Kittieswitheverything - Idek

True Love Hurts - Lucifer x GN!MC

Random idea that hit me, and ended up getting waaay longer than expected lol 💙

Fandom: Obey Me

Paring: Lucifer x GN!MC

Word Count: 6,486 (got a little out of hand lol)

Description:  After MC's death, settling into the life of an angel hasn't gone smooth being separated from their demon family after a human lifetime together. Inspired by the lyrics "They say true love hurts, well this could almost kill me," from the song "The Harold Song" by Kesha. I used a few lines from it in here as well.

Warnings: Angsty for a majority of it (there is a happy ending). Swearing once or twice. Talk of death/dying/sickness. Talk of 'falling.'

“MC?” Simeon calls out as he knocks on their bedroom door in the home they share with Luke. “Sweetie, we have to talk.”

Receiving no response once again, he sighs and opens the door anyway, revealing MC in bed with their back to him, their white wings ruffled and uncared for.

Silently crossing the room, he sits on the edge of the bed and places a hand on their hip. When they don’t react to his touch, he’s forced to crawl over them in the bed to see their face.

Their face expressionless but tear-stained. Bags under their eyes from obvious lack of sleep. Only the gentle glow of their halo shining off their face allows him to see some of their features sunken in.

They had been a radiant human in his eyes, and an even more radiant angel when they first arrived. Bright and full of warmth as they’d always been. But over time the raging war inside them became more evident.

They missed the brothers. Their lover specifically. They’d been able to spend their remaining human years in the Devildom at the House of Lamentation by their side, and their time in the Celestial Realm felt like a glaring hole was in their life.

Simeon and Luke tried desperately to keep a smile on their face, but little by little it slipped. Until they barely saw them leave their room anymore. Insisting on staying in their room on their own nearly all hours of the day. Only slipping out to do their required duties before coming home and back into their room.

They left dinner plates outside the door, that more often than not sat untouched. They tried giving them space but it was to no avail.

Then after MC’s confrontation with Michael, they’d all but locked themselves away from the world. Refusing to leave for duties, refusing to talk, and refusing to eat.

Simeon had been forced to ask Michael what had happened, finding out MC had requested a visit to the Devildom, and been denied. At the denial they’d snapped and screamed at him before being escorted from the building of the high angels.

He reaches out to gently run a hand through their feathers, pulling out loose ones that he could reach and carefully patting others back into place. “How are you feeling today hun?”

“Like I’m living in my own personal hell but evidently I’m in paradise and being rewarded for being a good person in my life,” they state flatly, their voice rough and deeper than normal.

“I’m sure it won’t feel like this forever,” he assures them, continuing his motions on their wings. “One day you’ll be able to visit. I’m sure Michael and father have their reasons for saying no for the time being. You haven’t been here but 100 years.”

“I highly doubt it,” they huff, crossing their arms in the first display of emotion Simeon’s seen from them in ages. “I’m here for all of eternity. They hate Lucifer because of everything. They’re doing this on purpose. They don’t want me to be around him.”

“Well, at least you are both alive and in love, there is always a chance right? I don’t think either of them hate Lucifer, nor do they hate you. I think they just need time to make decisions and process it all.”

A dry laugh escapes their lips as their eyes lock with his, “You know they say that true love hurts right? Well this could almost kill me.”

“It feels like my life is fading from me while everyone watches me walk through the realm judging me for loving a demon. Judging my bleeding heart. Judging my pain. This is hell for me Simeon. I just… want to see him one more time before I die at least. I don’t feel like I’ve got that long left.”

Tears roll down Simeon’s cheeks as he pulls them into his lap. His arms hold them tightly to his chest and their head rests against his shoulder, their slow breaths on his exposed skin running a chill up his spine. “Why do you think that? Do Michael and father know about this?”

“No,” they respond softly, their wings disappearing as they allow themselves to snuggle into his warmth. “I’ve seen the way they look at me. I didn’t bother with all the details.”

“We’re going to speak to them, now. Something must be done.” He states firmly, slipping his arm under their legs and getting off the bed. “Things can’t go on like this.”

-

“I request audience with Michael,” Simeon states at the entrance of his home. The guards glance at MC in his arms before allowing him in.

“Simeon, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Michael asks, his brow furrowing as Simeon approaches him and puts MC down on their wobbly legs, their unkept wings and flickering halo coming back out.

“Something must be done Michael, look at them,” he insists, indicating to MC. “They’re practically a corpse.”

Michael gets to his feet and circles MC a few times, lifting their chin to look into their eyes. “This is more than just protest. I had thought they were just angry with our decision.”

Lifting his glowing hand he carefully runs it over their body before stopping at their chest, tearing open the shirt to reveal the mark of Lucifer glowing an angry red on their chest. “Is this… a pact mark? How do you still have this?” He demands.

Blinking their eyes several times to focus on him they shrug, “Dunno… it just stayed. The others are gone but his stayed and has slowly gotten worse and worse. All I feel is agony. My chest burn, my heart hurts. I’ve lived every day feeling like I’m slowly dying, but I gave up on hiding it.”

Reaching out to touch the mark, Michael rips his hand back quickly with a yelp, looking down at his burnt fingertips he clicks his tongue. “A human with angel blood… with a mate level pact with one of the most powerful demons, a fallen angel himself… turned now into an angel. I can only think the strength of the pact and Lucifer being a fallen angel of higher status has conflicted with their angel form. You’re essentially an angel with part of a demon trapped inside of you, burning you from the inside. You’re going to die.”

A sound most similar to a shriek leaves Simeon, his arms quickly wrapping around MC, “You can’t be serious! There must be something we can do?”

Leaning forward to carefully button MC’s shirt back up, Michael stares at them thoughtfully. “There is only one thing I could possibly think of. But I’m not sure father would approve of the idea. And I’m not even sure they’d survive it. The best way to survive would be even further from being something father would allow. But I shall discuss it with him.”

“Can I come with you?” Simeon insists. “After taking MC home. I want to speak to him about it. I don’t know if it will help, but I will plead for them if I must.”

“I will allow it, but you must know we’re going there to advocate them falling. It’s not going to be an easy request, and if we win it they’re going to become a demon.”

MC carefully lowers themselves to the ground, the world spinning around them as the two angels’ words seem to blur together, and before they can say anything, their world goes black.

-

“Simeon.” Lucifer answers his D.D.D. coldly from the name on the display. His hand going to rake through his messy hair.

“Please give me time to explain and fully hear me out,” Simeon starts, pulling a humorless chuckle from Lucifer.

“You’ve got my partner up there and haven’t bothered to answer my calls or call me in over a century to tell me how they are at the very least. And now you want my full attention? What if I don’t want to give you any of my attention and want to just hang up?”

“If you do that, MC is going to die. Removed from existence. Not be reborn somewhere else.”

His words feel like an ice water being poured over his head, his every nerve on edge and seemingly burning, “What. Has. Happened?”

“A condensed version, they seemed fine for a decent time. Then slowly began locking themselves in their room often, only coming out for duties and meals. Then they had an argument with father and Michael, they’d requested to visit you and were denied.”

“He couldn’t even give me that?” he hisses. “They couldn’t see me once?”

“After that they were escorted home and refused to leave their room or speak.”

“For how long has that been? Are they in danger because of that argument?”

“It’s been… five years? Six? We’ve tried giving them space, tried forcing them out. They haven’t wanted to eat or leave or anything. I forced myself into their room a few days ago. Their wings are unkept, bags under their eyes, expressionless, face sunken in. They look like a corpse, mere shadow of their former selves.”

“…And no one has said or done anything until now?”

“They’ve not let us in. But that is beside the point right now. They talked about being in pain, that they felt like they were dying. So I took them to speak to Michael. And they… they are… dying.”

“Dying from what? How are they dying?”

“It turns out your pact mark never went away. Michael thinks it was some kind of conflict in their body from having the blood of angel and human, with a higher pact with a high demon that has fallen angel blood, and them now being an angel. He said they’re an angel with a part of a demon inside them, burning them from the inside. It burnt Michael when he touched it. It’s angry and red and terrible looking, nothing like when they were a human.”

“My… pact is killing them? What are they planning on doing? How can I help? I assume you called to tell me there is something I can do, not just to make me feel helpless as they die two realms away from me,” he snaps angrily.

“You have to talk to Diavolo and help me set up a call for he and Michael.”

“Why Diavolo?”

“The… only way MC will make it out of this possibly alive is if they fall,” Simeon says as his voice cracks and he takes a deep breath. “We’ve gotten father to agree to an approved fall if Diavolo accepts it. They can’t take the chance of falling like you all did, they will die. And father will only approve it if it’s guaranteed they will have a better life as a demon. Since they’ve done no wrong, it’s considered saving them not actually falling.”

