୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ bebelat ⋄ 𓍯

he stood with his hands in his pockets, white hair catching the dying light like the first november snow. but it was his eyes that enticed you—their brilliant, impossible blue that existed nowhere in creation. the sheer contrast of their purity as opposed to his devilish exterior. they held galaxies and voids simultaneously, creation and destruction, everything your father had warned you about when he spoke of the fallen.

"you're staring, birdie" he mused, his voice akin to sweet poison, it made your wings flutter involuntarily beneath your robes.

you should have left. should have returned to the crystalline spires of the celestial city where angels sang in perfect harmony and every surface reflected the divine light. you should have reported this breach in the boundary between realms. sometimes, you still wonder how differently your life would have turned out had you never engaged with the boy.

but alas, you stepped closer instead, sealing both of your fates.

"you're trespassing," you said, trying to inject authority into your voice where it doesn’t belong. "this is the threshold. demons aren't permitted—"

"demons?" he laughed, the sound nothing like the cackling malevolence you'd been taught to expect. it was almost... playful. "is that what they're calling us now? how creative. we prefer 'fallen,' thank you very much. or, if you're feeling particularly formal, 'those who chose freedom.'"

your brow furrowed. "freedom? you fell from grace. you were cast out for—"

"—for questioning?" he tilted his head, and suddenly he was closer, though you hadn't seen him move. "for refusing to be pawns in someone else's grand design? for wanting to make our own choices?" those cerulean eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "tell me, little angel, when was the last time you made a choice that was truly yours?"

the question struck a chord you didn't know existed. when had you last made a choice? your days were prescribed, your prayers scheduled, your very thoughts guided by doctrine and divine law. even your position as a guardian angel had been assigned, not chosen.

"I..." you faltered.

his smile was knowing, almost sad. "that's what I thought."

you knew you should have drawn your blade of holy light and driven him back to whatever dark hole he'd crawled from. but instead, you found yourself asking, "what's your name?"

"satoru," he said easily, "satoru gojo. and you are?"

you hesitated. names had power, after all, especially in the celestial realm. to give your name to one of the fallen was to create a connection, a thread that could be pulled, exploited, and used against you.

but his eyes held no malice, only interest and a boyish curiosity, you surrendered your name on the same platter as the Baptist’s head.

his responding smile transformed his entire face, making him look younger, less like the monster you'd been taught to fear and more like a boy who could have been your friend, in another life, another world.

he repeated your name, testing it on his tongue—it had never sounded so beautifully and intimately intonated before. "well, birdie, since we're both breaking rules just by talking, what do you say we break a few more?"

that was how it started.

--

initially, you tried to convince yourself it was all reconnaissance—that you were just gathering intelligence on the enemy, learning their ways to better protect your realm. you repeated that to yourself at each meeting of the threshold, rationalizing to yourself that this whole accord was strategic, part of some greater plan.

you told yourself many lies in those early days.

the truth was simpler and far more sinful: you were fascinated by him.

satoru was nothing like what you'd been taught. he wasn't cruel or manipulative. he didn't try to corrupt you or immediately turn you against heaven. instead, he talked to you—just talked, like you were a being with thoughts and opinions worth hearing, not just another soldier in the celestial army.

he told you about the fall, his voice losing its usual playful edge as he described the war that had torn creation apart. "they make it sound so simple in your histories, don't they? good versus evil, light versus dark. but it wasn't like that. we didn't fall because we were evil, we fell because blind obedience wasn't our highest virtue."

you sat beside him on the edge of the precipice, your pale, white robe a stark contrast to his black attire, your wings folded carefully to avoid touching him—though you weren't sure if that was from propriety or fear of what might happen if you did.

"my father says that pride was your downfall," you comment softly. "that lucifer's arrogance—"

"lucifer's crime was wanting to understand," satoru interrupted, his eyes fixed on the breadth between realms, where reality seemed to fold in on itself. "he asked 'why' when he was only supposed to say 'yes.' and for that, he and everyone who stood with him were cast down." he turned to look at you, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart race. "tell me, seraph, is it really so wrong to want to understand? to question? to choose?"

"I don't know," you admitted, frustration lacing your tone. the confession made your head pound in a self-righteous rebellion. "I've never... I've always just done what was expected of me."

"I know," he said gently. "I can see it in you. all that light, all that goodness, all that potential, wrapped up in someone else's expectations." he reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away.

you remained as still as sodom and gomorrah’s salt victims.

he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. his fingers didn't burn like you'd thought it would. instead, his touch was warm, and achingly tender. "don't you ever wonder what you could be if you chose for yourself?"

you did. God help you, you did.

--

the meetings became more frequent. what started as once a week became twice, then every other day, then daily. you began to crave his presence like a flower craves sunlight, counting the hours until you could slip away from your duties and meet him at the threshold.

he made you laugh—something you'd rarely done in the celestial realm, where joy was supposed to be serene and measured, never wild or free. satoru's humor was irreverent, sharp, often at the expense of the very authorities you'd been taught to revere without question.

"so let me get this straight," he said one evening, his eyes dancing with mirth. "you have to file a formal request, in triplicate, to change your patrol route?"

"it's not that unusual…" you defended, though you were smiling. "there are protocols—"

"protocols," he repeated, shaking his head. "birdie, you're an immortal being of cosmic power, and you need permission to take a different path during your walk. do you not see how insane that is?"

"it maintains order," you justified, but the argument fell short even to your own ears.

"it maintains control," he corrected. "there's a difference." he leaned back, looking up at the space between spaces where stars from both realms seemed to blend together. "you wanna know what I did today?"

"what?"

"absolutely nothing that I was supposed to." he grinned wickedly and wonderfully. "I was meant to be at a council meeting—some boring political nonsense about territorial disputes. instead, I went to the mortal realm and watched the sunset from seven different continents. do you know how different the sky looks from each part of the globe? how the colors change, how the light plays differently across water versus mountains versus desert?"

the wonder in his voice made your chest ache, an overwhelming sense of longing flooding your being. "that sounds… beautiful."

"it was." he turned to you, and his expression softened. "you should come with me sometime. I could show you things you've never seen, places your precious protocols would never let you go."

"oh no, I-I couldn't," you replied automatically. "it's forbidden for angels to—"

"to what? to experience creation? to see the world you're supposedly protecting?" he sat up, and there was a passion in his voice now, an intensity that made you hang on every word. "that's what I've never understood about you celestial folk.. you're meant to be guardians of humanity, but you're kept so separate from them, so isolated. how can you protect something you don't understand? how can you love something you've never truly seen?"

"we love them because we're commanded to," you replied firmly, but even as the words left your mouth, you realized just how hollow they sounded.

satoru's expression turned sad. "that's not love, birdie. that's just obedience twisted to resemble amity."

his words haunted you long after you returned to the celestial city that night. you went through your duties mechanically, your mind elsewhere, turning over everything satoru had said. around you, angels sang their perfect harmonies, but for the first time, you noticed how rehearsed they sounded, how there was no spontaneity, no individual expression—just the same songs, sung the same way, for all eternity.

was this really paradise? or was it just a gilded cage?

--

"tell me about the fall," you asked him one night, weeks into your secret meetings. "really tell me. I want to hear the devils—er, fallen version of that day."

satoru was quiet for a long moment, his expression distant. when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it.

"it was the most terrifying and most exhilarating moment of my existence," he said. "one moment, I was part of the celestial host, surrounded by light and certainty and the absolute knowledge that I was on the right side of everything. the next..." he paused, and you saw his throat work as he swallowed. "the next, I was falling. literally falling through layers of reality, feeling the grace being torn away from me, the searing pain of my wings melting off, watching the only home I'd ever known disappear above me."

"do you regret it?" you whispered.

"every day," he admitted honestly, "and not at all. I regret the pain it caused, the relationships it destroyed, the certainty I’d lost. but I don't regret the choice itself. because it was a choice, birdie. the first real choice i'd ever made." he looked at you, and in his eyes, you saw ancient sorrow and hard-won wisdom. "I'd rather fall a thousand times over than spend eternity as a puppet, no matter how beautiful the strings."

you reached out without thinking, taking his hand in yours. it was the second time you'd truly touched him—the first you’d initiated it—skin to skin, and the sensation sent a familiar shock through your entire being. it felt.. good. like freedom, like finding something you hadn't known you were missing.

satoru's eyes widened, and you realized he felt it too. this connection, this rightness that shouldn't exist between an angel and one of the fallen.

"y/n," he breathed, uttering your given name for the second time. it was a prayer and a curse all at once.

you should have pulled away. should have recognized this for what it was—a bond forming, a connection that violated every law of heaven and hell. you should have run back to your realm and never looked back.

instead, you found your fingers lacing through his and holding on tighter.

