#i think i could’ve been comfortable with the religion if it wasn’t shoved down my throat as a child

[comfortwriting]

A Walk To Remember - R.W

Ron Weasley x Fem Reader - Part 2/2

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Part 1

Based HEAVILY on the movie: A Walk To Remember.

Warnings: mention of cancer, death, heavy theme of religion and god, blasphemy, fluff, sadness.

“I still can’t believe you kissed her” Hannah laughed, irritating Ron and making Lavender bitter. “You’d think after working so hard on her appearance she’d stick to it”

Ron couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t keep allowing his friends to slander you like this, you were kind, patient and saw light in most darkest places. Ron couldn’t have them beating on someone who had done nothing but go out of her way to help others.

“Shove off, Hannah.” Ron replied “she’s fine the way she is”

Although Ron was blown away by your dolled up look during the performance, he didn’t ponder on it - since that night it didn’t matter how you looked, it didn’t matter if you were covered in makeup or bare faced - you were the most stunning girl he had ever laid eyes on.

He truly felt as if you were the light in his darkness, the hand that was pulling him out of every awful situation he could’ve gotten himself stuck into; it was thanks to you that he had been staying out of trouble.

Seamus scoffed and laughed, pulling a face at Dean. “One kiss and you’re suddenly all into her” Seamus walked over to Ron “she’s changing you and you don’t even realise”

“You don’t know her like I do.” Ron replied “If you did you’d show her some respect.”

After walking away from Ron, you didn’t go back to Hogwarts for the rest of the week. You started to feel more sick, more tired, you didn’t have the energy to walk up the stairs and to stand behind a simmering couldron for hours at a time.

Instead you laid in bed, your dad reading to you and helping you with your work, stroking your hair and praying each and every night for you to be given more time.

By the early evening you had gotten enough energy to sit outside in your rocking chair on the porch, watching the sunset and questioning wether it would be your last.

Ron walked out infront of you and stepped onto your porch, holding a big square box in his hands with an orange ribbon formed into a beautiful bow keeping the lid on.

Ron walked over to you and handed the box to you “I uh, got this for you”

You took the box from him and smirked, pulling apart the ribbon and taking off the lid.

Inside the battered box you were met with multiple hand knitted sweaters, all with the letter ‘R’ on the front, your heart melted and you could feel your cheeks getting red.

You looked up at Ron and smiled, you hadn’t felt this good all week.

“Thank you!” You chose the maroon sweater and pulled it over your head, instantly engulfed in the warmth and beautiful feel of the fabric.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Ron tapped his hand against his pant leg, feeling slightly awkward, his ears reddening.

Your father came outside, his eyes falling on Ron.

“I think it’s best that you get on your way Mr Weasley.” Your father cleared his throat, walking over to you and taking the box off you.

You continued to smile and wave at Ron “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Ron nodded and felt like for the first time in his life he had achieved something worth celebrating, despite the countless things he had achieved before.

“See you then.” He smiled, walking away.

Your father waited for Ron to disappear into the shadows before he helped you out of your chair, taking you to your room he sat the box down at the end of your bed.

“I warned you about him, y/n.” He reminded you.

“Dad it’s just a collection of sweaters, okay?” You tried to remind him, snuggling into your new one that smelled like Ron. “God wants me to be happy, dad. Ron makes me happy.”

Feeling better and stronger than the previous week, you returned to Hogwarts wearing one of Ron’s sweater, keeping you safe from the cold breeze.

Lavender spotted you and instantly ditched her class, storming over to you with her hands in fists.

“Where have you been?” She asked you “I’ve been looking everywhere!”

You stared at her and wondered if she was looking right through you, if she had gotten you confused with someone else but then again she spent every day taunting you so how could she mistake you for someone else?

“I’m sorry? What?”

Lavender’s eyes hovered over your jumper, her eyes burning into the large ‘R’.

“Havent you heard?” She looked saddened, grabbing your hand and pulling you down the halls.

“Heard what? Please just tell me, and slow down.” You panted, trying to slow down.

Bursting into Ron’s common room your face dropped as you caught a glance at what was on the hundreds of sheets of papers were floating around the room, falling swiftly to the floor.

Lavender caught the paper and shoved it in your face, laughing cruelly at you.

“You look rather dashing.”

On the paper was a lude drawing, a caricature of you alongside your God, the very image shattering your innocence and self esteem.

Everyone in the common room burst into laughter, all of them staring at the drawing and back at you, pointing.

Turning around to run away Rom bumped into you, holding you in his arms.

“Ignore it love, I’ll sort them out alright?”

You nodded and stared at the floor, covering your ears with your hands, you closed your eyes and started to collapse in on yourself - all this stress wasn’t good for your health.

Ron stopped the drawings from dancing across the room that mocked you and your faith. Seamus and Dean stopped laughing, Hannah and Lavender’s faces turning sour.

“What’s up with you, mate?” Seamus asked, a holding a drawing in his hand “don’t you like it?”

Ron snatched the drawing from his friend, glaring at him.

“You bumped your head or something?” His tone gruff “do you have any idea how disrespectful this is?”

Seamus shook his head and scoffed, trampling on the drawings as he stepped closer to Ron. “Are you seriously choosing the bible freak over us?”

Ron couldn’t hold back anymore, his anger had been pent up for so long it was spilling out like an over flowing cup of tea.

“I’ve had enough of you, toss pot!” Ron swung for Seamus and almost knocked him through the wall.

Dean got in between the two of them, Seamus filled with rage and sporting a bruise whilst Ron was left with a bruised knuckle.

Ron thought you were worth fighting for, worth everything in his life, but you took a hold of his arm and pulled him back.

“They aren’t worth it, Ron.” You cried “let’s just go”

Ron walked you to your dorm room, holding his hand in yours. The two of you sat on your bed, Ron stroking your hair and calming you down. Ron’s eyes met with yours and felt like millions of fairies were sparkling in your eyes, dancing around in circles.

“Y/N, would you fancy going on a date with me?” 

You smiled, your heart feeling as light as a feather, your life finally looking up after it fell apart two years earlier but that one thing, you secret kept clawing at you, reminding you that you couldn’t go through with it.

“I wish I could, I really want to Ron, more than anything but I’m not allowed” you bowed your head and messed with your hands, lacing and unlacing your fingers. 

“Look, we wont snog or do anything that would be deemed as sinful-”

You shook your head and chuckled at Ron taking your faith into account, feeling so flattered that he didn’t question your beliefs anymore after bashing you for many years of your life.

“It’s not that, it’s my dad, he won’t let me.” 

“I know you dislike me, it’s why I want to ask you, you know, and not go behind your back but - can I have your permission to take Y/N on a date?”

Your father shut down Ron immediately “not a chance”

“I’ve said sorry hundreds of times, Mr Y/L/N.” Ron paced around your living room “You believe faith is important and your daughter does, can’t you have faith in me?” 

“I can’t believe you actually asked my dad!” You beamed, stepping into Madame Puddifoot’s “I can’t believe I’m in here!”

Ron smiled and pulled out a chair for you, feeling his heart skip beats, you feeling comfortable in another one of his sweaters and looking around the room, the stars in your eyes twinkling.

“Well I wasn’t going to go behind his back after you said no, can’t risk getting another Howler from my mum and dad now can I?” Ron smirked, handing you a menu “whatever you want is on me, love.” 

The two of you were drunk on love leaving Madame Puddifoot’s, walking through Hogsmeade, hand in hand and a giggly mess. 

“I’ll never forget how cute you looked in your dress robes at the yule ball” you chirped, pulling Ron into your arms “but I don’t recall seeing you dance that night.” 

Ron cringed “I don’t dance” but he still swayed along with you and held you in his arms. 

“Your list then, what else is on it?” Ron asked, the two of you finally reaching Hogwarts.

“Well, I’d love to be able to see a Niffler in person. I’ve only seen them in my books and the last time Hagrid had them I was sick.” you replied, sneaking off to your dorm.

Ron stopped you, both of you so exhausted but not wanting the night to end. He searched your kind, twinkling eyes, leaning in the two of you kissed, sparks shocking your lips. This wasn’t like the kiss you shared at the theatre, this kiss was the start of something beautiful - something your father warned you about - something Ron promised wouldn’t happen. 

Pulling away from the kiss Ron pursed his lips and blushed “I love you, Y/N.”

You were so afraid of this happening, you didn’t want this to happen whilst you were walking on the path God had put you on, but you didn’t know how long you had left. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t” you replied softly, tears welling in your eyes.

Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Hannah’s eyes stalked you and Ron like a hawk. The two of you finally displaying your love and relationship to everyone around you, you constantly wearing his sweaters, holding his hand, laughing with him and sneaking kisses whenever you had the chance.

“You’re going to love this” Ron smiled, accompanying you to Hagrids Hut.

You felt excited and you couldn’t wait to see what Ron had been hiding, taking the large wooden crate from Hagrid you could hear scratching noises and little breaths.

Opening the box you almost wailed with joy, inside laid a Niffle, holding gold in its hands, looking proud and mischievous.

“Oh Ron! Hagrid!” You beamed, trying to contain the fireworks that were exploding inside of you “Thank you so much, I can’t believe it!”

You held the Niffler in your arms, stroking it gently and loving it as if it were your own. Hagrid and Ron were overjoyed and felt like they could watch you for hours, this had to be one of the happiest days of your life.

After ticking off another box from your list Ron couldn’t help but ask, dying to know what was number one on your list.

You felt slightly embarrassed but you trusted him enough to no longer hide it from him, your no.1 was to get married, to be able to wear your mothers wedding dress and be with her on the happiest day of your life.

But unfortunately, the happy days wouldn’t last forever.

Walking through Hogsmeade you felt your palms get clammy, the nausea inside of you swirl like a tornado, your energy crumbling away once more.

Ron kept talking away about Nifflers, talking about bringing you back to the burrow to meet his family but he stopped when he realised you were miles away.

“Y/N, you alright?” Ron asked, looking concerned “don’t worry, you’re going to pass your N.E.W.Ts”

You stopped outside Honey Dukes and shook your head, pulling Ron aside. “It’s not that”

You felt like your secret was creeping up your stomach, up your oesophagus, threatening to come hurling out of your mouth like vomit.

“Ron, I’m sick.” You revealed, hoping he would catch on.

But the golden haired boy didn’t understand “Want me to take you to Madame Pomfrey?”

You found yourself growing more frustrated “No, Ron. She can’t help me, I.. I’ve got cancer.”

Your secret finally jumped off the top of your tongue, springing off the diving board and landing on Ron’s heart, splitting it into pieces.

Ron felt his whole world spin, your news echoing in your mind, he didn’t want to believe this, he couldn’t.

“What, they’ve made a mistake—“

More tears spilled down your face “I found out a year after the Triwizard Tornament. They gave me two years, they can’t do anything to get rid of it, the treatments aren’t working anymore.”

Ron could feel his heart ache, screaming out for help, for mercy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice shook, choking on tears.

You pursed your lips and tried to swallow the huge lump that formed in your throat.

“Because I didn’t want everyone to treat me differently, to have another reason to stare at me, another reason to talk about me.”

Ron shook his head, feeling cross with himself for everything he had said and done in the past. “But I’m your boyfriend, you should’ve told me!”

“I made you promise you wouldn’t fall in love with me!” You raised your voice, feeling yourself go dizzy for a moment “don’t give me a reason to be angry with God!”

You walked away and ran back to your dads, ready for him to welcome you into his arms, softening the horrible blow the best he could.

Ron hurried, storming into the common room, doing something he thought he wouldn’t ever do again. He searched for Harry.

Ron found Harry in his dorm room, Harry put down his book and stared at the lad who was once his best friend.

“You’ve got to get Dumbledore to help her, Harry.” Ron panicked, pacing around the room.

“Help who? Ron what’s happened?”

Ron wiped away more falling tears with the back of his sleeve “Y/N is dying of cancer, Harry we’ve got to help her—“

“There’s nothing he can do Ron, you can’t put a stopper in death when it comes to this, you already know this Ron.”

Ron felt even more enraged and stormed out, cursing Harry, telling him it was a waste of time even trying to make amends.

Like clockwork, as soon as you told Ron the truth, you started to deteriorate. You couldn’t complete your classes anymore and you were forced to drop out of Hogwarts, you were staying at your dads in Hogsmeade permanently now and all you did was sleep.

When you weren’t sleeping, you were throwing up, struggling to look after yourself, you didn’t even have enough energy to pick up your bible and read it.

The days didn’t stand out to you anymore, they sort of just blurred into one - the only comfort you got was when you saw Ron’s angelic face smiling at you each time you closed your eyes to doze off.

The news of your illness spread through out Hogwarts and Ron found himself with more love and support than he thought was possible. Dean and Seamus sat with him outside in the stands whilst the Quidditch pitch was empty, the two of them promising Ron they would help him no matter what and that they were so sorry to hear the news.

Hannah also apologised to Ron and offered her support, going as far as telling him that he looked the happiest he had ever been when he was with you, that you brought out a part of him that no one had ever seen before, the part that only Harry and Hermione had seen.

Lavender took her time but finally reached out to her ex, putting her bitterness and jealousy behind her. Lavender hugged Ron and poured her heart out to him, expressing how sorry she was, how neither of you deserved such a thing. In her hands she held onto the photos she had taken on the night of the performance, handing them to Ron, she urged him to see you and walked away.

Turning up with flowers and handfuls of ‘get well soon’ cards, Ron was greeted by your father on your porch.

“I know you don’t want me here but tell her I’m not leaving her, I never will.”

Your father smiled and instead of turning Ron away, he welcomed him inside and allowing him to come and see you.

“How are you not angry at God?” Ron asked, the two of you cuddling in your bed, surrounded by poems and bible verses about having strength and keeping faith in the lord.

You sighed and looked into his gorgeous eyes “I accepted that Gods plan for me is bigger than the plan of my own.” You replied “you were sent to me for a reason, Ron. You’re my angel.”

Ron stroked your cheek with his thumb, planting a kiss on your nose, instantly remembering why he fell in love with you - you were accepting, you were patient, you couldn’t feel hatred towards anyone, you were the most purest person he had ever met.

“Are you scared?” Ron asked, not wanting to imagine a life where you did not exist.

“I’m scared of not being with you.” You replied, snuggling into his chest, tracing circles into his chest.

Ron knew that this moment was the right moment, it was either now or never.

Pulling away from the cuddle, Ron climbed out of your bed and dived into his back pocket, pulling out a little white box.

Pulling the box open, he got on one knee and looked up at you as you peered over the bed, your eyes twinkling at the beautiful ring that was waiting eagerly for you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He asked through tears.

You stared at the beautiful ring and looked back into Ron’s eyes, you nodded your head.

“Yes.”

As the wedding got closer and closer, you became more sick. You lost lots of weight and you could no longer eat solid food without being sick, you could only suck on sweets that dissolved into your mouth - but even then you would bring up bile.

