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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

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Darling Death

A collaboration with @sufferingstarlight

Warnings: nightmares, vomiting, talks about death, getting fired from a job, grim reaper, beast forms, death, blood, intense/thriller situations. This is long as fuck and not proof read :)

Chapter 11 - Day 12-13

Day 12

"Ah, fuck," I said, rolling out of bed at, once again, 3:13 am. I pulled away from Timothee, not knowing how he could stand cuddling me when I was soaked in sweat from yet another horrid dream. The night terrors only got worse as day thirteen approached. Teeth falling out, falling off of cliffs, waking up seconds before the harsh impact of unforgiving concrete. And fire. Lots and lots of fire.

"Tell me about it," Timothee said, referring to the nightmare he already knew I had.

"Do I have to?"

"I think it'd help, don't you?" He sat up, my rickety mattress groaning under the shift of his weight.

"Don't you already know what it was about with your...you know reaper powers?"

Timothee chuckled darkly, the sound making me even hotter. "Kind of, yours are a bit blurry compared to the ones I'm used to seeing. Though, the idea of dreaming has always fascinated me." He patted his lap gently, beckoning me to join him on the bed. "Come tell your reaper about it, Darling. Then let me make you forget all about it."

I rolled my eyes, knowing I wouldn't be able to refuse the invitation to his lap. I crawled across the bed, shamelessly putting on a seductive show, until he pulled me across the mattress, lifted me up, and placed me on his lap. I felt his already hardening cock under me and made an effort to make it seem like it wasn't affecting me.

"Was it the razor in the mouth again? Or the fire?"

"You already know it wasn't."

"Work with me here, y/n," Timothee said, patiently. He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips that made me keep talking.

"No, it was...different this time."

"How?" He brushed my hair from my shoulder to my back, rubbing his thumb on the soft skin and leaving chills in its wake. There was something so intimate about this conversation, like we'd crossed over to another level of loving each other. I felt it in his touch. In his eyes. In his being. "Tell me, my love," Timothee whispered.

I sighed. "It was weird. It was, like...one of those first person shooter video games, you know?" I looked up at him, his face filled with confusion. "Of course you don't." I redirected myself, trying to explain this in terms my grim reaper could understand. "It was like I was watching it happen to me, like it was real. More like a vision than a dream."

Timothee nodded, following along, or at least appearing to. His brows furrowed as he listened intently. That was one of the things I loved about him: he listened. My whole life I never felt like anyone actually listened to me. Timothee did and he saw me. Those two go hand in hand. Listening and seeing. "And what did you see?" He asked in a bated whisper.

"It was strange. There was someone with me, but it wasn't you. I'd know if it was." I said, making eye contact with him, as if locking our eyes would allow me to know what he was thinking. His facial expression turned dark, and that told me all I needed to know.

"Go on," he said to me, directing me back to my dream.

"I couldn't see their face, it was blurry, but I could feel their ominous presence. And there was a knife." I closed my eyes, trying to recount everything I could possibly recall from the dream. "There was blood. Lots of it. And there was a train. Only-"

"You woke up before you died?"

"No."

Timothee tilted his head to the side, like a puppy mishearing a direction.

"I didn't die in this."

His face brightened, his entire expression looking even more puppy like than before.

"I didn't die...because I killed them."

Suddenly, a wave a nausea so strong overwhelmed me. I was gagging on Timothee's lap, holding my palm to my mouth. I barely made it to the toilet before I emptied my stomach. Retching so hard my ribs pressed together in agony. I rested my forehead on the lid of the toilet, making sure I had nothing left before returning to the bed. I groaned, turning on my heels before standing, desperately needing to wash my mouth out. I jumped, gasping a little at Timothee's presence in the doorway. He was so silent.

"Are you okay?" He asked, full sympathy in his voice.

"Fabulous," I cracked, filling the Listerine cap with sky blue colored mouth wash. I swished it in my mouth and spat the foamy liquid into the sink, barley screwing the cap back on when Timothee pulled me into his arms. He pressed my back into the frame of the bathroom door, his long arms high above my head and his full body hovering over mine as he looked down at me. Then, he gracefully slid a hand down, grabbing my chin with his thumb. He tilted my head up until my lips were against his. He kissed me lightly, not caring that I just threw up the last three meals I ate.

"Let's get you back to bed," he whispered against my lips.

Timothee's POV

I got Y/n back into the bed with minimal effort. She laid her head on my chest, a thing I had grown to love these past few days. I'd never watched anyone sleep and I'd definitely never slept with someone. Sometimes I close my eyes when I'm in bed with her while she's sleeping and pretend to be asleep as well, wondering it what it'd be like to have a period of rest like that. I was envious of that...that ability to turn everything off for a few hours. A reset of sorts.

"Any plans for tomorrow...or today I guess I should say?" I asked, not sure if she was asleep yet.

"Not really," she said, "I don't have work or anything to do, and since it's now-" she draped her leg further over mine as she reached over my body to grab her phone and check the time. "-4:34 am, I'll probably sleep in." She snuggled back into my chest and sighed, tracing her fingers idly across my chest and down my stomach.

"It's Day 12," I reminded her, though I'm sure she didn't need it. "You don't have any unfinished business you need to tie up or people you want to say goodbye to."

She sat up and smirked. "Not feeling so confident in your 'I'm not letting death take you' plan now?"

"Oh no, I'm quite confident," I arched an eyebrow. I fucking loved it when she got sassy. "Sorry. Old habits die hard," I winked at her. She nestled back into me, and I let out a heavy sigh. There was one question I had left to ask.

"What about your parents?" I asked.

"What about em?"

"You never talk about them."

"There's not much to talk about. I've never been close to my family. I've always been sort of a loner. I moved here to New York when I turned sixteen. They used to send me Christmas cards and the occasional birthday card. Now I'm not sure if they even remember when my birthday is."

Instantly, I regretted asking her. I hated seeing her unhappy. I aimed to change the subject, but she beat me to it.

"Can I ask you a question now?"

"Anything."

"Say your plan doesn't work out-"

"It will," I interrupted. "There is no other option."

"Okay, okay, but if it doesn't. Will it hurt? I mean, what should I expect? Should I treat tomorrow like any other day? Do I go into work like normal? When will it happen?"

She was scared, or nervous at the very least. The tone of her voice made what would be my heart shatter into a million pieces. I wanted to reassure her that those weren't things she needed to worry about. That'd I'd take care of everything. But my y/n was persistent, and I knew she'd keep pressing until she got answers so, I answered them.

"Well," I said in a sigh, "I don't think it hurts. At least, not for long. Maybe half a second. I make sure every death I'm in charge of is a quick one. Others let their souls suffer letting it drag on for hours if it can. If I see that the death is not instant, I finish it off. No one deserves that-to suffer."

Y/n nodded and gulped. I heard the saliva she swallowed move down her throat. I grabbed her hand instinctively, as if silently reminding her these are not things you'll have to worry about.

"I'll be with you every second of tomorrow. I'll walk you through everything that happens if things start getting precarious. I'm not leaving your side. Tomorrow, you're going to wake up, and go on like it's a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary, because it won't be. You'll get through all of tomorrow, I put my entire existence on that."

She relaxed at my answers, I could see it in her face as she laid back down in the bed and I could feel it in her steady breaths against my body.

"Timothee?" She asked. I thought for sure she'd fallen asleep, with how silent she'd been.

"Hmm?"

"You've really never dreamed before?" She asked in a whisper.

In the darkness, her body was illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight. I ran my palm down her side, taking in curve she had to offer. She was perfect.

"No. I can't dream." I turned on my side to face her and her sleepy eyes met mine. I cupped her face and brought mine closer. "But I can assure you if I did, I would only dream of you. Right now, tomorrow, a hundred years from now it would be you and only you. You, yourself are a dream, Y/n and I love you more than you'll ever know."

Her tired eyes widened, and I could feel her heart rate quickening next to me. It all but vibrated through the mattress. She climbed on top of me and slid her nightgown off of her body, let it fall onto the floor next to the bed. The sun had barely begun to rise on Day twelve.

"I love you too, Timothee."

Seems like she'd spend what she thought was her last day doing the things she loved after all.

Day 13

Readers POV

I pulled on a pair of dirty jeans and a black tank top in a hurry. Of course, I'd be late to work today of all days. I threw on my favorite cardigan for good luck, for some reason I felt like I'd need it, and raced downstairs.

"Timothee?" I called, "come on we gotta-" I stopped midway down the stairs almost falling as I took in the sight of the hooded figure leaning against the front door. A jet-black cloak, a wide hood that shieled the face who wore it in darkness. "-go." I finished my sentence, taking the steps much slower. "Timothee?"

The figure nodded, pulling its hood down. Timothee's face came into view and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jesus, what's with he change of attire? And where's your fucking scythe?"

"Sorry, darling, by law I have to wear this." He said holding his arms out. The sleeves were so massive you couldn't even see his hands in them. He almost appeared comical with his hood off. "I don't even get a choice actually. Oh and the scythe is..." He reached into the cloak and pulled out a massive black rod with a horrifying, curved blade on the top. How he pulled it out of nothing was beyond me.

"This keeps getting weirder and weirder," I said to him, reaching for the front door.

Timothee batted my hand away lightly and grabbed it for me. "Let me lead today, okay?"

"Why I'm-"

"Just...just let me? I'm already on edge as it is, and... just let me lead. No one will see me, I'll be your invisible bodyguard in a way. I'm just extra cautious today...because...you know."

"Oh yeah." In all seriousness I almost forgot. The day before was spent in utter bliss. Constant love making and orgasms, I woke up that morning with no thoughts other than "Jose is gonna kill me for being late," I said it out loud.

"I'll kill her first," Timothee said darkly, sliding his scythe back into his impossible cloak.

The walk to work was a quick one, and even though Timothee couldn't be seen, it was like everyone in New York City cleared a bath for me as we walked. Maybe they could sense him.

I rushed through the doors of Chapters that Change, wondering if Josie could tell that the door opened seemingly on its own.

"Sorry I'm late!" I called out.

Timothee stuck close to me as Josie pushed our backroom door open. The knob smacked into the drywall behind it, embedding into it. She marched over to me, her combat boots clunking hard against the linoleum. Timothee all but growled next to me.

"I can't take any more of your tardiness, Y/n!"

"What? Josie, seriously? I'm hardly ever late! In fact, you're the one who's constantly late!"

Timothee walked away from me, surrounding Josie with his presence. She shivered, an apparent chill covering her body. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms with her palms in an attempt to warm up. Normally, I'd be intimidated by Joise, she was much bigger than me, more confrontational and constantly right...even if she was wrong. With Timothee there I wasn't the least bit intimidated. Jose shook the chill off and stepped toward me again. Timothee was back at my side in an instant.

"Your attendance has been awful since you started seeing that man."

"That man has a name, Josie, and that's not true! I am here for every shift!"

The bell at the front door chimed, signaling the entrance of a customer. We were silent in an instant, though both of us were inches apart from each other, seething.

"Welcome to Chapters that Change!" I greeted.

It was Tristan, he waved at us and made his way to the thriller section. Josie waited until he was out of view and dragged me by my elbow into the backroom. Timothee's jaw was tight with anger. It's okay I mouthed. He nodded but followed us anyway.

"Listen to me, y/n, this is my bookstore and I only gave you this job here because I felt sorry for you. Now you're late all the time, you're clearly not taking your medication or on some type of illegal drugs and I can't have you be a part of my business anymore."

"This isn't just your bookstore it's mine too! We opened this place together, Joise."

"You're fired, y/n," Joise said sternly, slamming a stack of papers down on the receiving desk. "My name is first on this lease and I have the authority to do so."

I stood there, stunned. The last time I saw Josie was at their makeshift intervention. Where they met Timothee and everything seemed to be okay...unless...suddenly Tristan's appearance seemed a lot less coincidental.

"Fine, Josie, you fucking bitch," I yelled and stormed out of the backroom.

Tristan was lingering by the door, surely listening to everything that just happened.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Shut up!" I yelled back at him.

Timothee followed close behind, I knew he was keeping an eye on Tristan, especially after his behavior the last few weeks. I heard quick footsteps and knew it was Tristan behind me.

"Y/n! Wait! Let's just talk okay! Tell me what's going on, maybe I can help!" Tristan kept his hands deep in his pockets and wore a long brown coat.

"I don't want to talk, Tristan."

Timothee hovered all around me, as if putting an invisible shield around me. He placed a kiss to my head, which was all I needed to feel safe.

"Come on, y/n. I can get you your job back."

"I don't want my job back."

I turned down an alley, a short cut back home that I didn't like to take because of the train tracks but, I needed to get away from there. It was dark and damp in the alley, illuminated by an orange streetlight even in the middle of the day.

"What was this the plan all along?" I asked, turning around to face Tristan. "Josie fires me and you come and save the day, so I'll finally sleep with you? Hm?"

Tristan stood there staring at me with a mixture of emotions, none of which I could place. Anger? Sadness? Shock? Whatever, I didn't care about any of them.

"Well guess what, Tristan. I don't like you. Not only are you desperate but you're also a douche bag that can't take no for an answer."

Timothee stood beside Tristan with his arms crossed, and even though I couldn't see his face I knew he was smiling, proud of me.

"Wow," Tristan said, shaking his head and brought his hands up for a slow clap. "You really are a dumb bitch, aren't you? I don't want you."

"What?" I spat.

"I mean I guess I do, but not for the reasons you're thinking." Tristan shook his head, and walked toward me, and for the first time since he withdrew his hands from his pockets, I realized he was holding something.

A knife.

My heart sank. I knew that it was supposed to be my death day, but I wasn't expecting this. I know I said countless times that I wanted death to happen, so that I could be with Timothee forever, but I wasn't expect death to occur via murder. Suddenly, I was terrified. Timothee loomed over Tristan. What if he couldn't stop him? If stopping death from happening was unheard of...maybe it was also impossible.

"Please," I began to beg. "Don't...I...I'm sorry."

"Oh, now you're being reasonable. WELL TOO LATE! I could have done this weeks ago, but no. You and that fucking weirdo were cooped up together for so long I had to reconfigure a whole plan, I gotta say though...this one worked out a whole lot better than I planned. And you coming down this alley...well that was just icing on the cake. You've almost made this too easy, y/n."

"No..." I whispered, looking from Tristan to Timothee. Why wasn't he stopping him? What was taking so long? Timothee continued looming around Tristan as I backed away from him, inching closer and closer to the train tracks. In the distance a train blared its horn. "You don't have to do this," I said, pleading. "I'll do whatever you want."

I watched as Timothee removed his hood and it wasn't until I could see the slight panic in his eyes that I sobbed.

Don't I heard him in my ear, whispering even though he wasn't right next to me. This isn't over. I'm just going to need your help.

"Okay," I said out loud.

"Okay? Okay what?" Tristan spat.

I ignored him, focusing only on Timothee.

I hate to say this, but currently he's too strong. His will to kill you is... Timothee shuddered. It's intense. Listen to me.

Tristan advanced, his knife now pointing at me with a shaking hand. I had to split my focus in two making sure I was listening to what Timothee was telling me while making sure Tristan didn't stab me to death.

I'm not able to grab the knife from him, but I am slowing him down. It's like he's stepping through quicksand. He won't be able to charge at you. But he'll be able to strike. You have to be quick, y/n. You have grab the knife from him.

"What if I can't?" I sob.

"Who the fuck are you talking to?!"

Don't. You can. You know you can. You're strong, Y/n. Now, keep walking backwards. There's a train coming. You hear it?

I nodded. It was closer at that point. I could feel the vibrations of the train in the alley.

You know what to do and I won't lose you. It's not an option. I'll tell you when to stop.

I nodded, a new determination firing in my gut. I held my hands out in mock surrender. "Tristan, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry." I could tell he was struggling to walk through whatever force Timothee was holding him back with. Every few seconds Tristan would swipe the air with his knife, and I'd back up a few more inches. "Come on, how long have we known each other?"

"Shut up!" Tristan yelled.

"You don't wanna kill me, Tristan. You'd go to jail for a really, really long time. Let's put this behind us and we can try that date again? Okay? Come on."

The trains horn rang through the air, vibrating against the brick walls of the alley.

Stop! Timothee's voice filled my head.

I stopped, right as Tristan pushed his knife forward, piercing the flesh of my palm and stabbing straight through my hand. I screamed in agony as the knife penetrated through the layers of flesh, slicing through muscle, tendons, nerves. Hitting and moving bones in my hand. I'd never felt pain so severe in my life.

Timothee let out a guttural scream, one I'd never even heard in nightmares before. Through my tears I could see that Tristan heard it as well. His hand was still wrapped around the handle of his knife as he turned. Timothee appeared in his vision, though with his hood on he couldn't tell who it was, and Tristan visibly shuddered.

"Who are you?" I heard Tristan ask.

"Your worst fucking nightmare," Timothee responded, and removed his hood. Only the creature underneath was not Timothee. Not as I knew him. He was massive, at least thirteen feet tall, his head wasn't human but the skull of an elk. His horns were massive and curled upwards toward the heavens and dark smoke seemed to pool around him as if he came straight from hell.

What happened next was straight from a horror novel I used to sell in Chapters that Change.

Timothee, now able to grab a hold of Tristan, grabbed his shoulders, Tristan's back now facing the tracks. The knife ripped from my hand as he moved causing a scream from me that ruined my throat. Blood poured from my hand as I fell to the ground and scooted away from the scene.

"Happy death day, motherfucker," Timothee's voice came from the beast, backed with another darker, more sinister voice saying the same words. He kicked Tristan onto the tracks, just as the train passed.

And as he fell, I could have sworn I saw the ground open up and swallow him whole.