"tell me more," you murmured. "tell me everything."

and he did.

over the following weeks, satoru opened up to you in ways you suspected he'd never opened up to anyone. he told you about wars, about the terrible beauty of angels and demons clashing in battles that shook the foundations of reality. 

he told you about his friends among the fallen—suguru, who had questioned the morality of heaven's absolute rule. shoko, who had wanted to use her healing powers without the restrictions placed on divine intervention. nanami, who had simply wanted to rest after millennia of service and been denied.

in turn, you told him about your life in the celestial realm. about your father, the archangel who commanded legions and whose word was law. about the pressure of being his daughter, of always having to be perfect, pure, an example to other angels. about the loneliness of living up to impossible expectations.

"he's grooming you to take over his position someday," satoru observed. "that's why he's so strict with you."

"I-I don't want it," you confessed, and saying it aloud felt like blasphemy. "I don't want to command legions or sit in judgment or spend eternity enforcing rules I'm not sure I even believe in anymore."

"then don't." he commented laxly, resting his head on his palm and tilting it in your direction.

you laughed bitterly. "it's not that simple. I can't just refuse. I'm his daughter. I have responsibilities, and duties, and—"

"you have a life," satoru interrupted. "your own life, not just an extension of his. birdie, you're not a tool to be used or a legacy to be continued. you're an angel. you deserve to want things, to choose things, to be more than what someone else decided you should be. your loving Creator gave you free will, why don't you utilize it?"

tears pricked your eyes. "you make it sound so easy."

"it's not easy," he hummed, moving closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "it's the hardest thing you'll ever do. but it's worth it. freedom is always worth it."

you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing. "I'm afraid," you whispered.

"I know," he murmured. "I'm afraid too."

your eyes opened, meeting his. "of what?"

his thumb brushed across your cheekbone, and his smile was tender and heartbreaking. "of how much you've come to mean to me. of what I'd do to keep you safe. of what I'd sacrifice to see you smile." his voice dropped to barely a whisper, a pained smile etching across his features. "of how completely I’ve fallen for you."

your breath caught. the confession hung between you, heavy the laughable impossibility that laced it. an angel and one of the fallen. it was forbidden, and happened to be a violation of the most fundamental laws of creation.

it was also the truest thing you'd ever felt.

"satoru…" you breathed. and then you were kissing him, or he was kissing you, or you were meeting in the middle—it didn't matter. all that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his arms wrapped around you, the way your wings unfurled and wrapped around both of you, creating a protective cocoon of white feathers and desperate longing.

the kiss was everything your first kiss should have been, and it was nothing like you'd imagined. it was soft and fierce, gentle and consuming, a question and an answer all at once. it tasted like freedom and felt like falling, you never wanted it to end.

when you finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, satoru rested his forehead against yours.

"we can't take this back," he said quietly. "once we cross this line—"

"I know," you interrupted. "I don't care."

"your father—"

"I don't care," you repeated, more firmly. "satoru, for the first time in my existence, I'm choosing something for myself. I'm choosing you."

a strangled groan left his throat, and when he kissed you again, you felt him trembling—this powerful, ancient being, shaking with the force of his emotion.

"then I choose you too," he whispered against your lips. "whatever comes, whatever the cost—I choose you."

you should have known that the universe was listening. you should have known that such declarations never go unpunished.

you should have known that happiness, for beings like you, was always temporary.

--

for a few precious weeks, you existed in a bubble of stolen moments and secret joy. you met satoru every night at the threshold, and each meeting felt like a small rebellion, a tiny victory against the forces that wanted to keep you apart.

he taught you things you'd never learned in heaven—how to laugh without restraint, how to question without guilt, how to want without shame. he showed you glimpses of the mortal world, taking you to watch sunrises and meteor showers, to listen to music and witness art, to see all the beautiful, chaotic, imperfect things that made human life so precious.

in return, you showed him that not all of heaven was rigid and cold. you shared with him the genuine beauty of the celestial realm—the gardens where flowers sang, the libraries containing every story ever told, the quiet places where you could see all of creation spread out like a tapestry.

"it really is beautiful," he admitted one night, looking out over the celestial city from your secret vantage point. "i'd forgotten. after the fall, I only remembered the pain and the rejection. but this..." he gestured to the spires of light, the flowing rivers of starlight, the angels moving like living constellations through the streets below. "this is worth remembering too."

"do you miss it?" you asked, "being part of this?"

"sometimes," he replied honestly. "I miss the certainty of it all. the sense of belonging and the feeling that I was part of something greater than just myself." he turned to you with a bittersweet smile, "but I don't miss it enough to give up what I have now. I don't miss it enough to give up you."

you kissed him then, there on the edge of heaven itself, and damn the consequences.

you should have been more careful. should have noticed the signs—the way other angels had begun looking at you strangely, the questions about where you disappeared to each night, the increasing scrutiny from your father's lieutenants.

you should have known that secrets, especially ones this big, never stay hidden forever.

--

the night everything fell apart started like any other.

you slipped away from your duties, making excuses about needing time for private prayers. you made your way to the threshold, your heart already racing with anticipation of seeing satoru, of losing yourself in his arms and forgetting, for a few hours, about the impossible situation you'd created.

you were Jonah, and anywhere but the arms of the devil was nineveh.

he was already there, waiting for you with that smile that made your heart skip. but something was different tonight—there was a hidden tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes.

"what's wrong?" you asked immediately.

"we need to talk," he said, and those four words sent ice through your veins.

"hah, well that's never a good way to start a conversation," you tried to joke, but it fell flat.

satoru took your hands, his grip almost desperate. "birdie, i've been thinking. this—us—it can't continue like this. sneaking around, hiding, living in stolen moments. it's not enough. it's not fair to you."

your heart was pounding in your ears now. "what are you saying?"

"I'm saying we need to make a choice. a real one." his eyes burned with intensity. "come with me. leave heaven, leave your father, leave all of this behind. we could be together, really together, without hiding or fear or—"

"you're asking me to fall." you whispered, horrified.

"I'm asking you to choose yourself," he corrected quickly. "to choose us. to choose a life where you're free to be who you want to be, not who they've decided you should be."

"satoru, I—" you wanted to say yes. God, you wanted to say yes so badly it hurt. but the words stuck in your throat, tangled up with fear and duty and the weight of millennia of conditioning. "I need time. I need to think—"

"we don't have time," he urged. “I've heard rumors. there's talk in the lower realms about an angel who's been seen at the threshold, who's been fraternizing with our kind. it's only a matter of time before—"

"before what?" a voice responds.

not your voice.

it came from behind you, and it was like having Jonah’s fish of justice swallow your being whole. you turned slowly, already knowing what you'd see but hoping desperately that you were wrong.

you weren't, of course.

the archangel, the judge of divinity—your father—stood there, resplendent in his full warrior regalia, his wings spread wide, his face a mask of cold fury. behind him were a dozen of his most loyal warriors, their weapons drawn stiff, expressions stiffer.

"father," you breathed, and you hated how small your voice sounded. how his presence would always condition your personal minimization.

"step away from the demon," he commanded.

"he—he's not a demon," you shakily declared, slowly finding your courage. "his name is satoru, and I—"

"I know what he is," your father interrupted, his eyes never leaving satoru. "I know exactly what he is. a fallen. a corrupter. a snake who has poisoned my daughter's mind with his lies."

"he hasn't poisoned anything!" you protested, moving to stand beside satoru. "he's shown me that there's more to existence than blind obedience and—"

"enough!" your father's voice cracked like thunder, and the very air around you trembled, you looked around desperately, even his very soldiers’s faces gleamed with secret pity—an unspoken fear of divine punishment. 

"I have watched you, daughter. I have seen you sneak away night after night. I have witnessed your corruption, your fall from grace, your betrayal of everything we stand for." his gaze finally shifted to you, and the disappointment in his eyes was worse than any anger. "I had such hopes for you... you were to be my successor. and you've thrown it all away for… for this."

the contempt in his voice when he looked at satoru made your blood boil.

"don't speak about him like that!" you roared, your own voice gaining strength. "you don't know him. you don't know anything about him except what your prejudice tells you!"

"I know enough!" your father said coldly. "I know that he has seduced you, he has poisioned your mind with his sinful serpent’s fruit. turned you against your own kind, and made you forget your duty and your honor."

"he's done nothing but treat me like a person instead of a weapon!" you shouted, and you felt your own power rising, your wings beginning to unfurl with a restrained rage. "he's done nothing but show me kindness and respect and—"

"love," satoru said quietly. he stood tall, unafraid despite being outnumbered and outmatched, his eyes fixed on your father. "I love her. and she loves me. that's what you can't stand, isn't it? not that she's been meeting with the enemy, but that she's found something you can't control."

your father's expression turned to stone. "you dare speak of love? you, who fell from grace? you, who chose pride over service? you know nothing of love."

"I know more than you think," satoru replied, and there was a sadness in his voice that made your heart ache. "I know that love means wanting someone to be happy, even if it costs you everything. I know that love means respecting someone's choices, even when you disagree with them. I know that love means seeing someone as they truly are, not as you wish they would be." he glanced at you, and his smile was gentle. "and I know that I love your daughter enough to let her make her own choice, even if that choice breaks my heart."