But no matter how bad you got, Ron stayed by your side, he helped you you feel as good as you possibly could do in your condition. He sang to you, he read to you, he even started praying at night with you.

After going out shopping to help your dad get everything he needed for the wedding, Ron walked into your bedroom to find Dumbledore and Harry sitting beside your bed, the two of them talking to you and telling you to take the medicine they had given you to help you hold on for your special day.

Ron stopped in the door way, his jaw dropping to the floor. Dumbledore nodded at Harry, encouraging him to go and talk to Ron, the two of them taking leaving you and Dumbledore for a moment on your own.

Ron couldn’t speak, he didn’t care to either. Instead, he pulled Harry into a tight and desperate hug, almost squeezing the life out of him. His head resting on Harry’s shoulder, his tears sinking into his shirt.

“Thank you, Harry - thank you.”

Harry held Ron and patted his back, promising him that no matter what, everything would be okay in the end.

As much as your love for Ron grew, you still wasn’t getting any better, but the potion Dumbledore gave you ensured that you were finally able to achieve the most important part of your list, the one thing you never thought was possible.

On one side, your family and friends surrounded the hall and Ron’s on the other. Everyone attending the wedding was so excited yet couldn’t help but feel nothing but sorrow for you.

Gripping onto your fathers arm, the music began to play as he walked you down the isle and although your mother wasn’t there physically - you could feel her presence around you, you had part of her clinging onto you - wearing her beautiful sleeveless lace white dress.

Reaching the altar, you blushed seeing Ron in another set of dress robes - this was the Ron you knew, the Ron you were once so desperate to find.

Whilst repeating your vows out loud, the amazing memories the two of you shared flickered in your mind, the first time you both met, your first class together, your first kiss, spending hours talking outside on the porch, all of these memories you were so lucky to remember until the end of your days.

“I do.”

“I do.”

Sealing your eternal love with a kiss, you could finally tick box number one off your list.

Ron took you by the hand and led you over to the dance floor.

“But I thought you said you didn’t dance?” You smirked, trying not to get your hopes up.

Ron laughed and looked over at Neville “I got lessons from a familiar bloke, he’s quite a good dancer.”

You shook your head and couldn’t stop laughing, accepting Ron’s offer for a dance.

“Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it.” Ron reminded himself, holding back tears and tightening his grip on your bouquet of sunflowers.

One month after the wedding, you began your journey God had set out for you, leaving Ron behind for a moment that would feel like only a minute for you but a lifetime for him.

But that month was full of love, laughter and happiness that the two of you wouldn’t change for the world.

Ron walked over to your place of rest, putting down the sunflowers and rubbing your headstone.

He opened up one of your books you had given him, full of the bible verses he once couldn’t bear to hear, the love poems he refused to read, and snippets from the script the two of you had spent hours learning together.

He looked down at his wedding ring and smiled, looking back on the page in your book.

“Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous.

Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish.

It does not take offense and is not resentful.

Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins, but delights in the truth.

It is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.”

He read out, pulling out the photos Lavender had taken of the two of you, watching you and himself perform on stage, wishing he could go back and do it all again.

Taglist: @reeophidian , @amourtentiaa

[fancyemowolfbat]

Thoughts on Castlevania S3: Taka and Sumi’s abuse of Adrian

Season three spoilers below: and yes, this is plot heavy. So if you haven’t seen yet, read at your own risk.

But the TL;DR: I love Castlevania and this scene only made me love it more.

To start: This is entirely an opinion post. I don’t have enough energy to make it into a full analysis with resources and other things. So don’t take this as an essay with some deep meaning. This is entirely just an impressions post.

I love this scene. I love the writing and the visuals. And I love that it was handled in a very real manner. And I love that it represented abuse correctly, because make no mistake-- this scene was abuse--at the very least, and rape at worst. But I’m not saying that for the reasons others have given. But I’m going to get back to that in a moment.

I’m going to leave out the controversy that’s been spat about this scene, because honestly, I don’t feel like talking about it. Like I said, I’m tired. And I’m not gonna harass someone else over their opinions just because they’re different than mine. If you didn’t like this, that’s totally fine. Please don’t ask me to debate, I’m not interested in . I’m simply enjoying this show in my own little corner, and am sharing my own opinions and observations for those who might be curious.

1.) Adrian is confirmed canonically (as far as the Netflix series goes) Bisexual.

While the events that follow the scene absolutely make this scene abuse and manipulation, at the start, Adrian does consent to the sex initially (INITIALLY, I’m not forgetting what happens after). He willingly makes out with both Sumi and Taka, and he’s very obviously anally penetrated when Taka puts Adrian’s legs over his shoulders. It’s not subtle. This is probably the smallest thing to mention given what happens, but this did make me happy. Adrian is only the second character in my favorites list to be confirmed LGBTQIA+ (the other being Damien Bloodmarch from Dream Daddy: a Dad Dating Simulator). And I won’t lie, I cried for both instances.

This is a popular show, and Adrian is one of the main characters. This season had so many good examples of LGBT+ relationships-- including a very healthy partnership between two of the female villains which was openly discussed by them on screen. It’s treated as normal but not made the focus of the story, though it’s very obvious and not hidden. This was very impressive and respectful, showing a range of different orientations, and showing both healthy and unhealthy relationships.

I won’t address the games, because I haven’t finished playing them. I’ve heard some saying he’s always been bi, some saying it was never confirmed, and some saying he was confirmed straight. So I don’t know. I am of the opinion that a character’s sexuality does not affect the overall lore any more than their skin color or religion does. BUT, that is all I can say. I don’t know the games. And this scene certainly does include lore, as I will touch on in a bit...

2.) This scene was abuse, and the writing vilifies it as such.

As I said above, Adrian does seem to initially consent to the sex. He returns their kisses, he grips onto Sumi’s ass, and holds Taka’s shoulder as they make out. These are actions that imply he was enjoying this at the beginning. Although, it is possible he may have felt somewhat pressured to go further, as when they initially push him down, he does seem taken back, although that may have been mostly surprise.

However, as the scene goes on, it becomes clear that these two are attempting to make Adrian vulnerable. They continue with him until he is exhausted-- there are two of them and one of him. And given Adrian’s reactions, it’s very possible this may have been his first time. And I’m also not going to gloss over the fact that Adrian himself has said that he aged quickly. It is entirely possible that Adrian may still mentally be a child, in which case, this is also two young adults taking advantage of a younger teenager.

However, when this clearly becomes abuse and possibly rape is why they were having sex with him in the first place-- they wanted to make him vulnerable enough to kill him. They grew impatient with Adrian, wanting him to do things he could not do and teach them things he had not yet had the chance to. He gave them all he could, but their urge to return to Japan and free their people grew into a desire to kick out and replace the authority that abused them, to “make their own empire.” I also like that this makes this very real and tangible-- the abusers are not cartoonishly evil. They are real people with real motives who experienced abuse themselves. This hits a really sensitive topic many people aren’t willing to address-- that anyone is capable of abuse, villains aren’t alien, and people who may be otherwise trustworthy may commit grievous acts which can deeply hurt people.

What solidifies the idea in my mind is Adrian’s reaction after he kills them both and frees himself. We see him, having dragged himself to his childhood bedroom, laying on the floor in the spot where he killed his father, shaking and crying. He was violated. He was betrayed. The first time he’d been living a somewhat normal life in over a year, and the only two friends he had after Sypha and Trevor left stabbed him in the back. These humans, whom he killed his father to protect, took advantage of him and almost killed him, forcing him to kill them first.

I’m going to link to this post by @fandomwanderer​ and this post by @mega-ringsandthings-world​, because the sum up the idea better than I ever could. But this sets up Adrian’s character superbly. I will say, my wish for the next season is a bit different.

I hope that, eventually, Sypha and Trevor do come back, expecting Adrian to be waiting for them with open arms. And instead they find a very cold, very detached Adrian who is not acting like himself. I want tension between these three characters who used to be friends, until it builds up and eventually leads to a clash, possibly in the form of a physical fight. I want it to escalate until something happens and causes pause enough for Sypha and Trevor to talk Adrian down, at which point we finally see him start to crack, and eventually break down in his friends arms. I want them to ask about the scars, and prod and push until he snaps and attacks them, only to lead to him revealing everything that happened and clinging to them for comfort, while they wish they could’ve been the ones to kill the bastards. I truly do hope this happens. It’s been Three Seasons. Two of them have ended with Adrian sobbing. I want him to finally get some relief. But, even with this, I’m sure whatever the writers decide to do, it will be amazing. They’re in a very precarious place right now, but I’m excited to see where they go with it.

3.) Adrian’s reaction is perfectly justified.

This may just be an extension of point two, but Sumi and Taka’s abuse is not excused by the writing. All too often in fiction, rape and abuse are written off as not being that bad or even being desirable. What happens to Adrian is not painted as positive. It affects him extremely negatively, and it is not treated as his fault in any way. Even though he initially consented, these two betrayed his trust and hurt him. That is never treated as something he should be responsible for. Granted, with this being at the end of the series, there wasn’t much time for this to digest. I expect to see some characters see how he reacted by killing and spitting them, and initially assume that he did so because “he’s Dracula's son and of course.” But these characters will likely be doing so without context. The abuse also isn’t blamed on Adrian’s apparent orientation. Hector is abused in the same way by Lenore, in a heterosexual female-on-male abuse scene. And as stated above, there are healthy LGBT+ relationships in the show, as well.

Also, as the above linked post states, this also leads to us seeing Adrian slip slowly into the mindset his father once held-- perhaps not completely, but it is beginning. And all I’m left to think is, how much must this hurt? How much must Adrian hate seeing himself this way after everything he did for humans? But he’s so hurt by this betrayal that he can’t see things any other way right now. He is in pain, and he has had no real rest from that pain since his mother was killed.

“I gave you everything.” Adrian opened his home to Sumi and Taka, and he opened his heart to them, as well. He gave them his home, his weapons, his knowledge, his body. He is very young and very trusting, despite everything he’s been through. And that trust was taken and shoved right back in his face with insult and humiliation. He gave his all, not just for Sumi and Taka, but for humanity as a whole. He killed people, he killed his own kind, and he killed his own father-- his only remaining parent-- after his own mother was killed by the very people he was trying to protect. He gave everything, and humanity took it all and then shat on him in return. Adrian has every. right to feel betrayed. I don’t think he’ll be the new villain solely because I believe they will stick a bit closer to game lore, and may rather have him simply put himself to rest until the next major disaster hits humanity. But I do think this event caused his view of humanity to be less rose-tinted. He was forced to grow up fast, and much more painfully than he should’ve.

I truly hope, more than anything else, in future seasons Adrian does get some form of relief. Though, I doubt the world is done kinking him while he’s down. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, something truly good and unbastardized will come his way. Until then, I’ll be waiting with baited breath. I couldn’t be happier that this series is continuing.

P.S.: Please let me hug Adrian.

[howlingmedic]

Coming Home: Chapter 3

Coming Home: 

Previous | Next

Synopsis: what happens when the person who finally made their world make sense is taken from them? What happens when the people who were supposed find her can’t?

Warnings: angst, references to religion, fighting, miscommunication, references to blood, idiots in love who don't know what to do with themselves

Relationship: Stucky x Angel!OFC

A/N: There may be a very long delay before the next update because I’m questioning the plot twist I initially wrote. This is especially true because this entirety of Allie’s character and this ship was developed with a friend of mine (the lovely @magellan-88), and there are aspects from that development that I’ve referenced in future chapters that I did not adequately explain. So, in short, you might have to wait a little while to read more about these three, but the next few chapters may be longer as a result of needing to write some flashback scenes into them. Also, I work in healthcare...during a pandemic... and am a student. My life is a shit show. Please be patient.

Chapter Three: Reaching Out

“God damn it!” Bucky’s words bounced off the walls of the tiny apartment they were squatting in this week. It had been two months of searching and getting nowhere. Two months of no new answers. Two months of one of them storming off in a huff when tensions ran too high for them to manage. In that time, Tony had concluded that Allie’s tracker had to have been destroyed. That was one lead gone. Natasha hadn’t found anything conclusive, never anything more than a whisper here or a whisper there. Each eagerly followed up on and found to be nothing. Banner had been the only successful one, but only insofar as having everyone ready to assemble and pouring over lore that could come in handy. Loki had, at least, miraculously, offered to stay on Earth. When Steve had asked why, the god had just smirked and said they had “history.”

So when Bucky screamed out his frustrations, Steve could hardly blame him. What he didn’t have was anything useful to help his partner. Instead, all Steve could do was murmur, “Don’t think anyone in Allie’s family is gonna help us, babe,” and hug the other man from behind. “Come take a break. S’almost 2 in the morning. Ya gotta sleep,” he added with a kiss to Bucky’s temple.

“‘M comin’ in just behind ya. Gotta try a couple more things first,” Bucky mumbled as he leaned back into Steve’s touch and tilted his head up to kiss the blonde’s cheek.

“Doll…” Steve whispered while he combed his fingers through Bucky’s tangled hair that had lost so much of its usual shine. “Just don’t forget to rest.”

“I’m not, I just gotta try one more time.”

“Ya gonna try praying again?” Steve asked with an attempt to keep his tone neutral. So many of their fights had started over the topic of praying, but he didn’t want to fight. He had a favor to ask.

“Yeah, Stevie, I am,” Bucky huffed with the same anger he had felt so many times over the last two months rising to the surface again, each time more quickly than the last. “I haven’t lost faith in her hearing me,” he added in a low growl.

“Don’t you dare think I’ve given up!” Steve bellowed and shoved himself back from Bucky’s chair. His own fury had begun to have a hairpin trigger these last couple months, and Bucky’s anger drew it out faster than anything else in this word. It didn’t help anything that he wished he could reach out to his angel like that.

Bucky stared back at him expectantly, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort to rein in his frustration. Enough years of watching Steve had taught him precisely what the way the blonde’s head had just fallen forward and his shoulders had just sagged meant: this anger wasn’t directed at him, at least not entirely. This anger was pointed inward. So, he waited for whatever was about to follow.

“I just… I can’t make myself,” Steve whispered, and shame practically dripped from his every word. “Every time I try, I get stuck in my head and start worrying about what it means if she can’t hear me.” Steve swallowed hard and dug into his eyes with the heels of hands for a moment before adding even more quietly, “I was gonna ask ya to tell her that I love her and miss her. I don’t want her to think I gave up, and if you do… then shit. Can’t imagine what she thinks.”

Bucky sighed and opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped and simply extended his arms towards Steve. The blonde’s head still hung low, but he shuffled over to sit in Bucky’s lap. “She would know exactly what to do right now to make us stop snapping at each other,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s neck.