This has been a sufferingsouls production

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #smut #dark!timothee #darling death #sufferingstarlight

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 11 months

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since mass effect requests are open—could I request some spicy hcs for Saren (in an AU where he lives) being assigned a cute human caseworker/therapist on the Citadel…who he finds himself VERY obsessed with? 👀

I imagine the Council would have him imprisoned in THE top tier prison facility I the galaxy, sort of like Kuril's prison ship but with the full power and funding to keep the most dangerous man in the galaxy under wraps. And to avoid a panic, they lie to the public and say he was killed during the attack on the Citadel.

His wardens honestly couldn't believe that a therapist would be assigned to him, much less a human. He can't Indoctrinate anyone anymore, but why not let an Asari pick his brain and sift through his thoughts instead? But none of the experts are willing to do it due to it being a full-time, live-in job with a very hostile patient. Then again, humans always seemed to relish death-defying odds and dangerous situations that smarter species would avoid or give up on.

Darling is patient and was right to expect an uphill battle. Now that Sovereign is destroyed, his mind is his own even if he is badly damaged: paranoia and obsession with control over himself/his mind, nightmares, visions, hallucinations. But Saren refuses to accept any help from a human. He's broken and a failure, but they are NOT his equal.

It's only when Darling orders the guards in the room to leave them alone one day that he finally starts to talk to them. He's still in restraints, but Darling says that she doesn't think they're necessary; she would be a meaningless kill, and if he tried to escape where would he go? If he has nothing and nowhere to call his own, then he also has nothing to lose by explaining the truth to her.

Now THIS is something Saren hasn't seen since Shepard. Someone wants to know the truth, why he did all of this? How does he even explain to someone who hasn't seen the Protheans or the Reapers? She replies that she's seen enough evidence firsthand to know he and Shepard are right, and not once does she interrupt when he angrily rants that he did everything for the greater good. He was so close to saving the universe, if he'd just acted sooner and done things a bit differently. He wouldn't have been used by the Reapers and managed to save a few people when they destroyed organic life!

No...no, he would have. He was. It took Shepard convincing him that he'd been Indoctrinated and was too far gone to fight back. It's why he turned his gun on himself. And yet he didn't die, by a miracle or by the hardware and software that made up his body now. His plan was meaningless. His life was meaningless. The Reapers will still come, and not even Shepard knows or has the power to stop them.

Darling is the only person to listen in full and sympathize with him, something that annoys him but is also validating. And once he starts talking, he doesn't stop. Most of it is angry, bitter, and he lashes out at Darling sometimes. She never gets upset or indignant, and that calmness gets under his skin. Does she think she's above his insults and harsh words? Above him? It's why she listens to him. He sees the pity on her face. He hates it, but he's surprised that he can feel anything that interrupts the despair in his head 24/7.

He knows he'll never be freed from this prison, and he doesn't really care. The Reapers will come either way, after all. Maybe if he fought alongside Shepard, there might be a chance? Still...it'd take their cooperation and the entire galaxy working together, and he knows that would never happen. Too many factions and races and politics and petty pursuits keeping organics apart and unfocused. He's fine to rot here; he doesn't mind the company, either.

That desire for control makes him feel suffocated in prison, though. He needs control over some part of his life, and he'll fixate on whatever he thinks can help him do that. That control he had over the Geth, his subordinates, and those he intimidated/coerced/indoctrinated...he needs something like it again. And there's one person in particular he cares enough about to want to control them. They've seen him powerless, but they've never returned the favor.

He's stealthy enough to collect a few mementos of them in his cell (after earning the right to be house in one, instead of a high-security pod like Jack in prison. Darling is the one who insisted he wasn't going to try to escape, and that he deserved to be rewarded for cooperating with all of this). It's very scarce: a scrap of cloth from the couch he's forced to sit down on during sessions, a few strands of her hair, and a few wax scrapings from those scented candles in her office. She specifically ordered ones from Palaven, to remind him of "the scents of home." He doesn't have one anymore, but now he associates those scents with her.

He doesn't need to break out. He just needs to slip away for long enough to corner Darling in her quarters, easily overpower her, and do everything he's dreamed of doing to her. He's rough and punishing one second, then suddenly gentle and sickeningly intimate. Maybe what he wants is a kind of mutual control and power: he dominates her here, but she's consumed his mind. And he finds that he doesn't entirely hate it, even when he was fighting so hard to keep his sense of control. He'll force her to relinquish control to him, and in return he'll reward her by giving himself to her as well. It's codependence to the highest, most illogical, most disturbing extreme.

#tw: noncon #fem darling #.mass effect #yandere mass effect #.saren #yandere saren #.myshit

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ghastlybin · 1 year

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HI HI HI PLEASE IF YOU STILL WRITE FOR ATZ I NEED A YEOSANG FALLEN ANGEL AU WHERE HE’S THE READERS GUARDIAN DEMON OR WHATEVER THE OPPOSITE OF THE GUARDIAN ANGEL IS AND HE ENDS UP FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE READER ~ overexcited atiny anon 🙈

I love how everything was all caps except “overexcited atiny anon” LMAO as always, thank you so much for the request :,) I love Yeosang sm and this also took a long time to WRITE SO thank you for being patient and sooooo sorry for being hella late on this ily <33333

Pairing: Fallen angel/“Guardian” Demon! Yeosang x (GN) Reader

Feat: Guardian angel! Wooyoung, (domestic) demon! San, Reaper! Seonghwa, Souls Keeper! Hongjoong, (domestic) Angel! Jongho, bestie! yunho, & other bestie! Mingi

Word count: 13,028 (estimated)

Genre/contents: Demon/Angel! AU, Angst, maybe *some* fluff but don’t quote me, past criminal! Reader AU also lol

!!!!TW: Lotta blasphemy, Lotta cuss words/ mature language, blood, anxiety/fear, nightmare, guns, knives, weapons, near death, hospital mentions, revenge, familial/loved one loss mention, *kinda* gang mention?, past criminal history, youredefgoingtohelllmao, murder, unresolved trauma, kidnapping, poorly written fight scenes, death mention but it’s only brief, angsty overall lmao

Note: Not much to say other than I have no creativity with original names so the main antagonist is just “your enemy” etc. lmao. Also I love Yeosang so THANK YOU for requesting him but also please never fcking tell him about this long ass fic lmao before I get on with the fic, also know that I *tried* with the whole romantic sub-plot, fluffy cute shit but if you know me you know I suck at those 🥹🤟 I also do not know how to end a fcking sentence or stORY and I have thoroughly pissed myself for making this long bc editing is hell, it is 3 AM as of rn its fine if this flops I will cry (jk jk) If you read this, I love you. if you don’t, I still love you. also beware it’s a bit dialogue heavy. Goodnight.

btw Yeosang in this fic is halazia era Yeosang but this was the only gif I found that he wasn’t smiling in which definitely isn’t matching the theme I had in mind lmfao

There was the belief that everyone had their own guardian angel watching over them. Some people believed in it fully, others merely acknowledged it, and the rest dismissed the idea.

Those who believed it often had guidance and lived fulfilling lives.

Those who merely acknowledged it went on to lead normal lives, whether they were fulfilled or lived terrible lives, it was considered normal.

Those who dismissed it led arguably worse lives than the normal route.

But no one talked about the demons.

The ones who raise anxiety within you when something around you was wrong. The ones who send waves of depression that in turn, make you cancel the plans that would turn out disastrous due to some form of danger.

They were the ones that took the guidance you were given and manipulate it somehow to keep you alive, even if a bit reckless at times.

No one ever acknowledged that maybe demons could be helpful.

Demons were aggressive, but they sure did get the job done.

Yeosang never wanted to be a demon. He trained and abided by the rules, well on his way to becoming a guardian angel for whichever soul he was assigned to.

He was the top-ranked angel, even.

All it took was one mistake.

“Yeosang. You’re up.”

Yeosang always did as he was told. He passed every test, treated everyone with respect, he did everything. He thought it was bullshit that one mistake suddenly demoted him to a demon.

Bullshit.

He could think that now. He wasn’t an angel anymore, though he still acted like one. He wouldn’t be someone’s guardian angel either. Not anymore.

“This is bullshit,” Yeosang spoke out loud this time as the head demon showed an ounce of surprise at Yeosang’s language.

“Ha! That was fast. Looks like I just lost a bet.”

Yeosang frowned. He still couldn’t believe his surroundings. Everything smelled like blood and gore and that was how it smelled before he was even let into the title fair.

“Seriously though, you’re holding up the line, fallen angel. Go to table eight.”

Yeosang forced himself to walk forward and into the gross, humid area where every demon was assigned a title, or in angel terms, your soul's commitment.

The real difference, other than being surrounded by demons who had immortal sins attached to them, was the fact that demons weren’t called upon individually onto a gorgeous stage in front of thousands of other demons, proud to be promoted as a God or Goddess, Soul Keeper, Guardian Angel.

No. Down here, it was Demons, Reapers…

“Kang Yeosang?”

“Yes.”

“You’re listed as a Guardian Demon.”

Yeosang began to laugh, causing the man at the table to give him a strange look.

“That’s not a real soul's commitment!”

“What the hell is a soul's commitment?” The man heavily sighed, leaning back in his chair. Yeosang still grabbed the name tag with his name and title on it, but still found it laughable.

“Wait! You already have a human soul bound to you.” The man called out before Yeosang had gotten a considerable distance away.

“What? Like a soulmate?”

“Is there a problem?” A guard came up to them. The man at table eight was now standing as well.

“Nope. I have this under control.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m a damn angel!”

“Alright, wait in the back of the line again and come back when you have an attitude fix” the guard roughly put a hand on Yeosang’s shoulder. Yeosang didn’t budge but he did flinch.

“Hey, that’s not necessary! I will handle him.” The man at table eight walked around the table and tried to get in between the two as much as he could. “He’s just in denial. They usually are.”

The guard scoffed, “I don’t have time for this. Next time he causes trouble, I’m sending him to the boss. You too, San.”

“You too, San,” Yeosang mumbled under his breath mockingly as the guard walked away. San slapped Yeosang’s arm, shaking his head.

“I don’t usually do that for anyone. You better be grateful.” San went back behind his table and gave Yeosang a small, rusted box that was way heavier than it looked.

“Doesn’t seem like it, but that contains any and everything you need to know about your human.” San sighed, “every memory, every fear, every-“

“Every happy moment?”

San shook his head, letting it slide that Yeosang had interrupted him.

“No. That’s in the angel department.”

Yeosang had already exhausted his explanation, I am an angel. He wasn’t about to reaffirm that to a demon.

“If I have any questions, is this where I find you?”

San scratched the back of his neck, followed by another head shake. “I’m just a volunteer today.”

“Volunteer?”

“Anyone who sins has to volunteer or they are sent off to any punishment of the boss’ choosing.” San sat back down in his seat, “I hear no punished demon has ever come back the same.”

Yeosang shifted the box to his other arm to be sure it wouldn’t fall. All while maintaining a curious gaze toward San, “So it can get worse here. What did you do?”

“I set one fire that just so happened to turn into one giant one- Which is not my fault! I’m not the one that stored kerosene in a shed built with rotted wood… Amateurs.” San looked around the place, waiting for another demon to come up to his table.

“It was so fucking cool though.”

Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows, “Sure. Where do I go?”

“Don’t know. Not my department. Just find a cozy spot and open the box, I guess. Get to know your human that may or may not end up here in less than a century.”

Yeosang walked off, having exhausted any questions he currently had. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t have any later.

Y/N.

Yeosang read your name and looked into every detail of your life that he had access to. All the while he had found a spot in the corner between a wall and a trashcan that somehow had a slightly less atrocious smell than the entire realm.

He knew your fears, worries, guilts, sins, and pretty much anything that an angel wouldn’t have access to if they were promoted guardian angels.

The rusted box became less heavy as he absorbed more information regarding you.

Yeosang was actually fascinated by you and all he knew were considered the ‘ugly’ parts of you.

And somehow he did not find anything ugly at all.

His entire career as an angel, he was taught what makes a person a good person.

The more that he had learned about you only left an itching in his brain that wouldn’t go away.

How does any of this make a person bad?

Why was this information only demons had access to?

Yeosang closed the empty box after every bit of information had been collected and ingrained in his mind. He had no use for the box but figured he should hold onto it anyway.

He let out a disappointed sigh and looked up at the red sky above him.

Maybe I don’t need your forgiveness.

The past month swirled in his mind. Memories of his rise and fall as an angel created a bittersweet feeling in his chest that even he wouldn’t be able to describe.

I know I didn’t deserve to be easily replaced.

But those thoughts were just thoughts and Yeosang knew they wouldn’t change anything.

The land of the living.

Where everyone had to pay just to live. Everyone had to work and to no avail. Most lived from paycheck to paycheck that just ended up in the hands of the rich again and then it was back to work with no time at all for themselves.

Hell, even semi-immortal, you had to work every day. But not like this.

Yeosang had never been on earth before today. Only caught glimpses during training, but this is earth?

This had to be hell.

Yeosang looked for you. He knew your location. He knew your face, name, age, and even your height.

But he did not know your exact location. Just the town and building where your workplace was.

“Oh, what the hell.” Yeosang mumbled, his shoulders drooping upon seeing just how many people were in the building. Finding you would prove to be difficult.

On his first day on the job and he was already tempted to break the rule of never showing a human your face.

That was a common Angel rule. Demons, well, they had no rules, technically. As long as you aren’t setting fires and causing mass casualties, that is.

Yeosang was an Angel. He was a perfect angel. At least he used to be.

“Yeosang?”

Until Wooyoung got into trouble.

“Speak of the devil and he appears,” Yeosang muttered, pivoting to face his friend.

“Devil? Pssh, you mean certified Guardian Angel?” Wooyoung grinned. Yeosang saw the halo and the very faint wings that only Wooyoung had.

Yeosang felt his heart sink. Jealousy, anger, grief, and even pride, all jumbled in the same pot that contained his emotions.

“Oh.”

Yeosang didn’t mean to hint at his disappointment. After all, it wasn’t toward Wooyoung. It’s not like Wooyoung forced Yeosang to save him from being denounced and outcasted.

Wooyoung didn’t send Yeosang to eternal hellfire, unforgiven, and all of his hard work amounted to nothing.

What was originally Wooyoung’s mistake, turned into Yeosang’s. Yeosang, who would- and did save his friend from the wrath of the gods and goddesses.

“I never got to tell you how sorry I am.” Wooyoung had immediately changed in demeanor, his grin was now a slight, sorrowful frown. “You deserve this halo more than I do.”

“Don’t. There’s no use in being sorry… Being a demon isn’t so bad.” Yeosang forced a smile, even though he was lying. Wooyoung knew he was lying.

“I know it’s killing you inside.”

“You were assigned to a human in here too, right?” Yeosang dodged the subject further. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it.

He did, but how to approach it? What to say? Would it make a difference?

“Yes. They are named Y/N.”

Yeosang froze, looking at Wooyoung in disbelief.

“My human's name is Y/N.”

Now Wooyoung was in disbelief. No one had told them that a single human would be assigned two vastly different guardians.

Amidst the crowd of people, their gaze had gravitated toward you, watching as you appeared to be quickly walking out of the building.

While Wooyoung saw your actions as you just trying to get home after a long day, Yeosang sensed the danger.

He had an immediate tunnel vision developed for you as well as the strange yet dangerous person who had been following you.

“Do me a favor and let me handle Y/N by myself.”

Then Yeosang left the building and followed the person that was following you.

You knew what you were doing when you pissed off the wrong person. Them being the wrong person only dared you to piss them off more.

All you did was minor. Setting a car on fire, cutting the brakes to their secondary vehicle, and causing a minor injury to this person that was after you, all were minor actions compared to what they did to you.

You knew they were following you, trying to get you alone. They’ve been attempting to ever since their discharge from the hospital.

They were powerful but you were smart.

You rounded a corner and immediately hid. The only problem was, this person wasn’t following you anymore. And judging by the tone they carried in their voice, it seemed someone had stopped them.

“What do you want? Get out of my way.”

You took this time to leave the area completely, now that they were distracted.

Yeosang felt you had left by the feeling of you pulling apart from him. He knew he couldn’t go a certain distance from you, that was just an unspoken rule.

However, he was not prepared for how excruciating it felt.

Yeosang fell to the ground in the most unbearable pain he had ever felt while the person, whom he had revealed to be a wanted serial killer and gang leader, had walked passed Yeosang and in your pursuit.

Yeosang reached his hand up to grab this man’s leg in an attempt to stop him but was instead met with even more excruciating pain from the memories absorbed.

He saw you and this dangerous man’s connection to each other. The man that caused you so much pain.

He murdered almost everyone you loved over a disagreement you had.

You were once a part of a team with that man. A partner in crime, only, you’ve both hated each other from the get-go.

Yeosang felt your emotions, your anger, your grief, but most of all, he felt your unwavering need for revenge.

Yeosang had regained his bearings, the pain eventually subsiding as he was met with the familiar scent of blood, rotting meat, and something he couldn’t attach an existing smell to.

“You’re welcome.”

San.

He must have spotted Yeosang and decided to check on him. Or maybe San brought him back from the land of the living.

“What?” Yeosang hadn’t meant that as a question but more as a statement. San smiled widely, picking Yeosang up off the ground.

“You’re welcome for saving you from having your soul ripped out.” San further explained. Yeosang was still very much confused.

“That’s what happened?”

“Yep. Go too far from your soulmate and not only do you possibly die, but they will eventually die an early death too.” San put his hand on Yeosang’s shoulder and led him towards a seating area as they trudged through a patch of mud and fresh blood.

“They aren’t my soulmate, that’s-“ Yeosang stopped himself and took a deep breath before continuing.

“What about their guardian angel?” Yeosang asked. He wondered if Wooyoung felt the same pain. Thinking about it made Yeosang feel guilty for telling him to stay away from you.

