, but mostly i wanted it so i could drive out into the middle of nowhere at night and be truly alone. i wanted a car so that i could escape from the frictional sandpaper bureaucracy of american existence... and i knew from experience by then that that's simply not how the world works.

it took me until 2020 to finally move to seattle, one of those mythical Big Cities with Actually Existing Public Transit. and holy shit, it's a revelation! i have better access the place where i live now than i ever have, and it's a freedom that costs SO MUCH LESS than the same would've cost me back home. but i've also lived here long enough now to see all the ways in which our transit system here is deeply flawed and run by the wrong people. i see many of the same forces at play here as i did back home. i see now how car owners and allies to the car dealership fiefdoms of the nation utilize car ownership and road maintenance as a tremendous lever of power. they've deliberately trapped us in this cycle of poverty and personal transportation reliance, and used the money they got from us buying their cars to then buy politicians so that they defund public transit and oppose any urbanist reforms. did you know that much of america used to be covered by street cars and rail lines? if you live in the midwest or on the west coast, your town very likely only exists the way it does because of mass public transit. they were necessary for bringing people into these remote places to create new markets for wealth extraction. once the population in those places was stable, and mass-produced personal vehicles became the norm, the capitalists of those areas deliberately allowed the transit networks to "go bankrupt" (ie they pretended transit is a business and not a utility that pretty much by definition can't turn a profit in a traditional manner) so they could be bought up and liquidated by future car dealers. this is what i think of when i remember my family telling me "that's just not the way the world works."

why? it used to be the way the world worked. why can't it be again? if the current status quo is the result of choices that created economic pressures which shaped the nature of society, why can't we do the same thing again but different? the way things are now is sick. it's unhealthy. the vast majority of microplastics come from car rubber, and what socioeconomic classes do you think are mostly likely to live close to high-traffic roads? it's not rich people, i'll tell you that. it's not the car dealers or the small city councils worried that a bus connection might bring the poors in. when i say "car owners need to be oppressed" i'm talking about these people. suburban supremacist dictators and their sycophantic liege lords whose biggest priorities in life are to keep gas prices low and to maintain their god-given right to never having to see a poor person. i hate these people because i've been sneered at by them my whole life, while they have been personally responsible for many of the same socioeconomic conditions which resulted in the deaths of both my parents, along with many other members of my extended family. i've long since stopped believing in the idea of "death by natural causes." only the rich live long enough to die old. the rest of us die by a thousand cuts borne of neglect. our healthcare is gatekept, our education is gatekept, our transportation is gatekept. freedom is a thing to be bought, and when you don't have money, the next best thing is your blood. you give it up for a piece of something and you convince yourself that it's enough for you. but it is only a piece, and its apportionment is the result of greed and avarice happening in broad daylight all around us. i fully believe that a genuine war will need to be waged against the car barons before this horrendous now can be toppled, and it will be a war because they are aligned with the cops and with capital. this, too, is a microcosm, and in it we see the nature of our struggle for socialism unburdened by neoliberal word salad.

people have made the world this way. and people will make it something else.

[afrsconp]

A little holiday gift for the Tumblr Nisaac ghosties, with extra thanks to @yourstrulyray, whose post partly inspired the ending.

Thanks everyone for being so welcoming to a latecomer like me. <3

Written for the prompt: Your fave ship had some troubles and broke up but they're getting back together during the holidays.

(Which is obviously a Nisaac prompt if ever there was one.)

He finds Nigel on the little stone bench outside, where they’d first decided to try just being friends. And by anyone's measure, they’ve succeeded–more than a year has gone by since, and it's been one of the best of Isaac's afterlife that he can recall.

It wasn't until they started spending time together again that Isaac really understood why he'd been so out of sorts before. Not just lingering upset over the failure of their nuptials, but just the simple fact that he missed Nigel. Missed walking with him, conversing with him, even arguing with him. Isaac hadn't realised how much time they'd come to spend together once they started dating, nor how much he'd come to rely on Nigel's advice, or wit, or comfort whenever he needed it.

And Nigel never failed to provide it. Never fails, Isaac corrects himself now, as Nigel is as thoughtful and considerate a friend as he was a romantic partner. Isaac hopes he's done as much for Nigel, but in truth, he's really not so sure.

“Isaac,” Nigel says in greeting, when he sees Isaac coming towards him.

The noise of the Christmas party is muffled out here, but they can still hear the laughter and the music spilling out of the windows, still feel the warmth of the happiness and joy of their friends–living and ghost alike–inside the house proper. Isaac isn't really a sentimental man but the thought makes him smile, as does the sight of a man that's occupied a great deal of his thoughts for the better part of 300 years now.

“Nigel,” he greets in return, and sits beside him on the bench. Nigel's uniform suits the surroundings, the red of his coat a festive flash of colour amidst the grey stone of the house and the pristine white of newly fallen snow. He looks like something out of a postcard, or a picture book, or a–

A dream, Isaac thinks. A dream he's held for a very, very long time.

“I was wondering where you'd gone,” Isaac adds. His voice is soft; for some reason, it doesn't feel right to speak too loudly out here.

“I just needed a moment,” Nigel replies. His voice, too, is quieter than it usually is.

“For?”

Nigel is silent for some time, looking into the darkness beyond the yard and towards the woods in the distance. Isaac can't see his face clearly; not only is it dark but he's also in profile, keeping his eyes from Isaac's view. It makes it difficult to guess what he's thinking as his eyes have always been the most expressive thing about him. Often even more so than his words, which is saying a lot considering how eloquent the man can be.

“To get my thoughts in order,” Nigel says eventually. He turns then, and gifts Isaac with a small smile of his own. “I'm sorry,” he adds. “I don't mean to bring the mood down. This time of year just tends to draw the melancholy out of me.”

Isaac sits back a little, surprised. “It does?” he asks. “You seemed quite happy when we–”

Too late, he remembers what happened the last–and only–Christmas they spent together. The mistletoe, the liaison, the long-awaited kiss in the shed. Nigel must know what thoughts cut off Isaac's words and he smiles again, but now that Isaac can see his eyes it's obvious that the expression isn't genuine. Indeed, if anything, it just makes Nigel look even more sad.