“Sit here with me while I pray, doll. Ya don’t have to say anything, but it’d mean a lot if you’d stay,” Bucky answered. Steve lifted his head, and his brow furrowed. Bucky pressed on before the blonde could speak, “I’ve been snapping at you cause I’ve felt alone, like we haven’t been working together out here, and then I started praying cause we ain’t got shit to work with, but that’s one way I can feel like I’m doing something. I finally had something I could do, and you kept getting upset about it.”

“I only wished-” Steve started, and Bucky shook his head.

“I know that now, ya punk, and I get it… but please stay.”

“Alright, jerk,” Steve answered sweetly, and he nestled himself in impossibly close to Bucky, making his large frame as small as humanly possible.

Bucky fell silent, and his eyes closed just like when he would meditate, but this felt different. There was a slight charge to the air like when Allie would use her grace, and Bucky’s lips turned up the tiniest fraction of an inch. Tears sprung up at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he sat there curled up in his fiancé’s lap, longing for when a moment like this had once felt so natural. When feeling this connected was as simple as breathing. His eyes fell closed as one tear slid down his cheek. Where are you? He thought desperately, every fiber of his being screaming the question and hoping Allie could hear him. No, not hoping, praying, he realized, and his own lips twitched upwards.

He didn’t hear an answer, and he knew he wouldn’t. Allie had explained more times than he cared to count that she couldn’t answer their prayers since they weren’t angels. When this conversation was had during good times, Bucky usually met that explanation by whining, “then make us angels.” Steve was about to chuckle at the memory when something flashed on the computer in front of them, and he lept out of Bucky’s lap.

“What the -” Bucky started, with more than a touch of frustration in his voice, but that was as far as he got before his mouth snapped shut. “What is it?” he asked in a rush.

“Sam’s coming back,” Steve answered in a deadly cold voice, “he found an angel blade at the compound.” That was when Steve turned to Bucky. He couldn’t face the last fact alone. “There’s blood on it.”

The next few seconds stretched into an eternity punctuated by several sounds. First, there was the clatter of Bucky’s chair hitting the floor. Then, there was Bucky’s whispered, “No.” There were a few footsteps that rang unnaturally loud in Steve’s ears. Next came the sound of two hundred pounds of a man hitting the ground without any attempt to break his fall. The last was his own voice saying, “Bucky, baby, don’t give up on her. The blade is gonna go to the lab and get a whole lot of testing done before we know if she was hurt by it, ok?” That one shocked Steve the most. Not because he barely registered getting up and moving to Bucky’s side, but because his voice came out level.

“She didn’t use her blade, Stevie. Not before she got grabbed,” Bucky argued through what sounded like a throat that was rapidly tightening with unshed tears.

“No, but we don’t know what happened after that, doll. Anything could’ve happened then,” Steve pointed out and settled himself on the floor before tugging Bucky into his lap. It was his turn to comfort his partner. “Doll, I know I was reluctant to pray, and we can talk about the rest of that issue later, but when you were praying, I sorta accidentally prayed?” Steve admitted in a voice that ended up sounding far more like a question than he had intended. “I didn’t really mean to, I was working through what little we knew, and then I got so frustrated that I sorta mentally screamed at her. Well, that’s when the message from Sam popped up. So maybe it’s a good sign,” Steve explained, and, for the first time in weeks, he sounded hopeful, genuinely hopeful, even to himself.

Bucky turned around in Steve’s lap to look at him properly, and Steve had expected the disbelief to be etched into the other’s features. What he hadn’t planned for anger to be there as well. “You prayed once. One god damned time and you mighta gotten a response. I’ve been praying every single night for weeks!” Bucky seethed as the plates in his arms whirred ominously.

“Hold on,” Steve barked and grabbed Bucky’s hands, lacing his fingers with both flesh and metal ones before he tried to placate the man in front of him. Steve locked his eyes with Bucky’s that were alight with anger and tried to find a way to put into words what he had felt, “Before I started, I could feel the charge in the air that’s there when Allie uses her grace, like the residual energy that it gives off. It was like I could feel her here. Didn’t you feel that?” He ended with the question that was both a plea for calm and confirmation that he hadn’t lost his mind.

Bucky’s face bunched up with thought, but his face was still etched with anger. Now confusion was added to the mix, at least, until it wasn’t anymore. His features went slack, and the anger drained from his eyes when he looked back up at Steve. “Yeah, I guess I did. I think I had felt that before too, but I had written it off as wishful thinking. A trick of the mind that I had conjured up to keep from losing hope.”

“I think it was real. I think she’s trying to reach us, Buck, even if that message from Sam was a coincidence. She’s been here,” Steve choked out, and now his throat felt tight. His eyes burned with tears of relief. Suddenly, two strong arms were pulling him into a muscled chest.

“She’s alive.”

[ashesonthefloor]

you are an angel (or maybe you could’ve been)

summary: Luke is Ashton’s guardian angel, and he’s had enough of having to watch from a distance, so he comes down to meet him officially. problem is, he doesn’t really know how to seem human. title taken from Maybe An Angel by Heather Nova, here. ao3 link found here

word count: 3056

content: fluff, PG-13 (a few curse words), maybe some yearning

A/N: this is my first proper fanfic on this blog so I hope it’s well received!! please feel free to send any feedback or comments you have on it!! I’m open to everything! I think this will end up being a slice of life kind of series, where Ashton has to show Luke how to seem human and all the best parts of living. let me know if you want me to write this chapter from Luke’s perspective too because wow I have some ideas. enjoy!

Ashton had only really just gotten his life settled down. It felt like every other day one of his friends needed something, or his life was spiraling out of control in one way or another. But for the past few weeks, things seemed to have settled. His friends were quiet - reasonably so, at least - and his private life seemed mostly calmed down. It was...nice, actually.

He’d decided to take the evening to relax. He’d gone to the gym earlier, and figured there was no harm in taking a few moments for himself. He cracked open a beer and settled in to watch some old reruns on TV. He wasn’t paying the most attention, though, instead letting his mind wander off. Moments like these were few and far between in his life. Between managing the record store and working with his best friend, helping out his other best friend with his drama and constant crisises, and playing the odd gig here or there, it seemed like there was very little time left for relaxation. But he found his moments.

He had his routine, of course. He worked. He went to the gym. He did yoga, and meditated, and tried to take time for himself between it all. His life had only recently achieved the perfect balance he’d been searching for. So it was nice. And he was taking the quiet evening to celebrate it.

So he was only slightly chagrined by the knock at the door. And a little startled, as he wasn’t expecting anyone. Though, he supposed, he should’ve guessed someone would need him sooner or later. He was more surprised that one of his friends would drop by now, as it was raining quite heavily. He could hear the soothing, rhythmic patter of the rain outside his living room window. It was less soothing than normal, as it was beginning to escalate to a storm. Not that he minded. It was a nice evening to spend inside.

He reluctantly set his beer to the side - on a coaster, of course, he wasn’t an animal - and got off the couch to go answer the door. He was met with a soaking wet man, golden curls surrounding his face like a halo, the effect only slightly marred by just how wet he was. The storm must have been worse than he thought. The gorgeous man’s eyes widened a little at the sight of him, face flushing pink. A fact Ashton attributed to the cold - it was slightly biting out, he could feel the chill now that the door was open.

“Hi,” the man said, practically breathed it out on a sigh, his eyes still wide. Almost unbelieving.

“Hi,” Ashton greeted back, brows drawing together just slightly in confusion. He definitely didn’t recognize him. “Can I help you?”

“Um..” The blonde paused, shifting his weight onto the other foot, starting to look slightly concerned. “I don’t...”

Ashton was a little worried for him. “Are you lost?” He asked, concern beginning to seep into his voice. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

The blonde man paused before shaking his head, wet curls sending raindrops down his pale face like tears. “No.”

“No to which question?” He asked gently, brows drawing together again. His quiet evening alone would have to wait, it seemed.

“I’m not lost,” he said, a little more sure of himself now. He met Ashton’s gaze again, and he was startled by just how blue his eyes were.

“Okay. So you don’t have anywhere to go?” He chewed his lip, considering, before pulling the door open a little more. “Do you want to wait inside until the storm settles a little? Or we can call someone to come get you?”

The man paused for a moment before nodding, face flushing pink again, as he shuffled inside at Ashton’s insistence. Ashton disappeared for a moment after the door closed behind him to grab a towel and some spare clothes.

“Here,” he said, offering them to the stranger. “They should fit. We’re about the same size.” Luke was a bit taller, but not by much. “I’m Ashton, by the way.”

Luke looked a little startled but took the clothing from him, face flushing again when their hands brushed, before he looked back up at Ashton. “I’m Luke.” He gave him a soft, shy smile. Ashton decided then and there that he was the most gorgeous person in existence.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.” The name rolled off his tongue lightly. “Do you want to go get changed in the bathroom? I can toss your clothes in the dryer once you do.” He led him over to the aforementioned room, trying to ignore the lost puppy dog look on Luke’s face.

He went back into the living room after the door shut with a soft click. There were a couple thumps from the bathroom, followed by a louder thump that had Ashton just slightly concerned and ready to call Luke’s name out to make sure he was alright, before the door was opening again and Luke re-emerged.

His hair was still slightly damp but drier now than it had been. It had dried into messy little ringlets that Ashton sort of wanted to run his fingers through, make them soft and fluffy after they’d dried with rainwater. He shoved that thought to the side. It wasn’t really kind to think of a stranger that way. Though it was hard to help it. Something about Luke just demanded softness and protection.

“Is that better?” He asked, looking at him.

Luke nodded and shuffled forward, wet clothes held awkwardly in his hands. “Much. Thank you.”

Ashton took them from him gently. “I’m glad. Everything fit okay?” At Luke’s affirming nod, he gave him a small smile, ignoring the way Luke’s whole face turned pink again. He was probably cold. “Perfect. Go sit on the couch while I toss these in to dry and we can see about calling someone to come get you. That sound okay?” Luke nodded and Ashton walked off to dry his clothes.

When he returned, Luke had set himself very gingerly on the corner of the couch, surveying his living room. Ashton smiled a little. He really was like a lost puppy. A wet lost puppy. Who probably needed to be returned home. He made his way back over to sit on the couch with him, sure to leave space.

“I like your living room,” Luke said, voice quiet, though easily heard over the rain. “It’s...comfortable.”

Ashton gave him another smile, a little endeared by the awkward stranger. “Thank you. That was the goal when I decorated it.” He paused for a moment. “Do you want something to drink? I don’t have much, but I think I’ve got some tea and a couple bottles of coke. And water, of course.”

Luke fixed his wide blue eyes back on him at the question from where they’d returned to scanning the room. “Um...” He looked slightly flustered at the choices. “Coke?” He said, a little bit unsure.

“You want a coke?” Ashton asked, just to make sure. At Luke’s answering nod, he got up again to grab him a bottle of coke. He brought it back and sat down again, offering it to him. Luke took it, hesitantly, with the same confused look on his face. He looked at Ashton, slightly helplessly. “Do you want me to open it?” Ashton asked, again feeling a wave of concern. Luke nodded yet again, looking slightly relieved. Ashton opened the bottle of coke and passed it back to him.

“Thank you.” Luke sipped the coke, crinkling his nose slightly and blinking down at the bottle.

“So where are you from?” Ashton asked, deciding maybe he should help him get back home. Luke just shrugged a little bit and sipped his drink again, nose crinkling in just the same way. His lack of answer did nothing to soothe Ashton’s worry. “Do you know where you’re from?” He asked, a little gentler this time. Maybe he’d had an accident and hit his head.

Luke frowned a little bit and looked at him, expression serious again. “I do,” he said, soft but firm. “I can tell you if you want. But I don’t think you’re going to believe me.”

Ashton honestly wasn’t sure if he preferred that answer to him not answering. It definitely didn’t do anything to help his worry at all. He really had no idea what to say to that, either. “I’d like you to tell me. If that’s okay,” he decided on. It was diplomatic enough, right? It was fine.

Luke shrugged a shoulder and sipped his coke again, nose crinkling like he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. “I’m your guardian angel,” he said simply.

Ashton’s brow furrowed again and he found himself staring at Luke for a moment before replying. “What?” He’d heard him wrong. Either that or Luke had definitely bumped his head.

“I’m your guardian angel,” he repeated, gaze lifting from the coke to Ashton again, almost unnerving but as kind as ever.

“You’re not- how?” He asked, confusion spreading across his face. Ashton had never considered himself a religious person. He meditated - something him and Calum had in common - but he didn’t exactly subscribe to any sort of religion beyond that. Sure, heaven sounded nice, and so did reincarnation, but he tried not to beat himself up about the unknown. “Can you...can you prove it?” He couldn’t. Right? He was lying.

“I was assigned to you,” he explained gently, Ashton’s nerves obvious. “So I’ve been looking after it. And um...sure. Just don’t freak out?” He pleaded, giving Ashton the most adorable puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen.

Ashton blinked and almost missed it. But Luke was sitting there now, with absolutely stunning white wings sticking right out of his back. He felt like his brain was short circuiting. Like maybe he’d fallen asleep on the couch, and this was all a really, really weird dream. Maybe Calum was right and he should try relaxing more often and he was stressing himself out and now he was hallucinating.

“Ashton?” Luke said shyly, after Ashton hadn’t answered for a few moments.

The soft voice pulled him out of whatever the fuck was happening in his head. Enough for him to shake his head a little to clear the plethora of ‘what the fuck’s banging around in his skull. “You’re...okay. You’ve got wings.” He looked at them again, half in awe, half in apprehension. “Can I...can I touch them?”

Luke hesitated for just a moment before nodding and shifting forward, leaning into Ashton to let him touch. He smelled like fabric softener and Ashton’s cologne. There was something else, too. Something clean and very much Luke.

Ashton reached a tentative hand out, fingers brushing along Luke’s wings, feathers beneath his fingertips. Luke’s wing twitched just slightly, accompanied by a murmured “sorry, they’re sensitive, no ones ever touched them.” Ashton didn’t really respond fingers lightly tracing a trail down the wing and to Luke’s back where they were interconnected. He brushed his fingers there, feeling how solid and clearly connected to Luke’s body they were. It made Luke let out a sound that could only be described as a giggle, falling into Ashton a little. When he looked down at the blonde, he found that his face was red and only slightly sheepish.

“Ticklish?” Ashton asked, voice hushed. The moment seemed to demand softness. The temperature had escalated, somehow, since he had started petting Luke’s wings, and he was pretty sure his palms were sweaty.

“I don’t know what that means,” Luke answered, voice just as soft, keeping Ashton’s gaze.

“It’s when someone touches you and it makes you feel funny so you laugh, or feel like laughing. Generally because you’re sensitive there.” That was the best explanation he had. Luke seemed to approve, nodding a little bit.

“Yeah. They’re ticklish,” he said in agreement after just a moment of thought.

Ashton ran his fingers along one of the wings for the second time, looking at them in awe again. They really were gorgeous. Giant, white, fluffy, and as ethereal as Luke himself. He looked like the classic Renaissance painting of an angel, with his golden curls and giant white wings.