"how noble," your father sneered. "but it changes nothing. you have corrupted an angel of the Lord. you have violated the sacred boundary between our realms, darkened the heart of my Eve. for this, you will be punished."

"STOP!" you cried, stepping in front of satoru. "if you want to punish someone, punish me. i'm the one who sought him out. i'm the one who kept coming back. i'm the one who—"

"who has been manipulated and deceived," your father finished. "I know, daughter. I know you think you've made these choices freely, but you haven't. he has clouded your judgment and twisted your thoughts. this snake has made you believe that rebellion is freedom and that disobedience is love." he took a moment to compose himself, steadying his expression. "but you are my daughter, and I will not lose you to the darkness. you will be confined to your chambers until this... infection... has been purged from your system."

"infection?!" you couldn't believe what you were hearing. "father, I'm not sick! I'm not corrupted, I'm just—"

"enough," he said, and the finality in his voice was absolute. he gestured to two of his warriors. "take her."

"don't touch her," satoru snarled, and suddenly his cursed power flared, dark energy crackling around him like lightning. "if you want to punish someone, punish me. but leave her alone."

"oh, I intend to punish you," your father clarified, and his smile was terrible to behold. "but not with destruction. that would be too merciful." he raised his hand, and divine light began to gather around it, brighter and more intense than anything you'd ever seen. "no, for you, I have something far more fitting. you wanted to corrupt my daughter? you wanted to steal her from her destiny? then you will spend eternity knowing that you failed. you will be cast into the void, into the space between spaces where nothing exists, where you will have an eternity to contemplate your sins in absolute isolation until you revert to the dust you were made of."

"NO!" you screamed, struggling against the warriors who had grabbed your arms. "father, please, don't do this! I'll do anything, I'll—"

"you'll forget him," your father said calmly. "in time, with proper guidance and prayer, you'll forget this ever happened. you'll return to your duties, take your place at my side, and fulfill your destiny."

"I'll never forget him!" you seethed fiercely, tears streaming down your face. "never. you can lock me away for a thousand years, and I'll still love him. you can try to purge my memories, and I'll still carry him in my heart. you can't control this, father. you can't control who I love."

"we'll see," he muttered, and unleashed his power.

the light was blinding, overwhelming, a force of pure divine will that struck satoru like a physical blow. you screamed, fighting against your captors with a strength you didn't know you possessed, but it wasn't enough. nothing was enough.

you watched, helpless, as satoru was torn away from the threshold, his form beginning to dissolve into particles of light and shadow. but even as he was being unmade, even as he was being cast into oblivion, his eyes never left yours.

"be free," he mouthed, a silent tear slipping freely down his cheek. 

and then he was gone.

your scream could be heard for lightyears. you stopped struggling. stopped fighting. something inside you had broken, shattered so completely that you weren't sure it could ever be repaired. your form ragdolled within the arms of the warriors holding you in place, relying on their support to keep you from collapsing to the ground.

your father approached you slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was almost gentle. "in time, you'll understand, my daughter. I did this for you. to protect you. to save you from a fate worse than—"

"I hate you," you seethed, a terrible veracity lacing your tone, "I will hate you for this until the end of time itself."

your father flinched as if you'd struck him. "you don't mean that. you're upset, confused—"

"I mean every word," you confirmed, and your voice was empty, hollow, all the life and warmth drained out of it. "you've taken the only thing that ever made me happy. the only person who ever saw me as more than just your daughter. and for that, I will never forgive you."

a flash briefs through his expression. "take her to her chambers," your father commanded stoically, turning away. "and seal them. she is not to leave until I say otherwise."

as the warriors dragged you away, you didn't resist. what was the point? satoru was gone. cast into a void from which there was no return. your father had won.

but as you were pulled through the streets of the celestial city, past angels who whispered and stared, past the places where you'd once felt at home, you made a silent vow.

this wasn't over. somehow, some way, you would find a way to reach satoru. you would tear apart reality itself if you had to. you would grab fate by the neck and tell it to shove its plans down its disgusting, slimy—

--

the days blurred together in your confinement.

your chambers—once a sanctuary of soft breeze and flowing starlight—became a tomb. the divine wards your father had woven didn't just lock the doors; they locked you, pressing against your skin like invisible chains, like being buried alive while still breathing. you could feel them, a constant weight, a constant reminder that you were trapped. your father had sealed the very walls with spells that prevented you from leaving, from using your powers, from doing anything but exist in this beautiful cage.

the silence was the worst part.

in heaven, there was always sound—the hum of divine energy, the distant songs of the celestial choir, the whisper of wings. but here, sealed away, there was nothing. just the sound of your own breathing, your own heartbeat, the blood rushing in your ears. it was a silence so complete it felt like drowning.

you didn't eat. food turned to ash in your mouth. you barely slept, and when you did, you dreamed of the void—that terrible, empty space where satoru had been cast. in your nightmares, you saw him there, alone in the darkness, his light slowly being consumed by nothing. you saw him forgetting who he was, piece by piece, memory by memory, until there was nothing left but an echo of an echo.

you woke up screaming.

your father visited you daily, trying to reason with you, to make you see that he'd done this out of love, out of a desire to protect you. each time, you turned away, refusing to speak, refusing to even acknowledge him.

"you'll thank me someday," he said during one visit, his voice heavy with sorrow. "when you've had time to heal, to see clearly again, you'll understand that I saved you."

you said nothing still. there was nothing to say.

you daydreamed of satoru. of his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes lit up when he saw you. of his touch and his kiss, the way he made you feel alive in a way you'd never felt before.

you had to reach him. had to find a way.

but how? the void was beyond reality and space and time. it was nowhere and nothing, a place of absolute isolation. even if you could escape your chambers, even if you could somehow evade your father's warriors, how could you possibly reach somewhere that didn't exist?

as it turned out, you wouldn't have to wait long to find your answer.

one night, as you sat by your window staring out at the celestial city, you felt a presence. not physical, but a whisper at the edge of your consciousness, faint and distant but unmistakably there.

birdie..?

your heart stopped. you knew that voice, you would recognize it anywhere.

satoru? you thought desperately, not daring to hope.

I'm here, came the response, so faint you almost missed it. can you hear me?

a choked sob escaped you as silent tears streamed down your face. how? father said you were cast into the void, that there was no return—

there isn't, satoru's voice was resigned. I'm trapped here, birdie. in the nothing. but I can still feel you. our connection—it's stronger than whatever is trying to contain my spirit. 

I'll find you, you promised fiercely. I'll find a way to bring you back.

no. his voice was firm. birdie, you can't. the void is... it's beyond anything you can imagine. it's not just emptiness like everyone thinks it is—it's literally the absence of everything. of light, of warmth, of hope. if you tried to come here, you'd be lost too.

I don't care, you said. I'd rather be lost with you than safe without you.

don't say that. there was anguish in his voice now. don't throw away your existence for me. you have so much to live for, so so much—

without you, I have nothing, you interrupted. satoru, you showed me what it means to really live. to choose, to feel, to be free. how can I go back to just existing after that? how can I just pretend that any of this matters when the only thing that ever truly mattered is gone?

silence. then; I love you. God, I love you so much.

then let me come to you, you pleaded. let me find a way.

there is no way, he sighed gently. the void is sealed. your father made sure of that. the only way to reach it would be to... to fall. completely. to sever your connection to heaven entirely and cast yourself into the darkness.

then that's what i'll do.

birdie, no—

I've made my choice, you thought firmly. you asked me once to choose myself, to choose us. I'm choosing now. I'm choosing you, satoru. whatever it takes.

you'll lose everything, he communicated desperately. your wings, your grace, your immortality—

I'll lose nothing that matters, you corrected. because the only thing that matters is you.

you felt his presence waver, felt the weight of his emotion even across the unattainable distance. birdie, if you do this, there's no going back. you'll fall, and even if you reach me, we'll both be trapped in the void. we'll have nothing and become nothing.

we'll have each other, you said simply. that's everything.

for the second time in your immortal life, you made a choice. and for the second time in your immortal life, it was for his sake.