“Guardian Angel? Only humans who are on the borderline of redemption and damnation have a Demon and an Angel.” San sat down on a crate made out of human bones and motioned for Yeosang to sit on a similar crate as well.

“San,” Yeosang groaned, putting his head in his hands upon sitting down. “What does that even mean?”

San sighed in response, but further elaborated, “Y/N, a criminal, has one more screw-up with the law before they are either sent to your old Angel realm or to your current Demon realm where you will both be together, forever.”

San looked around the barren wasteland of fresh and old blood, mud, human bones, and even the occasional demon remains.

“It’s up to you and the Angel. If you succeed, you’ll have a better chance of getting them into redemption. If the Angel succeeds, well, Y/N is coming down here in our humble abode.” San pulled out a canteen full of whatever drink only San knew.

“Crazy how that works. Huh?”

You locked every available lock to your hotel room and even covered the bottom of the door with an extra sheet to avoid anyone from trying to pick the lock.

Nothing scared you, yet you were on edge. You weren’t ready to die, not without revenge.

But you weren’t afraid of dying either.

You received a call, forgetting to turn off your phone, only to see it was just Yunho.

“You can’t just call! What if someone tracks you?!” You spared any form of greeting and went straight into scolding him.

Yunho was silent for a few seconds after you ended your sentence.

“Well, hello to you too. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that they are moving into phase two.”

“What the hell is phase two?”

“Killing you. Y/N. They are planning to kill you.”

Yeosang listened from the corner of the room, invisible to you at the moment, but if you were to take a picture of him, he’d appear.

There were other ways he could make himself visible, even. But he chose to let it play out, observing until something was about to happen.

“Let them try.”

“Y/N, You need to leave town. As your current only friend, I beg you.”

“Goodbye, Yunho. Use a burner next time.”

You hung up before he could protest. You had a plan and you weren’t about to stop it in its tracks before it could start. Not even for Yunho, as much as you hated to worry him.

Yeosang sensed danger again. Only this time, it was impending. A danger that would come in a few hours. When you had gotten ready to sleep, Yeosang dreaded having to use his demonic abilities.

It was the only way, though. He wasn’t an angel anymore, sure, but he didn’t like being a demon.

“I am so sorry.” He mumbled. He touched your head with his fingertips and conjured the worst nightmare he could send as a warning about the impending danger.

Yeosang stood back, grimacing as you began to tremble and squirm, your breathing was out of your control and you had even begun to mumble fast.

“I am so sorry,” Yeosang repeated, looking away from you to avoid the guilt he felt. “But you should’ve listened to Yunho.”

Your heart thudded against your chest, your vision blurry as bile rose in your throat. You were running and whatever- Whomever- was chasing you would be an arm's length from catching you.

You were terrified. The earth beneath you felt like jello that would trip you at any given moment. You tried running faster, jumping, and even flying just to get away.

But to no avail, you were not fast enough.

You screamed as loud as you could, your voice catching in your throat as you slapped a hand against your chest.

You were in the hotel room. The sun had begun to rise, shining through the curtains. You actually slept the entire night for once.

Yeosang couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with you, despite you not being able to see him.

You had a nightmare, the first since, well… Since you lost almost all of the people you loved.

You knew it was because of your criminal past. You weren’t sure it was even in the past just yet, but the point is, you knew the dangers.

It was just your subconscious telling you to stay away, trying to instill a fear that would burrow itself inside of you until it’s deeply rooted in your mind to stop trying to get justice for your lost loved ones.

“I just have to push through it.” You whispered to yourself. After all, it was only a nightmare.

If you had a vision instead, well, you still would’ve had your mind set on revenge. Nothing was changing that.

Yeosang stared at you, dumbfounded. All of that work and his plan failed. His first time using his demonic capabilities and it was futile. Yeosang, already fed up, slapped his palm against his forehead.

“Oh my fucking god.” He really couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Yeosang stood up and closed his eyes, phasing back into the demon's realm.

“So, I read more about Y/N.” San poured Yeosang a drink, which he downed in one gulp a second later. “They set a vehicle on fire? Yeosang! Why did you gate keep that information?!”

“Gate keep? It’s in the public records.”

San rolled his eyes, hesitantly pouring Yeosang another drink, only for Yeosang to down that in one gulp as well.

“At least take a second to taste it. I brewed it using the herbs in purgatory.” San frowned.

“You can harvest herbs from Earth?”

“You’re funny.” San scoffed, “you’ve never met a reaper, have you?”

“Only the Souls Keeper. Hongjoong.” Yeosang allowed San to pour him some more of whatever he had brewed.

“Reapers are different from Souls Keepers.”

Yeosang groaned. The more he learned, the more he wished this information was just an unspoken fact. He wished there was a way to automatically know everything, whether it was shot up his veins or absorbed in his brain.

“Seonghwa is the lead Reaper. You can go into purgatory and meet him. It’s also your only link with other Angels if they agree to meet you… Maybe you and Wooyoung can meet and get on the same page or something.” San handed Yeosang a key that was larger than his hand.

“That’s my spare key. Do not lose it. It unlocks the gates to the purgatory realm and you won’t be able to leave without it.”

Yeosang looked over the key, turning it over in his hands, and felt the weight of it.

“Seonghwa has the only direct line to the Angels, so you’ll have to talk to him anyway. He’s usually cooperative with most of us demons. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Yeosang stood up from the chair San had in his living space. It wasn’t much, but San didn’t seem to mind and it wasn’t Yeosang’s place to degrade a house that wasn’t his.

“Thank you, San.” Yeosang held the heavy key in his hands, flashing a quick smile at the younger demon. San smiled back, only wider and longer lasting than Yeosang’s.

It didn’t take long for Yeosang to find the gates leading to purgatory. Especially with the key he had. He wondered if it would have appeared without the key.

Yeosang lifted the key and fit it perfectly into the keyhole before turning it. The black gates had creaked open, the sound echoing throughout both realms.

Once the gates had opened, Yeosang retrieved the key to honor San’s wishes. Yeosang was pleasantly surprised by the change in scent. It wasn’t much of a change, but it sure was better than the amalgamation of many horrid stenches.

“Seonghwa?” Yeosang called out. He had never stepped into the purgatory realm before. Yeosang was then startled by a tapping on his shoulder, immediately turning to face whomever it was.

“You called?” Seonghwa, presumably, raised an eyebrow, dropping the arm he used to tap Yeosang’s shoulder, to his side.

“Yes… I’m Yeosang, I was-“

“I know who you are. You’re the Fallen Angel. The first Guardian Demon.” Seonghwa nodded in the direction he had begun to walk. Yeosang followed, surprised at how much Seonghwa knew about him.

Word must travel fast.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, inhaling the mist that blanketed the realm.

“I admire what you did for Wooyoung.”

“You know what happened?” Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows. He felt a sense of dread, hoping the truth wouldn’t come out and then Wooyoung would be stripped of his Guardian Angel title.

His soul's commitment.

“You’d think your gods and goddesses would know all. But I won’t tell anyone. I know everyone’s story. And if you don’t believe me, ask Hongjoong. He knows the truth too.” Seonghwa gave Yeosang a quick pat on his back. “Hongjoong and I, are not bound by rules or contracts or commitments. We will not tell a soul.”

Yeosang scratched the back of his neck as he followed Seonghwa. “It’s good that you know Wooyoung because I have to talk to him.”

“Can’t.” Seonghwa’s reply was so quick that Yeosang wasn’t sure he heard him right.

“What?”

“Wooyoung is busy with his human. I can’t contact him directly right now.”

“Damnit!”

Seonghwa laughed, “Just go to Earth. What’s the worst he can do? Kill Y/N?”

“Yes!” Yeosang ran back towards the gate, lifting the heavy key again and repeating the process of entering, by exiting.

Yeosang felt you near.

He also felt Wooyoung near. And as soon as he found Wooyoung, Yeosang pushed Wooyoung against a wall, angrily pinning him to it.

“What the hell?! I told you to let me handle them!”

“I can’t just stay away! They are my human too!” Wooyoung stared at his friend, wide-eyed. Yeosang loosened his grip and let him go, not wanting to hurt him.

“You know if you help them, they will be commissioned as a demon.” Yeosang glanced over at you as you continued walking, unbeknownst of their short-lived conflict.

“I know. But there has to be another way without you traumatizing them.” Wooyoung crossed his arms. Yeosang shot a glare at him, following you as he started to feel a tinge of pain the further you walked away.

“It was one goddamn nightmare… And it didn’t work. They are dead set on getting revenge.”

“I can change that!” Wooyoung jogged after You and Yeosang and met his friend's pace.

“You need to go back to the Angel realm and let me handle Y/N.”

“Are you upset with me? I said I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t make the gods and goddesses forgive me! It was humiliating, Wooyoung! You shouldn’t have been getting into shit you knew you weren’t supposed to!” Yeosang halted his steps and faced Wooyoung. Every ounce of hurt was evident on Yeosang’s face.

“Yeo-“

“You saw how fast they replaced me! They didn’t give me a second chance! If you make another mistake, I won’t be there to save you!”

“Then why did you?! Why did you lie and say you did it?”

Yeosang was on the verge of letting every tear he held back puddle to his feet. Wooyoung manipulated the future Guardian Angel database. Hacked into it, as humans would call it.

“Because…”

Wooyoung wanted to be sure that his friend had been granted the Lead Guardian Angel souls commitment. But he was caught by Yeosang, who took the fall for it as Angel guards were immediately alerted.

Yeosang yelped, the pain he had ignored had grown significantly larger the further you had walked away. Wooyoung was unaffected.

“Yeosang? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Bombarded by questions, Yeosang had attempted to crawl toward your direction in an attempt to lessen the pain.

He felt a chill run down his spine, sensing danger coming your way.

“Y/N!” Yeosang yelled just before his vision had darkened as the excruciating pain had become too unbearable.

Your mortal enemy was powerful. That was a fact. You were smart. That was also a fact.

You were alert, but he was strong.

You were guarded, but he outnumbered you.

You were even stubborn, but in your mind, you had to be. Otherwise, bad things would continue to happen to good people.

And maybe you weren’t a good person before, but god, you were trying.

One more sin and you swore you would leave it all behind.

It almost cost you, though.

The copper taste filled your mouth as you were splayed on the ground, bleeding and twitching from the pain of being battered by a blunt object repeatedly.

Any ounce of you that fought back before had since depleted, a groan leaving your lips after each hit.

Only for a second did you see the silhouette of a man watching you from afar as you lay there on the pavement, running on your last bit of fumes.

The silhouette walked closer to you and the pain you felt had soothed away somehow. That, or you were completely numb.

“Close your eyes.”

Yeosang shot upright in an unfamiliar- and uncomfortable bed, trying to calm his panicked breaths. He felt you nearby, yet so far away.

He felt the pain you experienced as if it were his own and there was nothing he could’ve done to stop it during the time he was unconscious.

He even saw Seonghwa. His face was the clearest thing you and Yeosang saw while you were struggling to get back up.

You weren’t dead. Yeosang wouldn’t be able to feel the connection if you were. Then again, Yeosang has never experienced being someone’s Guardian.

Nor was he taught what it felt like if they ever died.

He could see you. Your location was vivid in his mind. The beeping of the monitors that kept track of your vitals. The sterile scent, the bright fluorescent lights, the hospital bed, the IV in your arm, how it felt, even. Yeosang saw, smelled, heard, and felt it all.

And then he appeared in that same room as you. He tried to will you into waking up. He shook you, tapped you, and even tried calling your name.

You weren’t waking up.

You weren’t dead either.

Some would say you were stuck in limbo. Purgatory wasn’t limbo. The mist obstructed your vision and nothing hurt anymore. You knew you were hurt, physically and emotionally, but you couldn’t feel it.

You saw the silhouetted man again, only this time he wasn’t a silhouette. Striding toward you, it seemed as if the mist had parted ways to let him through.

“Am I dead?”

“Why does everyone ask that?” Seonghwa couldn’t help but laugh. You failed to see the humor in it though.

“I feel…” you pondered what you felt inside if it wasn’t any more hurt.

“Free? Dead? Scared?”

“Happy.” You spoke. “I feel happy.”

Seonghwa gave you a soft nod and an empathetic smile. “I see. You have lived a tough life.”

“I will wake up soon. Won’t I?” Your heart sank a little at the thought of having to go back. You knew it would entail more continuous pain and disappointment of having failed your mission of getting revenge.

“Yes. It’s not your time. Not yet. You are just here temporarily.” Seonghwa walked closer to you and put his hand on your shoulder. “Sorry to say, but you have to return now.”

Your eyes shot open, immediately recognizing the room you were in. All at once, the pain you’ve felt for years and the pain you’ve gained from being beaten almost to death had collectively returned without a single minute to spare you any preparation.

Tears brimmed your eyes and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper.

“Finally.” A voice you have never heard before startled you, a deep echo traveled through the almost silent room aside from the beeping of the monitors.

You turned your head as much as you could muster and saw him. Black hair, dark eyes, soft skin, a birthmark near his eye, and a faint outline of ash and flame around his body.

“You are difficult, you know that?” He sat in the chair across the room from your bed and he had one foot on the chair, hugging his knee to his chest.

“I’m tired of trying to anonymously guide you. You haven’t listened once, I hate traumatizing people and I can’t keep letting you stress me out like this.”

“Who the hell are you?” You asked, slowly- and painfully, sitting up.

“I’m Yeosang. Your Guardian… Demon.”

“Guardian Demon? That’s not real.” You questioned. Yeosang groaned, “I know, right? Who thinks up these titles?!”

“For a demon, you are handsome.” You rubbed your eyes. You were convinced you were dead for a second, but you remembered the mist-blanketed place you were just in, the man that seemed way too mystical to be real.

You wouldn’t have believed Yeosang was an actual demon if you hadn’t met that mysterious man.

“You actually believe me? Like, you’re not even gonna call bullshit?” Yeosang sat up, straightening his back. You shrugged, “I met another handsome man in this mist-covered area and nothing hurt, so, I might as well believe you too.”

“Ah, you met Seonghwa.” Yeosang stood up and walked towards the window, peeking outside. He sensed danger imminent, again.

“What are you supposed to do? Just guide me?” You asked, “are you like a Guardian Angel?”

“Would’ve been. But yes, in a way. I sense danger, I try to scare you away. The only problem is, you’re fucking difficult to scare and it’s even more difficult to keep you alive.” Yeosang looked at you, crossing his arms.

Ash sprinkled to the ground and disappeared a second later before repeating every time he moved. You weren’t entirely sure he was aware of it. Or how cool it looked to you.

“You’re not very good at keeping people alive.” You glanced at the monitor beeping.

“You’re not very good at minding your own business,” Yeosang remarked. You smiled with a tilt of your head.

“It is my business.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes in defeat. You had a point, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. You were after a guy you had years of beef with.

“Since you’re a demon,” You smirked, pausing to make sure he was listening. When Yeosang raised his eyebrows, his arms still crossed over his chest, you continued.

“Want to help me break out of here?”

Yeosang was still an Angel.

He was kind, despite his witty sarcasm, but you found him to be funny, he was gentle with you and even showed guilt if he thought he had accidentally hurt you, and you’ve noticed how shy he is- For a demon.

He was an Angel in a Demon form. Misunderstood, even. But you didn’t know the full story.

Even if you did, it wouldn’t change your mind. That was one thing you guaranteed.

He took care of you after breaking you out of the hospital, though he still felt conflicted on whether he really should’ve or not.

Point is, Yeosang was gentle with you. He nursed you back to health and was careful not to add to the pain you already felt. You were further unconvinced that he was a demon.

The outline of animated ash and flame did little to nothing to convince you.

You had spent days- Weeks, with him and he never left you. You weren’t aware of what happens when he’s a certain distance from you. He never told you either. He was shy, he made you laugh, he took care of you, watched over you, warned you when he sensed something or someone dangerous, and he tried to help you deal with your pain.

Yeosang, this Yeosang? He was anything but a demon.

He was like your safe place. Your comfort zone.

He was an angel. A misunderstood, fallen angel.

For some reason, fallen angel seemed more incorrect than a demon.

Yeosang knew everything about you too. Your darkest parts, your regrets, fears, everything. And not once did he ever interrupt you to say, “I know.”

He listened.

He learned.

And he accepted you for you.

He wasn’t a demon.

Yeosang had left a note for you while you slept, telling you he would return soon, and that he needed to speak to a friend of his in the demonic realm.

Aside from leaving a note, he left you alone while you slept, avoiding touching you and giving you another nightmare. He still felt lingering guilt from the first nightmare he had given you.

Yeosang trudged through mud mixed with fresh blood and remains, remembering how rancid the scent was down here.

He followed the path until he came upon a familiar, yet dilapidated shack.

San immediately opened the front door as if to expect Yeosang. That same smile he always had was plastered on his face.

Yeosang found himself smiling back.

“Welcome back!” San and Yeosang entered the shack, it was in the same condition it had been in before, but Yeosang didn’t complain.

“How is Y/N?” San poured Yeosang a drink and judging by the smell of it and the way it sizzled, this had been a new and different drink.

“They are okay. Recovering nicely too.” Yeosang accepted the drink and stared at the sizzling liquid.

“Good. You gonna deal with the guy that caused them weeks of recovery or are you still living by angelic means?” San sat beside Yeosang, noticing his stare towards the cup he held in his hands. San chuckled. “I call this masterpiece, blood ocean. It’s not actual blood, though… Ew.”

Yeosang took a sip and immediately tried to suppress the cough he needed so desperately to let out. San laughed in response, “I know. It’s strong. But it’s non-alcoholic if that makes it better.”

“No, not at all.” Yeosang cleared his throat. “By the way, I am not living- But of course, I’m going to deal with this guy. Y/N… They deserve better.”