Luke watched him stare at his wings, gaze unwavering where it rested on his face. It took Ashton several minutes before he even noticed. He didn’t really know what to say to him, aware they ambiance in the room had shifted to something he couldn’t name. So he didn’t try to.

He was full of questions for the man - angel - in front of him and couldn’t figure out how to word any of them. “So why are you here?” He decided to start with, hand still resting flat against one of Luke’s wings. It was surprisingly warm. Not very warm, but warm enough to remind him that it was a very alive part of Luke.

“I wanted to meet you,” was Luke’s reply, gaze still on Ashton’s face. He felt his own cheeks warm a little at such an honest - and earnest - answer.

“That’s it?” He said, just a little surprised. So somehow he alone had convinced his guardian angel to come down and say hello. “You can do that? Come visit us?”

“No. We’re not supposed to leave. We can’t let anyone know we exist.” Luke shrugged slightly. “This is pretty forbidden.”

Ashton frowned a little bit. “And you did it anyway to visit me?” His question was a little more gentle this time, aware that Luke might be a little stressed out. Hell, he was stressed for Luke.

“I did.” Luke gave him a small, shy smile that did something weird to Ashton’s heart. It was fine, though. He was fine. It had nothing to do with how open and vulnerable and gorgeous Luke looked. Nothing at all.

“Do you know when you have to go back? If you’re going back?” He asked, immediately regretting it when Luke frowned.

“No. I just...thought I could stay for a bit.” His voice was much smaller, broad shoulders even seeming to curl in on him a little. He had no idea how Luke managed to make himself so small when they were almost the same height and size. Something about him just demanded protection and gentle treatment.

“Of course. Of course you can. You can stay with me as long as you’d like,” Ashton was quick to assuage. Maybe a little too quick. But Luke’s expression brightened just a little bit so it was all worth it.

“I can? You mean it?” Luke definitely seemed pleased with that.

“Yeah, of course I do. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“I know,” Luke answered.

Ashton looked at him for a moment, caught off guard. “Right. You said you watched over me. How...much do you know, exactly?”

Luke shrugged. “A lot. There was a lot in your folder. And I’ve been watching over you for a while.” He paused. “Not all the time. We don’t watch during more private things. Just in general, to try and subconsciously steer you in the right direction.”

Right. Like that made him feel so much better. Ashton nodded anyway, deciding to talk about it some other day. Trying to figure out the logistics of angels was starting to give him a headache. “Okay. Nice. Cool.” Very good response. Well thought out. He was so eloquent. “So I can set up a bed for you, if you’d like.” Ashton paused, realizing the situation. “Do you sleep?” He had honest to god no idea.

Luke frowned again, tugging at Ashton’s heartstrings for the second time that evening. “Leave me alone?” He didn’t seem too keen on the idea, something Ashton took note of. That and how bright his blue eyes looked even in the not so great lighting of his living room, given that the storm had blocked out the sunshine that normally filled it. “Um...I can. I just don’t need it to live.”

“Do you not want to be left alone?” Which meant Luke would have to sleep in Ashton’s room. One of them could either sleep on the floor, or they could just share his bed. It was fine, he reminded himself. Luke being gorgeous didn’t change anything. It would be just like when him and Michael were younger and they had shared a bed. It was fine. “Right. So...I do need sleep, so you’re welcome to look around the apartment if you don’t want to.”

Luke considered the question before shaking his head. “No thank you,” he said quite politely. So leaving him alone for extended periods was a no. He was like a shelter dog, then. Abandoned on his doorstep in the rain. “I can try to sleep. It’s alright. Can I sleep with you?” He asked it so earnestly, so genuinely, with his expression so open and vulnerable, Ashton would’ve felt like a monster saying no.

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” That would be interesting. Ashton hadn’t really shared a bed with someone in a long time. He didn’t know what it would be like sharing one with Luke.

He stood, offering a hand to Luke when he just looked confused, and gently led him back into his bedroom. He’d already been wearing pajamas when Luke had shown up, and Luke was dressed in pajamas, so they were good to go. He grabbed an extra blanket, just in case Luke got cold. He got underneath the covers, situating himself properly on one side of the bed. Luke just watched him, looking mildly confused.

“You can join me now,” Ashton said gently, realizing that Luke didn’t really do anything without clear instruction. At his command, Luke slipped underneath the covers, immediately finding his way to Ashton’s side. He wasn’t cold at all. He was surprisingly warm to the touch, actually, in a pleasant way.

Sometime between getting up off the couch and arriving in the living room, Luke’s wings had disappeared. It made fitting into the bed much easier, but Ashton couldn’t help but miss them. They’d been gorgeous. “Good night, Luke,” he said softly.

“Good night, Ashton,” Luke replied, despite looking mildly confused at the sentiment.

Ashton really had no idea what it would be like taking care of his guardian angel. Or how on earth he was going to manage it. But it would be kind of fun getting to show him around and show him the best parts of being human. He just couldn’t get too attached, in case Luke had to go back. He couldn’t keep him forever. The only problem was, he was already starting to fail at that.

[spookyblackwidow]

angsty fic where Clint catches Nat self harming or something SUPER ANGSTY? ps I really love your writing

Author’s note: Thank you so much!!! This is my first fic request, and I really hope you enjoy the scene I’ve written! Having friends who self harmed, I’m not comfortable including that aspect in the sense intended, but I promise it’s still angsty!

Burnt

1078 words

As soon as the Quinjet landed at the Avengers compound, Natasha headed for the gym, shoving past the EMTs waiting to patch them up. Clint had managed to pop her shoulder back into place after they’d escaped the fire, shortly before the explosion had thrown them several feet, sending them skidding across sharp gravel. She was sore and a bit singed, but she wasn’t about to wait for a doctor’s approval.

The gym was where she felt most at peace, one of the few places she could go in this godforsaken place to work off her pent-up anger. As a trained ballerina—assassin, she reminded herself, not for the first time—physical prowess was her religion, and by god, was she devout. Her muscles protested as she ran, the treadmill’s incline amped up for resistance, speed set a notch higher than usual, but she pushed on, through the dull ache of her shoulder and the smoke still choking her lungs. It had been her fault, the fire. The senseless death. She’d been told otherwise, but no one else had been there. Just her and those screaming children, the candles lit too close to newspapered walls, an oxygen tank meant to help. She’d saved herself, the innate urge pushing her out the window without a second glance. What kind of hero leaves behind defenseless children?

It didn’t take long before she was gasping for breath, her knuckles white around the bars of the treadmill. She slowed to a stop, letting the machine deposit her on the floor, her legs collapsing beneath her. She felt betrayed by her own body and mind. If she had waited for Clint before moving in, she might’ve left the tank behind, down the hall, away from the victims. They could’ve saved at least some of the children, could’ve taken down their mark. But she was overly hasty, impatient, distrustful. She’d trusted him not to miss, and they’d both failed.

Having allowed a full minute of rest, she forced herself up and over to the sandbag, ignoring the burn of lactic acid accumulating in her muscles. She wrapped her knuckles tightly, a small act of kindness to herself, an attempt to reduce her chances of breaking bones. She swung hard, fueled by anger and adrenaline, fists solidly connecting with the stiff bag. Her form was sloppy, her legs too close together, but she pushed on through her self-punishment, trying to replace flashbacks with pain, just as she’d been taught.

It had to be fire, didn’t it? She had been too young when her parents died to have solid memories from before, but the suffocating heat never left her. She’d allowed herself to destroy everything in her path, to be filled with the same indiscriminate, all-consuming rage of a fire, but her actions frequently left her burned, scarred beyond recognition.

“Nat?” Clint’s voice, warm and rough, echoed through the gym.

“I’m busy,” she barked between punches.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He sprinted over to her and snagged her elbow as she drew back, disrupting her rhythm.

“Did you go blind in the fire?” she scowled. “I’m exercising.”

“We just got back from a mission where we almost died, and you’re a few swings away from putting yourself out of commission for a while.”

“I know my limits, Clint!” She shook his grip and turned back to the sandbag. “And everything would’ve been fine if you’d just done your fucking job.”

“Are you seriously mad at me for saving your life? If I’d ‘just done my fucking job,’ I’d be planning your goddamn funeral right now!”

“I don’t like the insinuation that you’ll outlive me.”

“If you keep doing stupid shit like this, I will.”

She whirled around and swung. Clint caught her fist inches from his face, but he wasn’t prepared for the other that connected with his stomach. He doubled over, too weak to fight back, not that he’d wanted to.

“Then let me fucking kill myself in peace.”

“Over my dead body,” he growled, his breathing ragged.

“That can be arranged.” Natasha wrapped an arm around his neck, a move she’d pulled countless times on him, but her grip tighter than ever. Visibly annoyed, he managed to kick the back of her knee and dead drop, dragging her to the floor with him.

“Just fucking talk to me. Please.”

They laid in silence, too sore to move, while he waited for her to say something, anything, even if it was just to tell him to fuck off. He knew this mission had been particularly difficult for her, but he’d watched her cycle of self-destruction spiral out of control before; it needed to be stopped before anyone else got hurt.

“It was my fucking fault,” she finally whispered, her voice breaking. “The fire, abandoning the kids, all of it.”

“You couldn’t have known about the candles or lined walls. We were never going to able to save them.”

“I was there, I should’ve taken them with me, I should’ve done something!”

“That’s right, you were there, missing everything happening outside. Nat,” he sighed, “the target was behind the house, can of gasoline and lighter in hand. Everything was going up in flames regardless of our actions, and, if I had taken the shot, you would’ve burned with it.” He was amazed how easily the lie rolled off his tongue, as he was unaccustomed to not being brutally honest with her. Under normal circumstances, it was as if she could detect any sort of mistruth, even the slightest bits of unintentional deception, so attempts at lying just led to more arguments and distrust. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be worth it to risk their friendship, but he could feel her shutting herself away, rebuilding the fortified wall she kept around her heart, the one he’d spent years trying to get through. As soon as he left that gym, he’d ensure every single report corroborated his story, despite him never having laid eyes on the target before abandoning the mission to pull her out, to get her to safety.

“You better not be fucking lying to me, Barton, or I’ll have to remind you of my skillset,” she hissed, although her heart wasn’t in it. She was exhausted, tired of beating herself up at the smallest provocation, finally ready to accept an olive branch from her best friend. She was still an all-consuming fire, but she was done getting burned.

[amuseoffyre]

Crossing Paths - 30AD - The wilderness, Judea

And now, a vague disclaimer: this chapter contains a rogue Jesus. Whether he is/isn’t the Messiah or is just some random fella is entirely up to you. But given that he’s a holy figure for in several religions, I think it can be agreed that he’s considered a holy person. (There are also some bonus verses in there, because Dude was knowledgeable about the Book)

30AD – The wilderness, Judea

Day 1

Crawly would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous.

This was Someone Important. No specifics, but enough to get the bigwigs downstairs anxious. A virtuous person. Ripe for corruption. The more they talked, the more he suspected it was some kind of big-name prophet. Prophets were always a bugger and a half. Some of them liked the ascetic, others were mad as land-locked fish. And then there one the ones who were so blisteringly holy that being around them was like being sandblasted in the face.

Still, Beelzebub had looked him full in the face and told him that this was his role. He’d tempted the first human and caused mankind to fall. If anyone was going to be able to tempt this one, then it was him. They were sure he could do it, they said, sending him out the door with a slap on the back and a target on his chest.

It wasn’t because he was good at his job.

Well… technically, it sort of was. But it was also because if he got himself melted by some holier-than-thou nutter, they had plenty of people who could step in and fill his sandals and probably bend their ear a lot less about the magic of beer.  

Only good thing was that he was in the middle of nowhere. No witnesses if he got embarrassingly combusted or something.

Instinct, habit – and maybe a little bit of fear – had him shift back to his older form. Better for the desert, he reasoned with himself. Made for deserts, snakes. Good at slithering. Plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in. Good way to get up-close and take a peek without being spotted. Just in case.

The… yeah, call him a man. Easier to call him a man. Not quite as panic-inducing. The man was up ahead, sitting on a low outcrop, his eyes closed, his legs folded under him, his hands resting loosely in his lap. He could’ve been any of the men Crawly saw day in, day out, in Judea. Sun-blasted brown skin, black hair, hands roughened by labour.

And then he opened his eyes.

It was – Crawly thought peevishly – very hard for a snake to gasp.

Holy, it was then.

Crawly stared at him across the rocky ground. He was still hidden in the prickling bushes, but he was close enough to feel the fervour.

“I knew you would come, my friend.”

The voice from up ahead made him recoil instinctively into the undergrowth. He saw the man tilting his head, found those eyes – not a mad one, this – gazing at him. The touch of the divine was there, but it was pure human in those eyes. No fear, though, which was bloody unfair.

Instinct made him hiss.

The man – Yeshua – smiled and nodded as if that was the answer he’d expected, then closed his eyes again against the brilliant daylight.

 Day 2

He’d managed to get out from under the bushes and wriggle a bit closer.

If this Yeshua was worried about it, he was doing a good show of acting casual. He spent a lot of his time in prayer, which – to Crawly – seemed a bit pointless. With all the people in the world, it had to sound like the drone of the bees now. Had to be a bit mad if you thought anyone was still listening.

But then, he was a demon sitting ten paces away from a very pious holy man. If anyone was mad, he was pretty sure it wasn’t the human.

When Yeshua looked at him, he reared up defiantly. Definitely not showing fear. Ha. Didn’t before. Won’t this time. Whatcha gonna do? Make me fall? Whoops. Too late. Been there, done that, had the sulphur bath.

“It’s all right,” the man said, his voice dry from lack of water. “Don’t be afraid.”

Crawly stuck his tongue out at him.

  Day 4

It was bloody hot out in the desert. There were no other humans for miles. No supplies. No provisions. The only time the man ate or drank anything was taking water from a small spring that broke through the rocks near his small encampment.

Crawly blinked slowly, watching as the man walking across the open ground in front of him. He was still as annoyingly calm, but his legs weren’t so steady when he rose from his sleeping place to go to the smooth rock that he sat on to pray.

Well, Crawly was meant to tempt, wasn’t he?

“You sure I can’t get you a sandwich or something?”

Yeshua looked over at him with a small smile. “No. Thank you.”

Crawly wrinkled his nose. “Probably don’t need me to do it anyway, do you?” He nodded at the rock beside his head. “Y’pray enough that you could probably just say ‘Oi! Rock! I want a falafel!’ and it’d turn into one for you.”

“Probably,” Yeshua agreed, sitting back down, cross-legged. “But man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.”

The snake sniffed. “Yeah. But I’m pretty sure the bread helps.”

He was fairly sure that a holy man wasn’t meant to laugh at that, but Yeshua did.

  Day 7

“Shouldn’t you be going to the Synagogue about now?”

Yeshua opened his eyes to glance across at Crawly. “Hm?”