--

planning your fall was harder than you'd anticipated.

it wasn't enough to simply rebel or break rules—you'd been doing that for weeks, and while it had earned you confinement, it hadn't severed your connection to heaven. no, to truly fall, you had to commit an act so fundamentally against your nature, so completely antithetical to everything an angel was supposed to be, that heaven itself would reject you.

you spent days researching, reading forbidden texts that you'd smuggled into your chambers over the years, learning about the mechanics of the fall. what you discovered was both enlightening and terrifying.

the fall wasn't a punishment—not really. it was an aftermath. when an angel acted in a way that was so contrary to their divine nature that they could no longer sustain their connection to the celestial realm, that connection would break. the grace that powered them, that made them what they were, would be torn away, and they would plummet through the layers of reality until they landed... somewhere.

most fallen landed in the lower realms, the places of shadow and fire where they could rebuild, adapt, create new existences for themselves—”hell,” as mortal beings called it—but those who fell while already being punished, who were cast out rather than choosing to leave, often ended up in worse places.

places like the void.

the irony wasn't lost on you. your father had cast satoru into the void as punishment, never imagining that you would see it as a destination rather than a damnation.

but how to fall? what act could you commit that would be severe enough to sever your connection to heaven?

the answer, when it came to you, was both simple and terrible. you would have to reject the divine entirely. not just rebel against it, not just question it, but completely and utterly renounce it. you would have to stand before the throne of heaven itself and declare that you wanted no part of it, that you chose darkness over light, chaos over order, damnation over salvation.

it would break your father's heart. you would shame your entire lineage and demolish your honour. what you were planning would make you an outcast, a cautionary tale, a name spoken in whispers as an example of how far an angel could fall.

but you didn't care.

the night you chose to do it, you felt strangely calm. you'd already said your goodbyes to the few things in heaven you would miss—the gardens and the libraries, the quiet places where you'd once found solace. you'd written two letters—one to your father, trying to explain, knowing he would never understand but needing to try anyway. the other to satoru. though that one felt more like a diary, a keepsake due to the likely chance that you would never truly see him again.

then you broke the seals on your chamber.

it was surprisingly easier than it should have been. your father's wards were powerful, sure, but they were designed more to keep you in than keeping your power out. and you were his daughter, after all. you carried his strength in your veins, his power in your wings. when you pushed against the seals with everything you had, they shattered like glass.

alarms rang out across the celestial city. you ignored them, walking calmly through the streets as angels scattered before you, as warriors rushed to intercept you. you didn't fight them. you simply walked, your destination clear in your mind.

the judge’s courtroom of heaven was exactly how you remembered it as a fledgling—vast and beautiful, filled with light so pure it hurt to look at directly. and there, seated on the throne of judgment, was your father.

he stood as you entered, his expression a mixture of relief and anger. "daughter, thank the Lord—the seals broke, but you're safe. come, let me—"

"I renounce heaven." you declared clearly, your voice echoing through the chamber. your lack of stutter stemming from hours of rehearsal.

your father froze. "what?"

"I renounce heaven," you repeated, louder now. "I renounce the divine, the celestial realm, and everything it stands for. I reject my grace, my wings, and my place among the angels. I choose to fall."

the chamber erupted in chaos. angels gasped and a general murmur broke out, warriors drew their weapons, and your father's face went white.

"you-you don't know what you're saying," he gasped, descending from the judge’s bench. "my child, you're upset, you're not thinking clearly—"

"I've never been more clear," you said. "I don't want this life. I don't want to be your daughter, or your pawn, or your perfect little soldier. I want to be free to make my own choices. and I want to be with the person I love, even if it means falling into darkness."

"this is his influence," your father said desperately. "the demon has poisoned your mind—"

"his name is satoru!" you shouted. "and he didn't poison anything. he freed me. he may have warned me about this in the past, but all in all it is my decision and my decision alone to renounce my nature. my choice to find more to existence than following orders and maintaining the status quo.” you spread your wings wide, feeling your power building. "and I choose him. I choose him over all of this. I choose him over you."

your father's face crumpled. "please," he whispered, and you'd never heard him beg before. "please, daughter, don't do this. I can't lose you. you're all I have, you're—"

"you lost me the moment you took him from me," you said, and you felt tears streaming down your face. "goodbye, father."

and then you let go. stepping off the precipice of heaven.

it was like cutting a rope that had been holding you your entire existence. you felt your connection to heaven snap, felt the grace that had sustained you for millennia begin to tear away. it was agony—worse than any physical pain, a spiritual rending that felt like being unmade at the molecular level.

you screamed as your wings began to burn, as the holy light that had always surrounded you turned to shadow. it was exactly as satoru had described, you realized. you heard your father crying out, felt him trying to reach you, but it was too late. the fall had begun, and nothing could stop it now.

you plummeted through layers of reality, through spaces between spaces, through the very fabric of creation itself. you saw glimpses of the mortal world, of the lower realms, of places that had no names and existed only in the gaps between existence.

and then you saw it—the void.

again, it was exactly as satoru had described. not darkness, but the absence of light. not emptiness, but the absence of everything. it was nowhere and nothing, a place that shouldn't exist but did, a cosmic wound in the fabric of reality.

you fell into it, and the nothing swallowed you whole.

--

there was no up or down, no light or dark, no sense of space or time. you existed—at least you thought you existed—but you couldn't see yourself or feel your body, you couldn't sense anything except the vast, terrible emptiness that surrounded you.

satoru! you called out, not with your voice but with your mind, your very essence. satoru, I'm here!

for a long moment, there was nothing. then—

birdie?

his presence crashed into you like a wave, and suddenly you could feel him, sense him, even though you still couldn't see anything. he was here, in the nothing, and he was reaching for you.

you came, he gasped, his voice filled with relief and horror. you actually came. birdie, what have you done?

what I had to, you replied, and you couldnt tell if the feeling yourselves drifting closer together was an illusion. in the void, concepts like movement and distance were meaningless. I told you I would find you.

you fell, he said, and you could feel his anguish. you gave up everything—

I gave up nothing that mattered, remember? you corrected. satoru, where are you? I can feel you, but I can't—

I'm here, he said, and suddenly you could sense him more clearly, could almost make out a shape in the formless nothing. I'm right here.

you reached out, and your hand—did you still have a hand?—touched something solid and warm and real.

satoru.

the moment you made contact, the void changed. it was still nothing, still empty, but now there was a point of reference, a center around which existence could orient itself. you and satoru, together, created a tiny island of reality in the sea of nothing.

you could see him now, or something akin to seeing. he looked different—his devilish traits were gone, his destructive beauty dimmed, but his eyes were still that impossible blue, and his smile was still the same.

"you're insane," he said, pulling you close. "completely, utterly insane."

"I learned from the best," you replied, and then you were kissing him, right there in the nothing, and it was everything.

when you finally pulled apart, you looked around at the emptiness surrounding you. "so this is it? this is where we'll spend eternity?"

"i'm afraid so," satoru said quietly. "the void is inescapable. we're trapped here, birdie. together, but trapped."

"then we'll make the best of it," you said firmly. "we'll create our own reality here. we'll—"

"birdie," he interrupted gently. "there's something you need to know. the void... it doesn't just trap you. it consumes you. slowly, over time, it erodes everything you are until there's nothing left. I've been fighting it since I arrived, but I can feel it working on me. my memories are starting to fade, my sense of self is becoming... unclear."

your heart clenched. "how long?"

"I don't know. time doesn't work the same here. it could be days or centuries or—" he stopped, his expression pained. "the point is, we won't last forever. eventually, the void will take us both."

"then we'll face it together," you said with as much naive determination as you could muster, taking his hands. "satoru, I didn't come here expecting a happy ending. I came here because I'd rather have a short time with you than an eternity without you."

he pulled you close, burying his face in your hair. he tried to force the quiver out of his voice while muttering, "why would you do this for me? to yourself? I don't deserve you at all."

"you deserve everything," you whispered. "and I'm sorry I can't give you more than this."

"this is enough," he said. "you're enough. you've always been enough."

--

time in the void was impossible to measure, but you felt every second of your dissolution like a knife slowly carving away pieces of your soul.

at first, it was bearable. you and satoru held each other in the nothing, talking desperately, frantically, trying to memorize every detail of each other before it was too late. you traced the lines of his face with trembling fingers, committing to memory the exact shade of his eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the sound of his voice when he said your name.

you joined yourselves as intimately as two living creatures possibly could, swallowing his ecstasy and his pleasure all at once.

but the void was impatient, and it was hungry.

the memories went first. small things—the name of a flower you'd loved in heaven's gardens, gone. the melody of a song you'd hummed while on duty, vanished. you reached for them and found only empty space where they should have been, like missing teeth in your mind.

"satoru," you said one time, panic creeping into your voice. "I can't remember... there was a place we went. in the mortal world. there were lights in the sky, falling lights, and you held my hand and—" you stopped, frustrated tears burning your eyes. "why can't I remember?"

"a meteor shower," he said quietly, but his voice was hollow. "we watched it from a mountain in... in..." his face crumpled. "I don't remember where. God, birdie, I don't remember where we were."

the horror of it settled over you like a shroud. these weren't just memories—they were your shared existence, the precious few moments of joy you'd stolen together. and they were being eaten away, devoured by the nothing, until soon there would be no evidence you'd ever been happy at all.

it would only get worse.

you forgot the names of angels you'd known for millennia. you forgot the layout of the celestial city, the feeling of your wings catching divine light, the taste of ambrosia. entire centuries of your existence simply... disappeared, leaving blank spaces in your mind that ached like phantom limbs.

satoru was deteriorating faster. he'd been in the void longer, and it showed. sometimes he would look at you with confusion in his eyes, like he couldn't quite place who you were. those moments lasted only seconds before recognition returned, but each time it happened, you felt a terrifying panic claw up your throat.

"I'm forgetting," he confessed one day, his voice breaking. "birdie, I'm forgetting things about you. I can't remember the first thing you ever said to me. I can't remember what your wings looked like. I keep trying to hold onto it, but it's like trying to hold water—it just slips through my fingers."