“Are you serious? An approved fall? How will that fix anything?”

“We think by turning them into a demon it will no longer harm them. And possibly being closer to you will help. And there’s one other thing…”

“What?”

“If the call goes well… and you are willing. Father is willing to allow you to come get them and fall with them. I don’t know how you feel about coming here again, or having to go through it again. But I think they have a better chance of making it if you’re with them. The way they are now… I’m worried about the process. And landing. They’re going to need medical attention once they arrive.”

Lucifer swallows hard, visions of his own fall flashing through his mind, the scars from his missing wings aching at the memory. “I will think on it. And speak with Diavolo. Please keep me updated.”

-

Stepping through the portal, Lucifer immediately shields his eyes at the blinding brightness of the Celestial Realm, a curse slipping from his lips.

“Not home for two seconds and you’ve already given into sin,” a familiar voice calls out, he turns to see Michael and two other angels behind him.

“Habit,” Lucifer mutters, reluctantly shaking the hand offered to him.

“It’s been a long time old friend. Black looks quite different on you.”

“I feel it suits me,” he grumbles, starting toward the city in the distance with Michael at his side. “I’ve been in the Devildom a long time now. This place feels like I stuck my head inside a lamp.”

“I can’t imagine how you all live in darkness all the time,” Michael muses, his eyes flickering over Lucifer’s exhausted expression and ruffled black wings. “And as the Avatar of Pride I’m surprised to see you in such a state.”

“You get used to it. And today isn’t exactly a social visit,” he snaps back impatiently, fighting off the urge to go find MC himself. “I’m here to collect my deathly ill mate, and go through one of the worst days of their life with them. I’ve not time to preen.”

“I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”

“That I’d return here?”

“Well that,” Michael shrugs. “But more so Lucifer, the Morningstar himself taking a mate. What was a human mate at that. You always seemed… quite opposed to the idea. That kind of companionship never seemed to be your thing as it were.”

“Some things are just vague concepts you put little thought into until something gives it real meaning. I didn’t choose to take a mate, who they are made me want them at my side.”

Michael pauses at that, a gentle smile and shake of his head, “As eloquent as ever. But I will agree they are quite special. Stubborn and headstrong at times, but special. I had hoped to get the chance to get closer to them over time, but their heart had them focused on one thing, and I’m not their favorite person to say the least.”

Lucifer nods absentmindedly, his gaze fixated on the buildings ahead, “If they wanted me and our family, denying them that would do little to gain their favor.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to see them, or to hurt either of you,” Michael sighs, reaching out to touch Lucifer’s shoulder, which he quickly shrugs away. “I felt it would be harder on them going there then having to come back. And father was worried they’d choose to fall. No one here wants someone to fall and take a chance at becoming an Avatar of sin. At least this way they won’t change much.”

“No one even bothered to tell me how they were,” Lucifer spits out, sending an angry look Michael’s way. “I only found out they’d even become an angel when I wanted to bring them back and was told it wasn’t possible.”

“Would it have helped you to get updates when you knew you wouldn’t be able to be near them or see them?”

“Yes. At least knowing how they were doing would have helped. Because whether I could see them myself, I still care about their wellbeing. Which clearly has been a problem for awhile now.”

Having reached the city, the two walk in silence, just the sounds of their footsteps echoing on the streets. Lucifer can feel gazes on him from all directions, and whispers coming from the buildings but he does his best to straighten his back and ignore it.

They finally reach a small house with Simeon’s name in golden letters written across the mailbox. Michael is barely able to knock before the door is swung up to reveal Simeon himself, and a very worried Luke behind him.

“You actually came,” Simeon says with a sigh of relief. “I hadn’t told them in case you changed your mind. I didn’t want to disappoint them.”

“Where are they?” he asks following Simeon and Luke into the house.

Simeon nods toward the stairs, “Second room on the right. We’ll wait here for you to bring them down.”

“Bring them down?”

“They… are very weak,” Simeon explains with a pained expression. “They can’t walk far, and probably can’t make it down the stairs. If you don’t want to carry them though I will, I don’t mind.”

“No, I will carry them,” Lucifer insists, turning his back to the angels and heading up the stairs. His heart beating loudly in his ears as he approaches the door.

His hand wraps around the knob, excitement building in his chest. They’re here. MC is on the other side of this door. The last he’d seen them was their lifeless body when they departed before. Now 100 years later they were just a door away. Alive.

Twisting the knob he lets himself into the dark room. Dark wallpaper, dark floors, black sheets, no lights. Clothes litter the floor, and the wall are bare besides a few pictures hastily taped to them. A picture of himself catching his eye before his attention turns to the bundle of haphazard white feathers on the bed.

“Simeon… you can stop fussing. I’ve… a-accepted this. Stop… hurting yourself,” their voice calls out to him, gravely and weak.

His chest aches at the sound. Defeated. Weak. Sickly. He crosses the small room and reaches out to smooth down some of their feathers. The state of them appalling. They’ve obviously given up. Their halo flickering dully over their head, and their breathing labored.

“Well lucky for you, you’ve someone new to fuss over you,” he finally responds, noticing the way their head quickly lifts up.

Their head turning towards him, rapidly blinking at him in disbelief. “I must really be dying, I’m seeing you,” they chuckle before laying their head back down. “Suppose my mind decided to be nice. Let me see you one more time.”

Gripping their shoulder, he carefully turns them over to take in their sunken features and how frail they look, a shudder running through his body at the sight. “Darling, this isn’t your mind playing tricks on you. I’m here to bring you home.”

“You’re lying, this is the Celestial Realm. You’re not here, you wouldn’t even come here if they let you,” MC hisses, tears in their eyes.

“I am here, and I’m here for you. And I am taking you home with me, we’re going back to the House of Lamentation. You’ll see the whole family, and you’ll be tucked into our bed,” he insists, reaching out a hand to them.

The look at him wearily, before reaching out and grasping his hand, letting him pull them up into his lap. They straddle his hips and stare into his eyes, their own wide as they take in his face.

Their arms quickly wrap around him, tears dampening his shirt under their face while he strokes their head, “I want to… but I’m dying Lucifer.”

“That’s why I’m here,” his lips press to their forehead. “We’re going to make you better. Did Simeon tell you anything about it?”

“He… and Michael discussed something. But I wasn’t understanding the whole talk. And they sounded unsure.”

“Do you trust me darling?”

“Always,” they respond immediately.

“It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to be frightening. But I’ll be with you the entire time.”

“Can you…” they start to say before trailing off.

“Can I what?”

“I just… wanted you to try something. But it might not work…” they inhale deeply and break into a fit of coughs.

“What is it?”

Unbuttoning the top of their shirt, Lucifer’s breath gets caught in his throat at the sight of his pact on their chest. Simeon’s words hadn’t prepared him for how grotesque it looked. Deep scarred wounds that looked alarmingly red formed the mark. “Can you try to touch it?”

“Won’t that hurt you?”

“It already hurts. And it burned Michael… but I just thought maybe your touch. I don’t know.”

His hand gently rests against their chest, a sigh of relief immediately leaving their lips as they slouch into his body.

“So nice,” they practically purr as his thumb follows the lines of the mark.

“That helps?”

“It feels cooling,” they whisper, their head lulling onto his shoulder. “I don’t know if you really came to take me back, or if you’re just here to comfort me. But… if this is how I go, I don’t mind it.” Their hand grips his waistcoat with the strength they can manage. “I love you, desperately.”

“Forgive me,” he nearly whispers in their ear, his eyes glued to the source of their pain. His mark marring their skin.

“For what?”

“It’s our pact. My love for you. My mark, killing you, if it wasn’t for-” he’s stopped by their finger being pressed against his lips.

“I wouldn’t have done anything differently. Even if this kills me,” they respond as strongly as they can manage. “As I told Simeon. They say that true love hurts, and damn being separated from you really fucking hearts. Literally. My chest has been on fire for a century.”

He laughs bitterly at that, blinking at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, “You’re not supposed to be swearing, you’re an angel right now love.”

“Mhm, but I’m dying of having demon energy in me, I think it’s permitted this time. I’m also in the arms of a demon, I don’t think I’m good at this angel thing.”

“Well, you won’t be one much longer. I am taking you home darling, just stay with me.”

They hum lowly and snuggle into him as he stands up from their bed, holding them in close to his chest as their eyes drift shut. “Is there anything here you care about?”

“Pictures,” they mumble before their breathing evens out, the heat of it on his neck.