“I'm sorry,” Nigel repeats. “It's just… old memories, that's all. I promise you, Isaac, I value your friendship a great deal, and I'm very glad to have it.”

Isaac knows him well enough now to know that he's being sincere, but he can also tell that there are things Nigel is holding back, too. Kept locked away and secret behind his sad eyes and carefully worded answers; kept silent and unspoken for as long as Isaac refuses to hear them.

And there's the catch, really; there's the rub. Isaac does hear them, and perhaps always has. It's just taken a lot longer than any man should need to endure for Isaac to really understand what they mean. And by some miracle that Isaac is sure he doesn't deserve, Nigel did–and does–endure it, and likely always will.

“As I'm glad to have yours,” Isaac tells him, and gets another, sweeter smile in response. It warms Isaac down to his bones, and gives him the courage to do what he'd come out here to do in the first place.

He doesn't really know why it feels so much harder now than it did before; surely the second time should be easier, since he's already had something of a practice run. But the weight of everything that’s happened between them hangs heavy in the air, and the full knowledge of what he's admitting to, and accepting, is almost overwhelming.

I like you, he'd said the first time. A vague and somewhat childish statement, for a vague and somewhat childish feeling, made by a version of himself who, despite an existence that spanned centuries, was likewise rather childish and vague himself. Please don't make me say it again, he’d added, when Nigel looked equal parts confused and hopeful, unsure of what Isaac really meant.

But Isaac is not that man anymore, and neither is Nigel. Childish and vague are the opposite of what he wants this second time to be. Second and last, if he does this correctly. If he's right about the nature of the secrets Nigel keeps so close to his chest.

“Nigel,” he starts. He stares at his hands, unsure if he can look Nigel in the eye for this.

“Yes, Isaac?”

Isaac opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. His jaw works but his throat does not, closing up and choking off the words he'd planned so carefully to say. Nigel just looks at him, however, and doesn't rush him; patient in a way he wasn't before, when Isaac’s denials prompted him to walk away.

You're not that man anymore, Isaac reminds himself. And neither is he.

“I love you,” Isaac says. It's a simple statement, simply said, but what it conveys for both of them is immense.

Nigel stares blankly for a moment, before the words sink in and his eyes go wide. He looks more shocked than when Isaac proposed, and his voice is faint when he stutters, “W-what?”

“I love you, Nigel,” Isaac repeats. He takes a steadying breath, then says the rest of what he prepared to say. “I think perhaps I always have; I just didn’t really know it until now. Perhaps I wasn't ready to. But… after everything I've done, and how much I hurt you, I'll understand if you no longer feel the same wa–”

He's abruptly cut off when Nigel's lips crash into his, Nigel's hands cradling his face like he's holding something precious, palms shaking against Isaac's cheeks. Isaac kisses back, unable to stop himself even if he wanted to–and he doesn't want to, not now and not ever.

And that, really is the heart of the matter. Because for them, forever is not just a trite little phrase, to be uttered in the heat of the moment or woven into vows that only last a single lifetime. For them, it's a real and true commitment, with real and true consequences that both of them understand all too well.

And now, it's a promise made and accepted. Because when Nigel pulls back and meets Isaac's gaze, every secret he'd kept hidden away is revealed in full in those wide green eyes, as arresting now as when Isaac first saw them through a spyglass more than 250 years ago. More arresting, really, because now they look at Isaac with clear joy and love spilling from them unhindered, and Isaac can only hope his own eyes mirror even a fraction of the same emotion, because he certainly feels it, in every single part of himself. In his chest, tight with happiness; in his stomach, fluttering with relief; in his heart, swelled to bursting with–

“I love you, too, Isaac,” Nigel says. He strokes Isaac’s cheek and stares at him with something like wonder on his face. “Always.”

Isaac leans in and kisses him again, soft and gentle, taking his time. He doesn't need to say anything more; the look on Nigel's face confirms that he understands what Isaac is offering him now, as well as Nigel's own answer to it. But if this really is the last time he’ll do this–with Nigel, or with anyone–Isaac wants to make it count.

"Always, Nigel,” Isaac confirms. Promises. Vows. “And forever, too.”

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | Chapter 14: Always Faithful, Always Strong

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, drama, horror

WC: 16.3k

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

Previous ML

The little angel holding your hand smiled excitedly at you. 

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

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

“Are you ready?”

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

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

A very cute rabbit. 

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

Her sweet grin really did remind you of someone…

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

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

You blinked slowly. 

“Home?”

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

“Mhm!” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

The grip on your hand tightened a little more. 

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

One she would not wake from. 

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

It was cold and dark. 

And lonely.

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

“I’d like to go home.”

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

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

Then everything was white again. 

You blinked hard a few times. 

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

Oh.

Oh my.

“____.”

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

It came from the shining figure. 

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

“You suffered for a long time.”

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

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

You’d never felt more understood.

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

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

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

 “Was it worth it, ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whispered.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded slowly. 

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

“Oh. That makes sense.”

They nodded and you two fell into silence once more.

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

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

“We’re going home.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, good.”

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

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

“It is.”

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

Someone was waiting inside for you. 

They had waited a very long time. 

There, you would belong. 

“Can I go in?”

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

__________________________________

“I’m letting you out of the deal.”

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

“No.”

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

“I don’t want out-”

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“Yes.”

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

“What if I stay?”

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

“You-...what?”

You swallow, feeling very small and unsure right now. 

“You want me to stay, don’t you?”

The demon blinks a few times. 

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

He’s selfish. 

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

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

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

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

Taking a deep breath, you stay strong. 

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

What else could you expect from a demon?

“You don’t want him anymore?”

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

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

He glares at you, “Why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why ‘Apple’?”

“I like apples.”

“Oh.”

Only a second passes before the next question. 

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

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

He rolls his eyes. 

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

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

“What are your other favorites-”

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

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

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

“Well, no-”

“Are you a virgin?”

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

He only smirks. 

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

“Yellow and pink…and blue.”

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

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

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

But you can certainly manage. 

You have to. 

“What the hell does that even mean?”

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

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

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

“Aw, that’s sweet, JK.”

“Shuddup.”

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

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

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

“I might just do that.”

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

“Mm, neither.”

“Neither?”

“Well, work I guess.”

“You guess.”