The demon had given up hiding in the bushes. Instead, he’d found a sunny spot directly opposite the place where the man sat. No reason not to be warm and comfortable while getting on with the job. He lifted his chin from his coils. “Shabbat, innit?”

“My Father will understand.”

Crawly snorted. Father. That was a new one. “You sure about that?”

Those ink-dark eyes met his. “Mankind will be tested. You know this.”

Crawly sank back down, a shiver running through him. He remembered those words from a time… before. The Almighty had spoken and they had listened, but oh, they hadn’t understood what it would mean and by the time he stopped to ask, it was already too late.

“What’s that got to do with you?” he demanded snippily.

Yeshua smiled. “Am I not a man?”

“Technically, yeah.” Crawly agreed grudgingly. God, he missed shoulders. It was easier to shrug with shoulders. “So?”

“Mankind,” he repeated in a voice that was and wasn’t the one Crawly remembered, “will be tested.” And then he smiled, creasing lines into his face. “And so I am tested.” He inclined his head. “You are my test.”

“Yay for me,” Crawly muttered, shoving his nose back into his coils. Wasn’t sulking if they couldn’t tell you weren’t just going to sleep.

 Day 10

Sometimes, you needed hands.

Especially when you had an itch right between the shoulders you didn’t have.

Crawly thought Yeshua was still asleep. He looked like he was, but Crawly wasn’t about to Look closer for fear of melting his eyeballs right out of his head. He stretched out his body, letting bones expand and limbs emerge and even his wings unfolded, which was a good thing because that was exactly where the itch was.

The demon twisted up his arm to prod between his shoulder blades when he became very aware that Yeshua was not – in fact – asleep.  

He was watching with apparently interest.

“You have wings.”

Crawly self-consciously snapped them shut. “Yeah, and? Was an angel, wasn’t I? We’ve all got them.”

“I’ve never seen them before.”

Crawly snorted – a lot easier with a proper nose, definitely more resonance. “Obviously.”

“You all have them?”

The demon made a face. “You’re the holy man. I thought…” He waved vaguely skywards. “Aren’t you given divine insight into everything?”

Yeshua laid one foot flat on the ground, propping his arm on his upraised knee. “I know enough, but I don’t think I know everything. Not yet. What I need to know, I know. What I do not need to know, I do not until the time is right.”

“Oh.” The demon cocked his head, looking at him. “Must be annoying.”

Yeshua raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“You’ve got this whole galactic font of information you could get access to, but you can’t ‘until the time is right’? You just have to muddle through?”

Yeshua smiled at him. “Acquire wisdom, acquire understanding; do not forget, and do not turn away from the words of my mouth.”

Crawly blinked at him. “Did you just memorise the book to show off?”

The man lifted his shoulder and there was a glint of humour in his eyes. “As I said, what I need to know, I know.”

Despite himself, Crawly had to hide a grin.

  Day 13

“What’s your name?”

Crawly blinked at the sky in confusion. He was lying on his back, tracing the patterns of the stars, when the man spoke. He twisted to look over at the human, who was sitting by a small campfire. “Eh?”

“Your name.” Yeshua glanced over at him.

Crawly shrugged. “Kind of expected you to call me demon, to be honest.”

By the dancing firelight, the man’s thin face looked even thinner. “That is what you are. I don’t believe that’s who you are.”

Crawly rolled back to his back, looking up at the sky. “And you know that, do you? You needed to know and so you know that?”

“No.”

Despite himself, he looked back over at the man. “No?”

Yeshua gazed at him across the flames. “You offered me food when I hungered. You laughed. You listened.”

“I’m working,” Crawly said, trying to ignore the worried twist in his chest. “Tempting you, aren’t I? Got to make you like me. Got to make you believe me.”

The man smiled sadly. “As you say.” He poked at the fire with a length of stick. “Will you give me your name?”

“Why?” Crawly breathed, forcing himself to keep looking overhead at the clear, brilliant sky. It had been going so smoothly as well. Why did he want to know? Why did he care? For revenge, he had no doubt. So when he returned to his Father, he would know exactly who to report and the Almighty would try and find something worse than the Fall.

“Why not?” Yeshua murmured.

Some time later, the man was asleep, snoring quietly, when Crawly realised that Yeshua didn’t even need to ask. He was a demon, Yeshua was his victim. He didn’t need to ask. He chose to.

Crawly glanced over.

Despite the mild night, the man was curled tightly in on himself, shivering. The fire had burned low and was almost out.

Crawly sighed, unfolding from the ground, and went across to add some more sticks to the embers. He reached over and drew Yeshua’s robe more closely around his shoulders, watching as the man’s shudders eased.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” he muttered, returning to his own spot on the far side of the fire.

  Day 16

“Crawly.”

Yeshua had only just woken up. He was definitely looking the worse for wear, although Crawly noticed – from the corner of his eye – that the man did smile when he noticed the cup of water beside his sleeping place. “Mm?”

“My name.” Crawly was sketching in the coarse sand with a stick. “It’s Crawly.”

Clay scraped against stone as Yeshua picked up the cup. It would – as usual – be his only drink of the day. Man was stubborn as sin.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t.” Crawly prodded moodily at the sand. “Not for the cup.”

“For your name then.”

Crawly tilted his head to look over at the man. Not many people had bothered asking him for it. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to willingly offer it. And of all the people, it was some religious nut he’d probably never see again once the job was done.

Said religious nut was sitting up now, hands cradling the cup to his lips, but his robe was hanging looser by the day.

“You sure you don’t want me to nip out and get you something to eat?” Crawly inquired. “You’re not going to do much good to anyone if you keel over.”

Dark eyes met his. “You’ve asked before. You know my answer.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but thought a fortnight in the desert might have knocked some common sense into you.” He shook his head. “Forlorn hope, that.”

Yeshua’s lips twitched tiredly.

“I’m just saying,” Crawly continued, “that it doesn’t have to be anything big. Could get you some of that mushy cheese. The kind that’s so runny you could pretend it’s water. It’s not breaking your fast if you drink it.”

“No. Thank you.”

“Or some wine?” Crawly searched the ever-thinner face hopefully. “S’only water putting on a show, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“What about–”

“Crawly.” There was a soft resonance in the way he said Crawly’s name, a thrum that went right down to Crawly’s bones and stilled his tongue like a rock. He both wanted and never wanted to hear his name spoken like that again. “Thank you for your kindness, but no.”

“No,” Crawly echoed, his mouth drier than Yeshua’s. “Right. Got it.”

  Day 17

The stars were out when Yeshua made a curious sound.

Crawly peered over at him. “Hm?”

“Your name.”

Crawly cocked his head, peering over the flames. “What about it?”

“It’s not– is it because you were a snake? Because you…” The holy man gave a vague, exhausted wiggle of his hand.

“No!” Crawly exclaimed indignantly, hoping his flush wasn’t too visible by the firelight. “It– I– there’s a very good reason for it! And it’s– well, I’m not telling you. I’m offended! That’s what I am! I’m offended you’d think that!”

“Ah.” Yeshua laid his head back down, smiling as a man who has acquired knowledge.

“Oh, shut up,” Crawly grumbled, rolling onto his other side, showing his alleged victim his back.

  Day 19

“Aren’t you bored?”

Yeshua opened one eye. “No.”

“Oh, you must be.” Crawly paced back and forth across the small clearing that they’d been sharing for almost three weeks. “You know what we could do? We could go south. Out of Galilee. I’ve heard they’ve got some pretty wild stuff in Caesarea.”

Yeshua shook his head gently. “When I leave this place, I will see all I need to see.”

“You know,” Crawly said grumpily, “you’re going to annoy people if you keep up the cryptic mumbo jumbo.” He dropped into a crouch in front of the man. “So where are you going to go when you see all you need to see?”

The dark eyes met his, fathomless as the sea. “When the time comes, I will go to Jerusalem.”

“Jerusalem?” Crawly snorted. “Is that all?” He grabbed Yeshua by the arm, transporting them a split-second before he remembered exactly who he was grabbing. Wasn’t often he panicked mid-transit and when they emerged into bright daylight, he staggered back a step and fell onto his arse.

“Bugger…” he panted, bracing shaking hands on the stone beneath him, then yelping as heat pricked up through his hands.

Yeshua sighed. “We should return.”

“Yeah…” His heart was racing like a startled hare and on top of everything, the world around him was pulsing with divine energy. “Maybe in a minute.”

Yeshua sat down beside him. “Maybe next time, you listen to me?”

“Mm.” Crawly squinted around. “Did it though, didn’t I?” He waved a hand out over the city that spread below them. They were on the roof of a building that hummed with ancient power. Crawly’s body was tingling uncomfortably, but not like he could really do anything until his brain stopped flailing. “Look at that. Jerusalem.”

Yeshua gazed out at it, his calm features tensing. “Jerusalem,” he echoed quietly. He looked at Crawly. “You’re in pain.”

Crawly waved a hand dismissively, even if the roof of the temple was a stupid place to have landed them. “M’fine.” He peered down into the courtyard far below. “Y’know, bet you could jump down there with me. Bet She’d send a bunch of angels to hold out a safety net and catch us both.” He paused, considering it. “Or you at least. If you asked nicely.”

Yeshua raised his eyebrows at him. “You recall I memorised the book?”

Crawly winced, shifting from buttock to buttock. “Did I just earn another quote?”

“Do not test the Lord your God.”

Crawly grimaced. “Thought that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Testing? Why I’m stuck with you.” he said, making a face.

“You wanted to test if angels would be sent to catch me. That’s not testing me. That is testing God.”

“Pfft.” Crawly shook his head, hair flying. “Semantics.” He held out a shaking hand to Yeshua. “You sure you want to go back?”

The man’s palm was warm and rough against his. “Yes.”

  Day 24

“Why are you even here?”

“What do you mean?”

Crawly shrugged as much as he could, lying on his back in the sand. He had his hands tucked under his head as he watched the wisps of pale cloud smear across the sky. “Not… here-here. In the desert, I mean. On earth. Why are you – whatever you are – on earth?”

Yeshua was quiet for a long time. “You don’t know?”

Crawly screwed up his face. “Never asked,” he admitted. “Got my job. Came to do it.”

“You could say I’m doing the same thing.”

Crawly tilted his head to look at the man. Yeshua was sitting in his sleeping place. He didn’t walk around so much now. His hands were bordering on skeletal in his lap. “This is your job?” He made a face. “Can’t say I think much of it, sitting in a desert boring me to death.”

One side of Yeshua’s mouth turned up. “This is the easy part.”

“Oi!”

Yeshua raised a hand. “You have been testing me very well, oh great serpent.”

“Now you’re just being patronising,” Crawly grumbled. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “So what is your job? I mean, I know my lot aren’t too happy that you’re about, but…” He shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t think they know how to be happy about anything at this point.”

“You’ll learn soon enough.”

“Well… that isn’t at all ominous.”

Yeshua inclined his head. “It will be as it was written.”

Written, eh?

  Day 28

“Ow!”

Crawly gave the human another kick. “You idiot!”

Yeshua raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “What is it?”

“Jerusalem! Big plans! My Father!” Crawley waved the rolled-up scroll he was holding in his leather-wrapped hand. “Don’t tell me you think you’re some kind of…” He trailed off, staring down at the man he had just woken.

Yeshua sat up, rubbing his ribs reproachfully. “You read?”

Crawly gestured to his bloodied eyes. “Well, you weren’t about to tell me, were you?” He made a sound of disgust and tossed the scroll into Yeshua’s lap, where it unravelled from its tightly wound centre. “You said you came here with a job to do.”

“I did.” Yeshua laid a hand over the scroll.

Crawly shook his head. “No. No!” He jabbed a finger at the scroll. “If you convince yourself that everything they say is about you, you know how it ends!”

Yeshua nodded. “I do.”

The demon felt like the air had been crushed from his lungs. “You’ll die.” He stared at the human in disbelief. “You’ll die because you think you’re the person they were talking about hundreds of years ago? Are you insane?!”

The man carefully rolled the scroll back up and closed his hands around it. “Do you think I’m insane?”

“Right now? I’m starting to!” Crawly crouched down, searching the man’s face. “D’you want to die? Is that what this is? Because just say the word and I can smack your head in with one of those rocks. Saves you time. Gets it over with.”

Yeshua gazed at him. Crawly wasn’t sure if he was so placid because he was barely more than bones and skin now or because that hot holy fire was burning away everything else. “Dust I am and to dust I will return.”

“Don’t!” Crawly exclaimed. “Don’t! They’re… words! They’re just words!”

“Words have power.” Yeshua’s eyes were boring into his. “Demon. Serpent.”

“Not the same!” Crawly snapped. He pushed his fingers through his hair, swaying from side to side. “How do you know you are… that? The… whatever the hell you think you are?”

“How do you know I’m not?”

Crawly stared at him. “You really believe it?”

“Do you care?”

No, he told himself as he turned and stormed away. No, he insisted, as he folded into himself and slithered into the heat of the desert. No.

  Day 37

“Still alive, then?”

Yeshua looked up with a smile. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

Crawly shrugged, arms folded over his chest. “Someone had to come and check if you’d finished starving yourself out here.”

The man shook his head. “Not yet.”

Crawly dropped down to squat on his toes, folding his arms on his knees. “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

“You knew that when you came.”

“Eh.” He lifted one shoulder. “Sometimes holy people aren’t as resolved as they like to think.” He rocked from toes to heels and back. “Then some of them are as daft as you.”

“And still you came back? Knowing you won’t stop me?”

Crawly propped his chin on his arms. “Might as well. Downstairs wanted me to tempt you, so can’t blame me for trying. Got to do the job, eh?”

Yeshua inclined his head. “Then do what you must.”

There was a big difference between must and want.

Crawly unfurled one hand and with a gesture, changed the world around them. Only visions, only illusions, but real enough to touch and taste and smell. White stone sprouted around them, vast buildings, cobbled streets, people, litters, noise and chaos.

“Rome,” he murmured.

Yeshua stared around, his bloodshot eyes wide. “Why show me this?”

“What you’re going to miss,” Crawly said quietly, then moved his hand again. Alexandria first, with its gleaming lighthouse, then further afield. The red sandstone of Arabia Petraea, the vast sprawling city of Pataliputra, even as far as the palaces of Chang’an.

City after city, country after country, field and mountain, valley and ocean. All things a young man from Galilee was never likely to see. People, places, enough to give him a lifetime of memories for the little time he had left.

As he let the visions fade and the heat of the desert wrapped around them again, far later in the day than it had been, he tucked his hand back under his arm.

“Could be yours, you know,” he said, propping his chin back on his arms. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll take you to any one of them you fancy. All of them if you want. All you have to do is live and ask me.”

“It is written–”

Crawly groaned into his arms, rocking back and forth.

“It is written,” Yeshua repeated quietly, “Worship the Lord your God and serve only him.”

“Not asking you to serve me!”

Yeshua nodded. “You know what you’re asking.”