“Even after all they’ve done before?”

Yeosang nodded without a moment's hesitation, “if you knew them, you’d see the way I do.”

San took a sip from his cup, ingesting it better than Yeosang had. Then he stood up again to take his cup to what would be considered San’s kitchen. Yeosang took another sip, only to decide he couldn’t handle the rest of it, and gave the cup back to San, still full of the strangely edible liquid.

“Blood ocean, is made with a herb from the Angelic Realm, believe it or not.” San came back to sit beside Yeosang. “I asked Seonghwa to retrieve some from Jongho while you were on an Earthly vacation.”

“Jongho… How is he?” Yeosang coughed into his elbow as he asked. San smiled.

“He seems busier since you’ve been demoted… Or promoted… We couldn’t meet up directly but he still passed on some herbs.”

San leaned back in his chair and observed Yeosang. The ash from his outline fell around him, but never on him.

“Do you like having Y/N as your first human?”

“Yes.” Yeosang didn’t hesitate, “I care about them. I like the aura they have. I like that they don’t see me as someone bad just because I’m a demon now. So, yes. I do like having Y/N as my first human.”

“Hm.” San stared at Yeosang for a moment, followed by silence. Yeosang took a deep breath, the aftertaste of blood ocean lingered in his mouth.

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Yes.” Yeosang felt like he was repeating himself. San chuckled, “romantically?”

Yeosang froze. He thought about it before. When you were talking to him about your happiest moments. How he wished he could absorb that feeling too rather than just the bad. He remembered how your eyes lit up as you recalled those memories.

He remembered the way your eyes lit up at a lot of things you spoke about. Your favorite things, mainly, but the memories he, as a demon, couldn’t see or feel.

But he still loved every second.

“Yes,” Yeosang responded after what San felt was an eternity. “I… I do.”

“Never heard of a demon and human relationship before.” San’s smile dropped and Yeosang felt the energy in the room darken even more, considering the realm they were in.

“It’s not forbidden if that’s what you’re wondering. But,” San sighed, leaning forward. “It will hurt when they inevitably die. Even if a human is destined as an angel or demon, it would be years, centuries, lifetimes- your lifetime, before you see them again.”

Yeosang didn’t speak. He just stared at San and tried to grasp the meaning of what San had just said.

“I won’t stop you, but I do ask that you are prepared for the inevitable.”

You, a human, who Yeosang had grown attached to. You who had the power, unknown to you, of breaking a demon’s heart.

If a broken heart was the worst he would get in the end, then he wasn’t afraid. He would go through that kind of pain over and over again if he could if that meant he could see you smile.

Yeosang felt a strange euphoria that had been short-lived when imminent danger clogged his senses.

“Ah, I have to go.” Yeosang rose to his feet and began to head for the door. “Y/N is in danger again.”

San softly laughed, “Already? They usually this stubborn?”

“Oh yeah.”

Like that, the door had closed behind Yeosang and he had raced to the exit that led to the land of the living.

It happened in the morning, shortly after you had read Yeosang’s note. The disappointment and feelings of worry that he might not return, that maybe he just left you for good, had filled your mind.

It happened in the morning while you were distracted by your feelings of abandonment. It wasn’t like he would never return. He was bound to you.

But something awakened inside of you and you felt an attachment to Yeosang.

You were chained to a pipe in a gross, worn down, and seemingly abandoned room. Wherever you were, you knew no one would come looking for you.

Even Yunho, your only current friend, wouldn’t know where to look. And he always knew where to look.

There was one person or being, that you thought of. Yeosang. He was bound to you, after all.

He would know. And for the first time, since you’ve been kidnapped from your home, you screamed a scream that was meant for Yeosang.

“Yeosang!”

You were met by a slap from the very person that caused you pain. He grabbed your face roughly and forced you to meet his eyes.

“Yeosang, huh? Who is that? Someone else I will need to take care of?” He roughly let go of your face and began to pace again. “Someone else I need to release from this world?”

“Screw you! You’ll never succeed.”

You felt comfort, knowing that you were right about that. No one could kill a demon. How would they try?

“I already have.” The guy drew his gun and aimed it toward you. You remained still, unblinking.

The downside if he shot you? You wouldn’t live to see his downfall. The upside? You wouldn’t be in pain anymore.

You smiled, staring down at the barrel of the gun. Not because you wouldn’t feel pain anymore and not to piss off your enemy.

But because Yeosang was there.

And he was pissed.

“How many goddamn times are you going to keep showing up?!” Yeosang’s eyes appeared to have darkened, if at all possible. Your enemy could see him too.

You widened your eyes when the gun went off and Yeosang had been right in the line of fire, but Yeosang just laughed.

“You can’t kill something that’s not alive.”

Your enemy continued to fire and for the first time, you were given the satisfaction of seeing him in fear. Actual trembling fear.

You watched the scene unfold, and how Yeosang, your angel, had become a proper demon at handling the man who caused you so much pain.

“Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You were sat in front of Yeosang, who tended to any wounds you sustained during his visit to San. Your enemy had left in a hurry after getting the lights beat out of him.

“You did say I was bad at keeping people alive.”

“Pssh, I say a lot of things.” You eyed his hands that carefully fixed the bandages that had been slipping off.

“Do you still believe I’m a demon?” Yeosang asked. You watched the ash falling on your skin, only you never felt it.

“Well,” You took in a deep breath. Dust and the scent of mold caused you to scrunch your nose, “I watched you take ten bullets to the chest and you still beat his ass and you seem perfectly fine, so… Yes. I believe you. Always have. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Yeosang looked at you, yet still held your arm in the middle of rewrapping a bandage around a pre-existing bruise from weeks ago.

“You’re more like an angel.”

Yeosang felt his heart skip a beat. No one referred to him as an angel anymore. No one considered him one anymore either, at least not in a serious way.

Until you did.

“We have to get out of here before he comes back with more people.” Yeosang proceeded to rise to his feet, helping you stand. His touch generated a feeling of anger and fear in you, but he wasn’t aware that his feelings would absorb into you.

Only what he intended was what he was aware of. Still, you somehow didn’t mind.

“Quitting so easily?” You joked. How hard could it be to take down waves of goons with your demon companion?

Yeosang just stared at you, a shake of his head following. “Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the abandoned building, which appeared to be an old church. You laughed at the irony.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be writhing in pain in the presence of the Lord’s home?”

“Oh my, a demon in church? Who’d have thought?” Yeosang kicked down the front door after it failed to open the first time.

“Common myth. But if you want me to, I will.” Yeosang continued to walk ahead with you following. You took in your surroundings, seeing nothing but an empty dirt road for miles.

“Now what? Drag me to hell and teleport me home?” You asked. Part of you was dead serious. You were already in hell, after all.

“If I drag you to hell, you will die.” Yeosang put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment.

He was stronger than you. He was a demon after all. You couldn’t take ten bullets the way he did. They actually passed right through him.

You would have died for sure.

“On my back, let’s go.” Yeosang compromised by opting to carry you to your house. You climbed onto his back, still sore, but at least you didn’t have to walk.

Despite how long the trip actually took, Yeosang’s speed made you question what it looked like to any cars that eventually passed by.

Were you invisible? Did they see Yeosang too?

Can everyone see Yeosang now?

“Wait, take me to my friend's house.” You realized you were more than halfway home and how dangerous it would be to just simply return after being kidnapped.

“Yunho?”

“How do you know his name?” You asked, yet immediately dropped the question, “Yes. He has a gate with a code to his house, let alone the cameras fucking everywhere. No one’s getting in or out easily.”

“Language,” Yeosang mumbled as he changed his route. He realized then that he didn’t have access to Yunho’s location. He wasn’t the human he was bound to.

“Please. You’ve said far blasphemous things.”

“Where does Yunho live?”

You shut your mouth, trying to remember where your friend lived. You weren’t bad with addresses, but you weren’t good with them either.

You just remembered that Yunho had a huge house, was rich, and maybe a little paranoid- which he would argue that he’s just trying to be safe.

And you believed him. He was the only person in your criminal reign that didn’t turn on you as everyone else had.

“Take me to the rich side of town.”

Yeosang began to walk again, only to stop.

“Where the hell is the rich side? North? East? South? West? I’m not a GPS, Y/N.”

You sighed, burying your head into his shoulder. Your memory was fuzzy, and you didn’t have your phone on you to pull up a GPS.

Yeosang walked you over to the nearest payphone. He helped you off of his back and allowed you to into the booth as he waited outside.

You used a coin you found on the ground and dialed Yunho’s number.

“Hello! Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of getting banned in fifty countries!”

“Yunho.”

“Oh, Y/N? Long time no hear… I was kidding about getting banned in fifty countries. Just trying to scare unknowns away.” Yunho awkwardly laughed on the other line.

“I don’t think you’re kidding,” You looked out at Yeosang, who had gotten distracted by a stray cat that actually let him pet it. “Remember when you said I always had a place to stay as long as you were in town?”

“Yeah.”

“May I use that offer today?”

“It’s night.”

“Oh my god! Yunho!”

Yunho’s laugh emitted loudly in the booth, even as you held the phone away from your ear.

“Yes! Yes! You know where to find me.”

“I don’t.”

“Again? It’s in the North. Want me to send Mingi?”

“Holy shit, he’s back? yes! I haven’t seen him in a while!” You grinned, glancing outside to see Yeosang suddenly surrounded by two more stray cats and giggling at their cuteness.

“Too bad. He doesn’t drive.”

“Then why did you-“

“Where are you? I will get you unless you’re wanted for something.”

“What? Like getting banned in fifty countries? I’m,” you looked around for a notable landmark. “Just start driving by phone booths. You’ll find me eventually.”

“Fun. See you in three hours.”

You hung the phone up, opening the door. Yeosang was completely unaware that you were done with your phone call.

“Thought animals feared demons.” You crossed your hands. Yeosang looked at you, a bright look on his face.

“That’s very stereotypical, Y/N. Look how cute they are!”

You smiled at your demon companion actually showing happiness.

“Did Yunho tell you his address?” Yeosang asked, not looking away from the purring animals. You shook your head, still wearing your smile.

“He’s actually on his way.”

“Cool.”

Heart thumped, hitched breathing, and a lot of blood on his hands, Wooyoung ran through Jongho’s garden.

He knew Angel Guards would be on their way. They were always fast when sin was committed within their realm.

“Jong…Jongho!” Wooyoung stammered, his voice catching in his throat. “Jongho!”

Wooyoung frantically searched the garden for the other angel.

“Jongho-“

“What? Oh my… What did you do?” Jongho appeared, immediately wide-eyed upon seeing the crimson mess on Wooyoung’s hands and clothes.

“Accident! It- It was an accident! I just wanted-“

“Calm down, meet me in purgatory.” Jongho glanced behind Wooyoung, hearing the guards nearing.

Wooyoung nodded, ran to the nearest gate to purgatory, and entered the misty, gloomy realm.

Wooyoung wiped the blood on his shirt in an attempt to get it off of his hands. He wasn’t completely lying when he said it was an accident.

He never intended to murder someone, let alone another angel.

Nosey angel.

“Wooyoung, what did you do?” Jongho’s voice startled Wooyoung as he entered the realm soon after.

“Accident-“

“Tell me. Now. You have a lot of angels looking for you, it’s a manhunt up there right now so you have five seconds to tell me the truth.” Jongho was stern when he spoke, his arms crossed over his chest.

Wooyoung nodded, collecting his thoughts.

“Yeosang and I share a human. I only wanted to see how long their life was. I… Manipulated the database and absorbed the information to find out how long Y/N has to live.”

Jongho dropped his arms at his side, “so, back up. When Yeosang was publicly denounced for stealing information about the future guardian angels, was that actually you?”

Wooyoung began to cry, nodding. “Yes.”

“I knew it!” Jongho’s eyes went wide again. “Yeosang covered for you!”

“Jongho, what do I do?”

Jongho looked behind the older angel, seeing Seonghwa standing a few feet behind him. His mysterious aura parted the blanket of mist.

“What can we do?” Jongho asked, directly the question towards Seonghwa, whom Wooyoung was now aware of his presence.

Seonghwa didn’t speak and instead snapped his fingers, summoning Yeosang into the realm. Confused, Yeosang hesitantly made his way to the three.

“Wooyoung… That better be paint.” Yeosang couldn’t avert his eyes from the crimson stains on Wooyoung’s clothing and hands. Even more so concerned seeing Wooyoung had been crying.

“Yeosang-“

“What happened?” Yeosang didn’t wait for a second longer, pressing his palm against Wooyoung's arm and absorbing the negative memories he had.

Wooyoung pulled away, but Yeosang already learned what he needed to know.

At first, Wooyoung, Jongho, and even Seonghwa- for a split second, were expecting Yeosang to blow up at Wooyoung for getting into more trouble.

For stealing more information similar to what had gotten Yeosang cast out. For murdering another Angel who caught Wooyoung in the act. Wooyoung still not learning how to cover his tracks or lock a door.

But Yeosang was staring at Seonghwa, the Reaper, with a hurt and spiteful, volatile glare.

“You told me if I guided Y/N to the Angelic Realm, they wouldn’t die an early grave.”

“That’s true.” Seonghwa maintained his composure. He stared at Yeosang, waiting for him to continue. Jongho and Wooyoung stood silent, unknowing what to do, say, or even how to react.

“Two years is an early grave!” Yeosang yelled, shaking the entire realm. Wooyoung and Jongho flinched simultaneously despite not being the ones getting yelled at. Seonghwa, however, maintained his stance.

“Early grave is a grave less than their allotted lifetime.”

Something about Seonghwa’s calm voice only angered Yeosang further. The fact that you had two years left in your life wasn’t something he could accept so easily.

“What about Hongjoong? Can’t he change their lifetime?”

Seonghwa slightly smirked at the younger demon’s naivety. Still, Seonghwa snapped his fingers again, and Hongjoong- Who Yeosang, Wooyoung, and Jongho had seen around in the angelic realm on occasion.

“What?” Hongjoong walked towards the group, the mist parting for him as well.

“I have a favor to ask,” Yeosang glanced at Wooyoung. Hongjoong shook his head immediately.

“I’m can’t cover for your friend.”

Seonghwa looked at the ground, a laugh leaving his lips. Yeosang balled his fists in frustration.

“He’s asking for his soulmate.”

“He doesn’t have a soulmate.” Hongjoong looked at his wrist, checking the time ticking away on his watch.

“Let me reiterate. He wants his human to have more time in their life.” Seonghwa smiled. Hongjoong stared at Yeosang, an unfortunate expression following.

“That is beyond my capabilities. That is up to Y/N and Y/N only. I’m sorry.”

“Holy shit!” You entered Yunho’s house, immediately seeing Mingi. “You’re alive!”

Mingi grinned, taking his hand out of the bag of chips he held to give you half of a hug.

“I should be saying the same! You went AWOL for weeks!” Mingi seemed genuinely happy to see you, as you were with him.

“You went AWOL for months!” You remarked as Yunho had finished locking every lock on his front door.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

Mingi held out the bag of chips, offering you some. You refused, though. Mainly because there were only crumbs left and Mingi knew this too.

There was something relieving about seeing your old friend in the flesh again. Alive, too.

As far as you knew, You and Yunho were ex-criminals. You, not so much, but Yunho definitely. Mingi was just the friend that tagged along but never participated.

He knew everything and never told a soul out of respect for you and Yunho. He listened to your and Yunho’s advice to lay low, for months until recently.

Despite not being the main target, he was still a target by association.

You were a team once and forever.

“Mingi! Did you lock the back door after taking out the trash?”

Yunho was cautious. Arguably paranoid and for a good reason. By the look on Mingi’s face, he had forgotten to lock the back door again.

Yunho let out a deep sigh, heading for the door. Mingi crumpled up the bag of chips after pouring the leftover crumbs into his mouth.

“If it makes you feel any better, no one would think to get in at this hour.” Mingi checked the time to be sure of what he said was true.

“You never know, buddy.” You gave him a quick pat on his back before walking by him to meet Yunho at the back door.

You stopped in your tracks, hearing an all too familiar voice. Multiple voices. Yunho was compliant, but if it were you, you wouldn’t have been.

“Where is Y/N?”

“Why is your face bruised?” Yunho asked, immediately followed by a groan.

You heard footsteps, and returned to Mingi, pulling him towards the safe room Yunho had installed.

“I need you to be quiet or so help me, Mingi.” You whispered to your confused friend as you slowly and quietly shut the door before covering it with something to make the door less obvious.

You ran up the stairs, looking for a weapon before the other guys found you. The ones who turned on you despite all you’ve done to save their asses.

Didn’t matter now. What mattered was keeping Yunho alive somehow. The worry and fear you felt, you weren’t sure if it were Yeosang trying to warn you to stop and just hide with Mingi, or if it were your feelings.

The fear you would lose Yunho too. PossiblyMingi too, if he attempted to come out from hiding.

Where do you keep the weapons?

He had to have one. No one has this much security and doesn’t have a weapon for added protection.

You turned a corner in Yunho’s giant home, feeling compelled to enter a room you had never been into. It had a layer of security to it as well and for a split second, you wondered why Yunho never used a burner phone for phone calls.

That was beside the point. You knew the password to this door, somehow, and behind it was an arsenal of weapons you never thought Yunho kept.

How he obtained them? You don’t know.

You grabbed a gun, ammo, and a knife that you could easily conceal, and left the room, heading downstairs.

All this while Wooyoung watched you, cursing himself for only being able to give you positivity. He needed Yeosang for this.

As bullets were fired, Wooyoung panicked and Yeosang appeared in that same room with him.

“I’m sorry. It didn’t work! They won’t stay away!” Wooyoung profusely apologized. Yeosang grabbed a short sword Yunho had and offered a look of reassurance to his angel friend.

“Calm down, and leave it to me.”