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

“Care to elaborate?” 

He sounds annoyed with needing to ask for further details. 

“No, not really.”

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

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

You hide the smile creeping up on you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because Pear would be a stupid name.”

He chuckles, taking you by surprise. 

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

“Whatever you say, mortal.”

“It’s Apple.”

“I’m not calling you Apple.”

“Well then I’ll just call you Pear-”

“You absolutely will not.”

You scowl at him. 

“I’ll do whatever I want.”

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

Your heart lurches and your mouth feels dry.

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

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

“I-I…I-”

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

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

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

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

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

But it’s not the same. 

It used to be filled with so much love. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which one?”

“I think you know which one.”

Your cheeks heat involuntarily and you clear your throat. 

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

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s none of your business!”

“I think you’re embarrassed.”

“And why would I be?” You ask. 

“Because you’re definitely a virgin.”

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

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

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

“Fire away.”

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

He shrugs, “I’m curious.”

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

“And?”

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

“Pretty much, yeah.”

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

“You’re so- so exasperating!!”

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

“Technically I never said I knew.”

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

“You’re so naive.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

You drop your hands to your side and sigh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp.

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

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

“Are you calm now?”

“Yes,” you laugh quietly. 

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

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

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll answer yours first.”

“Ok.”

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

“I’m not a virgin.”

“Oh...wow.”

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

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

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

“I’m pure?”

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

“Two questions,” You hold up two fingers. 

He nods, apparently shocked into temporary silence. 

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

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

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

“How valuable they are to them.”

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

“Your innocence would be gone.”

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

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

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

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

“I mean…I suppose, but-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, uncertainty still clear on his face. 

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

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.”

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

He nods, but says nothing. 

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

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

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

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Not really.”

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

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

JK gulps, pursing his lips. 

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

“Stop.”

“You said you would answer me.”

His eyes fall from yours. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why did you offer to let me leave?”

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

“Then why offer it in the first place?”

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

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

Sorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“JK…”

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

Tears spring to your eyes at the realization. 

“You-...” 

His eyes stay locked on yours. 

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

His following silence is answer enough. 

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

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

‘I can’t…love you.’

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

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

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

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

I’m sorry, Jungkook. 

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

I am so sorry.

“Hey.”

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

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

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

You will not fail, ____. 

Do not doubt yourself so. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.”

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________

“Can I go in?”

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

Could it really have been…?

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

“I am.”

“Were you a human once?”

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

“My angel?” You asked in astonishment.

“Yes.”

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

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

“How-”

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

You, it was you…at four years old…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you saw the woman again. 

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

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

It was her…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it was all gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

You gawked wordlessly at the huge wings behind her. 

“Y-”

You gulped, shocked into speechlessness. 

Her smile grew warmer at the look on your face. 

Finally, you found the words. 

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

Her head dipped slightly in confirmation. 

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

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

Her laughter was like waves crashing against the golden shore. 

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

“But…why me?”

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

Your heart burst in your chest. 

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

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

Your angel nodded sadly.

“Why?”

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

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

_____________________________________________

The exhaustion is heavy on your shoulders. 

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

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

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

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

It has happened multiple times. 

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

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

None of this is futile. 

It is slow and it is painful. 

But it is not futile. 

Your stomach turns when you suddenly remember the voice. 

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

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

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

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

“Back at the shed.”

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

“Hm?”

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

“You said it was my fault.”

“Huh?” Your voice is weak. 

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

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

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

“Stop lying.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Why did you? Before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’re the other reasons?”

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

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

“Oh? And what are you doing, demon?”

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

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

You know something that he doesn’t. 

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

Perhaps everything has been on your terms. 

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

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

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

Just messy little you.

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

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

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

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

“Why did you call me that?”

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

“Why did you call me demon?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh…okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles as you smile.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t tell you,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

One of your brows raises and you purse your lips. 

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

“I also have dignity,” you whisper back. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted you to confirm it.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“We can go.”

“Splendid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great. More snakes. 

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

“No.”

“Oh…what is it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re curious?”

You nod.

He stares at you in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The demon scoffs quietly in annoyance. 

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

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

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

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

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

Then you walk inside and are soon engulfed in blackness.

__________________________________________

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

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

“Is there nothing to be done for them?”

“There is much.”

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

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

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

You stared at her with wide shiny eyes.

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

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

One of those proud smiles grew on her face. 

“Yes.”

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

“Would you like to see?”

After a moment, you nodded slowly. 

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

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

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

Mother was there. 

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

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

“Mother.”

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

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

Why was she so upset? 

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

“Who? Jungkook?”

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

You got no reply. 

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

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

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

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

“Scraps?”

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

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

How could she say something so horrible?

Little you immediately burst into tears, startling you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was talking about how hungry she was that day…

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

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

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

Such little acts, usually for Jungkook. 

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

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

That was your seventeenth birthday, the one Jungkook missed.

It was also the day you had forgiven your mother. 

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

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

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

You wiped your eyes. 

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

“But-...”

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

“I know it must seem like a lot.”

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

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

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

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

That must be what it feels like. 

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

The smile slowly slipped off the angel’s face. 

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

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

“Three days?” You breathed in disbelief. 

“Yes.”

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

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

“Guardian angel…what’s happened?”

______________________________________________

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

Then his touch is gone. 

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

What was his name…San? Sal?

Something with an S…

Sav. 

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

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

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

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

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

Him? Sixth- sixth circle?

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

“Doing what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have the others left?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

It’s a large circular room. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-...” 

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

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

Pull it together, ____. 

Come on now, don’t blow it. 

Not when it’s so close.

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

All I need to do is find his. 

I am so so close.

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

“What? No!”

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

“Why? The ninth circle is-”

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

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

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

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

“Exit.” He says bluntly. 

“Oh.”

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

“Exit.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Step away from there.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____.

____, do not give up.

Please, listen to me-

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

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

“Hey.” He calls to get your attention, sending the most painful pang into your heart as you look up at him, bottom lip trembling. 

Not even on your deathbed did you look such a mess.

“You can finish this,” he says, “The ninth circle is right there. You can make it to the Flame.”

A few straggling tears fall down your cheeks. 

“I never wanted the Flame,” you hear yourself saying miserably.

His head cocks to the side as his brows furrow. 