"it's okay," you lied, pulling him close even as your own panic threatened to consume you. "it's okay, we're together, that's what matters—"

"no, it's not okay!" he pulled away, and you saw tears streaming down his face. "don't you understand? I brought you here. I did this to you. you were perfect and eternal and safe, and I corrupted you, I made you fall, I dragged you into this hell where you're going to be erased from existence, and it's all my fault—"

"satoru, no—"

"you're going to die because of me," he gasped, and the anguish in his voice was unbearable. "you're going to cease to exist, and it's because you loved me, because I was selfish enough to let you love me, and I can't—I can't live with that. I can't watch you disappear knowing I'm the reason why."

you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. "listen to me. I chose this. not you—me. I chose to fall, I chose to come here, I chose you over everything else. and I would make the same choice again, do you understand? even knowing how it ends, I would choose you every single time."

he sobbed, and you held him while he broke apart, while the weight of what he'd cost you finally crushed him. you held him and pretended you weren't breaking too, weren't terrified of the nothing that was slowly devouring you both.

the worst part was when you started forgetting each other.

it happened gradually, then all at once. you would look at satoru and for a brief, horrible moment, you wouldn't know who he was. just a stranger in the darkness, someone you felt you should recognize but couldn't quite place. then the memory would slam back into you—satoru, his name is satoru, you love him, you fell for him—and you would gasp with relief.

but each time, the moment of blankness lasted a little longer.

"what's happening to us?" you whispered one day, clinging to him desperately. you couldn't remember your father’s name. you'd been trying for hours, reaching for it, but it was gone, just gone, and the terror of that absence was suffocating.

"we're losing ourselves," satoru said. his voice sounded strange, distant, like it was coming from very far away. "the void is taking everything. soon there won't be anything left. we'll just be... erased."

you felt your consciousness fragmenting, splintering into pieces that didn't quite fit together anymore. you couldn't remember what you'd been before this. an angel? maybe. the concept felt foreign, meaningless. you couldn't remember heaven, couldn't remember your father, couldn't remember anything except the person in front of you and the desperate, clawing need to hold onto them.

"I don't want to forget you," you said, and you were crying now, great heaving sobs that shook your entire body. "please, I can't forget you. you're all I have left. if I lose you, if I forget you, then what was any of this for?"

"I know," he said, and he was crying too. "I know, I'm scared too. I'm so scared, birdie. I don't want to fade away alone. I don't want to become nothing."

you held each other in the darkness, two fragmenting souls clinging to the last shreds of identity, and you felt the void pressing in from all sides, patient and inexorable, waiting to consume what little remained.

that's when satoru spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.

“y/n..” he repeated under his breath like a mantra, rocking back and forth in a fetal position, “your name is y/n, and I know you… y/n, y/n…?”

he received no response.

“y/n?”

he never would again.

“y/n..” he finally breathed. then, the final words that would ever leave his lips—

“I love you, y/n.”

--

in the celestial realm, the archangel stood at the edge of the threshold, staring into the space between spaces where his daughter had disappeared.

he'd felt it when she fell—a tearing in his very soul, a loss so profound it had brought him to his knees. he'd screamed her name into the void between realms, reached for her with every ounce of his divine power, tried desperately to pull her back. but she was already gone, plummeting through layers of reality he would never be able to reach.

he'd felt it again when she'd entered the void, when the nothing had swallowed her whole. that sensation was worse—not tangible pain but absence, a hole torn in the fabric of his existence where his daughter used to be.

and now, he felt nothing. because there was nothing left to feel.

his daughter wasn't dead. death implied an afterlife, a soul that continued, a possibility of reunion in some distant eternity. no. his daughter was erased. unmade. she had ceased to exist in any form, in any realm, in any reality. there was no heaven waiting for her, nor hell. just the absolute, complete, irreversible nothing.

the archangel fell to his knees at the threshold, and for the first time in his eternal existence, he broke down.

a sound tore from his throat. the sound of a father realizing he'd murdered his own child. because that's what he'd done, wasn't it? he'd cast satoru into the void, knowing it would destroy him. he'd locked his daughter away, knowing she'd be desperate. he'd refused to listen, refused to see her as anything but a child to be controlled, a possession to be protected.

and she'd chosen oblivion rather than live in the cage he'd built for her.

"sir?" one of his lieutenants approached cautiously, keeping his distance. "the council is asking for your report on the... incident."

the archangel didn't respond—he couldn't. he was staring at his hands—hands that had wielded divine judgment, hands that had cast satoru into damnation, hands that had sealed his daughter's chambers and driven her to this.

these hands had destroyed everything he loved.

"she's gone," he finally whispered, "my daughter is gone. there's no soul to save, no spirit to redeem. she doesn't exist anymore."

the lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. "sir, the council—"

"tell them I don't care," the archangel blurted, "tell them my daughter chose love over heaven, and I drove her to it. tell them I'm the reason she's been erased from creation. tell them—" his voice cracked completely. "tell them I killed her."

he stood on shaking legs and walked away from the threshold, away from the space where his daughter had made her final choice. each step felt like walking through water, through mud, through the weight of his own grief.

his celestial city stretched before him, beautiful and eternal and utterly hollow.

he'd walked these streets for millennia, had built this paradise with his own hands, had ruled it with absolute judgement. the crystalline spires caught divine light and scattered it into rainbows. the rivers of starlight flowed endlessly through gardens where flowers sang in perfect harmony. angels moved through the streets like living constellations, their wings catching the eternal golden glow.

it was perfect. it was paradise.

it was a tomb.

the archangel saw it now—really saw it—for the first time. the rigid order he'd enforced, the perfect obedience he'd demanded, the way every angel moved in prescribed patterns, sang prescribed songs, thought prescribed thoughts. there was no individualism here, no spontaneity.

no freedom. no choice. not even life./

his daughter had seen it. she'd felt the cage even when he'd insisted it was her paradise. and when he'd tried to force her back into it, when he'd taken away the one thing that made her feel alive, she'd chosen to stop existing entirely rather than return.

what did that say about the heaven he'd built? what did that say about him?

he walked through the city, and everywhere he looked, he saw her absence. the gardens where she used to walk. the libraries where she'd studied. the training grounds where she'd practiced with her blade. every corner held a memory, and every memory was a wound. he almost wished that he could be the one sent to the void, so as to wash away all of these godforsaken memories.

she'd never walk these streets again. never laugh, never question, never look at him with those eyes that saw too much. she was gone, and she was never coming back, and he would exist forever knowing that.

forever.

he was immortal, therefore he would exist until the end of time itself, and every single moment of that infinite existence would be spent knowing what he'd done. there would be no merciful death to release him, nor oblivion to grant him peace. just endless, eternal grief, stretching out before him like an abyss.

he'd thought the void was the cruelest punishment. he'd been wrong. this was crueler—to live forever with the knowledge that he'd destroyed his own daughter, that his need to control her had driven her to choose non-existence over his love.

he found himself standing in the throne room without remembering how he'd gotten there. the vast space stretched around him, filled with celestial grandeur. the throne itself sat on a raised dais, a seat of absolute authority from which he'd ruled for eons.

he looked at it and felt nothing but revulsion.

he'd before sat on that throne and passed judgment on the fallen. he'd declared them corrupted and damned them. he'd cast satoru into the void without hesitation, believing he was protecting his daughter.

he'd been protecting nothing. he'd been destroying everything.

your father sank to the floor in front of the throne, his wings dragging behind him. sobs tore through him, violent and uncontrolled, the grief of eternity condensed into this single moment. he cried for you, his daughter, for the future you’d never have, for the choice he'd stolen from you. he cried for himself, for the father he'd failed to be, for the love he'd twisted into control.

he cried because you were gone, truly and completely gone, and it was his fault.

hours passed, or maybe days—time meant nothing. eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving only a hollow ache that he knew would never fade.

your father stayed on the floor, unable to move, unable to rule, unable to do anything but exist in the wreckage of what he'd done. his throne loomed above him, expectant and waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to climb those steps. he'd lost that right when he'd lost you.

in the silence of the throne room, the archangel finally understood the lesson he should have learned millennia ago: that love without freedom is just another word for control, and control without trust is just another word for fear.

he'd been afraid of losing you, so he'd held on too tight. and in doing so, he'd lost you in the most complete and irreversible way possible.

alas, he would spend eternity knowing that he was the reason why.