Noticing a backpack on the floor, he manages to grab it and rip the photos from the wall. Shoving a few other things he notices in the bag, he tosses it over his shoulder and heads out of the room and down the stairs.

“Are they…” Simeon starts to ask but trails off, his eyes wide with worry.

“They fell asleep,” he responds, watching the look of relief wash over his face. Shuffling them in his arms, he pulls the bag off his shoulder and deposits it in Simeon’s arms. “Whenever you visit, please bring that. I was going to bring it, but it’s safer with you. We might lose it.”

Nodding solemnly, Simeon accepts the bag and puts it across his shoulders as they head towards the door.

“I’m coming too!” Luke shrieks as he races out of his room, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” Lucifer snaps back at him. “It’s no place for you to be.”

“He’s right,” Michael comments before Luke can respond. “You don’t need to see this.”

Luke hangs his head and hastily wipes his tears. “Can I say goodbye to them?”

Simeon glances at Lucifer who sighs before kneeling down to make MC accessible to Luke.

Luke races over quickly, taking their face in his hands and kisses their forehead, “We’ll see each other again MC I swear! You’ll always be my family! Even if you’re a demon! Be safe, please!”

He gently wraps his arms around their upper torso, pulling Lucifer into the hug as he sobs. “Take care of them,” he whimpers and he pulls back to meet Lucifer’s gaze.

“Always,” he answers, getting back to his feet and heading toward the door as the sounds of Luke’s sobs fade behind him.

Michael walks on ahead, Lucifer and Simeon following behind.

“I’m not ready to lose them,” Simeon admits, his voice cracking at the statement. “I cared for them deeply before, but they’ve become like my sibling. And I’ve failed them.”

Lucifer sighs and closes the distance between them, his shoulder bumping Simeon’s, “You didn’t do this. You tried everything you could, I believe that. I’m… not pleased with being left in the dark on this for so long. But I’m sure that was not entirely your call.”

“If I’d have known it was so bad, I’d have tried to do more, far sooner,” his white wings droop in defeat.

“Let’s just hope for the best with this. We have to move forward,” Lucifer responds stiffly. “It’s going to be rough. And we have no certainty it will even work.”

“I think there’s a far better chance with you being with them. But I can’t imagine having to relive it will be a pleasant experience.”

“It won’t be. I didn’t choose to return here and relive an experience from one of the worst days of my life for fun.”

Simeon reaches out to put an arm around Lucifer, a gesture he for once doesn’t fight.

As they make it to the field, Michael gestures a spot for Lucifer to stand. Laying MC on the ground, he gentle shakes them awake until their eyes are blinking open and searching for him.

“I’m sorry. But you have to be awake for this darling. I need you to be able to hold onto me,” he instructs as he pulls them up to their feet, supporting their weight as they stumble.

Their hands quickly grip his coat and their wings flair out behind them. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a chain, and carefully loops it around their waist, and then his own, sealing it with magic, pulling them flush together.

“You’re going to keep your arms around my neck, holding on as tight as you possibly can unless I instruct you to do otherwise. I’m going to holding onto your waist, tightly. This is going to hurt. There may be blood. I can’t tell you exactly what will change in you, it’s different for each of us. I don’t know how the pact with effect this. Just trust in me, and don’t let go.”

“If we do lose one another, scream. As loud as you can. Anything you can. Guide me back to you. I don’t intend on letting that happen, but if it does, that is what you do. Do you understand me?”

They nod weakly and reach up to wrap their arms around his neck. He gestures for them to jump up, hooking their legs around his waist between his sets of wings. Uttering a spell, the chains around them further tighten.

“Can I say goodbye?” Simeon calls out as they finish their preparations.

Michael nods, and Simeon races across the space to throw his arms around the two of them, his tears flowing down his cheeks. “Both of you please be careful. MC, you have become my sibling, and you always will be. I love you, and I promise I will visit.”

“And you,” he says looking into Lucifer’s eyes, “Whatever has happened, or will happen. You are still a brother to me in my heart. Protect them, but also yourself.”

Lucifer nods sharply, reaching out to briefly pat his shoulder before gripping MC again, “We will see you on your next visit.”

And with that Simeon steps back toward Michael, his arms wrapped around his own midsection in worry.

“Are you ready?” Michael calls out.

MC’s face tucks in the collar of his coat and their grip tightens as Lucifer glances down at them. Taking a deep breath he nods and clears his throat, “As ready as one can be for this.”

Michael nods back, a spell starting to flow from his mouth, the air around the two of them darkening and crackling in their ears. His chest tightens as he feels the ground bowing beneath, trying hard to keep his grip tight but not bonebreaking on their fragile form.

And before he can have another thought, the ground gives out from beneath them and they’re falling, a startled yelp coming from his lips as the memories swim in front of his eyes.

The familiar metallic smell of blood hitting his nostrils as they free fall, droplets swirl in the air around them. “Stay with me!” He shouts into the wind, feeling their hand splay across his neck, a cry of pain ripping from their throat.

It was then he started noticing the changes. Their white wings quickly darkening to black, tips of horns starting to protrude from their head, and the feel of sharp fangs sinking into his shoulder as they bite down in pain.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, just hold on,” he chants, saying it as much for his own benefit as theirs. His body wants to frantically grip at the air with his wings, but at this force he knows it would be futile. Him breaking his wings wouldn’t do either of them any good.

After several minutes he feels their grip on him loosen, their hands dropping from his neck and their legs loosening around his hips. Tightening his own grip, he quickly wraps his wings around the both of them to hold them together in a cocoon. His lips press to their bloodied hair between the growing horns and he focuses on their breathing. Still there.

When finally the scent of Devildom air hits his senses, he rapidly spreads his wings out to catch the air, jerking them sideways roughly at the sudden impact on their plummeting. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he manages to fully catch the wind and gain enough control to slow their landing.

Within seconds they’ve reached the ground, releasing his human form and twisting so his back hits the soil, knocking the air from his lungs.

And there’s silence. Dirt flies in the air around them, and he realizes they’ve landed on the same spot as where he’d fallen before.

Muttering a spell, the chain around their waists unlocks and drops to their sides.

“MC, darling, are you with me?” He asks, tapping them for a response. When he receives none he panics.

Flipping them over he presses his ear to their chest, to hear their heart still beating and labored breaths going through their lungs.

Changing back to his demon form, he rest back on his legs, his hands going through his hair as he tries to sort everything in his mind.

Their transformation complete, he realizes their pact did more than he could have ever guessed.

Their jet black wings spread out in the dirt under them, small horns not dissimilar to his own on their head, and a small black diamond in the center of their forehead. Their clothes had also gone black, a stark difference to the Celestial Realm robes of before.

Carefully pulling down the collar of their shirt, he realizes the pact mark hadn’t disappeared but had once again changed. No longer scarred and angry looking, just a soft blow glow emanating from it.

Fixing their shirt, he gets to his feet and carefully pulls them into his arms. Flexing his wings, he winces in pain, deciding they’d have to walk.

Pressing a kiss to the new black diamond on their forehead, he starts the walk up the incline of the crater he’d caused the first time he fell.

“There you two are,” a voice calls out, his head snapping up to see Diavolo and Barbatos waiting for them at the top of the crater. “Would you like me to take them?” he offers, but Lucifer grunts and hugs them closer to his chest.

“I’ve got them, they need me.”

Diavolo looks over them as Barbatos looks over MC quickly.

“I see their pact with you impacted their transformation,” he comments, his hands brushing over MC’s black wings. “Interesting.”

“I would suggest we get them back to the castle immediately. And as you’re injured Lucifer, I believe it’s best if My Lord flies them back. I can open a portal for us, I don’t think it’s wise to put their body through a portal at the moment,” Barbatos states as he once again checks their pulse on their neck.

Lucifer’s eyes flicker between the two of them, his fangs bearing as he holds them tight to his body. They’d taken MC’s body from him once. They’d also taken Lilith from him once. No. He wasn’t giving them up this time. They were staying with him. No-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo says firmly. “I will care for them. Do what is best for MC. Hand them over.”

Lucifer’s gaze drops to the ground, shame radiating through his body. He nods reluctantly and transfers them into Diavolo’s arms. Pressing a quick kiss to their cheek before withdrawing to stand beside Barbatos.

Diavolo gives them a nod before unfurling his wings and shooting up into the air, the crackle of a portal being made behind him turns Lucifer’s attention from the sky.

“How do they look?” he asks as Barbatos works.

“I didn’t get to examine them much.”

“I know you. You got more out of that than most people would.”

“They’re in bad shape. But it felt like their body was trying to heal itself. They still need immediate care, and it’s going to take time. They’ve been slowly dying from the inside out for a century, it’s not going to be an overnight fix.”