“What do you mean you never wanted the Flame? The Flame is why you came here, it’s why you’ve suffered through each and every-”

“It’s not.”

The pure confusion on his face makes a thought pop into your head. 

Confusion is the first step…

You hadn’t wanted to do it yet, it wouldn’t have worked before. Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe if you do it now…it might work.

____, listen to me.

You struggle to your feet, wide eyes looking into his. 

His dark eyes flicker around your messy face stained with tears, the shining glimmer of hope in yours a huge contrast from the sobbing you had been doing only moments before. 

Then you’re stepping closer and he isn’t stepping away. 

He doesn’t even flinch when you take his face in your hands and raise yourself up on your tiptoes. 

He doesn’t protest, he doesn’t fight you at all when you pull him into a kiss. 

The second your lips touch, it’s like that last band snaps inside him and he can’t stop. 

He doesn’t want to stop.

A sigh leaves your mouth when you pull away. Only a second later, he pulls you back in, connecting your mouths again in a desperate kiss, his cold hands holding the nape of your neck. 

He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss and you gasp when you feel something wet prodding at the seam of your lips. The moment your mouth opens in that gasp, his tongue meets yours in a heated tangle. 

Your wet lips slide against his as a groan slips from him. 

“Fuck,” he moans icily into your mouth. 

You can feel his hands running down your sides with frenzied desire. 

Focus, I need to focus. 

Your eyes scrunch shut as you try to keep yourself in check. 

JK’s brows furrow as his mind begins to blur, a strange heat building up inside of him as he continues to kiss you. 

Green leaves and a bright sun flash in his mind, startling him enough to pull away. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, pulling him into you again. 

He shakes off the strange images and dives right back into your lips, an insatiable hunger burning in his lower stomach as his hands travel to your waist and grasp it roughly. 

Only moments later, he sees a roaring river and hears the sound of laughter. 

You feel him pull away again. 

“Just focus, it’s okay,” you whisper, hands cupping his cheeks as you press another kiss to his lips, “Just close your eyes and breathe.”

He wants to stop and ask you what’s going on, but he doesn’t waste a second before pressing his lips back to yours. One of your smaller hands cups his cheek, then you start running the tips of your fingers down his neck and shoulder before holding onto his bicep where that horrible tattoo lies. He feels you grip the sleeve of his shirt harshly, as if you’re dying to just tear it to shreds. 

A vase of dead roses flickers into his blurry mind, then the image of someone lying on a bed, hair splayed out around her.

His brows furrow more, but he doesn’t stop kissing you as the pictures he can’t make sense of fade away. He doesn’t stop his hands from sliding behind your waist and traveling up your back slowly.  

Trees crowd in all around his vision. 

There’s someone running in front of him. 

A small girl. 

She turns around briefly, a huge smile lighting up her face as she laughs. 

“You’re cheating!” 

She only laughs louder and continues to run until she’s disappeared into the bushes ahead. 

“Apple!”

The demon’s eyes fly open and he pulls away. 

You gulp in a breath as you look up at him. 

Then your heart freezes in your chest when you realize what’s happened; the look on his face as he takes a step back from you turns your stomach to rot. 

“Wait,” your voice is weak as you reach a hand out to him. 

You can’t see anything but bewildered anger in his eyes. You were so focused you hadn’t known that he was touching your back. That he-

“I-”

“Shut up.”

You snap your mouth shut. 

“Turn around,” he breathes, just barely keeping it contained. 

“I can expl-” “I said turn the fuck around!!” 

You flinch but make no move to do as he says. 

You can see the last bit of patience snap in his eyes as he grabs your arm and yanks you to him so that he can rip the cardigan off of you. It tears easily, falling to the ground as you put a shaking hand over your mouth and shrink away from him. 

The white wings on your back droop in defeat, the tips just barely brushing against the ground. 

“You-”

The furious hatred on his face is clear. 

You’ve never seen him like this, not ever. 

“You’re a fucking angel?” His voice trembles with rage. 

“JK…”

He steps closer, making you flinch again, “Say that name again and I’ll rip your fucking head off.”

You gulp but don’t say a word. 

“So this was your little game the whole time, huh?” He hisses, stepping closer, “See if the precious angel could defeat a demon in Hell..and here I thought you were smart.”

“That wasn’t it,” you mumble, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“What the hell were you thinking, little angel?” He glares at you in disgust, “That I would fall for you? Love you?” A sadistic chuckle leaves his lips as you close your eyes. 

You jump without opening your eyes when a harsh grip snags your upper arm and he pulls you to him. 

“You really thought I could care about you.” He muses with a dark chuckle, “You, a disgusting pathetic little puppet. I knew there was something off about you this whole time. Did He not give you enough love up there? Had to come to Hell to beg for it?”

You refuse to look at him, you just stand there, trembling and keeping your eyes screwed shut. 

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says. His dark ones are full of so much rage and hatred it makes you sick as he searches your watery gaze. 

Then you feel a cold hand close around your throat. 

“I would kill you right now,” he whispers in your ear coldly. You close your eyes when you feel him start to squeeze harder and harder until you can’t breathe, “If I thought you were worth any more of my time.”

A pained gasp escapes you when he shoves you to the ground. 

You hit the dirt harshly, arms buckling as they try to catch you, wings muddied and sore. Your watery eyes raise to him again, desperate and terrified. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you whisper helplessly, voice hoarse from his actions. You know what would come of an angel lost in this place.

He knows it too.

The demon looks down at you, the lowest angel in existence, with a loathing unmatched before spitting venomously, “Find your own way out of Hell.”

Your vision blurs with tears as he turns and walks off without a single hesitation, his tall dark figure getting smaller and smaller until you are completely and utterly alone. 

_________________

You sit there in stunned silence for a few minutes, just staring at the spot on the ground where he once stood. There is nothing in your mind, yet there is everything all at once. Everything is spinning wildly, nothing making sense. 

Then finally, a sliver of a cohesive thought passes through and you stumble to your feet, tripping over yourself in your haste to get back to the door. 

The snake vines have begun to return, attempting to hide it once more. 

You smack and tear at them viciously, tears pouring down your cheeks silently as you uncover the handle and yank open the door. 