Crawly nodded unhappily. “And I know what the answer is.” He searched Yeshua’s face. “How long?”

Yeshua shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Nothing in your little book?” He wanted to sound angry, wanted to be angry, but instead, he just felt tired.

“You’ll hear of it.”

Crawly unfolded with a shudder, straightening up. “I hope I don’t.” He glanced around, a scent whispering on the air. Celestial. Something way above his paygrade. “You know you can call on me if you change your mind.”

The man gazed up at him with that same small, sad smile. “And you know that I won’t.” He raised a hand, half-farewell, half-benediction. “Your temptations are done. Off with you… demon.”

“Yeah.” He fidgeted with his belt. “Good luck.”

Yeshua bowed his head. “And to you, Crawly.”

Crawly recoiled back a step, then turned on his heel and fled.

[inotherverse]

I’ll Be Home For DedSec (Marcus/Wrench)

ONLY A DAY LATE FOR THAT GOOD CHRISTMAS FIC HERE WE GO

also I haven’t finished the game asdfghj I still have to play the last mission but I think this is still canon compliant???

also u can read it on ao3 if you’d like gimme a kudos hell yeah

thanks bl;pealse enjoy

“What’re you doing here, man? You know it’s Christmas, right?”

Wrench turned at the sound of the voice and saw Marcus coming down the stairs of the hackerspace, smiling playfully at him.

“Do I really seem the type to celebrate, M?” he said, turning back to his work, already comfortable with the second presence in the room. “Get drunk at somebody else’s party, maybe, but I’m not a ‘spend time with family, get all warm and fuzzy inside’ kinda guy.”

“Still, go home, take a break, watch a shitty holiday movie. It’s a holiday, use other people’s religion as an excuse to slack off like the rest of us,” Marcus said, coming to stand just behind Wrench at his workbench.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wrench looked at Marcus over his shoulder. “Hey, and what about you? Why are you here?”

“‘Cause I knew you’d be here,” Marcus said, with a smug smile playing at his lips.

Wrench laughed softly. “Yeah? And shouldn’t you be, like, with your family right now?”

“I’m going later,” He said, walking forward to stand next to him. “What’re you even working on down here?”

“Jumper upgrades, mostly. There’s not much else to do,” Wrench gestured to the guts of the jumper in front of him, spread out on the table, along with some other technological odds and ends. “Well, actually, I’m sure there’s a lot of rich and powerful people getting drunk in a room together somewhere...” the screen of his masked showed two capital O’s as he looked imploringly at Marcus.

“Eh, we’ll get ‘em on New Year’s,” Marcus said, dismissing Wrench’s suggestion with a wave of his hand. “Take a break, come with me,” He took a few steps backwards toward the stairs, ushering Wrench to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Wrench asked, looking for a stopping point in what he was doing.

“The garage.”

“Why are we going to the garage?”

“Because your Christmas present is at the garage.”

Wrench paused. “Oh. I—”

“It’s not a car.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“I know, but. It’s at the garage. I didn’t want you to think it was a car.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Because it’s not a car. And that would be, like, disappointing.”

“Yeah.” Wrench was now facing Marcus fully, the jumper forgotten at the mention of gifts. “I was just gonna say—”

“You were going to say something like, you’re surprised, or ‘oh, I didn’t get you anything,’ or whatever, right? I don’t care, man, just c’mon!” Marcus said, turning his back on Wrench and going up the stairs.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Wrench called after him, quickly crossing the room to catch up. “You’re way too excited about whatever this is.”

“No, I’m really not,” Marcus turned his smiling face on him, looking a little too mischievous.

“Sure,” Wrench gave him a small shove up the stairs. “And do you really need to wear a turtleneck and a coat in California? I get it’s Christmas, but you look like a love interest in a shitty Hallmark movie.”

Marcus sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t understand fashion. I’m sorry you can see art right in front of you and not even recognize it. It’s so tragic for you.”

They reached the door, and Marcus bowed, motioning dramatically for Wrench to go before him. He followed, and the sliding door closed behind them, sealing the hackerspace.

“Also, stop watching Hallmark movies.”

———————————————————————————-

“I can’t believe we made it all the way here and you’re still on this.”

Wrench threw his arms up in exasperation. “I’m just saying! I don’t actually watch them,” He argued, waiting as Marcus opened the door to the garage. “I just know what they’re like!”

“How do you know what they’re like if you don’t watch them?” Marcus taunted, clearly enjoying dragging out the argument despite his protest.

Wrench’s mask switched to ‘angry eyes’: two downward-slanted lines. “Because I just fucking know what they’re like! Everyone does! They’re like, a staple of—” he stopped short as he walked through the door, seeing Marcus’s handiwork.

Next to his workbench stood the chalkboard he kept there, giant letters in Marcus’s straight, thin handwriting read: “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” It was curved to arc perfectly over the box that stood in front, lined up with careful precision. The box looked huge, a tall rectangle coming to above Wrench’s middle, and was wrapped in red and green paper, complete with a ribbon running up the sides and forming a bow at the top.

“Whoa,” Wrench breathed, taking tentative steps toward the box. “It’s all wrapped up and everything.”

“...Yes.” Marcus said, as he closed the door behind himself. “That’s typically how these things go. Kind of a staple of the thing.”

“Damn, Marcus,” Wrench said, slowly circling the gift and ignoring Marcus’s jab at him. “This thing is huge.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Shut the fuck up, stop ruining Christmas with your dick,” Wrench said, holding a finger out to silence Marcus while eyeing the present.

“Well?” Marcus urged, impatient. “You gonna open it, or just stare at it?”

Wrench still hesitated a moment. “I’m… just trying to guess what it is. It looks like there’s a fucking toddler in here.”

“Nah, too tall for a toddler. He’s eight, minimum.”

Wrench rubbed his hands together, then attacked his present. Marcus watched, hands clutched in anticipation, as Wrench first untied the ribbon and let it fall to the floor, then ripped away the first bit of paper, halfway down the side.

“Oh… my god,” More paper ripping. “It’s not.”

“It is!” Marcus replied gleefully.

“Fuck. Fuck! Holy fuck!” Wrench started bouncing in place, unable to contain his joy.

“Yep!” Marcus replied, smiling, matching Wrench’s energy.

“Fucking… Marcus!” Wrench screamed, reaching a higher pitch than he realized he was capable of making, the filter of his mask helping it reach ear-splitting levels. Through his excitement he ripped the rest of the paper away until it stood fully revealed: a huge box emblazoned with Haum’s logo. He pulled the front panel away, revealing his gift: a brand new security bot. “I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Merry Christmas, Wrench!” Marcus said, clapping his hand down on Wrench’s shoulder. “Your boy’s been reincarnated!”

“Marcus, how in the hell!” Wrench was still barely able to control himself, and not really making the attempt, looking back and forth between Marcus and the robot. “It was like, absurdly difficult to get one of these the first time!”

“I have my ways! Don’t worry about it, just get to work on ‘im. He’s severely in need of a paint job.”

“Oh fuck, Marcus, thank you so much!” Wrench yelled, throwing his arms around Marcus. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Marcus laughed and returned Wrench’s hug. “You’re welcome, man.”

Wrench pulled back some to meet Marcus’s eyes with his own exclamation points. “You’re the best, you’re literally the best!”

Marcus laughed again. “Hey, I try.”

“You! You literally fucking..!” Wrench started, launching away from Marcus and toward the robot. “This is really the best thing, Marcus, I mean it.”

“Well, I mean, I know getting rid of Wrench Jr. was really fucked up, I mean even if it was the best thing to do at the time…” Marcus settled against the nearby table, watching Wrench excitedly pull the bot from the box, flitting around it like a hummingbird. “So, here he is! Look, your son came home for Christmas!”

They both laughed a moment, before Marcus said, “Hey, I got him, both times, doesn’t that make me like, his other dad?”

Wrench gasped. “Oh my God, it does.” He laughed, then spread his arms wide. “Hey, look at me, I’m spending time with family on Christmas, like a real person!”

They both laughed, bringing the initial excitement in the room down, replacing it with a calmer, comfortable moment of silence. Wrench stopped bouncing around the security bot, and came to stand in front of Marcus.

“I’m serious, M, this is really great. I wish I had something cool and amazing for you that illustrated that I understand you better than anyone else, but…”

Marcus laughed. “Hey, there’s always next year, man. And, I mean, you don’t have to get me anything, that wasn’t what I was going for here.”

“I know. Ugh, you’re such a nice person. I hate you.”

“Wow. This family is tearing me apart,” Marcus said, moving as if to walk over to the security bot. “Okay then, I’ll just take my son and leave.”

Wrench positioned himself between the two, putting a hand on Marcus’s chest to stop him. “Just kidding, I love you, do not touch him.”

Marcus held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Could’ve said it with more feeling, but I’ll accept it.”

“Oh! Okay, round two,” Wrench cleared his throat in dramatic fashion. “Marcus Holloway.”

Marcus burst into laughter, just at the way Wrench pronounced his name: deep and low like a love confession in a bad movie. “Don’t, don’t!”

Wrench, cleared his throat again, louder, as if protesting the interruption. “Marcus Holloway,” he began again, “Allow me to confess my admiration of you.”

“Stoooooop!”

“No! You must let me continue!” Wrench said, adopting an indistinguishable accent, lofty like a Victorian drama with the Victorian extracted, the effect only made more funny as it garbled through the filter of Wrench’s mask. “I have admired you from afar for too long! I can no longer bear it!”

Marcus threw his head back in laughter. “Stop, oh my God!”

Marcus’s laughter only urged Wrench to carry on, ready to take the bit as far as it could go. “Marcus Holloway!” his mask showed two pointed, smiling eyes briefly as Wrench couldn’t help but to laugh through his character. They lasted only moments, though, before Wrench tore the mask from his face, dropping dramatically to one knee, and holding the mask over his heart like a hat. “I must confess my undying love for you!”

“I regret—” Marcus began as his laughter began to die down. “I regret everything. Are you even doing a bit anymore? You’re a little too good at this!”

Wrench laughed at the jab, only taking everything Marcus said as encouragement. “My own love laughs in my face! How will I go on?”

“Stop, oh my god, if you go anymore I’ll have to think you’re serious, c’mon!”

Marcus kept laughing, but he felt the air in the room change. It was immediate, but subtle, as their laughter stopped and a strange expression flicked across Wrench’s face; the eyebrows previously knit in a fake severe expression rose in surprise for only a moment, before Wrench was standing back on his feet. He broke eye contact, and moved to put his mask back on, but hesitated, standing almost frozen, looking for an out.

Marcus looked over the other, trying to find meaning in the sudden change. “Wrench?”

“Uhh… yeah. Anyway,” Wrench looked everywhere but at Marcus, already half turned away from him. “What were we doing?”

Marcus began to connect the dots, and a flash of realization passed across his face. “Oh,” He stopped leaning on the table to take a half-step toward Wrench. “Wrench.”

“Oh, yeah, the present,” Wrench recalled, ignoring the knowing tone of Marcus’s voice. “It really is great— It’s a great present, Marcus, thanks.”

Wrench turned away to face the robot and moved to raise his mask to his face, but felt it stopped; he looked down, and Marcus’s hand was there, holding it in place. He looked up into Marcus’s eyes, which fell too softly on him, and he stood waiting for the worst, his anxiety written all over his face.

“Wrench,” Marcus said again, waiting for the other to turn his face away— happening at the sound of his name. “Wrench, man, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—” he stopped, fishing for words, and fast, before Wrench could cut in and say with a laugh that what he thought was happening wasn’t happening, that he misunderstood.

“Wrench, this isn’t— I di— ugh, this shouldn’t be so hard,” Marcus stopped a moment to look over his friend, who stood still, silent, like he was waiting for this to end, like he had already conceded defeat.

Marcus needed to respond quickly, needed to let Wrench know that whatever awful scene he was playing out in his mind wouldn’t happen, but at the same time he was at as much of a loss for words as Wrench was.

Marcus sighed. “Fuck it,” he whispered to himself under his breath. “Wrench,” he called, softly this time, like gently calling him to come home to him.

One hand came to rest on Wrench’s shoulder that faced him, that was trying to keep him away,  as everything in Wrench’s body language screamed that he was ready to run, wanting to run, but was tired of running. The hand that rested on Wrench’s mask came up slowly until it met the cheek that was farthest away, and gently urged it to turn toward him. Wrench complied, not resisting the touch, smoothly moving where he urged him like floating in the tide.

Marcus looked into Wrench’s eyes, which was a mistake, as he almost lost his nerve, but something in the shock he saw there pushed him forward; Wrench was surprised, scared, it was clear, but what wasn’t there was protest. The hand slipped from his cheek to his chin, tipping it upwards, towards him, and Marcus dropped his eyes down to Wrench’s mouth, steeling himself to take the leap.

The kiss was slow, uncertain, and it felt to both of them like it barely held onto life, like a dandelion trembling in the wind, knowing that one stiff breeze could whisk it away entirely. Wrench’s heart thrummed in his ears like roaring wind shaking the building, but the rest of him stood stock still, afraid to move and end what he barely knew was happening. His mind screamed to slow down, to enjoy the moment before he lost it, and it took some thought before he even realized he should kiss Marcus back.

The kiss was short, Marcus eventually pulling away. His own face felt hot, and he saw a pink blush running along Wrench’s cheeks, and even a splash of it across his nose. He studied it a moment while they both caught their footing, the sight of Wrench’s uncovered face still being a rarity.

Wrench was hesitant to open his eyes. “If I look up—” He started, “I swear to God, If I look up, and there’s like, mistletoe— or some shit— above me, I’m going to fucking lose it.”

Marcus laughed, relief apparent, as he read the still-persistent uncertainty in Wrench. “Nope. Nothing up there.” He smiled, amused, as Wrench opened his eyes, flitting them briefly to the ceiling as if his word wasn’t good enough. “Just a regular kiss. Sorry to disappoint.”

Wrench sighed like a weight was lifted from him. “Marcus, oh my God,” he breathed, closing his eyes again and covering half his face with his hand. “Oh my God. That’s— I’m— Oh my God.”

Marcus bubbled with laughter, suddenly feeling lighter than he was before. “Yeah, I agree.”

“I’ve been— I’ve been— fucking dreaming of that,” Wrench said, suddenly with a confidence he didn’t have before.

“Yeah?” Marcus said, listening to Wrench as if this were the first time he had heard his deep, unaltered voice, husky now in the fading heat of the moment just before.

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“Since I fucking saw you, first of all, and then I got to know you, and fuck, it got so much worse than I fucking thought it would.”

Marcus smiled, and another comment to urge Wrench on played at his lips, but at that moment his phone sounded, breaking through the air like a hammer on ice. Wrench looked almost startled, like he had forgotten that there were other people in the world, and felt their eyes on him. He moved toward the security bot.