“As long as there is a fix, that’s all I care about.”

“Indeed. Satan and Solomon are also waiting at the castle to provide any assistance we may need.”

“You informed Solomon?”

“He’s a powerful sorcerer who cares for them, he’s useful help. And we have to take into account this is a unique situation. They’ve been human, angel, and demon. I thought having a human input may be valuable. I was more surprised that you informed Satan.”

“He’s studied intensively on potions, restorative magic, and he cares about MC’s wellbeing. I can trust that he’d do nothing to harm them.”

“Do your other brothers know?”

Lucifer shakes his head swiftly, “No. I didn’t want to get them worked up. Them frantically pacing waiting, or them hoping if there was no hope. Satan fortunately keeps the coolest head in these situations.”

The portal finally widens and the two step through it onto the shiny gold tiles of the palace. Barbatos quickly gets to work, calling for Solomon and Satan, throwing out a variety of orders.

As the four walk, Satan falls into step with Lucifer, glancing over at his brother, “Are they…?”

“Barely,” Lucifer sighs and reaches up to run his hand through his hair. “Diavolo is flying them here now. Barbatos thought it unwise to move their body through a portal after all its been through.”

“And you didn’t fly them back yourself?” he asks incredulously. “You just got them back and you handed them over?”

Looking down ashamed, he mutters a quiet answer back, “I… was unable. To fly.”

“You can’t fly?” Satan’s gaze goes to Lucifer’s wings, noticing one drooping lower than the other. “What happened?”

“I had to slow us down once we hit the Devildom air. Couldn’t chance hitting the ground at the speed we were going with the state they’re in.”

Satan nods, looking forward as he looks deep in thought. Sighing, he reaches a hand out, grabbing ahold of Lucifer’s wing and muttering a spell under his breath.

A cool magic quickly travels up Lucifer’s wing, a sigh of relief leaving his own lips, “Thank you.”

“MC would feel bad if they knew you were hurt helping them,” He snaps back, a red flush across his cheeks.

Catching up to Barbatos and Solomon, Lucifer surveys the room they’ve set up. Various medical and magical items in every direction.

The sound of the castle doors opening pulls Lucifer’s attention, turning back he heads toward the sound quickly to see Diavolo entering with MC in his arms. Lucifer holds his arms out as he approaches them, and Diavolo deposits them carefully into his arms. The pair head to the set up room.

After setting them in the bed, Barbatos and Solomon immediately start to examine them as Lucifer takes a step back between Satan and Diavolo.

Satan stares at their face from his position, before turning to give Lucifer a worried look. “I wanted to see them again… but…” he trails off.

“I know.”

-

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Lucifer calls out from his place in the air, watching as a mass of black feathers flaps wildly in the wind.

“I’m going to get this down I swear it!” MC shouts back excitedly. “I can fucking fly!”

“Flying might be a strong word for what you’re currently doing,” he teases, dropping in closer to them to grip their arm and stabilize them in the air.

“When Simeon tried to teach me back in the Celestial Realm I could never seem to get off the ground, so this is a vast improvement!” They insist with a smile.

“Just be careful.”

“I know Luci, I know,” they reply with an eyeroll, and spin themselves in the air happily and take off.

Lucifer shakes his head and chuckles at the display, pride blooming in his chest. The moonlight reflecting off their black feathers as they practice each drill he’d taught them.

Their change of appearance had been odd at first, the first time their eyes opened to reveal they’d gone crimson like his own had been the biggest shock. Having his wings, his horns, his diamond, his eyes, and then his pact mark still large across their chest, he realized exactly how entangled in one another’s existence they were.

To think they were once just a file sitting on the floor of his office. One folder that had sat neatly in a pile of hundreds that just happened to fall at the right time. One folder that slid under his shoe as they all scattered around his desk.

One human that stood before the council with determination. One human that flipped the house of demons upside down. And one human that burrowed into his heart and sealed their fate with a pact and a kiss late one night in the Devildom.

Now one radiant, exquisite, beautiful demon that reflected everything good inside of him. His better half some would say. A statement that should have hurt his pride. And if it had been said before, it would have. The implication that someone was better than he. But there they were. Nearly an extension of himself, his own shining star that filled him with pride.

Diavolo had always said he started the exchange program to foster relationships and understanding between the three species. To creating a better understanding, to learn, to grow bonds. Somehow MC had become a combination of all three, the best of all three if you asked him. Showing they aren’t all THAT different, and they most certainly can get along.

Now, if he just didn’t have to hear Diavolo brag about how his exchange program idea singlehandedly made him the world’s greatest wingman… that would be great.

-

Masterlist

white people in ukraine are actively pulling poc (asians, africans, middle easterners) off of escape transportation to make room for more white people. that needs to be recognized as a war crime and i’m so, deeply serious.

Reblog to give the person you reblogged it from motivation to work on their fics.

I love this

Well now I’m wondering how Mammon even discovered he could talk to crows after the fall. It could have been an emotional moment where he was venting out his frustrations with his new life, and some crows flew over and lend an ear. It could have been a funny moment where he fell down and a flock started laughing at him. It could have been a bit of both, who knows?

It's hard.

But he doesn't know what's harder.

His aching body, twisted to form something wholly new?

Or the gaping hole that Lilith left behind.

The searing anger of their newest family member.

Or Lucifer's suffocating self-hatred.

The screams of his little brothers as they jolt out of another nightmare.

Or the burning of his eyes as he sacrifices another night of sleep to stay vigilant by their sides.

The old-new-stronger urge for more, more, more.

Or the eternally dark skies and sneers of creatures he'd once mercilessly ploughed through.

It'll get better, he thinks. One day it'll get better. But today. Today it's hard.

So he jumps out a window.

It might be selfish. It definitely is selfish. He needs to get back in there. He needs to keep them all together while they find themselves.

But. But he just wants this time. This five minutes to himself where he can finally grieve. This five minutes to himself where he doesn't have to pretend he's strong. This five minutes to himself where he can break apart before he has to wipe away any lingering tears and pull up a grin and rally the others.

So he jumps out a window.

He fucks up the landing. Put off balance by the slim black leathery wings when he had been expecting large fluffed up white ones.

That's already a silver lining, as off putting as it is. No more preening and much more inconspicuous, probably faster too if he had the chance to test it out.

But he doesn't. Not right now, at least.

Instead he wonders out further into the castle grounds away from his messed up, broken family, away from the too cheerful Prince and his creepy butler.

He eventually plops down under an old dead tree - something you'd never find up there where everything and everyone had to be perfect or else.

He breathes through his nose and stares up at the sky. Another silver lining. The night sky was ethereal.

A shuffling by his side has him jolting, fight or flight kicking in until he makes eye contact with a large black bird, its dark beady little eyes staring up at him.

He's seen them before of course. They seem to litter both the Devildom and the human world.

He sits back down. Watching warily as it hops closer and caws at him - loud and obnoxious.

Asmo would say that he sounded the same and the thought startles him enough that it makes him laugh. It's been the first time he's laughed since even before the Fall and it's because of a stupid fucking bird.

He tells the bird as much and it cocks its little head at him. It's almost cute.

Maybe it's because he hasn't had a chance to talk about it yet. Maybe it's because he's been so focused on holding everyone else together he's forgotten to patch up his own cracks. But he starts talking. He starts talking and he can't stop until his voice his hoarse and his cheeks are wet and the bird has moved closer, head nestled under his palm.

" 'rry," he says once he's calmed down enough, staring down at those little eyes that had never shifted from his face, "ya prob'ly didn't wanta hear all that. But thanks for listenin'."

"Damn, Bro. That really fucking sucks," says the crow.

Mammon shrieks.

Once an Angel, now a Demon, Mammon discovers a new ability.

Come leave a comment or kudos?🥺 I'd commit war crimes for it :)

Myosotis Pt.1 (ao3)

HawksxPersonal Assistant Reader. Multichap. Heroes sacrificed every part of themselves to keep civilians like you safe. But, when they lay alone in the quiet of the night, who would be there to save them? For Hawks, it would be you.

Nsfw in future chapters. Hurt/comfort and depictions of PTSD. Codependency and a little forbidden love between a hero and his PA.

Prologue

The hallway door was cracked slightly open to allow a long band of light to lay across your bedside. It was a comfort to you then. It's funny to remember your innocence. If only imaginary monsters and the absence of light could be your worst fears again. In those days, though, you’d yet to know the sting of the real world. You were ten, and safe in your childhood bedroom.