The sound of your bare feet hitting the rocky ground softly as you run echoes off the walls in the darkness. Before long, you can see the archway ahead.

Despite the pain and fear filling you, you push yourself harder until you’re stumbling into the Chamber of Souls and falling to the marble floor. 

You stagger to your feet and hurry to the wall nearest you, eyes scanning the souls frantically as you limp quickly around the perimeter. 

They all look the same. 

They all look the exact same. 

You start to hyperventilate as you go, dirty fingers running along the glass and leaving smudges behind. 

Come on, Apple. 

You can do this. 

You gulp and force your exhausted legs to keep moving. 

He would not give up on you, no matter what.

Suck it up and keep moving.

Your eyes dart this way and that, mind screaming in a horrible panic when you realize you have no idea what to do. Then a thought occurs to you. 

Maybe you won’t be able to tell the difference by looking at them. But maybe you can in a different way. 

Your feet take off running back down the hall where you came from, until you are outside once again and looking for the first heavy thing you see. 

There’s a decent sized stone not far from the door. You grab it and run back inside, lungs burning as you don’t let yourself stop to take a breath. 

You can do this, Apple, you can do this. 

By the time you make it back into the room, you can barely breathe as you lug the rock over to a section of the glass. Closing your eyes, you mutter a quick prayer before opening them again and hurling the stone right at the fragile substance and watching it shatter. 

You put your arms over your face in an attempt to protect it from the worst of the flying pieces of sharp debris. Only your face, chest, and arms were cut by the shards, but not too badly. 

Your chest rises and falls in heavy breaths as you stare at the gaping hole in the windows in front of you, the blackened souls floating there, undisturbed. 

Just as you’re reaching a tentative hand in to grab one, to hold it and see if you can know who it once belonged to, there is a clapping sound from behind you. 

You whirl around to see a demon there, leaning against the archway you came into. 

His skin is pale, eyes dark blue and shaggy hair a dirty blonde that goes to the top of his prominent cheekbones.

The demon wears a fitting black shirt that’s tucked into the waist of his skinny black jeans.

There’s a smug smile on his unsettlingly handsome face as he claps his hands slowly, again, and again, and again. 

You say nothing, eyes drawn to the tattoo on his bicep; the dead monarch butterfly being strangled by a serpent. 

Sav.

“Well, if it isn’t the little stowaway angel herself.”

You continue to stay mute, watching cautiously as he pushes himself off the rocky wall and starts to slowly walk to you from across the room. 

“I thought angels were supposed to be…I don’t know, pretty? Perfect little princesses of Heaven?” A dark chuckle leaves his throat at your silence.

Sav stops ten feet away from you. 

“You’re not any of those things, are you?”

When he takes another step towards you, you finally move, inching backwards along the edge of the room with each step he takes. The smirk on his face only grows as he observes your messy hair, bruised skin and dirty wings that droop behind you, currently at rest. 

“This is what JK risked everything for? Seriously?”

“How did you know I was here?” You ask sharply, eyes narrowing, “How did you know what I was and he didn’t?”

Sav scoffs. 

“Because he’s a fool-”

“Really? And why did it take you so long to find me then, if you’re so smart?”

His blue eyes narrow as he continues his slow but steady advance. 

“I wasn’t looking for you, little angel. I was looking for him.”

“That makes you look even stupider.”

You see his jaw clench. 

“I was busy,” he says, strangely calm, “I knew he was up to something, but honestly? I didn’t think even he would be so brainless as to lead an angel through Hell.”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t. Not until now, at least,” he chuckles, “Your wings kind of tipped it off a bit, I suppose.”

You gulp, trying to figure out which way is your best bet on getting out. 

“Don’t even think about trying to escape, it’ll just be a tire for us both.”

You say nothing. 

“Where is he, anyway?” Sav’s creepy smile returns, “Your little demon lover.”

When you don’t say a word, he throws his head back and cackles. 

“He left you.”

Your hands are sweating as you clench them into fists, your eyes darting around to see which door you can get to quickest. It looks like the one with the silver handle might be your best choice. Sav is standing over by the bronze door in the alcove, the gold handled door is between you. The archway is straight across the room and you know where that leads, but he would catch you before you could make it out. 

Silver it is. 

“You do know what happens to naughty angels when they get caught in Hell, don’t you?”

All you do is stare at him, mentally timing yourself on when to run. 

“JK knew…and yet he left you.”

Your heart feels like it’s been impaled by a hundred swords. 

“It’s almost like he wants you to suffer.”

You continue to slowly inch your way around the perimeter as he keeps walking closer. 

You can make it to that door. 

“I wish he were here,” Sav pouts, “I’d pay to see the look on his face when I torture his little angel until she’s begging for me to have mercy. Telling me she will do anything to make it stop..”

You gulp, forcing yourself not to look at the door you are about to make a run through. 

It’s only a few feet away now. 

Sav is just about to make another snide comment about your appearance when you turn and bolt for the black wooden door with the silver handle. You can hear him screaming something angrily, but you don’t stop to find out what it is. You’re out the door faster than lightning and running at full speed down the pitch black hall. 

It’s unclear whether he’s followed you in with the sound of your panicked breathing echoing in your ears. Your body is so exhausted it feels like it’s going to collapse. You can’t let it. 

…

You almost made it out. 

The exit was only a few feet in front of you, when an arm riddled with muscles wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. 

The bloodcurdling scream that left you could’ve been heard miles away. 

It was a scream only those that knew the horrors that awaited them would understand.

It wasn’t Sav that grabbed you, it was a demon much larger than he. A demon that cackled maniacally as he dragged you back through the tunnel and into the Chamber of Souls, where Sav was waiting, a delighted smirk on his face as he stood there and watched you cry and fight as hard as you could, fear clear in your eyes. 

He knew. 

He knew you would never have made it out, no matter which door you chose. 

The demon holding you tightly against it- so hard it pinches your wings painfully- has red scales and a horrible long snout full of sharp teeth. It has bony ribs, but muscled arms and thighs as it stands on two mangled legs.

You grit your teeth, gathering yourself. Then you bite the demon’s slimy arm covered in scales, drawing a pained howl from him as he drops you to the floor, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

After a second, you scramble to your feet, blood dripping from your mouth. You aren’t sure if the blood is your own or the demon’s as it hisses curses at you. Sav just watches you closely as you heave in several breaths. 