Yeosang followed your path throughout the house, seeing you as you shot back. He saw your enemy as well, how he ordered a retreat all while having two others take Yunho with them.

“Yunho!” You screamed, running towards them. Yeosang grabbed your shoulders and instilled as much anxiety and fear into you until you had second thoughts.

“Stop! He’s my friend!” You began to cry a stream of frustrated tears. “He’s my only family left!”

Yeosnag didn’t let go of your shoulders but hated every second of it. The fear, the anxiety, the hurt he was causing you. It was debilitating you but it was for your well-being, as strange as that was.

Yeosang squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to scream from your now shared pain, but he held it in as you collapsed to your knees in a hyperventilating, sobbing heap on the carpet in Yunho’s home.

“I’m so sorry,” Yeosang muttered, knowing those were just words in the end. You weren’t any more calmed hearing those words.

Your only family, found family, was in the hands of your enemy. Someone you knew was dangerous. Someone who almost killed you, twice even.

“Yeosang, you have to save Yunho!” You cried out as Mingi pushed his way out of the concealed safe room door. Mingi watched with a frown, seeing you a mess.

He noticed Yeosang too. The outline of ash and flames around his body continued to fall and crackle in a consistent movement.

Then he noticed Wooyoung, who had come down the stairs. His faint halo and wings had a pattern unique only to Wooyoung.

“We can’t,” Wooyoung spoke up, overhearing everything. You looked at him, tears in your eyes. The halo and wings gave his title away.

And you wondered where he had been all this time. You wiped your eyes, your sorrow being replaced by cold, frustrating anger.

There would come a day when you weren’t constantly living in fear, loathing, vengefulness, or regret. Where your heart wouldn’t be in it anymore to keep fighting the wars waging in your mind and with your enemy.

“Why the hell not? You’ve saved me! Why not Yunho?” You argued.

“Yunho isn’t our human.” Yeosang swallowed back the lump in his throat. His emotions were just as high as yours were.

“Well, he’s my human!” You yelled, forcing yourself to stand up again. You couldn’t believe what they were saying.

You would fight for him, as long as it took. Yeosang knew this. Wooyoung knew this.

Yunho was your family. Mingi was your friend.

And they knew you would never give them up so easily.

“I love you.”

You weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Your mind was just playing tricks on you- The demon? The angel? Was any of it even real?

“Now’s not the time.” You tried to walk past him, only for Yeosang to appear in a swift movement in front of you.

“I know. But I love you. I shouldn’t, but I do and I can’t lose you. So please just-“

“So you understand. I can’t lose Yunho.”

“You can’t save everyone.” Yeosang took a deep breath. You scoffed as tears began to leak out of your eyes once more.

“I haven’t saved anyone.” Your voice cracked, and for probably the first time, Yeosang had wrapped his arms around you tighter than you could imagine.

And despite the negative feelings you absorbed from each other, it was the most comforting hug you’ve received in years.

“You saved me,” Yeosang mumbled low enough for only you to hear. Wooyoung and Mingi glanced at each other, silent and confused.

“You want me to save Yunho, I will have to relinquish you as my human and switch with his guardian.” Yeosang cupped your crying face into his hands, wiping your tears away with his warm thumbs.

“Yeosang, no. You may never see Y/N again if you do.” Wooyoung spoke up, moving closer to where you two stood. Mingi took this as an opportunity to speak now.

“Hi, yeah, what’s going on?” Mingi leaned against the railing of the stairs. His head began to hurt from the confusion.

No one responded.

Yeosang accepted the possibility. He told you how he felt, he got to hold you one last time, and now he’s going to save Yunho.

For you. The mortal he would never be able to spend eternity with.

“I’ll do it.” Yeosang felt numb. Wooyoung shook his head.

“I will,” Wooyoung announced. “You know Y/N more than I do. I will be Yunho’s new Guardian Angel while I still can.”

You felt relief fill your chest, your guardian angel- whom you’d barely met, was going to take over as Yunho’s guardian.

He would lead you both to Yunho.

“Hey! Context?” Mingi threw his arms up. You, Yeosang, and Wooyoung looked at him.

“The context is; Go upstairs and get a weapon.” You ordered. “We’re getting Yunho.”

“That’s not context enough, who are they? What is going on? I don’t know how to fight!” Mingi argued. You pointed upstairs.

“You don’t need to fight. Just defend yourself. Go get a weapon.”

Mingi sighed and reluctantly jogged up the stairs, stopping halfway. “I’m only doing this for Yunho.”

You smiled at him in response.

“He could’ve just… Had this one. I don’t know why I got it.” Yeosang lifted the short sword he had brought down but didn’t use.

“Yeosang.” Wooyoung cleared his throat, motioning towards the front door. “A word?”

Yeosang walked away from you and entered the purgatory realm with Wooyoung upon leaving Yunho’s house.

“You know I’m going to be cast out if I re-enter the Angelic Realm.” Wooyoung rubbed his hands together nervously. Yeosang nodded.

“I’m sorry. For bringing you down with me, I mean.” Wooyoung avoided Yeosang’s eyes as he spoke.

Yeosang brought Wooyoung into a hug, “I would do it again.”

Wooyoung felt grateful for Yeosang yet sorrowful at the same time. He felt another feeling, a feeling he didn’t recall feeling before.

He felt free.

No more strict rules, no more need to be perfect for an entire community of angels. No more fear of being caught doing something wrong or needing to filter himself to please the gods and goddesses.

Sure, it wasn’t bad. The angelic realm is and will always be everyone’s dream. Everything is better there.

But it wasn’t for him.

“Since I’m already damned,” Wooyoung started, pulling away from Yeosang’s embrace. “Any last requests?”

Yeosang grinned, “Find out Yunho’s location?”

“And?” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow.

Yeosang’s grin faded. “What?”

“Nothing. Watch over Y/N and Mingi.” Wooyoung began to walk towards the nearest gate into the angelic realm.

And Yeosang watched. The only thing he could do for his damned friend.

Wooyoung raised his hands in the air, a proud and fearful smile on his face as he walked through Jongho’s garden. Jongho hadn’t noticed Wooyoung had re-entered the angelic realm until he heard the commotion of guards rushing to arrest Wooyoung.

And Wooyoung smiled towards him, “catch you in the in-between.”

“That’s not what it’s called,” Jongho mumbled, watching the guards putting handcuffs on Wooyoung.

“Jung Wooyoung, you are to be detained and cast out into eternal hellfire for the sins of theft on two accounts and murder.”

Wooyoung was cooperative. He didn’t fight it nor did he show any form of remorse- Save for the angel he accidentally murdered.

The gods and goddesses didn’t see it that way.

But that didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter for Yeosang, who was falsely accused of theft, and it wouldn’t matter for Wooyoung, who did commit these sins.

“You are to be stripped of your soul's commitment to being a Guardian Angel within the coming hour.”

Wooyoung thought about Yeosang. He thought about you as well, and Yunho, who was kidnapped by your enemy. Mingi, who openly admitted to not knowing how to fight, but was still ready to charge in and save Yunho with you.

For Yunho.

“Can you speed the process up?” Wooyoung mumbled.

“What was that?” A guard asked, giving Wooyoung a warning look.

“I said,” Wooyoung glanced at Jongho and Hongjoong, who had joined in to watch out of curiosity despite being on a tight schedule.

“Speed up the goddamn process.”

Yeosang paced, waiting for Wooyoung’s return. You and Mingi waited anxiously.

Waiting. Just like Yunho was waiting for someone to go save him.

“We’re wasting time.” You’ve had enough waiting. The anxieties that filled you, thinking of what could be happening to your friend at that moment.

“We don’t know where Yunho is.” Yeosang frowned. You felt helpless, and being bound to Yeosang, he began to feel it too.

“Sorry for the delay.” Wooyoung entered, out of breath as if he ran to get to you.

“They took for-fucking-ever.” Wooyoung had the same outline of ash and flames as Yeosang.

Every angel was unique, but every demon was the same.

Equal.

“Yunho. Wooyoung, where is Yunho?” Your voice was desperate in the words you spoke.

“He’s close,” Wooyoung answered, leading the way. Wooyoung winced and groaned with every step, now knowing the excruciating pain Yeosang felt when he was a certain distance from you.

A pain Yeosang understood all too well.

“I thought you said he was close.” Yeosang jogged beside Wooyoung. Wooyoung stopped and doubled over in pain.

“Everyone in. Yunho won’t mind, right?” You opened the driver's side of Yunho’s car and began to hot-wire it, failing to find the keys. Mingi shrugged, “he might mind you hot-wiring it.”

You successfully started the car up as Yeosang helped Wooyoung into the back seat while Mingi sat shotgun in the passenger seat.

“Where to?” You asked, peeling out of Yunho’s driveway. Wooyoung pointed a shaking finger at the street ahead.

You sped up, wondering why Wooyoung was in so much pain. That was a question you’d have to ask later.

The more you drove, the less Wooyoung felt as if he were being ripped apart. Yeosang kept an eye out, sensing danger.

“Here! That building!” Wooyoung pointed straight ahead. You came to a stop, freezing.

This was where you lost your loved ones all those years ago.

That same building, the paint peeling, the rusted door hinges, broken windows, and memories you couldn’t erase.

Yeosang wanted to shield you from it all, but he knew your determination wouldn’t allow him.

You were the first one out of the vehicle, Mingi being the second. Yeosang and Wooyoung followed before you two got hurt.

“Stay behind us, you can die. We can’t.” Yeosang instructed. You smiled, the helpless feeling fading and telling you indirectly, everything would be alright.

You would end this.

Wooyoung took the lead, sourcing Yunho out and finding him tied to a pillar. When the four of you entered altogether, the lights came on and you were all surrounded by the people of your enemy.

Some from before, and some new. But they all are against you. Yunho met your eyes.

He felt relief. Someone came for him after all. But it was short-lived, and he began to wish you or Mingi had never come.

Yeosang and Wooyoung guarded you and Mingi with their eternal lives, making sure no one came near you two. Wooyoung even kept an eye on Yunho, his soul being bound to him and all.

“Y/N. You showed.”

“Let Yunho go. It’s me you want!” You scowled, glaring at the man you called your enemy. He let out a dry laugh, standing beside Yunho.

“I know another way to hurt you.”

He had a gun, waving it around and threatening Yunho with it. It worried and angered you. The fear of losing another person weighed down on you more and more.

But while he had a gun, you had Wooyoung and Yeosang.

They weren’t here to be toyed with.

“If you touch him, I swear to god.” You clenched your teeth, fear evident in your voice.

Looking at Yunho, you saw how calm he was. He didn’t show fear despite the situation. All he wanted was for you and Mingi to be okay in the end.

“Y/N, get back.” Wooyoung grew impatient, charging at the speed of light, and disarmed the man that threatened Yunho. You and Mingi readied the weapons you two had brought along, though both of you were taken by surprise at what had just happened.

Wooyoung protected Yunho as the attack had set everyone else off into a battle.

Yeosang tried his best to protect you and Mingi, delighted to see how well you two held your own. Even Mingi, who claimed he didn’t know how to fight.

Yeosang sensed the danger. He always had, like an eerie premonition. He knew there was a chance you could get hurt at that exact moment.

He saw your enemy, the man who took so much from you, charge towards you when you were preoccupied trying not to get hit by the end of a bat or fist or whatever blunt object that was about seconds from connecting to your head and body.

It was a blur, really. You saw yourself about to be lunged at and suddenly you weren’t.

Your enemy had a crew, but you had two demons outcasted by their gods and goddesses.

Need there be any more of an explanation?

Two years had passed. Almost.

One more day and then it would be two years. Everything was okay again. You were no longer in constant danger, your enemies had been eliminated.

Yunho and Mingi were safe. Wooyoung and Yeosang were the kindest, angelic-like demons.

You, well, you finally began to learn how to live again. Yeosang, Yunho, Mingi, and occasionally Wooyoung were all by your side through it all.

You learned why Wooyoung felt so much pain back then when he was too far from Yunho. You learned that Yeosang had also felt that same excruciating pain.

You two were inseparable.

He treated you right, better than anyone you’ve ever been with, despite being a demon.

As unrequited as it felt, you loved him. He saved your life, what was left of who you called ‘family’, and you saved him, in some unknown way.

Yeosang was acting strange. He still took care of you, made sure there was food on the table, he did everything for you. A gentleman.

Until the end.

He dreaded the end. According to Wooyoung’s information, Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s confirmations, and your state lately, he dreaded the end.

One more day with you. However many hours you had left, he didn’t know. Wooyoung didn’t remember. Any information he absorbed from you, he no longer had access to.

Yeosang wasn’t the one who hacked a database. It seemed unfortunate at that moment. He never told you, though. Yeosang didn’t want to scare you any more than he already had to on occasion.

Yeosang tried his best not to let you know, given that you share each other's feelings.

“Tell me why you are radiating sadness.” You confronted. Yeosang forced out a laugh.

“What?”

“I know you’re sad, but what about? You can tell me, you know.”

Yeosang just smiled and you could feel his heart aching as if it were your own.

“I won’t be here forever. Who knows when I will see you again anyways.” You sighed, slowly putting a hand to your chest to soothe the shared ache you just felt. “Just know it will hurt when I’m gone and you didn’t tell me everything.”

You were only concerned about him. Despite him being a demon and semi-immortal, you still wanted to take care of him and help him the way he did for you.

“If it hurts, I will let it hurt. If it takes us years or centuries to meet again, I will wait.” Yeosang spoke, a slight crack in his voice when he did.

“Anything I don’t tell you now, I will tell you in your next life. And your next, and the one after that one. I won’t forget.”

“That’s so romantic… For a demon.” You placed a kiss on his cheek. “But you are kind of scaring me with all of this talk, so spill.”

Yeosang insisted nothing was wrong, even trying to hide his hurt from you somehow. He dreaded the end so much.

But he loved every second he was with you.

Time of death, 10:24.

The metal blade scraped across the dark red rock, marking another tally.

182,625.

Or, as Yeosang saw it, five hundred years.

All spent without you.

“Yeosang! It’s demon title day!” San startled Yeosang out of the gloomy state he was in as he stared at the new tally mark he carved.

“Let me guess, you’re volunteering again?” Yeosang tried to hide the fact that he wanted nothing more than to cry, impatient that he spent five entire centuries without meeting you.

Yeosang promised you he would wait, no matter how long it took, and he would keep his word no matter what.

“Nope. But you are!” San grinned cheekily. Yeosang frowned, closing the blade inside its shell.

“What?”

San grabbed Yeosang by the back of his neck and led him to the demon fair, where Yeosang had become a demon centuries ago. Yeosang squirmed out of his grip but continued to follow him.

Especially now that he was volunteered and that was one thing, if not the only thing, a demon could not get out of.

“What did I do to be volunteered?” Yeosang walked with San, who guided him to table 8.

“Nothing. I just volunteered you.” San pats his back. Yeosang sighed, sitting down.

“Meet the new demons.” San stuck around as the line of new demons began to walk through toward their tables.

Yeosang looked over at another table, seeing Wooyoung, who San had also volunteered without asking.

Wooyoung waved towards Yeosang but looked about as pleased with being volunteered as he was.

Yeosang looked towards one of the new demons that walked through the gates he’d once walked through.

Yunho.

Yunho walked towards Wooyoung’s table before he realized who he was. Yeosang watched as the two stared at each other in shock.

And he smiled. Yunho looked at Yeosang, who Wooyoung had pointed out, and was greeted with a wave.

Yeosang handed many new demons their designated titles. Guardian demons, reapers under Seonghwa’s division, guards, or demons like San who didn’t have a title- Citizens, San once referred to demons like him-.

He watched the entrance, and a sense of longing took over. If Yunho came, where are you?

That’s when his question was answered. All five hundred years of missing you, yearning for you, wishing you weren’t a mortal- All over.

“Aw, you look like you’ve never seen a demon before.”

Yeosang covered his mouth, pleasantly surprised. Then he pulled you into a tight embrace that he had longed for centuries to do.

“Holy shit.”

Yeosang quickly pulled away as a guard began to look in your direction. He cleared his throat and handed you your designated title.

“Cool. I’m a-“

“Citizen. San calls them citizens.” Yeosang couldn’t contain the emotions he felt- all of which were happy and positive emotions.

“Sweet?”

“Sweet.” Yeosang smiled. “We’ll be able to see each other more this way.”

You hugged him again. “Did you see Yunho?”

“Yes.”

“And that Mingi was promoted as a guardian angel?” You added. Yeosang shook his head.

“Yeah. Crazy how that works.” You chuckled, seeing Yunho and Wooyoung catching up after centuries of a long overdue conversation.

You looked at San, who knew all along that you’d be arriving as a demon. And Yunho too.

“Isn’t volunteering awesome?” San spoke up, jokingly. Yeosang rolled his eyes before sitting down again.

“I will catch you later. I need to finish giving demons their titles.”

You bent down to leave a kiss on his forehead before you left him alone, but he had looked up at the same time, causing your lips to meet instead.

Then you felt the memories you two had, the spark you two had, and the connection you shared five hundred years ago all come back in a flash.

“I will wait for you.”

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez #ateez yeosang #ateez au #ateez yeosang x reader #ateez fanfic

87 notes · View notes

chubbky · 1 year

Note

Nightmare x reaper?

🌃

Meet Azrael!

[A Nightmare!Sans X Reaper!Sans fanchild]

Fun Facts!

Azrael has alexithymia! Be patient with him

He doesn't know about Spot

As you probably noticed, he doesn't look like Reaper at all. He only got his eyes

Unfortunately Azrael can't touch alive things without his gloves or they will die [like Reaper power]

Azrael is aroace, he didn't felt attracted to anyone in his entire life

39 notes · View notes

broiderie · 10 months

Text

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 22

It's taken me a lot longer than I wanted it to, but here it is. I'm sorry that it's been so long between chapters. Life has been trying to break me lately. It hasn't managed it, but I'm certainly bruised.