The stripe of light broke across your blanket and your door creaked gently open. Your father's voice called your name in a whisper, and you perked your head up to see his face in the crack of your door. This was a ritual you both cherished. Your father was a florist, and he often worked late into the afternoons. It was usual he got home after dark. He’d often wake you in the middle of the night to watch hero news with him, to make up for missing your day.

"Your boyfriend is on TV," he teased, and you jolted up in bed with reddened cheeks. 

"Hawks?" You blurted. It was embarrassing you knew exactly who he meant. Even more so when he laughed at your pinkined face. 

"Hurry up if you wanna see him, that kid's gone in the blink of an eye-" 

You already stumbled out of your bed. Your father stepped back into the light of the hall. His shimmering white wings dragged on the floor behind him as he followed you to the living room. 

Hawks was only eighteen then, and he’d been on the scene for only a few months. Still, he quickly became you and your father's favorite face to see in a battle. For your father, it had everything to do with Hawks being a bird, just like him. And just like you. You didn’t meet others with wings on their backs often, so it was nice to see a hero with a similar mutation. Hawks was a talented young man filled with promise, and your father loved to live vicariously through the kid's endeavors.

For you, Hawks was your favorite simply because he was cute. 

A fact your father loved to pick on you for.

"Remember to be quiet, your mother will pluck my wings if she knew I let you out of bed so late again," your father quipped as you sat beside each other on the living room couch. 

You tucked your feathered limbs against your back and nodded, but your eyes were trained on the television. You didn't miss him this time! The live camera had a hard time keeping up with him as he darted between buildings. Especially in the dark of night. The villain this time appeared to be made of liquid, so Hawks was opting to lure the enemy away from civilians as he formulated a plan. 

He didn't look bothered in the least when the camera caught a glimpse of his face. The guy almost looked bored, even, as the villain tried desperately to snag him out of the sky. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with, but you couldn't help but wonder if Hawks ever got scared out there. 

"You know, you could be a hero, too… If you really wanted to,” your dad said as he nudged you with his wing. “I mean, with that replication quirk of yours, you’d be a hard one to beat.”

Ah, your dad brought that up a lot. You loved talking heroes. Keeping up with their exciting careers was your favorite shared pastime. He seemed to like the idea of seeing you on the television one day, but every kid you knew wanted to be a hero. To follow in the footsteps of the people who sacrificed everything to look out for the community did sound exciting and glamorous. You couldn’t help but wonder, though, who looked out for them?

"There are already lots of strong heroes," you said, rubbing your upper arm in thought. "I want to be something else.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I wanna be a PA.”

“A what now?”

“You know… a personal assistant, the people who work with heroes to make their jobs easier and stuff. I wanna get into the business course at U.A. and learn to do that,” you said as you ran your fingers over your white feathers. Those were some pretty ambitious dreams for a child to have. “I know it’s not as cool as being a hero, but I think I’d be good at it.”

The television flicked faint light across your father’s face as he smiled at you. That little cockeyed grin of his was always enough to put your heart at ease. Whether it be monsters in the closet or anxiety over an exciting and mysterious future, your father’s gentle kindness kept your heart whole. 

“Sounds pretty cool to me,” he assured you, his voice almost a whisper to keep from waking your mother in the next room. “You’re gonna do great things, Chickadee. I can feel it.”

...

The air was crisp on your lips that night. You buried your face a little deeper into your scarf to battle the cold. The setting sun cast shadows over the darkening city streets. Dusk cast the world in its beautiful blue hues. It was a weeknight, so few people were out. It was only you, your mother on one side of you, and your father who was on the other. One of his wings lay lazily over your shoulder to keep you warm against the bitter chill.

You were suffering through your awkward teen years at that point, but life was going as planned. You were fifteen and working on your first year of the UA business course. Getting in wasn’t easy, and getting your Personal Assistant license by eighteen was an even greater endeavor, but you were on your way.

Your folks took you around town that night to celebrate your grade average, and, of course, your florist father congratulated you with a surprise bouquet of lilies. The white arrangement was complemented by the powdery blue of your favorite flower, forget-me-nots. Your nose was in them half the night to savor their smell, likely a habit of the bird in you.

All was usual, and you believed that night would be like most others. Pleasant, but forgettable.

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. It became the most vivid memory you had of life before the war.

Your father slowed his steps, his wing gripped your shoulder just a little to get you to match his new pace. He leaned down and mumbled low enough for just you to hear. 

“Do you see who I see?” he asked as he gestured his head up the street. You looked up from your phone to peer forward, and you stiffened to a stop. Up the street, no more than thirty feet, perhaps, the color red stood out against the gray blues of the city. A brilliant set of wings attached to a familiar man you’d never met before that night. At least not outside of your daydreams.

He leaned against a light pole and tapped at his phone, but he noticed your family before you were close enough for him to hear your footsteps. 

Your mouth went dry as he caught you in his sights, and your wings instinctively wrapped around you to hide yourself from his view. Your dad laughed at you, because of course he would, before giving you a little tap to try and nudge you forward. 

“He doesn’t look busy, we should say hi,” he suggested, and you shook your head no. That was HAWKS. Your favorite hero since you were like ten. You couldn’t just walk up to him and start blathering like a lunatic. 

“No, what if I embarrass myself or- dad, I- dad, come back!-”

You yanked your mom’s sleeve as if asking her to back you up, but she just gave you a stupid little grin before she muttered, “You know I can’t stop him when he gets something in his head.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage like a wild animal. He was not gonna just prance up to the number two hero. Oh god. Your face flushed as red as Hawks’ wings. The hero lowered said feathered appendages until they touched the sidewalk beneath him. He then stood up straight to greet your father, a polite smile on his face. Go figure your dad would be the person to just walk up to a celebrity and start talking as if they were old buddies. You cringed in embarrassment at first, but it melted away when you realized Hawks kindly returned the sentiment. 

You couldn’t hear them, but your dad’s wings puffed up and fluttered behind him as he spoke. He was always bad about talking with his wingspan. Hawks tipped his head back and laughed, which made your heart thump a little in a different kind of way. He was twenty-two, then, which was a bit too old for you at only fifteen. That didn’t stop your innocent little crush from fluffing up your wings. 

Your dad turned around to gesture towards you and your mother, and then… Jesus, they walked your way. You were jealous of your father’s courage. You could hardly handle Hawks even looking at you, obvious from your puffed feathers, and there your father was making friends with the guy. Their voices echoed against the buildings lining the street, and the approaching murmur of Hawks’ voice made goosebumps raise on your arms. Your wings clenched tighter around your torso the closer they got, so your mother placed her hand gently on your shoulder to keep you from flying away. 

Which you very likely would have. 

“That was wild, seeing you and Endeavor up against that freakish hood guy. We were scared for you guys there for a minute!” you heard your father’s deep voice reverberate as they approached. Hawks replied with something or another. He was practically right in front of you. Your ears rang as blood rushed to them. You couldn’t have imagined how big his wings really were in person. Those brilliant crimson limbs of his made even your father’s look pitiful in comparison. 

“Here she is,” your dad said as his hands gestured out to you. That dumb look of pride was plastered on his face. Oh, great, he probably gushed about you through most of their conversation. 

“Hey, kid,” Hawks said as he lifted his visor to his forehead. He looked right at you. Those amber eyes were unobstructed and soft. White haze ghosted from his mouth from the chill in the air, and his nose and cheeks were dusted a faint pink from the cold. Jeeze, he was pretty. "It's not every day I meet other birds- nice to meetcha!" 

You could hardly will yourself to reply. God, how did your dad keep such a cool head with those angular eyes staring at him? You surely weren't capable of it.

"You're my favorite hero,” you squeezed out of your throat, though it came out like a whisper. Surely it was something he heard every day. That made a part of you feel better about being bashful, but there was another part that was disappointed you didn’t say something more memorable. You spent years daydreaming about what words to put together for him if you had the chance, but when he was there in front of you those pre-planned phrases slipped away.

“Ah, me, really?” he chuckled as a gloved hand scratched the back of his neck. 

His sweet, relaxed demeanor calmed you a little. Though the bottom of your face was buried beneath your wings to hide the redness in your cheeks. Your feathers stood on end, too, giving your nerves away. Surely a fellow bird would be able to pick up on your pitiful body language.

White specks fluttered down from the darkening sky as you yanked the straps of your backpack out from under your wings. This moment wouldn’t last much longer. Even if he didn’t remember you the next day, you wanted a memento of your meeting.

“Could you… sign my backpack?” you asked. Your wings finally unfurled to reveal all of yourself to him. But they fluffed right back up when he glanced at all the pins and charms that adorned your bag. Of course, they were modeled after his likeness. Your admiration was presented to him in a pitiful display. God, all of the regret! The humiliation! The poor thing made a sound in your fist as you squeezed it with whitening knuckles. 