“You could defeat us right now,” he says casually, “If He allows it. All you would need to do, little angel, is ask Him. Ask Him or one of His little minions to assist you. Call to His strongest minion of all, go ahead.”

You gulp and wipe at the bloody streaks on your chin, glaring at him. 

He’s right, you could get out of this. 

You can make them suffer.

“If ever you need me, little one, just say my name and I will come.”

“If you hurt us even a little bit though,” Sav looks at his nails, inspecting them as he sighs, “We will torture him greater than even the dealt punishment for not delivering enough souls to Hell.”

You close your eyes.

There was never even an inkling of a plan to leave Jungkook here, even after he left you. All you needed was to get out of this predicament. 

But you will not risk him enduring more agony because of you.

Sav tuts when you lower your head, staring at the floor. 

“Why so eager to help him when he couldn’t care less about you?”

You don’t say anything. 

Even as the demon that grabbed you in the hall harshly digs his clawed fingers into your arm, breaking the flesh and drawing blood, your arms wrest behind you, you still say nothing. 

“Thank you little angel,” a devilish smirk spreads on Sav’s pink lips, “For finally giving me something to hold over JK’s pretentious little head. You, I must say, are the most satisfying weakness of his that I could have ever hoped for.”

“I’m not his weakness,” you mumble, knees beginning to shake as the grip on your arms tightens, “You said it yourself, he left me.”

Sav scrutinizes you for a second longer, then he turns on his heel, the demon holding you following behind him as he heads for the alcove.��

Out of nowhere, another demon emerges as you walk. It’s a tall thin man with too big eyes and a smile that stretches across half his face. You swallow thickly when he grabs your left arm so that you’re being dragged between them, feet barely touching the ground. 

When you see Sav opening the door in the alcove, the one JK told you to stay away from, a terror you’ve never experienced takes root. 

Sav smiles sadistically at you. 

“You made a deal with a devil, darling. Now, you’re going to pay the price.”

Every fiber of your being is telling you to scream, to scream and scream and scream. To beg for someone to come save you.

Your body shakes uncontrollably as you’re dragged closer and closer to the door leading into stairs that fall into blackness. Tortured screams echo from below as you stare at the scratch marks on the door. 

If you weren’t restrained, you’re sure your own nails would be digging into that same wood. An act so desperate it would tear that wood to splinters in an attempt not to let the door close. 

Any mortal would have blacked out from pure gut-wrenching fear at the knowledge of what awaited them down those steps. 

You are too horrifyingly aware as you continue to tremble violently, arms sore as the demons clutch you tightly, pulling you closer and closer to the staircase. 

You are too terrified to scream. 

The demon standing in front of you raises a brow and tilts his head at your silence, "You really are loyal, aren't you? Well, pretty thing-"

Sav leans in, mockery dripping from his tongue as he whispers, "Semper fidelis, semper fortis, little angel." He tilts his head back and laughs, then he walks into the door first, the demons holding you following closely behind. 

“Don’t bother begging for mercy, doll,” he calls over his shoulder, “It doesn’t exist here.”

The last thing you see is Sav walking down the steps before the sound of the door behind you slamming shut reaches your ears. 

Then there’s nothing but darkness. 

___________________________________________

a/n: tysm for reading, thoughts are always welcome, ily <3

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[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: here's one for jude 😁 they're childhood friends, have known one another for so long, everyone says they are a perfect fit but jude brushes off the idea because deep down he doesn't want to admit he's in love with her, she on the other hand doesn't have time for relationships cause of her career as a ballerina. they stop talking for about three years until they meet again in madrid, she's dragged by her girlfriends to see real madrid play, that's when she sees jude, they reconnect with jude finally ready to confess his feelings, however one of his teammates tries to jump in the way. (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 761 words

(author's note: everyone thank @findingnemosworld for her amazing requests !! i did change the ending a little so i hope thats okay 🫶)

Jude always thought that Y/N was the most beautiful girl in the world. Her smile could light up a room, and her laugh was like music to his ears. They had been friends since he could remember, spending most of their childhood years as an inseparable pair.

What Jude didn’t realise is that Y/N felt exactly the same about him. His happy-go-lucky personality made her enjoy being around him, and the side of him that was ever-so caring made her fall head over heels for the boy.

But through Jude’s move to Real Madrid and Y/N’s gruelling career as a ballerina, the pair had fallen apart. This shocked everyone around them, as anyone who looked their way would assume they were a couple. There was no one else in the world who would've been more of a perfect fit together than Jude and Y/N.

Jude Bellingham wasn’t scared of most things. He’d played professional football for years. Suffered online abuse and gone through many hardships throughout his life. But the idea of telling Y/N how he felt about her had him shaking with fear. He valued her friendship more than anything else, so when he had to let his best friend know he was moving away, it broke his heart.

Y/N was devastated. Jude’s departure had made her lose her drive and motivation and her ballet career was suffering because of it. Her coach was pushing her to her limits to distract her from the gaping hole that Jude had left behind in her life with his departure.

Time passed, and the pair hadn’t spoken in months. But that didn’t mean that they didn’t think of one another every passing minute, of every passing day.  

Y/N had a break in ballet performances, and it just so happened that her dance group’s next show was in Madrid. Her friends had been given tickets to a football game, and she blindly agreed to go. Her friend, who had been given the tickets, was married to a player from one of the teams playing, and Y/N desperately needed a chance to relax.

Jude was sat in the changing rooms. He was listening to Vinicius Jr. give them a pep talk before their game against Sevilla. He had a strange feeling his his stomach but he couldn’t place it. 

"Jude, are you okay?" Luka asked him, noticing the look on his Jude's face.

“Yeah man, I’m fine”, Jude responded, brushing off his friend’s concerns.

And so the game began. Y/N and her friends sat, immersed in the game. She always used to watch Jude play, and the interest in football had stuck, even after he moved away. However, when the line-ups were announced and the players walked out, Y/N felt sick. She hadn’t seen Jude in three years since his move to Madrid, and the painful memories rocketed to the forefront of her mind.