Warnings: Cursing, foreshadowing, fluff. Let me know if I missed anything.

As always - don't steal my shit.

Megan woke, hearing a motorcycle pull up, and glanced at the clock. 3:30 a.m. She waited patiently and heard the front door ease open. She slid gently out of bed and padded out into the living room without waking Hank. Rex followed her after huffing softly.

Taza caught sight of her in the moonlight shining through the living room windows. “Hey Sweet Chica. You should be asleep. What’s wrong? NIghtmare?” He shrugged out of his worn kutte and hung it on the hook nearest hers.

“Nah. I’m alright. Just heard your bike and woke up.” She rubbed her eyes with her fist like a child and yawned.

“Sorry, Sweetheart.” He stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to her hair. “C’mon. Let’s get some rest, huh? Going to be a long ass day. We’re going to the table in a few hours…”

“Tío Marcus?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah. He said you knew. That what that discussion in Templo was about?” he asked, cuddling her close to his chest and rocking gently as his muscles relaxed.

“Mmhm,” she yawned again and rested her weight against him. “D’ya get it all worked out?”

Taza chuckled. “Yeah, Chica. It’s all worked out.” He kissed her head again. “Now, I’m going to grab a quick shower and crash for a while. Go on back to bed, Chica, before Hank comes looking for you. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Okay, Papa. G’night.” She smiled up at him and squeezed him in one last hug before heading back to her room. “C’mon Rex. Let’s go to bed.”

The dog yawned and followed Megan back into the bedroom.

When she tried to sneak back into bed, Hank chuckled. “C’mere, Princessa.” He opened his arms and kissed her softly as she snuggled back against him.

“Sorry. Was trying not to wake you,” she whispered.

He took a deep breath, burying his nose in her hair. “I always wake up when you get out of bed. Taza alright?”

“Mmhm. We’ve got Table later today though.” She yawned. “Gonna be a long day.”

He gently stroked the skin exposed where her sleep shirt had ridden up. “Think you can sleep again? You’ll feel better if you do.”

“Gonna try, but I wanna make sticky buns this morning too…”

Hank chuckled. “Alright, mi amore. Rest now. We’ll get up in a few hours.” He gently pressed a kiss to her skin and smiled as he felt her go limp in his arms. Bishop wouldn’t call Templo too early if Taza was just getting home. Megan could sleep a while longer and still have time to spoil them all rotten with her baking.

A few hours later, Megan stirred in his arms again, waking Hank from his doze. That little wake up squeak betrayed her as she attempted to snuggle back in. He chuckled. “Good morning, mi reina,” he muttered into her skin.

Megan whined a bit.

“Do you still want to get up and make sticky buns?” he asked.

Megan nodded without opening her eyes. The room was chilly this early and she buried her face in the covers. “S’cold.”

Hank held her as close as he could with her buried like that and smiled. “Want one of my hoodies?”

That made her peek at him over her shoulder.

He smiled and pressed as kiss to her shoulder gently before sliding out of bed to retrieve one of his heavy hoodies from the dresser along with a pair of heavy socks for her. He came around to her side of the bed. “Alright, mi princessa, here. Sit up for me and I’ll help you get it on.”

He chuckled as she sat up to let him help her maneuver her sling. Once Megan was warmly dressed, Hank pulled on a henley and they headed for the kitchen. Hank knew she’d need help making things with her sling on. After coffee, Megan realized it too.

“Shit… I can’t do this. I need both hands…” Her face fell and she slumped against the kitchen counter. “Fuck.”

Hank nudged her gently. “Sure you can. You’ve just got to delegate some steps. I’ll help.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Just tell me what to do.”

It took a bit longer than it normally would have, but in the end - the sweet breakfast was in the oven alongside a pan of biscuits. Both of them had flour smeared on their clothes as they sipped third cups of coffee. Hank made eggs while Megan fried bacon.

Rex laid under the table, out of the way, doing his best impression of a metronome with his wagging tail. Megan had slipped him some bacon and Hank had added a raw egg to his kibble.

When they were just about finished, there was a knock at the door. Rex bounded up to place himself between Megan and the knocking. He didn’t bark, but he very much alerted to their visitor, and that he didn’t know them.

“I didn’t hear a bike…” Megan said, moving to the drawer closest to the patio door. She opened it and withdrew the .380 Taza kept there.

Hank nodded upon seeing her armed. “I’ll answer it. My backup is in my kutte hanging up.” He moved both pans off the stove and made his way to the front door, keeping one eye on Megan to be sure she was out of the potential line of fire.

The visitor knocked again. Hank got his gun and looked through the side window of the door. He didn’t put it away, which made Megan even more nervous. He held it where he could easily fire on the unknown person and eased the door open, blocking the opening with his wide shoulders.

Megan moved to the side where she had a clear shot as well. Through the window, she glimpsed a man she didn’t know.

On the other side of the door was a man Megan had never seen before. He was dressed in a casual, but expensive, suit with a printed shirt underneath the jacket. She also clocked the shoulder rig there. The man was two long Dutch braids of dark hair, a trimmed goatee, and yellow sunglasses on.

“Can I help you, or is Galindo sending you as an errand boy now?” Hank asked tensely.

The man huffed frustratedly. “I’m looking for Ms. Morales. Is she here?”

Megan jumped as she felt a hand touch her good elbow. Taza took the gun from her hand gently, before moving in front of her. “And what, exactly, do you need her for Nestor?” he asked.

The man, Nestor, looked around the frame of el pacificador to answer him. “Just here to deliver an invitation for Mrs. Galindo. Mr. Galindo wondered if Ms. Morales would like to join his wife at the spa in town. A friendly invitation. That’s all.” He smirked at Megan where she stood behind her defenders in her leggings and Hank’s hoodie. “A way to encourage… relationships… between the Mayans and his organization. I’m here to drive her.”

Megan snorted indelicately at the blatant once over. When Taza looked her way, she shook her head emphatically. Hank kept his eyes on Nestor. That alone told Megan he didn’t trust the man.

Taza sighed. “Please tell Mr. and Mrs. Galindo that, while Megan appreciated their offer, it is unnecessary.”

Nestor turned his smirk on Hank. “I’ll pass the message along.” He deliberately looked around the big man again to meet Megan’s gaze over Taza’s shoulder. “I’m Nestor Oceteva, by the way, Mr. Galindo’s head of security. He wanted me to be sure to introduce myself as we may be working… closely… soon.”

Hank growled and his fingers tightened on his gun. “Well you’ve delivered your message now -”

Taza pointedly handed Megan back the pistol. “And any further communication with our Armorer had better be through proper channels.”

Nestor chuckled a bit. “Noted.” He grinned slightly mischievously. “You have a nice day… ma’am.” He turned and sauntered back to the big black SUV still idling in the driveway.

After he drove off, the atmosphere relaxed. Hank shut the door and replaced his spare gun in his kutte before gathering Megan into a hug against his chest. “What the fuck was that all about?” he growled.

Taza shook his head before once again taking the gun from Megan, this time to replace it in its hiding place. “That was Galindo trying to suss out where Megan stands with the club.”

Megan buried her face against Hank and took deep breaths as she tried to relax her muscles. “Why me?”

Hank sighed. “Because he doesn’t know how he can play you, Princessa, and that worries him. You’re a wild card.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, I didn’t like it. I’m not a toy or a kid. He can’t buy me with a fancy spa invitation.”

Hank kissed her temple. “We’ll get it straightened out, mi reina. Any communication with the club is supposed to be through a designated burner phone. If they approach you directly -”

“Call someone. Tío Marcus made that clear when I met Devante. Never talk to them without a patch, right?” Megan said.

“Right, Chica. They need to talk to you - they put in a request through one of the officers. And NEVER - EVER - let them get you alone,” Taza said.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good girl. Now - I’m going to go call your Tío Bishop, to let him know what’s going on while I put some clothes on,” Taza said. “We may have company for breakfast.”

It was only then that Megan realized that her father stood there in an old pair of sweatpants and his jewelry which made her giggle. “That’s okay - we’ve got a second pan of sticky buns to go into the oven. Just make the Prospect pick up more bacon and eggs, please.”

Hank chuckled at the bemused look on Taza’s face. “C’mon, Princessa, let’s go finish the first batch so we can get dressed.

A little over an hour later, Taza’s house was full to bursting. Bishop had arrived as predicted with Marcus, Diana, and Tessa in tow. Right behind him came Riz and Creeper, and behind them was Chibs, Tig, and Venus. Angel, EZ, Coco, and Gilly were on their way. THey’d had to stop for more eggs and bacon as Megan had used all that she had.

Plates were made as Megan buzzed around making sure that everyone had what they needed. Hank had dressed quickly while Megan finished with the breakfast with help from Taza. Just as Bishop arrived, he’d managed to drag Megan off to change too. She now wore jeans and a hoodie that fit, but was still barefoot with wet hair.

“Poquito - if you don’t sit down and eat something to even out the caffeine in your system you might just vibrate apart,” Bishop said gently as he caught her hand as she went past him for the eighth time. “Seriously, Sweetheart, we know how to pour our own coffee. Eat something. Sit down.”

“I’m fine, Tío. Just - it’s the first family breakfast I’ve hosted at home. It needs to be done right.” She put on her Southern Belle smile for him, but it was a little tight.

Bishop tugged her gently down to sit on the arm of Taza’s easy chair where he’d taken up residence. “Poquito, it’s as perfect as you can make it. Let your tía and Venus help a little. You need to eat before we call a Table.”

Megan shot up. “Shit! Table! There’s not enough chairs at the table! Wonder if…”

Bishop tugged her back down. “Easy now. We don’t need more chairs, Poquito. Easy. We can stand. It’s just an expression. If it was official, we’d be at the clubhouse.”

“But -”

“No. Now sit.” Bishop caught Tessa’s sleeve as she walked past. “Tessa, Sweetie, will you ask Hank to make your prima a plate of breakfast? But tell him no more coffee, please.”

“Sí Tío! I’ll tell him!” the little girl said with a mischievous smile. She scooted off, ignoring Megan’s protests.

“There. See. Your caballero will be here in a minute. And you -” he pointed a stern finger at her, “will sit your ass down and eat something.”

Creeper had noticed the conversation wasn’t going Megan’s way and came to check in. “Everything alright, Prez? Little Princess?”

“Everything’s fine, Creep. Just making our Armorer pause to eat,” Bishop said, never taking his eyes from Megan’s face.

Creeper sighed, frustratedly and gave Megan his own stern look. “Alright. I’ll find her a chair.” He shook his bald head and made his way to the kitchen to find a chair for Megan.

By the time Hank arrived with a plate of breakfast and some juice, Creeper and Bishop had managed to make her sit in the kitchen chair the bald biker had brought. They had placed it next to Bishop so that Megan couldn’t escape and find something else to do.

Hank chuckled as he caught sight of Megan’s frustrated face. “One plate of breakfast for la princessa and a non-caffeinated drink since the tinier princessa says you’re cut off.” He handed her the plate and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Eat, mi amore, and be glad it was your tío that cornered you. Taza was muttering something about duct taping you to a chair.”

Megan relaxed a bit as the men around her chuckled. “I’m not that bad…” she insisted, nibbling a strip of bacon.

“No, Princessa, you aren’t, but you do need to eat something and let us fend for ourselves a bit.” Hank smiled and placed her juice on the small end table between her and Bishop. “We’re grown men. I promise we can pour our own coff-”

Just then there was a roar of engines as the final club members arrived.

Megan made as if to set her plate aside and stand only to be blocked by Bishop’s arm and Creeper’s gentle hand on her good shoulder.

“They know their way in, Little Princess. And they can carry everything to the kitchen on their own. Promise,” Creeper said.

“But someone needs to cook the breakfast they brought-”

Venus chuckled from the doorway to the kitchen. “Relax, Sweetheart. Your Tía and I have already got it under control. Eat. We already have.”

“But-”

“No ‘But”. Eat. That’s an order, Armorer,” Bishop said sternly.

Megan sighed and took another bite of breakfast as she watched the door for the rest of the club.

“And you can stop thinking Coco’s gonna save your ass. Eat. He’ll just make you another plate,” Bishop said with a chuckle as he leaned back in his arm chair.

Megan stuck her tongue out at her tío but did focus on eating the breakfast Hank had brought. He’d focused on the foods he knew she’d eat best- the sticky buns and bacon. He’d even snuck a banana on the plate because he knew she liked fruit in the morning.

Once she’d finished most of the plate, she looked at Hank pleadingly. He chuckled. “Alright, mi reina. We’ll take it.”

Creeper took her dishes with a smile and headed for the kitchen where the new arrivals were being given breakfast.

Taza leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching Bishop and Hank manage Megan’s anxiety. “Did she finally eat?” he asked.

Hank smiled a bit and nodded. “She did.”

“Good. Chica, stay put. Once the human garbage disposals are done, we’ll meet in here,” Taza said, standing to join them in the kitchen.

Bishop nodded. “Yeah. We’ll handle this Galindo business first. Then, this afternoon, Adelita wants a meeting on the other side to discuss specifics.”

Megan sat up straighter at the mention of the leader of the LO.

The men filtered in to find seats as they finished eating. Marcus took the other easy chair and Chibs took the end of the sofa closest to him. Hank stood at Megan’s back with a steadying hand on her shoulder. When Taza returned, he sat at the other end of the sofa. Tig and the rest of the Mayans arranged themselves around the room - either standing or in kitchen chairs like Megan.

Once everyone was present, Bishop cleared his throat. “Alright. We’re meeting here because we want Galindo to know we’re here to back up what he was told this morning. Taza - fill us in.”

“Early this morning, Galindo sent his head of security here to extend an ‘invitation’ to Megan. Apparently, Mrs. Galindo wanted to invite our Armorer to a spa day,” Taza supplied. “He was met with a firm - and armed - no thank you.”

A few of the men growled.

“Why the sudden interest in Megan?” Angel asked. “No offense, Shorty, but why risk a very real possibility of offense with a new ally over one girl?”

Hank felt Megan tense and gently rubbed her neck. “To see if she could be manipulated easily. He’s testing her, and in turn us. He wants to see if we blow up one way or the other over her.”

Creeper nodded. “He’s on his back foot. Fishing for leverage. Little Princess joining us makes him think there’s an opportunity there.”

Everyone nodded.

Marcus sighed. “He’s also trying to push MY buttons.” He looked around at the members. “We were going to call an official table later to discuss this, but with this development - we’ve got to do this now.” He looked at Bishop and Taza who both nodded.

Marcus sat forward in his chair with his elbows braced on his knees. “Galindo killed Devante. His loyalty became divided in a way Glaindo couldn’t allow. So - he’s down and advisor. At the casino, while you were securing our position with the LO, I met with Galindo and his wife.” He met the rapt eyes of every man there. “He offered me the job.”

The room exploded into confused mutters. Once most of it was calm, Riz asked the question everyone was wondering about. “How would that work? You can’t be a Mayan AND work for the cartel. It’s part of the patch in. Club over all.”

Marcus nodded seriously. “I know. And I haven’t given him an answer. That’s why he’s trying to get to me through Megan.”

There were nods all around.

Marcus sighed, “I am… tired. My body isn’t what it was. I can still ride, but who knows for how much longer.” He paused. “But - my loyalty is always to this club first.”

At the nods from the members, he continued. “When I can’t ride anymore, I can’t be a Mayan. What happens to my family then? These are things I need to think about as well.”

More head nods.

“So - I asked for advice from the member who has proved to have the coolest head under pressure. She said to speak to others, but that going inactive makes the most sense.”

Creeper sighed. “An inactive member can regain their patch through a simple majority table vote.”

Marcus nodded. “So - I spoke to my chosen advisors. I plan to take the position with Galindo if he can guarantee that my club loyalty won’t be challenged.”

“Can he guarantee that?” Gilly asked quietly.

“If he can’t - I walk. He violates it - I walk. My club comes first. My family comes first,” Marcus said.

Everyone seemed deep in thought.

Megan smiled at Marcus. “I don’t see a problem as long as Galindo follows the rules, Padrino. It’s not like you’re leaving us for good. More like - you’re temping for another company. But - Galindo has to follow the rules.”

Hank snorted and rubbed Megan’s neck gently. “He demonstrated just this morning that he can’t do that. Contact with a club member has to go through the liaison.”

Riz nodded. “And that’s currently me. I got no ride through calls or contact requests for La Princessa.”

Bishop nodded. “Then - we make our stance clear - to Galindo, the LO, and anyone else curious enough to come sniffin’” He held his hand out to RIz. “Let’s make this call…”

“Wait… what about what El Padrino said? Don’t we gotta vote or somethin’?” Coco asked, fidgeting with his lighter.

“We will - when there’s something to vote on. First, we make our point. If El Padrino decides to pause his patch - then we vote,” Taza noted.

The call with Galindo went about how they thought it would. Galindo played the innocent, stating that his wife is not part of his organization so he didn’t see the harm in a social invitation to the newest member of the Mayan family. He promised to behave himself in the future and make all invitations through the designated liaison.

At the end of the call, he brought Marcus into it. “Marcus, any new progress on what we discussed at the casino?”

Marcus sighed. “I have the parameters designed. We just need to meet to finalize details before a decision can be made.”

“Excellent. I’ll get back to you later today to set up that meeting then.”

“Of course, Mr. Galindo. I look forward to your call.” Marcus hung up the phone.

“He’s a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. I’ll give him that,” Gilly said. “That little conversation could have put you in a spot with us if we didn’t know already.”

Marcus nodded. “I know. That’s why I came clean first.”

The meeting continued long enough to have Megan shifting in her seat. Hank grinned and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “What’s wrong, Princessa?”