“‘Course I can,” he replied, and his gloved hand grazed yours as you begrudgingly handed the bag over. 

His gaze dusted over the thing. As he lingered over your charms his joyful expression faltered. He still smiled, but a hint of a different emotion settled in his eyes. Your flustered disposition faded when you recognized what it was: a solemn, bittersweet sadness.

You were the only one who noticed, it seemed, as your family talked amongst each other behind you. The concern you felt for Hawks outweighed your anxiety. Why did a look at your bag bring out such emotions for him?

"Hawks, are you okay?" you pondered, and he blinked at you. “You look… sad.”

For a moment his smile failed him. The emotion he tried to hide broke through in all its glory. His mouth went slack, and his eyes lowered. But only for one vulnerable moment.

"Sad?" He said, and then his head tipped back as he let out a laugh. "How could I be sad in the presence of an angel?" 

It wasn’t the first time someone called you that, on account of your wings. But hearing those words from the mouth of your favorite hero, of Hawks. It left your heart stinging in the most beautiful way. Again, you hid behind your wings with red cheeks. 

Jesus Christ, you were gonna cry. If his goal was to distract you, he did a damn fine job.

He popped open the cap of a sharpie he pulled from his pocket and scribbled his name across the cloth. A hint of that expression returned to him, as if he was unworthy of your admiration. What exactly gave you that impression was unclear, but that look of his lingered like a bad taste. You wished there was something you could do or say to alleviate whatever was hurting him, but you knew you didn't have that kind of power. 

"Here ya go, Feather," he chimed as he returned your newly signed backpack. Really, no charm or pin could mean as much as those black sharpie stains. HAWKS, they read in messy, thick letters. You smiled faintly. It was nice to know he was just as laid back and kind in person as he was on television. 

And that little nickname. Feather, god it made your young heart swoon.

"I hate to run, but I'm afraid I have some business to attend to. It was wonderful talking with you folks," Hawks said, and your heart rattled again.

"W-wait!" you said as your fingers fumbled with the bouquet that'd been aloft in your hands. You pulled some of the arrangement free from the plastic, a lilly and several forget-me-nots clutched in your hand. "Take these."

Graciously, he extended his hand. To lay the stems of your father's flowers in Hawks' gloved palm felt like a dream, but a genuine smile returned to his face as he looked them over.

"Oh, they're so pretty," he said.

"T-they're my favorite. Forget-me-nots," you replied, cheeks pinked with the realization of how on the nose the flower choice was. "My dad grew them at his shop."

He tucked the small bundle of flowers into his jacket pocket, and then gave it a pat. 

"Sounds like a good luck charm if I ever heard of one," he said, grinning. "Thank you. I'll see you guys around!"

With That, his visor fell back down over his face and his wings stretched outwards, reaching high above you and your parents. His wingspan alone was intimidating. To be in their shadow made you feel vulnerable and small. 

"Hey, thanks for taking the time!" Your dad replied. Hawks waved before vanishing into the darkness of the evening sky.

You were completely ecstatic about the chance meeting, naturally, but that broken look on his face haunted you with unanswered questions. Little did you know your life would one day revolve solely around finding the answers. 

…

Chapter 1

Life goes on, they say. Many parts of the city remained in ruins as reconstruction efforts heaved on for years after the war, but things slowly began to look the same again. You could walk down the street without being reminded of that terrible time, which was good, because today was supposed to be one of the best in your life. 

You were an adult, well, sort of, finally having turned eighteen and graduated from school. You were the top of your class at UA, a goal you worked tirelessly to achieve. 

That’s what earned you the right to take the PA certification exam the week before. Hundreds of hopefuls went in for testing. Only a fraction left with a license. And, honestly, you weren't surprised you were the only one to achieve a perfect score. It could be no other way if your dream was to be realized. To become the most saught after personal assistant in Japan.

Looking after someone in the hero field isn’t a job for the faint of heart, and there’s a lot more to the title than most people realize. To keep heroes on task and handle their business dealings was only a small part of the job. The other chunk of the was what got you interested to begin with. The human part. Every PA is required to act as psychological support as well. You took four years of psychology through school to even be allowed to take the certification exam. 

At the end of the day, heroes sacrificed every part of themselves to keep civilians like you safe. They got hurt. Their loved ones died. A heroes' job was to do the saving. But, after so much had been lost and they lay alone in the quiet of the night, who would be there to save them?

For some hero out there, you would be by the end of the afternoon.

The Safety Commission administered your exam and that day they’d be assigning you to a hero. Anxiety coursed through you, of course. This was your first PA assignment, so you’d probably be placed with a lesser known hero who just needed some extra help around the office. At least until you proved yourself worthy of handling more serious cases. A rookie like you won’t be placed with the likes of a top ten or anything, but that thought helped ease the anxiety. 

You hummed pleasantly to yourself as your dress shoes clicked against the pavement, daydreaming about who you could end up assigned to. But the daydreaming halted when you realized the footsteps behind you got persistently closer. Your head turned to glance around your wings, but your steps got faster. A man lingered behind your stride, and it seemed he was following you. He could've had bad intentions, or he could've just been in a hurry. Your side of the street is rather sparsely populated, however, and he never walked past you. 

You made eye contact, but his legs moved in tandem with yours, inching closer and closer with each step. He would've stepped on your tail feathers if his dirty sneakers got any closer. Your wings puffed in preparation to take off in flight if the guy tried anything. As he got close enough for your wings to pump in warning, a large, dark shadow glided over you. Your eyes shot upward, and your heart settled comfortably when you saw a pair of red wings block out the sun. It was a hero. The number two hero, Hawks, specifically.

His wings pumped before his boots slammed into a utility pole not far ahead. He squatted and lifted his visor for a better view as the footsteps behind you slowed. You never stopped walking, even as you watched the hero land. Your flight instincts were too strong to stop even for a good look at Hawks. With one more glance between your feathers, though, you noticed the man who’d been on your tail turned onto another street. 

Whether that stranger actually had any ill will or not you couldn’t be sure, but you were happy to accept you’d never know. Thanks to Hawks’ keen eye keeping watch over you. 

You stopped.

You looked at Hawks.

He looked at you.

He was probably thirty feet above you. His scars were easily seen when you were so close to him. Remnants of the war that still lingered on his flesh. The left side of his face was framed with thick, damaged tissue. The state of his left wing looked about the same. Much of the red plumage never grew back, so the poor thing looked gimpy compared to its twin. Somehow he still managed to retain his charming looks despite those things, you noticed.

He smiled, and you tried to scan his face for any hint of recognition. Though his eyes lingered for a long moment on the shape of your face he didn't seem to remember you. 

You hesitated, but raised a hand to wave a silent thank you.

You wished he was close enough to hear your voice. To see your vaguely familiar face. You’d be able to speak with more confidence than the younger version of yourself had all those years ago, but your words wouldn’t reach him.

His visor fell back over his face as he stood. And, just as quickly as he swooped in, his crimson wings lifted him back up. And he was gone. 

It took several moments for you to collect yourself. Despite not knowing him personally, Hawks felt like an old friend in a way. The connection you lost with your father was mirrored in your feelings of the number two hero. Having seen those red wings brought you a cocktail of bittersweet sadness and gentle relief that was hard to swallow. Hopefully he didn’t notice your old backpack that'd been repurposed as a work bag.

You tucked the thing against your side to hide his faded signature on the front, then continued on your way. 

...

The commission was bustling, as always. It was one of the first facilities rebuilt after the war, and the new management was determined to be at the forefront of restoring peace. Thanks to government funding it became a hub of cooperation and progress. Thankfully, the PA program received a lot of that investment.

When you stepped into the lobby your senses were assaulted with sight and sound. People in suits scrambled about and the sounds of ringing telephones and keyboards being furiously typed upon echoed against the walls. You were told over the phone to go upstairs into a meeting room to be briefed. You didn’t have to check in or wait in the lobby, they told you. So it was a surprise to see the other newly licensed PAs doing exactly what you were told not to. 

Nine PA newbies sat in a circle around a table as they waited to be called back for their assignments. You recognized them all from the exam. This was your first clue something was off about your briefing. Especially when the other PAs watched you walk towards the elevators in confused silence. Somehow this was even more nerve wracking than taking the exam was. 

Tenth floor, third door on the right, you were told. When you slipped into the little meeting room your palms began to sweat. You were expecting only the man who scored your exam results to be present for your assignment. Instead, you stood in a claustrophobic room surrounded by him, the acting president of the commission, and three other people you don’t know. 

The president, a man named Mera, greeted you by your full name. Your hair stood on end. Why the hell was he here? You were just getting placed with a hero today, right? Right? 