“‘S my family,” Marcus mumbled, reading his text. “I should probably leave, if I’m gonna make it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Yeah,” Marcus watched as Wrench looked for something to do. “But, hey, this was—”

“Wait,” Wrench said, suddenly freezing in his tracks.

“What?”

“Wait a fucking second.”

“I am.”

Wrench let out a pained sigh, rested a hand on top of the security bot, then laid his forehead on it. “So you gave me, like, a perfect Christmas gift.”

“I’m not looking to brag, but, yes?”

“Demonstrating that you understand me really well.”

“...Sure?”

Wrench sighed again, full of exasperation. “And you look so stupid handsome in your stupid turtleneck.”

“Thank… you?”

“And we had our first kiss. On Christmas.”

“Yes.”

“Marcus, we’re living a fucking Hallmark movie. I’m a fucking Hallmark movie protagonist,” He ignored Marcus buckled over with laughter in the background and started to pace back and forth. “I’m the fucking workaholic boss or whatever the fuck and you’re my sprightly coworker who showed me the true meaning of Christmas or some shit, and I just stood here and let that happen.”

Marcus reined in his laughter long enough to respond, wiping a real tear from his eye. “I don’t think Hallmark makes movies about hacker anarchists with queer, interracial romance plots.”

Wrench perked up. “That’s the only thing that saves us,” he pointed an accusatory finger at Marcus. “Only thing.”

Marcus laughed again. “Thank God. Now, go work on your son, give him a cool paint job, inappropriate catch phrases, the works,” he headed toward the door as Wrench settled in to work on the robot. “I need to go now, but… later? We’ll talk?”

“Yeah,” Wrench said with a lopsided, content smile, as he replaced his mask. “You know where to find me.”

[kinktae]

Tempting || 4

Y/N is an angel and a good one at that. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She is out performing her duties when she runs into a demon. Luckily for her, that demon, Taehyung, doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, Taehyung just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

Or, “For someone who is meant to be so pure, you sure are dirty, angel.”

pairing: demon!taehyung x angel!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol use, mentions of suicide/death, lots of dirty talk and smut lol

A/N: this is less biblical and more supernatural?? Like less focus on religion itself and more focus on angels and demons as immortal creatures even though I might reference some “biblical” terms lol sorry this is too unholy anyways it’s fine. oh and this is a dream I had!

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (final)

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CHAPTER FOUR (This chapter depicts violence and scary situations. Please proceed with caution.)

I woke up to the feeling of vomit inching its way up my throat. Pushing my covers off of me, I hastily ran into my bathroom and kneeled in front of my toilet, letting out the remnants of last nights mistakes.

I groaned after I had finished, raising my hand wearily to flush the toilet.

I felt like I had been hit by a truck; my head was pounding and my body ached all over. Forcing myself back onto my feet, I made my way towards the sink, turning the faucet on as I prepared to wash my teeth.

"You deserve this." I frowned at my reflection, before reaching for my toothbrush.

The journey to the kitchen was a difficult one as my feet were absolutely done for, having fallen victim to the uncomfortable high heels I wore last night.

To my surprise, I saw Namjoon already standing in the kitchen, preparing himself some cereal. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps.

His eyes met mine and his expression looked exactly how I imagined mine to be.

"You hungover, too?" He asked.

"Yeah." I sighed, making my way over to him.

"Those Purgies are crazy. Everywhere I looked someone was offering me a shot. It's downright dangerous." Namjoon stated as he poured milk into his bowl of cereal.

"Purgies?" I inquired at the unfamiliar term, beginning to pour water into a cup I had acquired from our cupboard.

Namjoon let out a small laugh, "That's what we call inhabitants of Purgatory."

I nodded, placing the cup of water to my mouth to drink.

"So, who were those boys you were with?"

I choked on my water, coughing violently in surprise. Namjoon looked at me in alarm.

"W-What?" I stuttered out, completely taken aback.

Namjoon looked at me suspiciously before speaking, "I could've sworn I saw you at the bar with a group of Purgies before I completely lost sight of you."

I let out a breath.

He didn't know they were demons. He didn't know about Taehyung.

"Oh! Yes! Just some... Purgies I befriended. Nice guys. It's sad that I'll probably never see any of them again since they live in Purgatory. And I'm on Earth. There's just so many people there, you know." I nervously laughed.

Namjoon stared at me suspiciously.

"Yeah... Well, I'm glad you had fun. If you decide to go with us again next time, however, mind your alcohol." Namjoon paused for a moment before sighing. "I don't know why I just said that. As if I'm in any position to lecture anyone on alcohol consumption."

I laughed at the tall angel, leaning one hip against the kitchen counter.

"So, are you not working today?" I asked him.

"I am, I'm just giving myself the morning to recover. Hobi and Jimin woke me up early this morning while they were getting ready and I just knew I was going to need a couple more of hours of rest. How about you?"

I thought for a moment as I watched him take a bite of his breakfast.

"I think I'm just going to study today." I decided, opening the fridge in hopes of finding something to eat. My eyes fell upon some leftover fried rice, and I decided that carbs were my best bet for recovery.

"So, you're gonna become a Power after all?" Namjoon pressed, lifting an eyebrow.

Suddenly, Taehyung entered my mind.

Important memories of last night came flooding back one by one: meeting Jin, running into Taehyung, meeting his demon friends, dancing with Taehyung and Jungkook– kissing Taehyung.

"Y/N? Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick..." Namjoon said suddenly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I think I need to sit down." I replied meekly and Namjoon helped me towards the table.

"Sit here and drink your water. I'll heat up your rice for you, okay?" He said, sounding stern but concerned all the same. I could only nod in response.

What in God's name was wrong with me?! How could I let this happen? How could I let Taehyung kiss me like that? Why was my face on fire right now?

"Namjoon?" I called out before I could stop myself.

The man in question lifted his head up from the kitchen counter, looking my way.

"What do you know about demons?"

Namjoon blinked.

"What kind of question is that?" He asked, sounding taken off guard.

"I just– I think I remember seeing one last night but I'm not sure. I just wanted to know what you knew about them." I lied quickly before Namjoon could ask me where my sudden interest in demons stemmed from. Namjoon spent a lot of time in our library and had an insatiable thirst for knowledge; if any one of us knew about demons it would be him.

"Oh." He replied, before putting my plate of rice into the microwave.

"Well, I mean unless they were in their demonic form you probably wouldn't be able to tell that they were a demon. They often take on human forms. Helps with fooling humans into trusting them." He told me nonchalantly.

I could help but wonder if Taehyung had done the same with me.

"How would demons have gotten to Limbo?" I wondered out loud.

"Well... there are gateways everywhere so I don't doubt that a demon could've slipped in somehow. Purgatory parties are kind of legendary within the supernatural community so they might have wanted to check it out. Plus all those Purgies drunk and crowded there, it's easy prey for them."

"Do all demons hurt people?" I asked, trying my best to sound disinterested.

Namjoon thought for a moment before answering, "Yes. Some far more than others, some on a physical level and some on an emotional level but, yes. All demons hurt people."

My heart sank a little bit.

"Do demons ever fall in love? W-With humans, I mean."

"Mm, not that I know of? I mean, I know there is a subtype of demon that sleeps with them but that's purely sexual. I highly doubt any demon is capable of any romantically linked emotion other than lust."

"You don't think demons are capable of loving someone? There isn't a possibility that maybe not every demon is evil?" I asked, probably sounding a little more upset than I wanted to.

The beep of a microwave momentarily interrupted our conversation, and Namjoon went to retrieve my food before setting both my rice and his cereal on the table. He sat down in front of me.

"There are things a person has to do in order for their soul to be determined as evil; these aren't things that people just do on accident. Demons become demons because of the conscious choices they made as humans. Evil lies within their soul, you can't just change that, Y/N. Demons just don't have a place for love and kindness with the kind of lives they lead." Namjoon explained sternly.

I was unsure of how to respond. I poked my spoon into my rice, my appetite was suddenly gone.

"That's sad." I said finally.

"Yeah." Namjoon agreed before shoving a spoon of cereal into his mouth.

I wasn't sure what I was hoping to hear from Namjoon. In reality, everything he told me I already knew. But when I was with Taehyung, it was just all so hard to believe.

"Actually, you know what. I think I am going to work today." I said suddenly, pushing my plate of rice away from me. Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" He pondered.

I shrugged, "I just feel like the world needs all the goodness it can get and me staying home isn't going to help with that."

Namjoon let out a sigh.

"You're right. I should probably get going, too." He said reluctantly.

"Come on then. Time to spread some love and kindness. Let's make the world a better place!" I shouted suddenly, trying my best to motivate both Namjoon and myself.

Namjoon shushed me immediately.

"Woah, woah, too loud. Hungover, remember?" He groaned clutching his head and I could only giggle out an apology, ruffling Namjoon's hair before making my way upstairs.

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I spent the majority of the day in the city helping whoever I could as often as I could.

Nearly everything I did was mundane work. For example, I got a human to pick up and return a wallet that another person had dropped while walking.

However small my good deeds were though, I couldn't deny that it made me feel better. It felt good to help all those people but I couldn't push down the rising feeling that I was just trying to distract myself and keep my mind off Taehyung. I wasn't helping people for their sake, I was helping people for my own.

For an angel, I was incredibly selfish.

Feeling my mood begin to sink again, I decide that I had time for just one more distraction.

I reached Jane's house in no time, having had walked towards it many times before; it felt like second nature at this point.

There was a certain comfort I found whenever I was near Jane. Maybe it was because she was a familiar face, having had been my sole focus for month straight when I was her temporary Guardian Angel. Or maybe, it was because I liked the idea that someone could be reckless and irresponsible as her but still be fundamentally good. Angels were held to higher standards, but Jane was human; she wasn't expected to be perfect.

Envy was a sin but I couldn't deny the small part of me that was jealous of her.

Reaching the bricked home, I made my way towards the side where Jane's room was located.

I thought back momentarily to the last time I was here; I had fought Taehyung that night. The memory seemed distant and foreign, even if it was only a month ago that it took place.

Calling upon my wings, I jumped up, flying up to her window which was conveniently open. Hovering for a moment, I peered inside to see that Jane was alone in her room, lying on her bed as she typed into her phone.

From what I was told, Jane has been assigned a permanent Guardian already, but I didn't see nor sense any angelic presence nearby. Whoever they were, they must have already left for the day despite the fact that the sun was only just beginning to set.

"Lazy." I scoffed out loud before I could stop myself. Sure, sloth was a sin but it really wasn't my place to criticize another angel on how they did their job.

"You thinking about me again?" A voice teased suddenly from beside me. I nearly pummeled to the floor, the voice distracting me flying. I whipped my head around to see a mop of blonde hair shaking as it's owner laughed.

"Taehyung!" I exclaimed once I regained my composure.

Taehyung stood directly to my left, his left foot on the base of the window sill with his hand holding onto the top of the window frame. He was perched and hanging off the side of the house as if it was nothing, like he was some sort of agile cat.

"You are very hard to find." He stated. I blushed, not because of anything he said but just because of his sheer proximity.

"I went to your house only to find it completely empty, and unlocked by the way. Very irresponsible!" He scolded, not very seriously.

I could only gawk at him like an idiot.

Taehyung sighed, "Okay, fine, you got me. I unlocked it. But the fact that I was able to so easily is the real problem."

I can't believe I kissed him. Just last night I had kissed him and clung onto him like he was the last bit of air I was going to breathe in. Now here I was, completely sober and unable to utter even a single word to him.

"You gonna say something, angel?" Taehyung called out finally, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Hi." I breathed out.

Taehyung gave me a lopsided grin, "Hi, angel."

I felt my breathing hitch at how lovely he looked and quickly turned my head to look away. I opted instead to look up at the sky, which had grown dark quickly.

"So what gives? You just disappear for the whole day and come back to watch a couple of teenagers make out? Are you secretly some giant perv, Y/N?"

"What are you talking about?" I replied in confusion, before looking back into Jane's room, which suddenly contained both Jane and Jake who were both sitting on her bed talking.

"Where did he come from?" I frowned.

"Don't you know? They're dating now. Animals, those two. They're never not going at it." Taehyung smirked with a wicked look in his eyes.

"W-What?!" I exclaimed in horror.

Taehyung laughed.

"I'm kidding! Kind of. Relax, it's normal. Are you trying to tell me when you were a human teenager you never had sex?" Taehyung questioned with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Wha– I don't know! I don't remember anything from my human life, you know that! Also, that's a very rude question to ask! My sex life is none of your business!" I rambled, red in the face with both embarrassment and anger.

Taehyung's expression went dark for a moment before he shook his head and climbed down to sit on the window sill. I decided to join him, sitting beside him.

"How are you feeling?" He asked suddenly, looking at me in concern. The question caught me off guard and my confusion must have shown on my face.

"After last night, I mean. You threw up, so I thought– well, I just wanted to know if you were feeling okay." He explained, sounding somewhat awkward.

Was he worried about me?

Taehyung had always carried this kind of swagger to him, the kind of self-confidence that was visible and loud. It was odd seeing him look so uneasy and vulnerable.

"I'm fine." I assured him, "Just a little sore for dancing for so long."

Taehyung turned his head away from me and instead stared at Jane and Jake who appeared to be bickering over something or another. I guess even now that they were together it still didn't change the fact that they were always arguing.

"Yeah." He said simply. Silence washed over us for a moment, and I too began to watch the teenaged couple, who were growing more and more upset with each other.

"Listen, " Taehyung began, "I'm sorry about last night."

At his words, I felt my stomach do a flip as if I was going to be sick.

"What do you mean?" I replied, trying my best to sound nonchalant.

"When we kissed– I mean, if anything happened that night that you weren't okay with then I want to apologize for it." Taehyung frowned, sending me a sideways glance.

I wasn't sure if I was okay with what happened. I wasn't sure what I was okay with anymore. Taehyung made me confused and light-headed, with or without any alcohol present. In a moral sense, what happened last night in my room was a mistake but I couldn't understand why at that moment in time it didn't feel like one.

"What do you want from me, Taehyung?" I spoke, deciding to be direct for once.

Taehyung looked over at me in surprise, his mouth opening as if to speak but ultimately closing once more before he did.

"...I don't know." He finally revealed, leaving me more confused than when I had first asked the question.

"You don't know?" I repeated, unsure of how to feel about his response.

Taehyung simply nodded.

"All I know is that I can't leave you alone like you want me to. I think about you. A lot. I don't know why you make me this way and to be honest it confuses the fuck outta me." Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I also know that I want you. I want you in ways that would have you bright red and stuttering if I told you. I want you in ways that go against everything you believe in and the fact that I can't have you is so fucking aggravating."

I didn't dare let out even a single breath. The weight of his words rang so deeply within me that I felt as if I were to say anything at all the world might implode.

"You were right when you told me that an angel and demon could never be friends. I know that. Our souls are composed entirely differently and our lives were created so that we contrast each other. We were made to be apart. I could never live the life you live much like you could never live mine. I know all these things. Yet I still don't have a fucking clue what it is that I want." Taehyung concluded, staring at me so intensely that I worried for a moment that I might burst into flames.