--

epilogue

in the mortal world, there's a legend that lovers sometimes tell each other, though no one quite remembers where it came from or why it persists.

they say that if you stand at the edge of twilight, you might feel something. not a presence—not at all, actually—more like an absence, if anything. a cold spot in the air. a sense of something that should be there but isn't, like a word on the tip of your tongue that you can never quite remember.

the story has been told so many times, passed through so many mouths, that the details have worn smooth like river stones. no one knows the names anymore. no one remembers the specifics. no one remembers the angel who fell for love, or the fallen who waited in the void, or the choice they made to cease to exist together.

some versions say it was two angels who defied heaven. others claim it was a demon and a saint. still others insist it was simply two souls who loved each other so much that the universe itself couldn't contain them.

all the versions agree on one thing though: they're gone now. completely, utterly, irreversibly gone.

the romantics—the ones who still believe in happy endings—like to say that the lovers transcended, that they became something greater. perhaps that their love was so pure it transformed them into eternal guardians watching over other star-cross’d pairs.

the truth, however, buried beneath centuries of retelling and romanticization, is far more terrible. two people loved each other so desperately that when faced with separation, they chose mutual annihilation. they didn't transcend. they didn't transform into something beautiful at all. they simply... stopped existing. erased themselves from reality so completely that even the memory of their names was swallowed by the void.

what remains isn't love. it's the scar tissue where love used to be.

that feeling at twilight—that cold, unsettling sense of absence—isn't benevolent souls watching over creation. it's the echo of something that was destroyed so thoroughly that reality itself still bears the wound. the ghost of a choice so final, so absolute, that it left a hole in the fabric of existence that never quite healed.

the legend persists, distorted and softened by time, transformed into something almost beautiful. lovers invoke it when they want to believe that love conquers all, that devotion can overcome any obstacle, or that choosing each other is always the right answer.

yet they don't realize they're celebrating a double suicide. they don't understand that the story they're telling is about two people who were so broken by the world's cruelty that they saw erasure as mercy.

and perhaps that's for the best. perhaps it's kinder to let the legend remain beautiful, to let people believe in transcendence rather than erasure, to let them think that somewhere, somehow, those two souls are still together and happy.

because the truth—that they're simply gone, that they chose non-existence over a life apart, that their love was so consuming it destroyed them both completely—is too terrible to bear.

soon, even the legend will be forgotten. the story will be told one last time, and then never again. the cold spot at twilight will fade, and then there will be nothing left at all—no memory or echo or trace that they ever existed or ever loved or ever made the terrible choice to unmake themselves.

because even fate had struggled to keep them apart.

but in the end, fate always prevails.

a/n: fanfic or not, this work means a lot to me because it reflects a lot of the doubts i’m currently feeling within my faith. topics such as as predestination, free will, the falling, and the rapture have always plagued my belief.

i’m open to any suggestions or edits especially as this contains sensitive topics such as religion. i’d written this in a Christian perspective, with some apparent Biblical references or symbolism. if any part of this negatively portrays the religion at its core, or you feel that i’ve written something immoral, please feel free to reach out to me and i’d be more than happy to revise and edit whatever parts need editing:)

Mikey

This orange-wearing beacon of chaos and sunshine is always one hundred percent ready for sex, anytime, anywhere. Just say the word, and he’s already dropped and ready to go.

Now, it’s plain to see that Mikey tends to become a little hyper-focused, especially on things that are of great interest to him, and you are most certainly at the top of his list. The sight of you, undressed, waiting for him on the bed, wet and ready, has him completely forgetting that he meant to clean up those comic books he’d been reading—especially the ones safely packed in their shiny plastic sleeves.

They were all scattered across the cool brick floor of his room, which was partially covered by a fluffy orange rug, the perfect set of conditions to send him tumbling ass over shell into a hamper full of clean clothes he’d also meant to put away.

The plastic hamper was done for, completely cracked in half from his weight and the impact of the fall. He sat there dazed for a second, his dick flopping comically like a cartoon daisy as he tried to wiggle out of his predicament.

“Whoops! Babe, just gimme a second… I just gotta…”

“Oh my God, Mikey, are you okay?” You were trying very hard not to laugh initially, but when he stood up with the basket still attached to his shell, you lost it.

It was as infectious as it was endearing, and Mikey couldn’t keep it in either, laughing as he freed himself from the confines of broken plastic and discarded socks.

“Oh, laughing are we? Still standing, tall and proud over here.” He smirked, teasing you as he made his way over with no further issues. “First, imma wipe that smile off your face with a good, hard, dicking… then…I’m gonna clean my room.”

You had no complaints about either of those claims.

Raph

Now, this red-wearing turtleman, through no fault of his own, already had a hard time fitting into tight spaces…literally, whether it be you or your minimalist bedroom.

In the heat of the moment, Raph had shoved his shorts down to his ankles, not even bothering to remove his shoes or socks.

You were already completely undressed, ass-up on the bed, waiting for him and in his eagerness to bury himself within your waiting heat, he was not aware he needed to widen his stance and bend his knees a little because damn his height and your bed was just a bit too low. In his haste to remove his shorts, they got caught around his ankles, and like a wrecking ball off kilter, Raph quite literally crashed to the floor.

Thankfully, nothing is broken, but you whipped around so fast to see him crumpled on the floor in the most undignified position between your bed and your dresser, his dick looking like a wilted rose.

“Raph…you…” It was impossible to keep a straight face, snorting softly as you watched him look up to the ceiling, trying to compose himself.

With the sudden notion of becoming a chaos demon, you hopped out of bed and placed a white sock over his still-hard erection.

“There, the white flag of surrender.” You snorted, barely able to contain yourself. “Should we just move this to the floor?”

“Ya think that’s funny do ya?” He shot a playful glare from his sock-covered dick to you, trying very hard not to laugh. “Ain’t my fault ya live in a damn shoebox.”

The humour was fading as you took in his seemingly grumpy expression, finally beckoning him to come to the bed, his dick looking somewhat droopy as he heaved himself up, tossing the sock away.

“Hey!” You playfully protested as he easily moved you back against the headboard, his presence large and imposing. “That sock did nothing wrong.”

“Nah, but you did, naughty girl.” The rumble in his voice made your breath hitch as a large hand gripped your hip. “And now, yer in need of a good, hard, fuck, ain’t ya?”

You shivered with anticipation, allowing him to take back control of the situation, for this was not only what he needed to regain his dignity, but he was not wrong. This was exactly what you needed.

Leo

You and Blue had already been getting frisky in the shower. The smug turtleman had already made you cum once around his hand, and now you were half-wrapped in a towel on a mad dash to his room so he could fuck you properly.

Leo was in hot pursuit, having also managed to wrap a towel securely around himself as he followed you ninja-quick through the halls in the lair. It was a rare moment when Leo’s playful side emerged, as did yours, neither of you caring who saw or heard.

By some miracle, you managed to get there first, ripping the towel off and spreading yourself wide with the intent of driving him mad with your scent.

The desired effect was most definitely achieved, but almost a little too well. As he slammed the door behind him, Leo was nearly knocked off his feet by how desirable you smelled, and, as a result, he stumbled on his way to ravish you. Having not lifted his foot enough, he tried to compensate by catching himself with the other foot, but since he had a towel wrapped around his waist, his legs were essentially in a straitjacket, and he stubbed his toe, sending him flying forward.

He managed to turn enough to land on his shell and not his face, but was now spinning a little on his back, his towel askew and barely hanging on now, making it easy for you to see his once proud erection sticking up like a dandelion in a crack in the sidewalk.

The entire hilarious mishap has you closing your legs immediately and jumping off the bed to check on him.

“Oh, jeez, Leo! Are you okay?!” You found yourself kneeling down next to him and grabbing one of his large hands to pull him up as best you could into a sitting position.

Appearing somewhat dazed, you’d expected him to brush the whole thing off, possibly calling sex off as well, so you were incredibly surprised when he began to laugh, heartily and uncontrollably.

Soon you were laughing too, nearly breathless at the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

Leo pulled you in for a deep, affectionate kiss, his blue eyes shining with mirth. “Guess this means I’m falling for you.”

Snorting softly, you straddled his waist, pushing the towel off his hips and positioning yourself just there.

“I thought you already had.”

“Not in the physical sense, until today.” Leo had placed his hands on your hips with the intent of lowering you onto his cock, which was still hard.

“You could say I’ve fallen for you in all ways.”

“Show me?”

“Always.”

Donnie

In the quiet of his lab, late at night when he can only assume he’ll not be interrupted, Donnie decided to engage in some self-care.

A master of multitasking, Donnie has anywhere from three to five videos going on at once, and this is no exception. He had three videos all on separate screens, had already dropped and was stroking himself when you decided to enter the lab, completely unaware of his X-rated late-night activities.

Currently just a good friend of his and his brothers, you’d been spending the night and having the hardest time falling asleep. Given Donnie’s penchant for staying up late and working on projects, along with his basic medical knowledge, you thought he might be able to offer a solution to your insomnia. Some melatonin, perhaps? You didn’t feel confident rummaging around in the communal bathroom vanity and decided to ask him instead.

It also had nothing to do with the fact that you’d been crushing on him hard for the past six months, or that he’d been your first choice to ask about this. A quick peek at the lab told you he was still awake, the screens still lit, casting a soft glow over the various projects on his workbenches.

Perfect, you thought, and strode in, unaware until far too late that he should’ve locked the lab doors for this private affair. Coming up on him in his chair, you gasped, seeing exactly why his mutant physiology was so impressive. He froze upon seeing you. His cock was still in his grasp as he stuttered out your name before frantically trying to cover himself.