Jude ran onto the pitch. As he stood through the pre-game formalities, his eyes wandered over the masses of spectators that had turned up to watch their teams play. However, his eyes widened when they connected with those belonging to a familiar face.

Y/N’s mouth dropped open. The look she shared with Jude was one full of shock and pain. Jude mouthed ‘meet me after the game’ and she understood immediately.

It was an interesting game that resulted in a draw. Each side fought hard, but neither of them could grasp the winning goal. Jude had never been so eager to leave the pitch as he rushed over to where Y/N was waiting for him.

As he stood in front of the girl he had loved his whole life, he faltered. Jude knew he couldn’t hold his feelings back any longer.

“Y/N, I love you. I have for so many years and I-”

“Jude, I love you too.”

Jude stopped talking. He had been waiting to hear those three words come out of her mouth since he had learned what they meant. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He stepped forward, cupped her face with his hand, and kissed her. 

Jude poured every ounce of love he had for Y/N into that kiss. The fondness he felt for her was unbeaten, the years he spent hiding it, filled with regret.

Once they broke away, the looked at eachother. The look was not filled with pain this time, it had been replaced with love and tenderness.

The pair left the stadium, reunited and ready to spend their days together.

[piluhns]

Drabble- A MERE MORTAL --G.S.

Um, i don't really write and i found this on my laptop, so yeah, it ain't finished nor well written- since my 1st language is not english

A mere mortal, that’s who she was.

A mere mortal who appeared in his life in one of his teenager years, he teached her a lot of things, and she teached him a lot of feelings.

“I just…don’t understand why would he go down that path” he said, remembering how his best friend left. “I’m sure he had a reason, Satoru, and if not, we will find him back yeah?” Her soft voice said, his head on her lap, her fingers through his hair. She stared at his pale skin, how his eyes looked without his technique, how his nose curved, how he kept his slips moisturized

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked, a hint of worry in her eyes, even if she was a mere mortal, it felt like she understood him better than the rest of the sorcerers.

“I don’t know, Amalia…” He huffed, the bags under his eyes more noticeable than ever, all of the sleepless nights he had while he remembered al lot the memories he made with his once best friend.

“Just know… that I’ll always be here Satoru” Amalia said, while her fingers continued pat his hair, then they both stared at each other.

              12 years later (2018)

Her fingers moved quickly on a keyboard as she finished typing an email.

Her routine was simple, woke up, eat, work, gym, work, work, work sleep. Maybe for other people it was boring, and not healthy, but she was happy with how her life was, she liked to keep it simple.

“Good night, Mrs.” She said to the secretary, she still had that soft voice, only that it sounded more deeper and emptier now, she walked towards her car as she started to drive, the radio was on, she didn’t pay much attention to the people talking on it, in fact, she skipped until she found some music.

Red light, she waited. How could a person change so much? How could they lose all the light they had in their eyes? Maybe it was her fault for being too attached, or it was his, for keeping her by his side.

Amalia sighed, remembering her past once again, shaking her head as she started to drive again.

She arrived, unlocking the door with her keys “I’m home” she said, knowing that no one would respond. She took her shoes off, looking at the photos hanged on her walls, how much she missed his White hair… his teases... how much she missed ***him***.

Amalia showered, and went to sleep, waiting for her alarm to clock, while she rested in Morfeo’s arms.

“i don’t need you anymore! Can’t you see? I am one of the greatest, i am the strongest! I don’t need a mere civil like you distracting me with her stupid stories or looks! We are done, i wish i have never met you!.” She remembered it as if it was yesterday, his screams, his insults, everything. How her cheeks were adorned with tears, and how she had to walk away under the rain that day, wondering what on earth she did wrong to make him crack his anger on her

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-*

 She woke up, groaning as she had dried tears on her cheeks, even after years she never forgot him.

“why can’t i move on?” she sighed to herself, looking at her calendar remembering it was her free day. She got dressed, a White dress and some shoes, she put her hair up on a ponytail and wore a black cap, she put a black jacket on top and grabbed her purse, not wanting to spent her day locked up in her own house.

The day was windy as the four of them walked, He smiled, his students bickered between eachother after a mission and they went to get some food while they walked through the busy streets of tokyo.

How could she not recognize him? His White hair, tall figure, his blindfold, his uniform and the ones that the kids wore, she knew instantly who it was. She grabbed her cap covering her face a Little, looking at the ground and walking past the coffee they were in, she swore she felt a jolt of electricity as she continued to speed walk.

Satoru drank his coffee, not really paying much attention to the civils that walked at the other side of the window, his students chatted and laughed, and just as he put his cup of coffee down he felt a jolt of electricity too, knowing it wasn’t because of a curse, he looked outside the window quickly, noticing a woman that covered her face while she walked, He didn’t wanna jump on assumptions, but her hair, how could he forget that caramel hair?, he tried to look at her closer with his six eyes, and he knew who it was as soon as he saw that bracelet on her hand, how could he forget about it? He was the one that gifted it to her after all.

Amalia cursed under her breath as she walked even faster, sighing in relief when she noticed she was no longer on his camp of vision.

Satoru stayed quiet as his head started to put him in a bubble of memories, when she took care of him, when he was at his lowest, she was here. And how could he forget the reason why she left?, it was his fault…. “I don’t need you anymore!” replayed on his mind over and over again, her tears on her cheeks as she nod and left, god, he felt stupid.

He froze as she walked away, not knowing what to do, should he follow her? Or should he just let her be?. He knew that he won’t stop thinking about her after this, but at the time he couldn’t just left his students alone…

He got his wallet out as he left them some money to pay the Bill, quickly excusing himself as he went out of the café, walking on a quick pace at the direction he saw her left.

Amalia just walked on a straight direction, she just wanted to enjoy her free day, not to see the person she used to care and love the most, how could she have that much of bad luck?

Both of them were troubled, she couldn’t face him even if she wanted to, it would be too much. So she escaped, walking to a nearby convenience store as she sighed to herself.

“A-amalia?”

“fuck.”

Both of them staring at each other, so much and so Little changed, she was a grown woman now, and he was even taller.

She sighed as she looked at him, the bags under her eyes more noticeable than ever.

“Do i know you?” she said, trying to play dumb even if the two of them knew it was a mere facade.