"Taehyung." I began, even though I had no clue what it was I was going to say.

A loud sound interrupted us and we both turned to look into Jane's room, where the sound had come from.

The room was deafeningly silent; Jane sat on her bed, frozen in place with a hand pressed firmly to her cheek. Jake stood over her, breathing heavily, palm still extended out in front of him.

"Oh my God." I exclaimed silently, as I registered what had just happened.

He hit her.

Jake turned from Jane to direct his attention to her bookshelf. Grabbing whatever books his hands could find, he chugged them against the wall with a growl of frustration.

"You're a fucking lying whore." Jake seethed, as he threw each book.

My body jumped into action and I slipped into the room, running over to Jane as I threw my arms around Jane.

"It's okay. It's Okay" I whispered, eyes wide as I focused my energy onto projecting around Jane in an effort to calm her down.

A violent sob ripped through her chest and her body began to shake as she realized what just happened.

"Don't you fucking cry! This is your fault!" Jake yelled angrily, turning his attention back to Jane.

A loud growl came from Taehyung who I had almost forgotten was here, and I suddenly became aware of what a feeding ground this had become for a demon. Demons feed of this kind of dark energy.

Jake made a step towards Jane and I placed my hand out in front of us as if by reflex. There wasn't much I can do to him physically seeing as he was human; angels were made to provide protection, lacking seriously in any offense type powers but like hell if I wasn't going to try.

"Fucking stop crying!" Jake shouted, grabbing the flower vase that rested on Jane's nightstand and pushing it off. The glass vase shattered immediately on impact, breaking into tiny shards on the floor. I flinched, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Angel?" Taehyung's voice rang out causing me to turn towards him, his eyes wide.

"I can't..." I choked on my panicked words. "I can't hurt him."

Jake took a deep breath before turning back to look at Jane, his hands curled lightly into fists.

Taehyung let out a breath, "I can."

Suddenly, the light bulbs in Jane's room shattered, rendering the room in darkness. Jane let out a scream at the sound of her lights bursting and I scanned the room.

"Taehyung? Taehyung, stop!" I cried out, looking frantically for his silhouette in the dark. I couldn't find him but I watched in horror as Jake's silhouette crumbled to the ground, wailing. Jake's hunched over figure shook and trembled as he let out an inhuman noise.

I clutched onto Jane tighter, who was crying fearfully; I was just as scared as her.

And then, as if the light bulbs had never broken in the first place, the lights came back on, illuminating the room once more. Jake sat on his knees, eyes wide and teary as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

"Jake?" Jane called out wearily, only for Jake pushed himself off the floor and rush out the door, tripping over himself as he made his way out.

I just barely caught sight of a tall, dark figure standing where Jake once was before it manifested itself into Taehyung, who collapsed onto his knees.

"Fuck." He breathed, gasping for air.

"Jane?!" A woman's voice called out in desperation, before Jane's mother came rushing through the door. She froze at the doorstep at the state of Jane's bedroom.

Jane let out a wail before jumping off her bed and throwing her arms around her mother's worried body.

"Jane, honey? What's wrong? I heard screaming and then Jake ran right past me– Sweetheart, are you okay?" Jane's mother asked, rubbing the back of her sobbing daughter.

"Mommy, I'm so sorry!" Jane cried out, clutching tightly onto her mother.

"Breathe, Jane, breathe. Let's go downstairs and sit you down. Come with me, baby, you can tell me what happened." She hushed, eyes wide at the mess of Jane's room as she lead her downstairs.

I could only stare at them as they left, completely frozen in place.

The sound of Taehyung shifting to sit on his knees broke me out of my stupefied haze and before I could think, I rushed over to him and threw my arms around him.

"Are you okay? Oh my God, what happened?" I let out, clutching onto the back of his shirt.

I felt Taehyung stiffen against me for a moment before slipping an arm around my waist.

"I'm fine, angel." He muttered, sounding serious. I pulled away from the hug to face him.

"She's pregnant."

I blinked, "What?"

"I could read Jake's rage. Jane's pregnant with his child. She just told him."

"Oh my God." I said in disbelief.

Jane was only sixteen years old. I couldn't imagine how scared she must be, and then to have the father of her child react like that...

I noticed Taehyung staring at me, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"Taehyung..." I began cautiously, recalling Jake fleeing the room, "What happened? What did you do?"

Taehyung looked away from me, breathing in deeply. I had a feeling I was going to have to be patient to get the answers I wanted.

"Why did the lights turn off." I tried.

"I turned them off."

"Why?"

"I needed it to be dark." He snapped, catching me off guard. His shoulders were tense and his mouth was set in a frown. It was somewhat unbecoming, as I was used to the corners of his mouth almost always facing upwards.

"I didn't... I didn't want you to see what I was doing to him."

I could only stare at Taehyung's troubled profile as he refused to look me in the eye.

Before I could stop myself, I found myself reaching out to cup Taehyung's cheek, begging him to look at me.

"What did you do to him?" I whispered.

He met my eyes reluctantly, a dark look painted onto his handsome face.

"I hurt him."

All demons hurt people.

"I set his body on fire and tore away at his soul. I tore out all the good in his heart; I completely tainted his soul, Y/N. Do you know what that means? I just took away that kid's chance of ever repenting and trying to fix what he's done. He's guaranteed to spend the rest of his life in Hell, rotting away like the rest of us."

I shook my head, "I don't understand..."

"I can't protect people in the way you can. I can only hurt people." Taehyung spoke in a low voice, allowing for no emotion to seep into his tone.

Some far more than others, some on a physical level and some on an emotional level but, yes. All demons hurt people.

"You lost control." I reasoned, "I'm sure you didn't mean to–"

"But I did. I wanted him to hurt. He wanted to hit her again, I could read his energy. I wanted him to hurt in the way he hurt her. This is the way I hurt people, angel. I'm a Scelus."

"A what?" I frowned at the unfamiliar term.

"I lead people towards sin. I seek out the weak-willed and tell them of sins like greed and wrath and lust. And if they let sin consume them, I make the final cut and rid them of whatever virtues they might have been holding onto. Permanently."

I didn't respond. Not because I couldn't but because at this point it didn't matter what I said. As the seconds ticked by it became painfully obvious just how doomed Taehyung and I's meeting was from the start.

"What if Jake was supposed to become a demon? What if you did a good thing?" I thought out loud. Taehyung scoffed in response.

"I'm a demon. Nothing I do could ever be a good thing."

I let his words hang in the air for a moment. There was so much I didn't understand. It was Taehyung's job to taint souls, yet he sounded like he loathed himself for doing so. If he was a demon then why did he feel remorse?

I watched cautiously as Taehyung brought his hands to his face, rubbing his palms against it.

"I'm an angel." I finally spoke. Taehyung looked up at me in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off before he could do so.

"I'm an angel but I'm not the perfect image of goodness that you think I am. I love helping humans and all things that are good but I'm selfish. I am selfish and envious and million of other things that I've been taught was a sin."

I let out a sigh, bringing my knees up to my chest.

"I pretend like I'm not any of these things but I am. I'm never going to fit into the mold that I'm constantly trying to force myself into. I'm an angel but I'm not all good." I explained, staring down at my feet. Taehyung didn't say anything so I took that as my cue to keep talking.

"You hurt Jake, but you saved Jane. The fact that you wanted to stop Jake from hurting Jane again shows me that we're more alike than I previously thought." I told him, "I thought it was odd that you felt remorse over not remembering the name of the person you killed, but now I understand. You're a demon but you're not all bad. You feel things like guilt and compassion; you're kind, Taehyung."

Taehyung stared at me for a long time, his eyes peering into mine as if he was searching for something.

"So, you're a sinful angel and I'm a kind demon. Where does this leave us?" Taehyung finally spoke, his voice sounding small.

"I don't know." I answered him truthfully, tugging lightly at a loose thread on my jeans.

"Fucking hell." Taehyung said decidedly, relaxing shoulders. I gave him a small smile.

"You could say that." I laughed, before looking at Taehyung seriously. "N-Not that I don't trust you but... no one can know about what I just told you. About the being a sinful angel thing, I mean."

Taehyung smirked, "Yeah, the big guy downstairs wouldn't want to hear about me saving humans either."

I nodded understandingly.

"So, we keep each other's secrets then, yeah?" Taehyung asked, looking oddly excited.

"Yes."

"Friends keep secrets."

"Yeah. They do." I confirmed, suddenly shy. Taehyung was positively beaming at me, looking brighter than the sun.

I nearly gasped as Taehyung moved his face in front of mine without warning.

"I can be good when I'm around you?" He questioned, eyes wide.

I merely nodded, unable to think of any intelligent response.

"So," Taehyung drawled, leaning in, his eyes on my lips, "Will you be bad around me?"

I pushed Taehyung away from me quickly, my face bright red once again.

"Taehyung, I just decided we could be friends. Don't push it." I huffed, my voice shaking slightly.

Taehyung laughed as he stood up from the floor. He extended an open palm towards me to help me up. I took it gladly.

"Lust is a sin too. Feel free to indulge with me, angel."

OK NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA BE SMUTTY AF I’VE DEPRIVED Y’ALL FOR TOO LONG

[kuriboo]

so like lately i’ve been in the mood to get some shit off my chest and i couldn’t care less if anyone reads this or not, it’s fine, i just want this out there, on my shit blog for whatever reason, so like, this’ll probably be long and super rambly and i apologize for this and if there ends up being more of this i apologize for that too

religion is like, super weird. i don’t know how much i like the word. spirituality? whatever doesn’t matter. it’s just weird, because i think i see it very different than most people.

the series warriors, the one about the cats, had a huge impact on my life, as weird and dumb as it sounds. i did like to read a lot when i was little, but i think warriors was my biggest insight into some of my tastes. i love fantasy, fantasy is probably my favorite genre. and like. then i made the step into harry potter and shit but like. it was a part of my process of like, figuring out life, and one of the things I think it helped shape for me was like. religion. religion in warriors is a little more clear than like, just believing. their ‘religion’ is entirely like, when cats die they join this group called starclan, and they watch over the cats still living from the afterlife. many living cats have like direct encounters with cats who have died, and like have conversations and stuff like that. there’s a small subset who don’t believe in starclan at all, and that’s kinda looked down on a little (at times it’s not so bad and at others it’s just like, dang, chill) but it’s not like, horrible, no one really gives them a lot of shit for it, at least from what i remember, they’re not really treated lesser for it or anything, it’s just like, okay whatever. if i’m not entirely right on that then whatever, my memory’s shit, i apologize, i don’t wanna really get into it so just leave it please. but basically this is the context you need to like. understand why this shaped my way of thinking?

there’s a part in the sixth book that always stood out to me,, where the main character feels abandoned and alone, and in his hardest trial in life so far, blames starclan, those he has faith in, for letting these terrible things happen, for not stopping it. the response he gets has stuck with me ever since i first read it. 

there’s a message i hear a lot when i go to church. it gets brought up in various sermons, and i’ve been to my fair share of funerals, some that probably mentioned this same message. the message basically goes along the lines of this: it’s easy to follow god when things are good, it’s easy to pray and love him when nothing’s wrong. but when something goes wrong, it’s easy to blame him and curse him and turn your back on him. i’ve seen this happen. 

i don’t usually go through that motion, though. it almost never occurs to me to blame god for bad things. it’s not my belief that god really makes anything god or bad to happen. he can try to guide people, people do whatever they do. things are just gonna happen, there’s a lot of ways that can happen. people have free will. the free will to do bad things, yes, but also to do good. god’s not playing dollhouse. he sees what’s happening, and he can try to guide, but whatever happens is not always what he’d choose, and that’s just how it is. bad things happening isn’t ‘god’s will’, bad things just happen. 

so. god didn’t kill my dog. god didn’t let my dog die. my dog got really sick really fast, she became diabetic, she lost use of her back legs, and then she died. i ask for help getting through and i try to keep going as best as i can. and that’s about it. i find it silly and dumb that i still cry about it a year and a half later after the fact, yeah, but i don’t blame anyone for that besides myself, either. 

sometimes a bad thing is just a bad thing, and that’s often all it is, and when i see shit like people thinking pregnancy through rape is ‘a miracle from god’ or whatever, i think that’s horseshit. that’s just me. sorry for that specific example by the way. probably not in the best taste.

god watches. god doesn’t interfere. i find a lot of peace in that. a lot of people that believe in god, it’s said that they their faith is strongest when things are going good, but my faith is generally strongest when things are bad.

i don’t always taken comfort directly in god. maybe not as much as i should. i take comfort wherever i can get it. if i sit down and read the bible that will probably not help me. i often get the help i need through fictional stories, immersing myself in them and remembering the important things they taught me. don’t give up before it’s over. don’t immerse yourself in what you need to do completely and forget how to have fun. you’re stronger and will do better when you surround yourselves with friends and loved ones who believe in and will support you. you’ll succeed, it’s just a matter of how and when. rules are there for a reason, but sometimes change is necessary, and the rules shouldn’t always be followed. the line between good and bad is almost always thin and hard to see, all you can do is follow your heart and do what you think is best, even if others disagree. it’s okay to be different. authority is not always correct. be kind. maybe you’ll recognize some of those and where they came from, maybe not. but messages like these, it feels like god guided it into being there, even if only slightly, and he guided me to where i needed to go to see it. i’m not of the belief that god only speaks through the bible and bible studies and sermons and shit like that. i find him in lots of things, even if it wasn’t intended for him to be there. the same way you can play through paper mario: the thousand year door, and well shit, we sure didn’t intend you to be able to take flavio to the final boss, but there he is, standing in front of the shadow queen.

i was still guided to where i needed to be to hear what i needed to keep going, regardless. i could’ve given up a thousand times by now, i thought about it a million times by now, but i’m still here.

i’m not super fond of the idea that we all have to shove god down everyone’s throats. i’m not here to like ever try to convert anyone and i don’t care about your religion unless you try to shove it down mine, which just makes me hate it. people are way too aggressive about spreading god. i just try to be nice and hope that by being here i made someone feel a little better. 

and honestly above all, so many people try to follow every little rule the bible ever laid out to them and take pride in ‘fearing their god’ and shit, but like. jesus gave two commandments: love god and love your neighbor, and that’s all i’m really trying to do here, man. everything else falls into place with that. those are the two most important things the bible will ever tell me, and the rest is just..........fluff, mostly. i’m really loose about it.

my brand of faith is different from most people and it’s probably not the best, but it’s fine. this is just how i believe. if i tried to believe the way i was always taught i should, i probably wouldn’t believe anymore, and i think i’m better off this way. i feel like i’m a lot stronger this way.

anyway i’m gonna queue this for 1 am because i’m a big baby and everything i do is annoying and embarrassing and obnoxious but like, it feels good to write this down somewhere. sorry about that