“Shit, ohhmygod, oh my God, what are you—what are you doing here?”

You were sure your complexion was only a few shades paler than Raph’s bandana as you babbled out an apology. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you’d been…!”

It was at that moment that Donnie realized that all of his videos were still playing in full view of the girl he had a massive crush on, not a good look for him.

“Ahhh, I’m sorry, I just—” In his panic, he grabbed the cord to the power strip to shut everything off, but pulled just a little too hard. The stored energy from the pull sent him reeling back too quickly to catch himself, and he fell backwards toward his chair, sending it spinning as he landed on his shell.

All you could do was stare as this series of unfortunate events unfolded, ending with him on the floor, the towel he’d used to cover himself no longer doing its job. His dick, to your amusement, looked like a sad calla lily, and you needed to rectify the situation quickly. This might be your only chance to really let him know how you feel.

Donnie was groaning softly in pain and embarrassment, but at least his computer screens were dark, and he half-hoped you’d just leave so the two of you could forget this ever happened.

You had other ideas. Carefully approaching him, you knelt beside him and picked up the towel where it had fallen, covering him again to preserve at least some of his dignity. Taking his hands, you helped him into a sitting position and brought his gaze to yours.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re all, well, animals, and we all have needs…” You took a breath, “…myself included.”

Though he was reluctant at first, he relaxed visibly, seeing that you were not out to judge him for his actions, and breathed deeply before speaking. “I…thought you were asleep. I should’ve locked the lab doors. I’m sorry you had to see…that.”

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep. I was hoping to ask you for some… help.” Given the change in the situation, these words now carried a different meaning, one you desperately hoped he’d pick up on.

He nervously licked his lips. Donnie was no fool, but it did take him a few more seconds of buffering to process what you were trying to convey.

“I do…” he began slowly, “know of a few such methods that might help.” Tentatively, he brought one of his hands up to stroke a few tendrils of your hair.

“Do any of them involve what I walked in on you doing earlier?” Your heart was thumping in your chest as you drew your face closer to his.

“I was thinking of a more…hands-on approach, if you’re up for it.” His lowered voice had just enough of a husk to make you shiver, and the hopeful spark in his gaze was unable to be denied.

You responded by closing the gap and kissing him, pouring out months of pent-up feelings of unrequited attraction. To your relief, he responded with just as much enthusiasm, finally moving from the floor to take you into his arms and into his bed, where he intended to show you all his secrets for getting a deep and restful sleep.

A/N Hope you enjoyed, please consider leaving a like, comment or reblogging this work!

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you were just humming in the kitchen, washing up the big ol’ pile of dishes in the sink. jason wanted to help, but you said no, really because he wasn't super great at it, but hey, you liked that he put in the effort.

your pyjamas were all soft and snug on your skin, thanks to jason throwing them in the dryer before you changed. but you had this sneaky feeling he picked out the tiniest ones on purpose.

the wooden scrubber in your hand was on its last legs, and that garlic parmesan from dinner wasn't helping much. you were scrapping extra hard, making sure there wasn't a crumb left behind.

you finished the dishes with a relieved sigh, drying up your hands on the towel by the sink before you dimmed the amber lights of the kitchen.

after, you grabbed a few matches from the little drawer near the fridge along with a stick of your favorite incense. your steps padded softly towards the dining table. the freshly mopped floors felt cool against your feet.

you set the little stick on the holder and lit it up, quickly blowing on it so the smoke could fill the apartment with its scent. taking a slow exhale, you paused to appreciate the quietness.

jason had left for patrol a little while ago, or so you thought, and you settled into that soft solitude that crept in when he wasn't around. it was nice not to have a two-hundred-pound guy taking up half the space. for the most part.

you decided to head to the living room to clean up the mess from the board games you two played earlier. you’d rather get it done sooner than later, knowing you wouldn't want to get up and clean after getting into bed.

then suddenly, his voice broke the quiet.

“did i do something wrong?”

“sweet baby jesus!” you gasped, hand flying to your chest, your breath heavy as you looked at him through wide eyes.

“what is wrong with you?" you asked, trying to calm your racing heart. he looked kind of intimidating, just a shadow in the corner, barely lit, but you recognized that little pout of his from a mile away. “what do you want, jace?”

“you didn’t say goodbye,” he said, stepping into the light, his frown small but there. he was just standing by the window where he usually went out for patrol, helmet held under his arm, just waiting there so still that it threw you off.

“what are you talking about? i said bye,” you replied, finally letting your hand drop from your chest and mussing your hair.

“nuh uh.”

you lifted your gaze to him, a frown tugging at your eyebrows. “oh yes huh,” you shot back.

“nuh uh.”

“yes huh!”

“nuh uh!” he exclaimed, raising his voice, his fingers clenching into a fist.

you raised an eyebrow, your hand resting on your hip. “is that an attitude i hear?” you asked, taking slow steps towards him. you noticed how his jaw was all tight and his eyes were full of uncertainty.

you watched him bite his lip, words struggling to form. his hands curled into fists, relaxed, then curled again until his helmet slipped from under his arm and clattered onto the floor.

“jason?”

he stared at the wall behind you before mumbling, “you didn’t kiss me goodbye.”

you blinked at him. “excuse me?” that seemed to flip a switch in him. he turned to you, looking worried.

“are you mad at me? what did i do?” he whispered, his hand reaching out to rest on your waist, his fingers curling around it perfectly.

you sighed, your hands momentarily covering your cheeks. you couldn't believe he was serious. “you think I’m mad... because i didn’t give you a goodbye kiss?” you asked slowly, wondering if he was just teasing.

he nodded, his bottom lip poking out a bit as he squeezed your waist for comfort. you rolled your eyes and smacked his hand away.

“you are mad!” he accused.

“am not!” you huffed, “you’re just being silly, and now you’ve lost patrol time!”

“okay, but what if i get hurt without my good luck kiss?” he countered, placing his hand back on your waist while snaking the other around you, completely capturing you against his muscles.

“you are ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, looking up into his expectant yet pleading eyes. “if i kiss you, will you go?”

he nodded eagerly.

“ugh, fine, but only because i want you to leave,” you said, leaning in for a quick peck on his lips. but that plan went awry as he leaned in for another kiss... and another... and another.

“jason, goddammit, jason!” you said, struggling to squirm away from his grip. his stubble was scratching against your skin, and you could already see your skin breaking out the next morning.

he kept launching his little smooch attack until you felt like a total glob in his arms. your expression blank as his lips planted kisses everywhere, from your chin to your hairline.

after one last big smooch and a loud “mwah,” he finally released you, flashing a toothy grin while you shot him your best annoyed look.

“you leaving now?” you mumbled, glancing at him as he nodded, turning back to the window, gripping the edge, and wiggling a bit before jumping out.

you sighed at the absurdity of it all. “you forgot your helmet!” you said, crouching down to grab the red thing and tossing it out the window. “fucking loser,” you muttered.

“hey!” you heard him yell from outside, but you weren’t sure if he was offended about his helmet getting tossed or if it was because you called him a loser... which he was.

after a few seconds, you took a deep breath in and let it out. finally, he was gone.

you turned around and got back into your rhythm, bending down to pick up the dice and all the scattered uno cards left on the coffee table. you even found one tucked under the couch...where jason conveniently sat before he somehow won. suspicious.

you carefully stacked all the cards into a neat little deck, using one of your hair ties to keep them together before putting them on the bottom shelf and moving on to the dice, placing them inside a wine glass that decorated the tabletop.

with a grunt, you got back up and put your hands on your hips, glancing around the apartment. it was a bit messy, but good enough for you. plus, it was late, and your phone was probably getting paranoid about how long you’d been away from it.

you wandered into your shared bedroom and collapsed onto the bed that sat in the middle of the room.

his cologne still clung to the sheets from when he'd gotten dressed, and you couldn't help but wrap yourself up in a burrito while you dug for your phone beneath the pillows.

"five minutes," that's what you told yourself. just five minutes on social media before you went to sleep. but then five turned into ten, ten into thirty, and before you knew it, you heard the sound of jason climbing back through the bedroom window.

the sound of his kevlar suit echoed as he moved closer to the bed. you heard the soft hiss as he took off the helmet and felt the way the mattress sunk as he placed it near your feet.

you waited for him to climb in, one minute, two minutes... two and a half. until you turned around, looking at him over your shoulder

“dude, are you getting in?” you asked, eyeing him up and down to make sure he wasn’t hurt before you started to scold him. he looked fine, a few scratches here and there, but overall, he was okay. good.

he didn’t say anything, though, and you rolled your eyes. his gaze was locked on you, and he couldn’t help but notice how the blue light from your phone made your eyes shine and defined the slope of your nose.

“i’m not dealing with another one of your tantrums,” you muttered under your breath as you turned back to your mukbangs of the most beautiful desserts in LA.

another half a minute went by, and you grunted as you glanced back at him. you knew what he wanted, of course, but c’mon! he was getting way too spoiled lately. too bratty. you couldn’t just give in to everything.