“Thank you for coming, could you close the door behind you?” the president requested. You leaned back against it until it clicked shut. Your cheeks tinted a slight pink in your anxiety and your palm sweat felt gross in your hands. Was this an interrogation or something? The air of the room was so thick it was hard to breathe in. 

You willed yourself to take the seat across from the group. Questions ran through your head. One hundred thousand questions, but you were too intimidated to ask any of them. Your wings curled up tight to your back as one of the men cleared his throat. 

“I know this is a lot you didn’t expect. We don’t mean to be intimidating, so take a breath,” he said, and you quickly expelled the one you were holding. “We have a hero to assign to you, but this is an unorthodox case. A meeting with the president is a requirement before we can place you together.”

Jesus christ, were they asking you to pull All Might out of retirement or something?

“You’re talking like you’re placing me with number one,” you managed to quip with a nervous laugh, but you regretted speaking out of turn when the group of suits sat in serious silence. 

“Number two,” the president corrected, and it was suddenly hard to swallow.

“Come... again?” you said as your wings slumped to the tile floor.

“We’re assigning you to number two- Hawks,” he repeated himself. 

Of course. How could it have been anything else?

It took everything you had not to bite hard into your bottom lip. To keep composure was your first lesson in your PA coursework, so your face remained soft despite your pounding heart. It made no sense why you would be their pick to look after a hero like Hawks. He’d been in the game since you were in grade school. The man spearheaded a war for god’s sake. What help could a newbie PA be to someone like him?

Even the universe was making fun of you for your childlike attachment to him. 

“I’m honored you’d consider me for such a position, of course,” you began cautiously. Should you tell them this wasn't the job for you? It'd be impossible to properly council someone you spent the better part of your life being invested in. From an ethical standpoint, anyway. And this would be your first ever assignment. “I just passed my certifications last week, though. I have no field experience yet. With all due respect, why me?” 

"You're a bird," the president said. Again, you released a small laugh. And, again, he didn't reciprocate. Was he being serious? You sat up a little and held your tongue as he continued. "You also accomplished a perfect score on your exam. Of this year's new PA batch you seem the most promising fit… Not to undermine your skills, but, if I’m being transparent, placing you together is a last resort. We’ve assigned several experienced PAs to him, but it’s done no good.”

Your brow furrowed at that bit of information. From the outside Hawks seemed like a PAs dream with his squeaky clean reputation and friendly demeanor. You couldn’t imagine why he’d have issues getting along with anyone. But that only proved how little you really knew him. 

"It sounds like he doesn't want the help you're giving him."

The president sighed.

“As you probably know, he took a year hiatus after his involvement in the war,” he continued, and you nodded.

Of course you knew. What kind of superfan would you be otherwise? Still, it was his reintroduction you remember moreso. Purely because of the excitement and relief you felt to see him back in action. There was no announcement of his return. One day, he was gone. The next, his agency doors were back open and his silhouette once again graced the streets below him. 

Despite all the buzz around him the year he was down and out, his condition was kept an illusive secret. Even now, after two years back on the job, no one really knew the specifics around his hiatus. An impressive feat, considering his wiki article alone was ten miles long. 

"Yes, I remember when he took time off."

"It wasn't of his own volition, I'm afraid. We suspended his license that year."

The confession floored you into shocked silence, and again you battled your heart to stop drumming so hard. This was something no one knew. Not the media, his fan pages, and not even other heroes if their interviews were genuine.

"Why?" you managed.

"This is strictly private information and considered a confidential part of your briefing, whether or not you accept the position."

What the hell were you getting into?

"I understand."

The president leaned into the table with his elbow and pinched the bridge of his nose. You'd seen many of his television appearances. He was portrayed as a strong-willed man who never faltered. The only one with enough guts to rebuild the HPSC despite the damning rumors circulating about it's previous administration and their dealings. If only you knew back then how deep that rabbit hole went.

"Hawks wanted to jump back into the thick of hero work once the war was over," he began, "but he developed psychological burdens that hindered his ability to perform, hence the revoking of his license. We tried to admit him to our recovery program, like we did for every hero who fought in the war, but his turbulent relationship with the previous HPSC administration made it difficult for us to help. He doesn't trust us, and I can't blame him."

"He had personal issues with the HPSC?"

"There's a lot the public doesn't know about his story. Unfortunately, most of it is tragic."

Your eyes became a bit misty. You knew everything there was to know about Hawks, or so you thought. Every confession from the president made you realize you really knew nothing at all.  

“He recovered better than we anticipated in that year. He passed our exams and his license was reinstated, but his performance is suffering again. We fear it’s only a matter of time before he slips up in the wrong moment. We don’t want to lose him, you understand?”

You did, somehow. He spoke so vaguely it was hard to form a big picture. But a memory invaded your thoughts. It was an old one you often found yourself reliving in quiet moments. When you met him in the chill of winter all those years ago, and he signed your backpack with that empty sadness that plagued your thoughts. Looking back now, you realize that moment took place not long before the war. Was that the cause of his grief? He knew it was coming? Did he never escape from that sadness?

You thought back to only an hour or so before this tense meeting. What a wild coincidence it was you saw him that day. Though the predicament you were in that morning could have easily been overlooked, he stopped for you. He made sure you were safe. It only felt right to do the same for him in return.

Thinking of this assignment as returning favors to him made it easier to swallow.

“So, my assignment is to correct behavioral issues?” you asked. Your voice had more confidence now, as if this was something you’d done a hundred times before. Internally, you were quaking. “Can you give me some specifics to work with? Having a plan before we meet for the first time is detrimental if I'm going to get anywhere with him.” 

The group looked at the president, who let a sigh slip from his aged lips. Frustration was on his face, but it wasn’t aimed towards you. His mind seemed elsewhere as he reached into his work bag and extracted a manilla folder. Hawks' case file. Seems your cool head and straightforward demeanor paid off with the president.

"His judgement is impaired," he informed you as he held the case file out for you. "He was at one time our most reliable hero. But now… well, he can be a liability even to himself at times. He uses excessive force against targets when not necessary, and other times he's unable to engage at all. He often can't keep up in life or death situations- he's lucky he's squeaked by the last couple years relatively unscathed. Because he's been so resistant to his past assistants we aren't sure how to best help him… hopefully you'll make him comfortable enough to find out. Everything we know is in that file."

He trailed off as his eyes narrowed with an emotion you couldn't decipher. His expression teetered between uncertainty and hope when he watched you crack open the folder handed to you. Despite the long list of previous PAs detailed on the first page, the stack of paper was rather thin. Apparently they only lasted long enough to report back a handful of times.

What the hell was he doing to those very experienced assistants to make them flake out in just a few weeks? These files were going to be an interesting read. It peeked your interest as a dutiful PA as well as a curious long time fan.

Another suited man you'd yet to hear speak piped up. "This is a lot to ask of you, we understand. Don't feel pressured to accept the placement if you don't think it will suit you."

"I'm still reeling from the suddenness of all of this," you confess. And, honestly, there was nothing you could offer Hawks that his previous PAs couldn't. "But I wanted this job so I could help heroes, so I'll do the best I can." 

I want to be greedy! Can't I be a little greedy?

Is he gaslighting? #gaslightgatekeepgirlboss

This is like my fav series, can't wait for the next part. :)

But like dude really said that 🤠

The Conqueror (V)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader.

Disclaimer: proceed with caution, this can be triggering. This is purely fictional and this does not represent bts or jungkook irl. Do not romanticise this.

warnings: YANDERE, DARK THEMES AHEAD, crazy!jungkook, anxiety mentions, threats of killing, obsession, mentions of exhaustion, overworking, jungkook is crazy, psycho behaviour, possessiveness, jungkook doesn’t understand a ‘no’ dark content, viewer discretion is advised.

note. share feedback.

series masterlist.

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @sprinkleoftee @koremis @minshookie29 @cravingforhotchocolate @kookxin @99liners @sana-b @bangtannoonalvg @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @btxteezdotexe @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @lanalanexpjm @namjooncrabs @shadowmoon21 @kookunot @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @iwasfuckinginnocentonce @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @silversparkles11 @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @littlesugapuff @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia (I can’t tag anymore people, it’s full 😭😭)

All of the people present in the room watched the king grow restless as you fell unconscious into his arms, a few gasps were heard from them as the king quickly caught onto your body in his embrace as he scooped you into his arms, not caring about anything else, he felt like panicking because you suddenly passed out in front of him, Jungkook scooped your body as he could gripping onto it tight as he lifted you up bridal style. “CALL THE IMPERIAL PHYSICIAN IMMEDIATELY!” His deep voice boomed inside the huge hall. The other selected consorts watched with envy. The atmosphere of the room was heavy.