“don’t be like this, Amalia” he spoke, his tone having so many emotions in only one phrase

“Gojo, what do you need? I thought you didn’t need me anymore” her eyes were dull, how could they lost so much life in them?.

“…You know i didn’t mean it like tha-“ “i don’t need a mere mortal like you, those were your words, not mine gojo” his last name feeling so foreign in her tongue.

“Look, i was Young and i spent through my worst moments in that time” he sighed, running his slender fingers through his hair.

“i know, and i still stayed, i was there for you. But it’s okay now, because you don’t need me anymore, right?” she tilted her head to the side a little, her eyes never leaving his, just like when they were teens.

“I was stupid okay? You knew better than anyone” he said, a bit frustrated

“but keeping me by your side just to push me away later, was a stupid choice?” she muttered quietly

He furrowed his eyebrows at her words “What? No!”

“Are you happy? Did you achieve your goal of being the strongest?” it hurt her heart hurt, her ears ringed, and she finally looked at his face.

“…That’s a trick question…you know I am happy, but that doesn’t quit the fact that I need you” he looked at her, tightening his fist as he took note of her eyebags.

“…I, I just envy you” she admitted

“wha-?” before he asked she interrupted

“I envy you, because even after us you moved on, you’re happy, and you have a great life”

She walked out of the store,waiting for him to follow

“because even after you left me to regret, ready to hate you, I never did. I never moved on” “it felt like shit having your words play again and again in my mind, because a part of me knows that  you were right, I’m just a mere mortal who doesn’t have a damn purpose”

Hehr voice weak, both now were in a small park nearby.

“Amalia….don’t say that about yourself” his voice had a hint of softness, which besides from Suguru, she was the only that got to see, to hear him like this.

[lachencha]

A Million Springs: Anya Mouthwashing x Reader

i updated today?

you know i had to double itttt

this was based on my dreems

i hope you guys like it! and thank you for liking and reblogging you beautiful people!

does anya’s ghost count as a warning..??

Abandoned sheets of music lay scattered across your desk, with crumpled, balled-up ones overflowing the trash can. Sleepily, you scribble more lyrics onto a fresh page, writing words of love you wish you could've said to her one more time. It's been almost a year, but the ache hasn't dulled. If anything, it lingers sharper in the quiet.

She loved music. She loved when you sang songs to her, when you'd dedicate them to her during a gig. Though you never thought of yourself as much of a songwriter, she liked whatever impromptu melody you came up with. Anya liked everything—oldies, R&B, pop. You smile softly, remembering how diverse her playlists were during your late-night car rides, each song a little glimpse into her ever-curious heart.

You strum your guitar lightly. The sound feels hollow. Usually, Anya would be there beside you, swaying her head to the rhythm as you practiced, sometimes humming, sometimes shyly singing along. She was always self-conscious about her voice, and you never understood why. You told her she was amazing, better than she realized. But she'd always shake her head and laugh, playfully stubborn. She didn't believe you, though you wished she had.

You glance at the mess on your desk and begin sorting the scattered sheets. Anya would've scolded you for leaving it like this, she hated clutter. She used to tidy up your desk while muttering good-natured complaints. It feels wrong to organize it now without her, but you do it anyway, her voice echoing in your mind.

After a quick shower, you slip into bed, your body clean but your mind anything but. You stare at the ceiling, too tired to move but too restless to drift off. The silence presses heavy around you.

"(Y/N)."

Your breath catches. That voice—it couldn't be.

You sit up, your heart racing, and there she is. Your raven-haired beauty, her familiar eyes gazing down at you with a softness that breaks you. Her lips curve into a gentle smile, and you can't stop the tears that well up in your eyes. Slowly, almost afraid she'll vanish, you reach for her. She takes your hand, her touch warm and steady.

“Anya..." you whisper, the name trembling on your lips. You throw yourself into her arms, sobbing.

She holds you tightly, her fingers stroking your hair with the same tenderness you'd missed so desperately.

"I've missed you so much, Anya. You have no idea how much I've missed you. I wrote so many songs, so many poems—everything for you. I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped loving you."

"I know," she says softly, her voice like a balm on your wounded heart.

She guides you to sit beside her, her hands warm against yours. "That's why I'm here," she says. "It hurts me to see you like this, to see you cry. I've heard every song you wrote for me, and I love each one."

"You did?" you ask, your voice breaking.

She nods, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I did. But..."

She hesitates, her eyes searching yours as she holds your hands closer to her chest. "I need you to stop."

Your stomach twists. "Why? Do they bother you?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "It's not that. But I can't bear to see you so broken. I just want you to keep going, my love. I want to see you happy."

You glance down at her hands, tracing the faint lines of her palm. "Do you remember the night we started going out? And you made me play my guitar for you?"

She chuckles softly, a sound that makes your chest tighten. "You kept forgetting the lyrics to that one oldies song."

"And you sang it instead," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was the first time you let me hear you really sing."

"I only sang because you wouldn't stop begging," she teases, her eyes glinting with the memory. "And you made fun of me the whole time."

"Because you were so good, and you didn't even realize it." You grip her hand tighter, your voice trembling. "How am I supposed to keep going without moments like that?"

She looks away, her expression softening. "You'll make new ones," she says quietly. "And one day, they won't hurt as much."

"I don't want new ones," you say, shaking your head. "I want the ones we never got to have."

She cups your face, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I want them too," she admits. "But I'm not here to haunt you, my love. I'm here to remind you that you're still alive."

"How can I keep going?" you plead. "You were everything to me. How could I ever forget you?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but you press on, desperate to make her understand.

"Give me a million springs," you whisper, your voice trembling, "and a couple of centuries to adore you. After that, I'll forget you. I promise I'll never bother you again."

She sighs, her expression tinged with sorrow. "That's impossible."

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. "As impossible as it is to forget you."

Her grip loosens, and she lets your hands fall. "Please," she says softly. "I need to see you move on. I can't stand watching you cry over me anymore. Promise me you'll try. Promise me you won't live in the past."

You sigh, your chest heavy. "I'll try," you murmur.

She smiles faintly, her lips brushing your cheek in a final kiss. And then she's gone.

You wake up alone, her words echoing in the silence, and you stare at the empty space where she had been.

She's asking for the impossible.

Not even a million springs would be enough to stop loving her.