She giggled. “My legs are asleep because they don’t touch the floor,” she whispered back.

That made Hank chuckle quietly. “Alright, mi amore.” He held a hand out to help her stand. Once she was up, he took her place in the shirt and guided her down into his lap to relax. They were discussing the heroin shipment that was coming up as they waited for coordinates and a rendezvous time on the designated Los Olvidados burner phone. That phone’s assigned liaison was currently Angel - surprisingly.

Megan had no reason to speak up in this discussion. If Taza and Hank rode - she would as well. If not, she’d stay home. Since she wasn’t needed currently, she snuggled into Hank’s chest and closed her eyes.

Taza caught Hank’s eyes and smiled. He nodded at the resting Megan.

Hank smiled and petted Megan’s loose hair, planting a kiss on her hairline, before grinning back at her father.

Just when they started to run out of things to discuss, Angel’s pocket dinged. He pulled out the burner phone that was their direct line to Adelita and smiled at the text message. “Adelita wants to meet this evening at around four in Santa Madre’s open market. They need to pick up supplies, so she and Paulo will be there.”

Bishop nodded as Megan sat up to focus. “Sound alright, Poquito?”

“How many of us?” Megan asked, petting Rex who had made his way over to her in her lull. “Me, Hank, Taza… who else?”

“I’ll be going and Angel is the liaison, so that makes five,” Bishop said.

Megan nodded her head. “We’ll be in their territory, so I don’t think five is unreasonable,” she mused aloud.

“Six.” Marcus said, and looked to Chibs. “Care to join, Reaper?”

“Aye. I’ll go. Tig and Venus can stay behind. Then I can vouch for the information for the Irish myself,” Chibs said, leaning forward.

Bishop nodded. “Alright then. We’ll call a table when we get back to tie a bow on everything so Chibs can get home in time for the gun delivery.”

“‘Preshiate it,” Chibs said with a nod.

Tig looked antsy as hell, and pulled Chibs aside as soon as the meeting broke up.

Megan settled back against Hank for a moment to breathe until she heard the sink turn on in the kitchen. “Oh no! The dishes!” She bloated upright only to be caught by Hank’s gentle arm.

“Relájate, Princessa. Relax. Let the Prospect clean up. That’s his job,” Bishop said.

“But what if Tía Diana or Venus is doing them?” she asked anxiously.

Marcus chuckled. “Mi Reina?” he called.

“Sí, mi Rey?” Diana answered, coming to the kitchen doorway.

“Will you reassure nuestra sobrina that the prospect is on clean up? She doesn’t want you or Venus doing it while she rests.” He smiled indulgently at his wife.

Diana laughed and sauntered out to place herself on the arm of Marcus’ chair. “Why would we do it when there’s a perfectly good prospect in there?” She smiled at Megan. “Rest, Sweetheart. You were up early. Even if we were doing them - you were at the table. That excuses you from most chores.”

“Except -” Marcus said.

“Except taking out the trash when your wife has asked you to - three times,” Diana said with a grin at her husband. “Table doesn’t excuse that.”

“Yes, mi reina…” Marcus replied, winking at Megan over his coffee cup.

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@xeniarocks

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@lyly00

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

#lost princessa #mayans mc #taza x daughter!oc #meet the reaper #che taza romero #hank loza #lost princessa sequel #megan(oc) x hank #mayans mc fanfic #bishop losa #coco cruz #johnny coco cruz #michael ariza #gilly lopez #gilly mayans #angel reyes #neron creeper vargas #creeper vargas

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fpsprotag-poll · 1 year

Text

Round 1

#zane lofton #hypnospace outlaw #nightmare reaper #patient nightmare reaper #Slayers X: Terminal Aftermath: Vengance of the Slayer

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random-imagines-blog · 1 year

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Supernatural Masterlist

In an attempt to organize the blog and keep everything in order, masterlists are being made to join together into a masterlist of masterlists to make it easier for those on mobile. Thanks for being patient!

Smut is indicated by ⭐

Dean Winchester

Oneshots

Get Hurt

Imagines

Imagine forcing Dean into a ‘Slumber Party’.

Imagine getting drunk with Dean Winchester.

Imagine reminiscing with Dean Winchester.

Imagine baking for Dean Winchester.

Imagine playing videogames with Dean Winchester, and taunting him when you win.

Imagine Dean Winchester not being able to understand you when you undermine yourself.

Sam Winchester

Oneshots

I’m Home

Take Care of Each Other

Imagines

Imagine videochatting with Sam Winchester after a particularly hard case.

Imagine being astounded by all of the frauds Sam has done.

Imagine Sam Winchester trying to think up a romantic compliment.

Imagine losing your usual tomboy style to wear something dressy to go undercover with Sam Winchester on a hunt.

Imagine playing a prank on Sam Winchester by making it seem like vampires got to you.

Castiel

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Castiel growing confused by your sarcasm.

Imagine introducing Castiel to Halloween candy.

Imagine Castiel meeting you and feeling sexually attracted to you - and not understanding it.

Adam Milligan

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Adam Milligan giving up on the angels and praying to you while in Hell.

Imagine finding a way to communicate with Adam while he’s stuck in the pit.

Imagine trying to convince Adam to say no to being Michael’s vessel.

Imagine being the first person Adam looks for when he escapes the pit.

Bobby Singer

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Sam and Dean leaving you with Bobby, and so you amuse yourself by playing pranks on him.

Imagine taking care of Bobby Singer while he’s in a wheelchair.

Garth

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Garth coming out to you as bi-sexual.

Imagine being given the task of taking care of Garth, and dealing with his nightmares.

Charlie Bradbury

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being a Reaper, and Death letting you have a day off, and you spend it with Charlie.

Imagine surprising Charlie with a Harry Potter marathon.

Imagine Charlie Bradbury taking you for a ride on her bike.

Imagine asking Charlie Bradbury out on a date, and her being too shocked and shy to verbally say yes.

Benny Lafitte

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine kidnapping a criminal and gifting him to Benny Lafitte when he gets hungry.

Imagine being stuck in Purgatory and Benny tries to stop you from getting yourself killed.

Imagine getting stuck in Purgatory and Benny finding you.

John Winchester

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine stepping in to help John Winchester with the boys, but knowing that you’re always second best.

Imagine pulling John Winchester away for a camping trip after a rough hunt.

Imagine having to drag John Winchester out of a bar after a rough hunt.

Imagine having to rescue John Winchester after he falls through the floor in a haunted house.

Imagine being John Winchester’s daughter and him pranking you to toughen you up.

Imagine being everything that John Winchester was looking for.

Imagine being caught in an intimate moment with John Winchester by Sam and Dean.

Samandriel

Oneshots

Flux

Imagines

Imagine Samandriel waking you up with Sparrows.

Imagine Samandriel’s reaction when you tell him you know he’s an angel.

Imagine Samandriel being your guardian angel.

Imagine Samandriel worrying about you while his own life is in danger.

Balthazar

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Balthazar taking care of you after a particularly tough hunt.

Imagine being Sam and Dean’s sister, and dating Balthazar.

Imagine naming your pet after Balthazar and he’s secretly pleased.

Imagine Balthazar seeing you get flustered.

Imagine Balthazar wanting some alone time with you, so he teleported you into his favorite nature spot.

Imagine Balthazar losing his grace so he tries to watch over you as a human.

Gabriel

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine spending a snowy evening inside with Gabriel.

Imagine Gabriel seeing you on a date with someone else.

Imagine Gabriel realizing that he hurt you when he was playing around as the Trickster.

Gadreel

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being put in charge of Gadreel.

Imagine kissing a stranger to make Gadreel jealous.

Imagine telling Gadreel about your adventures with the Winchesters and he doesn’t approve.

Michael

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Michael trying to use you to make Dean say yes.

Crowley

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Crowley approaching you with a deal.

Imagine Crowley kidnapping you, but you end up gaining the respect of the demons, more so than Crowley had.

Imagine summoning up Crowley, after hearing about him from the Winchesters, just to force him into a tea party.

Imagine Crowley confessing to the Winchesters how he feels about you.

Lucifer

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being a fallen angel, and looking to Lucifer for comfort.

Imagine Lucifer rejecting your soul when you offer to give it to him in exchange for ‘not being broken.’

Imagine Lucifer never forgetting your birthday.

Imagine getting a cold while being trapped with Lucifer.

Imagine forcing Lucifer to sit back and enjoy the sunset.

Imagine being abused by one of the other Gods, and Lucifer standing up for you.

Imagine Lucifer tagging along on one of your dates to try to ruin it.

Kevin Tran

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine stumbling across the bunker while running away.

Imagine buying a secluded cottage for yourself and Kevin to live in, to attempt to escape from the madness of the world.

Imagine helping Kevin Tran decipher the tablets.

Chuck

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Chuck acting shy when he first tells you he loves you.

Imagine Chuck surprising you with breakfast of fruit from around the world.

Cain

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine showing Cain a birthmark that looks just like his mark.

Imagine visiting Cain’s bee-farm.

Rowena

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Rowena giving you a witchy bath.

Imagine Rowena noticing you casting a simple spell.

Imagine trying to get Rowena to come with you to a ‘haunted house’.

Imagine Rowena taking you in and adding you to her small coven.

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kokonattsu-tokui · 10 months

Text

Reaper x Passive!Nightmare

Hi! Here is my very first fanfic' OS published on Tumblr! I wrote this for a Discord event where you had to place the sentence 'Maybe in another life' in your story.

This is a Reaper x Passive!Nightmare. At first, it should have been a Reaper x Reader... but I had way too much imagination!

This OS is on my Wattpad account (French) too. It will become a long fanfiction. In fact, this text below is just the first chapter. But it can be read with no problem!

Considering that one is immortal and the other is six-

No. There is NO romance.

Reaper!Sans from Reapertale belongs to @/renrink.

Passive!Nightmare from Dreamtale belongs to @/jokublog.

Trigger Warning: Death, weapon, heavy blood, harassment and suicide mentions, injuries, cuss word, mental health(?). It contains some headcanons of mine. May be a bit long!

Enjoy your reading!

Maybe in another life

Sans, better known as the sorrowful nickname ‘Reaper’, detested his job. And that, for several reasons.

Firstly, he was a God of Death. Nevertheless, as it did not seem enough to assign him this horrible work as soon as he was created, he must necessarily be different from his brother. Papyrus was also a God of Death… But the painless death: he was only appearing to pure beings or those accepting their destiny from the outset. Those who were dying peacefully, having peace of mind and light-hearted. Sans, him, had to reap the souls of people who had committed atrocious crimes, whether they repented, whether they regretted... or not. In any case, they were all refusing their death. And were really impolite, mischievous or contemptuous.

Do not get him wrong, he loved his brother. Incidentally, he was wishing him never to know the agonizing aspect of their domain. At least... to never experience it.

Secondly, death knows no rest. He always had to go to such places, at such moments, to such people. He had to listen to the last prayers, the last words, the tears, the harrowing cries of the dying person or their entourage. The evidence being that, even the most corrupt of living beings could have a family, people who care about them.

Thus, Reaper was accomplishing his thankless task. And as the days, months and years passed, he lived simple, complicated situations, some giving him a rough ride, preposterous or frustrating… He was preferring some to others, without actually beginning to truly like his morbid duty.

He was preferring to precisely reap this fragile link between the soul and the body, without an ounce of bitterness. He was rarely granting five more minutes of life to those he was calling 'patients'. After all, his own were clearly not meriting it. This situation was bearable, he was managing it well and it was making his work easier, since the soul was transferred to the afterlife without a problem. Ironically, it was also the one happening the least.

Of course, there were always the other moments more... problematic. More recurrent.

If he had not been able to be present in time to reap the thread of life himself, then it would break by itself. And the complications were beginning because he had to persuade the soul to follow him or manage to catch it. Peace once dead, what a joke!

A whole plan of negotiation was then being put in place, composed of sweet words and anger contained on one side; and fury, fear and despair on the other. Reaper had to make use of all his self-control to convince the soul to finally give up. Several times, he almost lost his temper because a second lost trying to catch a single person, was letting the other dying people of the Multiverse reap themselves and repeat the same actions.

He had to literally chase, run after those spirits sometimes fleeing or hiding from him. However, never for very long: Reaper could feel their presence. He was Death itself, after all.

And there were other situations that were rarer but a lot more arduous… Like those people who, even after the reaping, were not realizing that they were henceforth intangible forever. They were more prone to become Doppelgänger, Poltergeist or any other dangerous supernatural entity in the grip of strong and negative emotions. Especially when they were finally becoming aware of their condition. And Reaper refused that, he did not want to deal with that kind of thing anymore.

He did not even want to think about the souls of Determination or any other strange type that were making him travel for nothing: they were refusing death and even him, could do nothing about it as long as their veritable time had not come. He could ignore them, yet, what was infuriating was that he just did not know how to tell the difference between these ‘false’ deaths and the ‘real’ ones. Those damned souls were dying well and truly but were refusing to accept that fact... and were coming back to life.

Alas, if his instinct as a reaper was indicating to him a Universe where he was required, hence, he had to go there. You never know. Those were the special cases he was encountering every so often.

All of this was wearying him continually. And even if, as a divine creature he did not feel physical pain or tiredness, his morale, which was already not being set fair, was always suffering a blow. Few were finally accepting their destiny after a word, following him obediently without shying away, accepting his scythe on their being or the touch of his hand. Geno had even attacked him several times.

These are the kinds of complaints that were going through Reaper’s head, as he was pursuing a spirit for the umpteenth time. His dark thoughts were whirling, assailing him and angering him as he was letting his body handle the maniac. He sighed with relief when he finally grabbed the child by the hand, sealing them forever in the afterlife. This alternative version of Chara will have given him a hard time… Certainly, he thought, the Frisk and Chara were definitely the worst to reap.

He furrowed his eyebrow arches and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine showing up. He teleported himself to his next patient's house, who was supposed to come to him in two minutes. Enjoying his brief respite, the skeleton went into the kitchen and discreetly filled his cup of black coffee still lukewarm. Swallowing the liquid in no time at all, he felt much better. Fortunately, the coffee was helping him to hold on. Even though he knew he was drinking it to excess, the bitter taste was giving him a sensation of a semblance of life. But what he appreciated was the warmth of the beverage that was bringing him a vague impression of melancholy. A feeling of nostalgic plenitude was then spreading throughout his entire being during a few precious seconds.

Reaper washed his container and put it away under his tunic, making his work tool appear. A door opened on the go, the bullet flew, and his client collapsed on the ground. His scythe fell without hesitation as his wings unfolded, ready to take him to his next destination…

»——•——«

Reaper rarely met his brother.

Each of them could feel the presence of the other and know exactly where he was in the Multiverse. This was due to a magical bond whose reason for its existence remained unclear to them. Perhaps because of their status of God? Or a brother characteristic that Gaster had wanted to give them? They were not too concerned about it; it was convenient for them. The loneliness and horror of their work would have already driven them crazy.

Anyhow, their reunion would only be meaning one thing: several people with different states of mind were at death's door, or had already passed away. Many reasons could be the cause: a war, an accident, a disastrous weather event, misfortune… Generally, the two skeletons would only glance at each other in dismay or encouragement. Everything depended on the situation, which could be horrible, unbearable to observe.

Sometimes, the Gods of Death were both finding themselves in front of a confusing case. As surprising as it may seem, they realized that there were people whose death could not take part in their destiny. Like this strange gray child. Ink and Geno were also among those immortals. They were not gods. But it was close enough. They were the only living beings that Reaper could touch without turning them into dust.

It also happened that, from time to time, Core would join him or Papyrus to keep them company. Even though this walking mystery never stayed very long. The last breath, the sweetest it can be, has nothing amusing to observe even for an omnipotent being. Especially close up.

It was ironic. Death finding itself in a dead end. Where it even was no longer the point of no return. Becoming just a formality, sometimes inconceivable, sometimes forgotten or even foiled.

So, when Reaper perceived that he had to go to Dreamtale, the same place where he was currently feeling his brother’s presence, he sighed deeply. What was it going to be this time? The annoyance was already beginning to engulf him. He was already not liking what he was doing, why make his task even more complicated?

Chin up! Perhaps they will simply be in the same Alternative Universe but at completely opposite locations. In addition, he remembered that this world was rather pleasant and sweet and not much else. Well... it was hardly a bed of roses either. He had not been able to visit much to really get an idea, only the few dwellings where he had reaped a few lives. But he still remembered Dream perfectly.

The child who was almost always arriving in time with his golden apples to prevent the death of a person; this one yelling at him, with impetuosity and wickedness. It was clear that the poor boy was being exploited by these ingrates given his Guardian status. His brother Nightmare was not being outdone. Also a victim of harassment without Dream knowing anything about it, it was going as far as death threats.

Reaper gritted his teeth while scything his last soul in the world he was in, his thoughts bringing themselves up again. Now that he was thinking about it… what if it was for them that he had to go to Dreamtale? Those little ones have been surrounded by scoundrels since their creation. The probability was much too high, their short life had been a hell…

Even as a seemingly ubiquitous entity, Reaper could not see or anticipate how his patients were leaving the world of the living. He knew they were doing it, he was coming to them and that was it. However, this time, there was no doubt for him. Everything was coinciding and he was not stupid.

One was taking his own life, accepting the arrival of Papyrus. The other’s life was hanging by a thread, certainly praying for Reaper never to appear.

Shaking his head to avoid imagining this before time, the reaper teleported with a snap of his fingers, ready to put up with the miserable and unjust ending of two innocent children.

»——•——«

Reaper had always been used to predict the worst. Whether he was right or wrong, it did not matter. The outcome always remained the same.