But no one dared to object. Na-Yeon was left stunned to wrap her head around anything.

All eyes were on the king who was starting to go fanatic. “IT IS A ROYAL COMMAND! SEEK THE PHYSICIAN AND BRING HER TO MY CHAMBER IMMEDIATELY!”

The king did not wait for anything else as he turned back with you in his arms and left the hall. The people were left stunned, still present in the hall. The looks on their faces were a great mind of envy and confusion.

The sound of breathing was the only sound that could be heard in the room until, one of the consorts spoke.

“Looks like… we already know who’s going to be the favourite one hmm?” Kim Si-Woo's tone was dripping with venom. “L/N Y/N… yes I saw her on the arrival day… the king had even asked for her name…” the other one joined in. Sana, did not feel like chiming into their gossip as she was busy thinking about a severe issue.

That was you. “The king has liked her since, I think… I mean she was a servant! Not even of noble blood!” Her cruel laugh made everyone in the room gasp.

“Be careful with your words, young lady.” Mrs lee walked towards the laughing woman, her stern voice made the gossip die down immediately. “Do not forget that you’re talking about the chief consort.” She crossed her arms, glaring at the young woman. “C-Chief?” That was a shocker for everyone, all of the attention in the room focused on the old woman.

“Ah yes… L/N Y/N of Gaegyeong has been chosen as the king’s chief consort. Did you not see the king giving her the embroidered handkerchief himself?” She raised her eyebrow. “W-What do you mean!” The panic in the young woman’s voice was visible to every single one present in the room. “Embroidered?” The others questioned in unison.

Sana was left stunned.

Kim Si-Woo’s cruel laugh was long gone and replaced by panic.

“You all are a rank below her, so you’d better start showing her ladyship respect. She’s the closest to the king now.” The older woman ignored the question, she needed to set the rules.

Just like how the king has commanded her to.

“Unless you want to be punished.” She exhaled out.

“She’s the chosen one, after all. She will be the legal wife to the imperial king soon.”

“She’s the chosen one, after all. And? She will be the legal wife to the imperial king soon.” The words came out of her mouth so smoothly.

As if she’d known.

“W-What?” Came next the voice of Sana. She couldn’t contain her distress any longer.

All the girls turned their heads to look at the prettiest one present in the hall. The young woman did not care about the attention on her.

She only cared about what the older woman just said.

“My lady… what are you saying?” The blonde girl spoke in a silk tone, her sweet voice could seduce any man she’d wanted. She was sure to be polite, and not too eager.

She needed to fix all of this.

“What I’m saying is, my ladyship is that Y/N L/N has been chosen personally by the king to be his legal wife and chief consort. She will be the first to provide him with an heir. She was the king’s choice.” The Head of the court explained,

“it was the great king’s decision, no one can object.”

In that moment, Sana’s world crumbled before her eyes.

Jungkook wanted to set the whole world on fire. He sat right beside your laying body, his hand lingered on your forehead as the physician examined you.

Your fever was only increasing by the passing seconds, Jungkook wanted you to wake up.. panic was something he’d never felt, at least not in a long time.

But right at this moment, he felt incredibly worried. Had he scared you? Or were you overworking yourself? “Tell me what’s wrong with her! Right now!” Jungkook growled at the female. His eyes pierced through her as he caressed your face gently.

“My imperial grace… Lady Y/N… fainted due to exhaustion and panic.” The woman bowed her head to the man. Jungkook watched her with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, however the confusion was quickly replaced with fury. “Exhaustion?” He bit his lip in order to surpass lashing out on her.

“So you’re saying that my precious has been being overworked?” His gaze was set on her, waiting for her response. “Likely so, My king.” She confirmed. “Because the fever has settled inside her bones…” The woman was so scared of the king’s reaction. She waited for his command. “What do you mean?!”

Jungkook’s heart had quickened at the diagnosis. You had fallen sick due to being overworked and he didn’t even know? What kind of a lover was he? His beloved was suffering right in front of him And he couldn’t see?

“My liege, thankfully it’s nothing to worry about for too long… I can prepare a few herbs and she shall be fine, but rest is acquired in order for her to get better, and she mustn’t stress about anything.” Jungkook listened to the lady with every bit of his attention.

His eyes shot up at the physician, immediately taking in her instructions. He nodded. “Very well, My dear has to be well and healthy. Go ahead and immediately start preparing!” He exhaled out, his tone stern and dominating. The physician nodded.

“The future queen of the empire has to be healthy at all costs.” He smiled lovingly, gazing at your face.

No one had any idea about his plans. And that was what Jungkook wanted. He only chose the others due to some pressure from the officials. Not that he’d care about their opinions but it was rather a good thing, so his enemies wouldn’t focus on you.

The others could be used as a target, and Jungkook couldn’t care less about any of them.

All he ever cares is about you, his only one.

His queen. You.

Sana quietly made her way to her brother's quarters, hiding her face with the cape of the dark cloak. It was dark outside, the cold breeze was only getting harsher with each day. Goosebumps rose on her pale skin as the wind made contact with it.

She continued to walk, stealing a few glances here and there. Making sure that no one was watching.

She was already so tense, her heart was aching. The King was so obviously infatuated with you. It was you that became his chief consort, not her just like she’d wished.

She wasn’t the one he loved, it was you.

She couldn’t have his heart, despite loving him for as long as she could remember, her dreams were crushed within a second.

And the worst thing was, the king did not even try to mask his affections for you. Sana knew but her heart wasn’t willing to accept that. He looked at you just like she looked at him when he didn’t notice.

He never noticed her, not even when she watched him practice sword fighting with her brother, Where she’d seen him for the first time ever, many years ago.

He was practicing fighting with her brother. And stupidly enough. She had already lost her heart to him.

The one who had his sword on the neck of her only brother. Lee Dongmin, the General.

You felt someone’s hand on yours, the feeling of it being squeezed hard made your body move. Your brain felt hazy as you tried to open your eyes, Your vision was blurry, all you were able to see was the black dots that appeared in front of you.

“oh my god!” Then you heard a familiar deep voice, and that was all needed to wake your senses up.

It was the voice of the one you dreaded the most, The King, Jeon Jungkook. “My precious! You’re finally awake!” Your eyes opened fully, his face was the first thing you saw.

And your heart stopped as you remembered the events of today.

His eyes were filled with a crazed expression, they were shining like the stars in the sky.

“Y-You!” You tried your best to sit up, your eyes filled with horror as he helped you. It was only you and him, between the large walls of his magnificent chamber. “Yes it’s me, my love. I’m so glad that you’re awake! You just saved one life, my dear!” You watched him speak gleefully, it confused you.

His handsome face was all you could see, his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, the dark curly locks made him look absolutely radiant. You could only look at him, he was wearing a night robe, unlike his formal clothes.

And that terrified you.

“W-Where am I?” It was a dumb question but your head was hurting, your body was panicking, his touch sent shivers down your spine. His grip was tight on you as he watched you with a dark glint in his orbs. “What do you mean? You’re in my room. Our room.” Jungkook replied, his aura switched from worried to domineering. His tongue emphasised on the word ‘our’. Your body jolted at that.

“W-What do you mean!” You couldn’t contain your harsh tone. He terrified you, your worst nightmare sat right beside you and you couldn’t do anything about it. “Isn’t it simple? You’re my consort, my Chief consort, you will be staying with me now,” he pulled your body closer to his, your head fell onto his hard chest as his fingers gripped onto your weak body.

Horror filled you, his touch felt too warm on your cold skin and you were unable to see his face, no, it couldn’t be true. “M-My king… please let me go… I don’t want- until we’re married.”

His words were like a slap on your face. “W-What?” His breath hit your neck and sent tingles down your stomach. It felt hot against your skin. “Yes, my love. Please call me jungkook. We are to be husband and wife now. I’m so happy that you woke up otherwise I was going to kill that physician.” Your heart thumped against your chest at his confession.

You wanted him to let you go. “Please l-let me go… my King please! I don’t want this, I don’t want to be your wife! I don’t want to be your consort please!” Tears fell down on your cheeks.

Just like you were terrified, your voice cowered.

“Jungkook. Call me jungkook. And you don’t have a choice in this matter. You don’t choose, sweetheart. I do. The faster you accept your fate. The better.” He pressed a kiss on your earlobe. “I love you so much, you’d better love me too.” He whispered in a sultry tone.

Sending shivers down your spine. Your body froze completely at his next words.

“Unless you wish for everyone to die in this palace. Just like your family did.”

Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.

I’m curious!