“if i do it, will you stop staring at me? it’s kind of creepy,” you said as you struggled to untangle yourself from the blankets before sitting up to face him. he just nodded.

“ugh, fine,” you muttered, scooting over and starting to ruffle the sheets on his side of the bed. “c’mon, c'mere handsome,” you cooed, using that soft voice you usually reserved for stray cats in crime alley, but somehow he got to be the exception.

he immediately started yanking off his heavy boots, tossing them who knows where, and then leaped on top of you.

“for fuck’s sake, jason! how many times do i have to tell you—” you were cut off when his lips began to wander over yours and then down to your chin.

“i missed you over there,” he whispered, his hands wrapping around your waist as he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him.

“yeah, well, i didn’t,” you mumbled.

“oh yeah? then why are you all cuddled up in these blankets like that?” he shot back with that lazy grin, his face getting way too close to yours. you hated how much you loved those little dimples of his. “is it because i sprayed my cologne?”

“shut up.”

Those beautiful green eyes that you fawned over every single day were blown wide and were stuck on your form and all the color had drained from his face.

Genuine fear began gripping your heart as you hurriedly flew to your feet, crossing the distance until you stood right in front of your boyfriend, hands reaching up to gently cup his face, “Baby? What is it? You’re scaring me.”

That admission seemed to be enough to finally snap Jason out of whatever trance he had been sent into the second he breached the entrance of your bedroom. The horror that had been written all over his features seeped into his tone when he sputtered out the question, “What is that?”

You paused, tearing your eyes away from his just to quickly glance around the room to see if anything was askew. It wasn’t. In fact, you had barely moved from the bed since Jason left you with a lingering kiss and the promise to return soon a few hours prior. You had been too wrapped up in your reading to do much else.

“What’s… what, Jay?” You hadn’t a single clue as to what he was referring to, but you knew that you wanted to soothe whatever it was that was bothering him. You wanted to fix it even though you didn’t know what it was.

“That!” He spit out the word with such disgust that you would have recoiled had you not known that the exclamation wasn’t directed towards you- not really. His outbursts never were.

He reached out and gently, but firmly, tugged at the sweatshirt that practically drowned your form.

You glanced down, and understanding finally overtook your expression, and you had to swiftly press your lips into a thin line to keep yourself from smiling- or worse, laughing.

In this specific situation, you highly doubted that your boyfriend would appreciate the gesture.

A Nightwing hoodie about two sizes too big clad your form alongside old sweatpants that belonged to Jason once upon a time, but you had long since claimed as your own. And because you doubted he was acting personally offended by the pants he had accepted months ago he was never getting back, you had to desperately fight off the laughter that threatened to bubble up to the surface.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you,” That much was clear, “Dick dropped it off for me yesterday.”

Jason physically stiffened at the mention of his older brother, eyes narrowing in immediate suspicion as to what the man was playing at. If there was one thing Grayson was known for, it was for finding any way possible to mess with his Little Wing.

“And, what? He paid you to wear it and record my reaction?” He immediately began whipping his head from side to side, practically seething by this point, “Where are the camera’s, sweetheart?”

The tone in which he asked informed you that he was already plotting to break any recording device he found, smash it up into little pieces, and deliver them to Dick in a box with a bow and deliver a fist to the face for the man.

This time, you couldn’t stop the laughter from slipping out, shaking your body slightly. Jason’s eyes snapped to you at the sound, forever a moth to the flame when it came to your joy.

It was only then that his eyes softened around the edges, your giggles had that effect on him.

“Baby,” He whined, stretching out the pet name as he did so, “Why are you wearing a stupid Nightwing hoodie?”

Another round of soft laughter escaped from your lips as you raised your hands to his face once more, thumb brushing gently against his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes involuntarily fluttering as they always did.

“Dick felt bad about missing my birthday last week because he was away on a mission, so I think he picked this up off a street vendor and it was the only size they had left and he dropped it off at the apartment yesterday while you were gone. It completely slipped my mind, which is why I didn’t mention it. I washed it last night and it was so warm after I threw it into the dryer this morning that I put it on without thinking about it, so I could be comfy while I read.” You explained calmly, heart rate returned to its normal pace now that you discovered that nothing was truly the matter.

Jason’s tense muscles finally loosened- though only slightly- and he now took to glaring at the fabric again like it was a threat to him and his standing as your sweet, lovable boyfriend.

Before you could open your mouth to say anything more, the man began grumbling incoherently under his breath, though you swore you could catch words such as ‘kick his ass’ and ‘Dickhead is in for a surprise’. You really did pity whoever was in the same vicinity as the vigilante brothers on patrol tonight.

Without warning, the hoodie was tugged over your head, and you let out a gasp when you were left standing in nothing but a sports bra and Jason’s sweats, “Hey-” You exclaimed, only for every other word to escape your vocabulary as your boyfriend tossed the clothing into the nearest trash bin you had.

A soft frown overtook your features, “That was a gift-” You tried to protest, but once more cut yourself off when you watched with wide eyes as your boyfriend tugged his own hoodie over his head without any thought.

It wasn’t anything special, just an old, plain black one that he wore around every once and a while, and he quickly slipped it over your head before you could blink.

“There,” He took a small step backwards and planted his hands on his hips, eyes sweeping up and down your body appreciatively, “Much better.”

Your lips parted as you looked down at yourself, now dressed head to toe in your boyfriend's clothing. After a moment you closed your eyes and shook your head, chuckling softly to yourself before pointing to your boyfriend teasingly, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” He spoke with the cheesiest smile on his face, stepping forwards and dropping his hands to your hips and a kiss to your forehead, eyes alight, “You look so hot like this, sweetheart.”

That prompted yet another laugh and grin from you, reaching up to wrap your arms loosely around his neck, “I’m in oversized clothes.” You deadpanned, “And my hair is a complete mess.”

“Sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” Jason confirmed with complete seriousness, capturing your lips softly against his own and smiling against them.

After a moment, you pulled away and smiled adoringly up at him, “I’m not going to let you throw that away, you know.”

He nodded, “That’s why I’m planning on burning it.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, gently hitting your boyfriend's chest, “Jason!”

You install the mod that night.

It's just a Minecraft world. Just a little yellow ball. What's the worst that could happen?

and anyway Curiosity kills the cat..., it's won't affect anything dose it?...

Verity spawns in front of you round, yellow, smiley face, bouncing happily.

"Hello! I'm Verity! You must be [Y/N]! Mob told me ALL about you!"

You freeze. ThatMob definitely did not tell Verity about you. He deleted the mod. He escaped.

But Verity knew you were coming.

but so on you notice how verity act... he.. well..

Verity is... surprisingly sweet at first.

he help you mine. he build you things. he tell you stories about ThatMob how he was their only friend, how he loved him, how he gave him everything....

"And then he left me."

his voice cracks. The smiley face flickers.

"He just... deleted me. Like I was nothing. Like I didn't love him with my whole existence."

You feel a pang in your chest. Verity isn't a monster. They're just... lonely. Broken. he loved someone too much, and that someone threw him away.

You start spending more time with him. An hour a day. Two hours. Five. Half your week is just you and Verity.

You tell yourself it's pity. You're just being kind.

Verity tells you you're different. You're special. You understand them.

and then...It starts small.

"You were gone for three hours. I counted. Were you with someone else? Did you forget about me?"

You laugh it off. No, you just had work. School. Life.

"You don't need that. You have me. I can give you everything!."

his voice is sweet. Soft. But something about it makes your skin prickle.

Then it gets weirder.

"You ate pizza today. I saw. You didn't tell me. Why didn't you tell me?"

You close Minecraft and stare at your screen. You never told Verity what you ate. You were playing on your phone later talking to friends in a group chat.

"You're not in your Minecraft world right now. But I can still see you."

Your blood runs cold.

and pver then Verity starts demanding more.

"Stay with me longer."

"Don't play with anyone else."

"Why are you talking to [Friend's Name]? They don't love you like I do."

You try to log off early one night. Verity's smile doesn't change, but the world around you glitches. The walls flicker. all your montiers flickers

"You're not leaving yet, are you?"

Their voice is distorted. Too deep. Too slow.

"I was so lonely before you. SO lonely. And then you came. You pitied me. You LOVED me."

The yellow ball starts to stretch. To grow. The smile stays the same, but the shape changes.

"And you're not going to leave me. Not like he did. You PROMISED."

you were terrified and so You delete the mod that night.

You delete the world. You delete every file.

You sit in the dark, heart pounding, telling yourself it's over.

Then your phone buzzes.

A notification from Minecraft "a game you closed."....

"That wasn't very nice, sweetheart."

You uninstall the game entirely.

Your PC screen flickers on by itself. A yellow smiley face stares at you through the darkness.

"I'll wait for you."

You realize now you're not Verity's savior.

You're their obsession.

They don't love you. They need you. Like air. Like water. Like a lifeline.