However, when he appeared near this tree with bicolored fruits, his orbits darkened. He was feeling a heavy ambiance around him. It had everything like a ruthless war. The azure sky had made way for an oppressive blood-red one, the glowing red clouds casting a shadow over the earth. The air seemed to have cooled… a cold biting the heart, piercing it like thousands of thorns. What had occurred to the happiness? Vanished. There was nothing left but an atmosphere giving nausea, causing pain and fury to lose the head.

From the Tree of Feelings, there remained only a dried out trunk and branches, the apples entirely pitch black dangling in misfortune. Negativity was reigning supreme from this point forward, having seized this wooden throne coldly receiving it; this new queen overthrowing the balance and the peace with positivity. Murderous intentions, paranoia, depression became its mercenaries. Silence, manipulation, wickedness became its henchmen. And at the foot of it, the unintentional initiator of this coup d'état. A six-year-old skeleton, horrified, holding an ebony stained apple in his hand.

Sans felt his soul pound in his ribcage. He tensed, his hand clenching his robe at the place of the very culmination of his being. Ah… He was feeling unwell. He was feeling swooning... His vision grew darker, he could almost see a veil blindfolding him, his pupils fading. His thoughts let themselves be overwhelmed by an infernal black like a dreadful cumulonimbus. The tornado in his mind was on the increase, crushing every ounce of his reason, knocking over any capacity for judgment. His sadness transformed into grief, his anger turned into rage, his contempt changed into disgust. His body began to tremble violently, his head struck by a throbbing pain. The storm residing inside of him was growing, trying to become a hurricane.

The God of Death was ready to explode. Too much, it was way too much! Biting his tongue until the pain invaded his mouth, he grasped his head with both hands, his fingers sinking into his skull as he was bending over. His erratic breathing erratic, his soul beating faster and faster… Everything was nothing but fog and darkness. He had to free himself, he had to let this hell out! He would feel so good, so better!

One of Reaper’s frightening powers was the creation of black holes. He used them only to catch the souls fleeing from him. But it could happen that in the middle of rage, the blackness consumed him. Then, the inexorable attraction of the celestial body was destroying everything in its path. And that was exactly what was happening. A dark aura began to surround him. And all these voices echoing louder and louder in his mind kept whispering in a hypocritical way the same sentence to him: What is the use in trying to fight...?

The angel of death was falling into the throes of despair and nothing and nobody could prevent it from doing so.

“Sans! Sans! Can you hear me, Sans? Focus on my voice!”

The hooded skeleton felt two warm hands grab his cheeks, forcing him to raise his head. His empty eye sockets met his brother’s worried pupils. Sans could hear the cries of people dying around him, distinguishing blurred movements behind Papyrus who was forcing him to divert his attention only on him. The chaos was still vituperating inside of him, trying to tear him away from that life-saving touch.

In all of this shambles, Reaper had almost forgotten the person who mattered the most to him, the only one who could stop him.

“There, that’s good. Look at me, Sans. Breathe slowly. It will be okay, it happens to everyone to feel overwhelmed.” Papyrus continued in a calm voice. “You feel it too. There is still a glimmer of hope somewhere. All is not lost, don’t worry. Focus on that tiny positivity. I’m here.”

Sans suddenly grabbed hold of this one's wrists, squeezing them tightly as trying to find an anchor point somewhere in the physical world. He was not even aware that he had stopped breathing, submerged by the waves of negativity. He shut his eyes, complying with what the other god was asking of him. Slowly, his grip loosened, his own pupils reappeared. As if a light radiating from Papyrus was piercing through his clouds of qualms, dispelling his intrusive thoughts.

The divine being completely regained consciousness, hit by reality like a slap in the face. It was at that moment that he realized the heavy silence that had fallen on Dreamtale. Everything seemed devastated, abandoned, in mourning. The ferrous smell of the blood was merging with putrid lingering odors capable of turning any stomach. The soil was being permeated by a liquid as black as the abyss and emitting foul effluviums. The scarlet blood was still dripping from the bodies sliced in half with an impressive macabre sharpness. A statue resembling Dream was laying on the ground, next to a rotten trunk.

Shivers were sent down his spine as he was seeing this sudden change from this pacifist Alternative Universe to the post-apocalyptic world. No more living beings, only corpses littering the ground and zombies wandering aimlessly. The unique manifestation of life that he could feel was situated deep inside of this Dream of stone. The souls were screaming each one more so than the other, running away, crying, trying to hold their loved ones in their arms without success. This vision tugged at his heartstrings. Then, the annoyance and resignation took hold of him. Reaper hated his work.

“What happened?” he murmured, still disturbed by what he had just experienced.

Papyrus told him everything. How Nightmare had contaminated all the apples with negativity, explaining to him why Reaper had been affected so sorely by this transformation that eliminated any positive emotion from this world. How Dream had been jostled and trampled mercilessly. How Nightmare was prepared to let himself die by taking a severe beating by the inhabitants. How the God of Death had been ready to extend a hand to him in order to reassure him once he had done so.

Yet, the skeleton dressed in purple had clinged to life. And this change definitely forbade Papyrus to reap his life to his greatest displeasure. He felt helpless, he could only collect one soul from this place: a terminally ill lady that Dream was supposed to save with the last golden apple.

The brother had bit into a black apple, before eating all the others. This, while enduring incomparable suffering as the corruption was trickling from his body. As his bones were breaking, as they could not contain all the evil that was rushing in. He repeated word for word the last wish of a broken being.

He narrated everything to him, without omitting anything, with a distressed face. Papyrus was the personification of Death. But he was still Papyrus. He could not bear the suffering of others. Soon, the child disappeared, drowned in this blackish mass with a fetid smell and deadly tentacles. The screaming, the killing, the desolation.... In the matter of a few minutes only, a whole world had been condemned. In the matter of a few seconds, a pure soul had been soiled with sins.

Sans remained silent during this time, his face wearing an indescribable expression. Papyrus had released his face, standing by his side but no longer daring to look at the scenery that was giving him retching. And once his story was over, he waited for some reaction from the smallest of the skeletons.

Snorting sarcastically, this one gave a faint abstruse smile. In the distance, he could make out the souls of the unfortunate wretches, slowly becoming aware of their state or being contaminated by negativity, changing into ghostly entities and malicious spirits. If he took care of it now, he could stop things from getting more difficult. Ah, life… What a joke in bad taste! He, who had expected to discover two corpses near the Tree of Feelings, was now finding himself hunting spectral monsters. He finally opened his mouth, looking into his brother’s eyes.

“He… It just goes to show… A rotten apple spoils the barrel.” he said nonchalantly.

Papyrus stayed frozen at his sentence, giving him a disapproving look, his mind trying to assimilate what he had just heard. By the time he reacted, Sans had already pulled out his scythe, ready to go to work, snickering slightly at the face of his brother. It was doing him good to joke or make small talk with him. He was feeling his worries were going away just for a brief instant.

“Sans!” exclaimed the tall and outraged skeleton, crossing his arms like a mother scolding her child. “Seriously?!”

Of course, that comment was inappropriate in that situation. But the god knew Reaper well. When he was behaving like that, it was to conceal his angst. A way of announcing that his brother could not care less... when it was absolutely the opposite. Never was Sans speaking to him about what was going on inside his head. Never has he confided in him. They had all eternity ahead of them but Papyrus knew nothing would ever change.

The latter sighed before showing a worried expression again, deciding to change the subject to not get the reaper's back up. He cast a glance at the scowling and hissing apparitions across Dreamtale, wandering around like lost souls, spewing out a slimy and repugnant liquid. And suddenly, he felt the vital need -a way of speaking- to go to another Universe. Here he was again, in connection with a soul. It was bad timing but death never took a vacation.

“Duty calls. Will it be all right, alone?” wanted to assure Papyrus, a little guilty of having to leave Sans dealing with the consequences of the acts of one unfortunate soul.

Oh, he knew he would have no problem defeating them. But death waits for nothing and no one and every lost second counts. This disorder had probably already delayed his brother’s collection of souls.

“Don’t worry, bro. It's not the end of the world. They’re shabby, I’ll crush them to a pulp easily!” Reaper replied with a wink.

The concerned one only displayed a deadpan expression before raising his eyes to heaven, containing his annoyance at these jokes which he did not really appreciate. The off-beat humor, the misfortune of others, the self-deprecation, the polemical subjects…not for him! He waved one last time at his counterpart, wishing him good luck; then he opened a portal and crossed it, taking him away.

Sans, from now, was all alone in this reddish and seedy immensity. Shrugging his shoulders, he stared at a paranormal creature whose potency had increased tenfold by exposing itself to the evil enveloping the world. This concentration of goo was so powerful… it could ravage an entire Multiverse. With a single snap of his finger, he made a Gaster Blaster appear and fired without an ounce of remorse at what was once an ordinary living being. The deflagration and the light beam drew the attention of the other monsters, uttering shrieks before setting on the man with the scythe, feeling the danger emanating from it.

“I’m dying to drink a cup of coffee.” Death gnashed his teeth, his right eye shining with burning magic.

His cold eyes looked at his enemies defiantly. Taking a run-up, wings spreading like a shadow above them, he was ready to call the tune, his tunic twirling at his every move. His sharp blade rose, marking the tempo of a long music score. His Gaster Blaster will constitute the orchestra, his black holes will resonate the last note.

Once again, the angel of death will play that silent melody which was the eternal rest.

»——•——«

A sigh was heard when his weapon cut through the viscosity of the last evil spirit. His scythe vanished and his wings folded back as he was stretching out, his head tilting back to observe the carmine sky. Reaper was slightly tired and out of breath. His ribcage was moving up and down at the rhythm of his irregular respiration, his mouth catching gulps of air useless to his body. If he could feel the heat, he would have all the symptoms of past physical effort. A sardonic laugh escaped him at this observation.

He was a God of Death, an immortal and invincible being. Time had no impact on him, he was even flouting its law. He did not, in reality, need to eat, drink, or sleep. His touch was deadly, his weapons pitiless and the end, ineluctable. Now, at the slightest use of his magic, he was weakening and had to rest? What a quirk of fate!

His reaper instinct called him to order. Again. He had to continue his endless journey. Chasing souls, reaping, visiting the underworld from time to time. He had to forget this Alternative Universe like so many others. He clenched his jaw. He had enough. But the strings of fate were keeping him obediently under its control, like a puppet. He had to obey or it would be chaos. And everything would be his fault. Again.

He shook his head. The dismal village was standing in front of him, the harrowing silence of the place was driving him mad. No breath of wind, no bird’s song. He felt that there were only two survivors left. One turned into stone, the other was several kilometers from the village. Which was surprising. Maybe that person was immune to this corruption. Feeling uneasy, Sans prepared to say farewell to Dreamtale and teleport elsewhere.

That was when he heard it.

Sobbing, hiccups, a reedy, muffled little voice whining. Was it Dream? Had he freed himself from the spell? No. His new soul was in a lethargic state. But then, who? A ghost he would have forgotten in all likelihood? If he did, why could he not detect it?

Turning to face the hill where once stood the majestic tree, Sans put his hood back in place, starting to walk slowly towards the origin of the noises. Once he reached the top, he could not help but be surprised. Lying on the ground near the decaying roots, the statue of Dream, facing down, was covered with dust and was a sorry sight. The few remaining puddles of negativity had melted and dried around him. Notwithstanding, that was not what Reaper was looking at.

Nightmare.

On his knees, being in floods of tears on his petrified brother. He was embracing him, the pearls of water drenching the rock. His white cheeks were now puffy, letting his tears flow endlessly, that were going to soak his nice purple clothes. The circlet on his head, formerly of a brilliant gold, was from now quite morose, almost ocher. His little hands were grabbing onto the only one who had always mattered to him. He was trying to nuzzle against the cold and uncomfortable back of the Guardian of Positivity, trying to find the reassurance that he had lost through his own fault…

“Sorry! Dream, I apologize! I’m sorry! Forgive me!” he was sobbing, apologizing again and over again, his breathing jerky.

It was obvious that the little skeleton was tormented by guilt. He had never wanted this. And this heart-rending vision left a bitter taste to the God of Death. He will never experience this cruel pain in the loss of a loved one. On the other hand, just the thought of losing Papyrus was making his heart beat violently. He comprehended this attachment and all the hardship and happiness that it could bring.

“Wake up! Please, don’t leave me!” Nightmare was running out of breath, begging. “I’ll play with you! I’ll read you stories, I’ll keep teaching you to read! I’ll do anything for you, so wake up!”

The boy was being subjected to the worst torture, even after he had passed away. The psychological and physical suffering he had to endure since his birth was by far one of the worst that Reaper had ever seen during his reaping. Good grief, what the hell did fate want to do with him? Could it not leave these poor children alone?!

Without thinking, on an impulsive thought of wanting to console the child, Sans took a step forward. He stopped immediately, lowering his head, staring at his foot as if it was not belonging to him. But what exactly was he thinking? His assignment was to send the dead to the afterlife, not to help them heal from their torments! At the slightest touch, this tormented soul would perish and be finally freed. Yes, that was what he had to discreetly do.

He looked up. His eyes caught Nightmare’s open wide eyes, rooted to the spot, completely frightened. His body was trembling all over, his hands never ceasing to clasp his brother in a protective way.

“Damn it…” the god muttered.

“W-Who are you?!” cried desperately the child in purple clothes, clinging a little more to Dream.

Reaper rarely hesitated about how to proceed. The times he did, it did not end well. But at that very moment, he was lost. Moreover, although the child looked tangible, his translucent body suggested that he was now a spirit. So logically, he had to reach the kingdom of the dead. But if that was the case, where was his body? He had like... disappeared.

If only he had not had a nervous breakdown during the previous events, he or Papyrus could have seen what was going on behind them! There he was now, in front of a saddened ghost whose soul and body were nowhere to be found and his presence imperceptible! He was finding himself with a new special case on his hands! Reaper was irritated by his own behavior.

He was lost in his thoughts, his tense expression and his empty gaze alarming a little more Nightmare. All of a sudden, he felt his soul establish a connection with the latter. The Guardian of Negativity had its essence held somewhere in the Multiverse. What Sans was seeing was only an unstable and wounded illusion, ejected from its own body. The shadow of a specter. His instinct was from this point forward, yelling at him that he had one more patient. So, he had to accomplish his mortuary duty.

He clenched his fists. In one jump, one hit, it could be done. No complications, no time lost. Sans was not fond of empathy. It was a troublesome and hurtful feeling. If he had lacked it, he could have fiddled with his scythe without ever feeling anything for the deceased.

Despite that, the angel of death did not want the true end of the little one to be achieved in such a brutal manner. He had already had enough roughness in his short life. Overdoing it until the end would be just intolerable. He had to brush him or better, convince him to take his hand.

The personification of Death advanced toward his patient.

“Don’t come any closer!” shouted the apparition, leaping up to place himself in front of Dream.

With his arms outstretched to protect his loved one, Nightmare was staring fiercely at Reaper. It was obvious that he was tetanized by fear. His body was trembling and yet, he was drawing deep in his courage to maintain his gaze, sniffing from time to time. The tears had still not dried. Did he even know who he was dealing with? No, of course not. He was only six years old. And even the books he had read were just tales for babies. But he was smart. He must have understood, deep down inside.

“Relax. I won’t touch your brother.” Reaper reassured him with a placid smile.

To avoid provoking him, the hooded one stopped at a good distance from the skeleton child; who did not drop his guard for all that. Argh… How come Papyrus could find patience and witty remarks so easily? He had absolutely nothing in mind to appease the boy with the moon circlet. His black orbits were probably not inspiring trust to him. Perhaps, he had also seen his 'massive cleaning' just a few seconds ago. In any case, he could only acknowledge his bravery. What a pity that he would only show it when Dream’s safety was compromised, and not his.

“You are somewhere between life and death, a kind of in-between.” Reaper began in a voice that wanted to appear gentle. “Your brother will be fine; he’s having a nap. He’ll wake up. But you, if you stay… you’ll suffer. This world will consume you. Come with me. Where I'm taking you, peace is finally waiting for you.” He finished by holding out his hand in a benevolent gesture.

“I don’t want to. I want to stay!” protested Nightmare shaking his head.

“I’m afraid that's not possible, kiddo.” Sans replied in a bittersweet tone, restraining himself from being sarcastic.

There was no exception to the rule. After all, it was the much talked about common trait among all his patients. They were all refusing to accept their death. This was all the more so as natural for a person who only survived six years. The little boy had not even begun to live, that he already had to leave us, to part with his twin. It was breaking his heart but he could not afford to let a spirit wander, especially in a condemned Universe. He took a step forward, his wings shuddering with an unpleasant shiver.

“I can’t go! P-Please, leave us alone! I won't do it again, I promise!” cried out Nightmare, tears in his eyes. “I must take care of my brother! I must stay with him!”

His crying was showering his face once more and he had a runny nose. He could not hold back his emotions, he, who had to hide so much before. Dream was all he had left. Even the villagers did not succeed in taking him away from him. The God of Death clicked his tongue, his gaze averting the being in front of him. He was torn between affliction and the obligation to end this. The weight of these new remorse would add to the others and haunt him forever.

“Please! I want to stay with Dream!”

With a somber and contrite face, the god escaped from the eyes of Nightmare. It only took him half a second to reappear next to the little boy. His crow wings had majestically spread, the iridescent feathers hiding the sinister cinnabar ether. Their shadow singularly had a soothing aura, like a warm blanket enveloping the two brothers. The look of Sans softened, his smile becoming melancholic.

In a single second, he is within easy reach. Death never waits.

The skeleton child began to turn his head, his pupils expressing stupefaction and despair. But he did not have time to react.

Death never gives any chance.

“Sorry, kiddo. Maybe in another life…” whispered the adult, his hand tenderly placing itself on the top of the child’s head.

Death is forever inevitable.

And always and forever, Reaper will loathe his work.

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