Maven Calore X Reader One Shots

Songfic: Zange Mairi

Painful or pleasure, they're fighting with their head

"Everyone here is an idiot and I hate you all," you say calmly as you pass out the meals. These said meals often only come in bags or small trays depending on the person. Everybody gathers in the eating area, eating their food like wild animals. Like them, you are a child. But they aren't the child you think you are.

"Thank you, (Y/N)," Thomas says as you give him his tray. You can't say you love being in an orphanage, but you do what you need for the children. You have been here for thousands of years as you take care of the children. The adults always treat you bad, being scared of you and your unaging teenage form. 

Blooming plenty, from here at hell's ending

If any curious child asks the nuns what you are, they would answer with a demon. It is actually the very opposite. You come from the shrine that was made up in one of the children's rooms, under their bunkbed. In the year of the 1700s, a child was forced in here by soldiers. They locked the room, saying to only unlock it if the boy removes himself from the otherworldly. He hid all of his candles under the bed, along with his stones and crystals. And that's where you hide. Nobody has ever found the shrine, and nobody ever will.

Every night the candles shine, but you make sure nobody sees them flicker. 

Don't, oh no don't, oh please never ever pray to me

While you were passing out the food, you got a certain feeling in your chest. It made you recoil. You could hear the voice of somebody, a child. But of course, who's voice would it else be? In realization, you drop the food. 

Kids ask you what's wrong while others scramble for their scraps. The nuns all look at each other, watching you freeze.

"What I want is... my brother back." The voice says. You act quickly, running towards their dorms. Your room, the one with the bullet hole on the outside. Room number 600. You put your hand on the door, looking through the bullet hole. There's a boy who's praying at the end of his bed. Does he even know your shrine was there? You quickly open the door. This is good, this means that nobody has found your shrine yet. You're safe. You enter the room, the boy looking up at you with bright, blue eyes. He's about your age, minus thousands of years. He's an early teen, maybe fourteen. Perhaps only days from being released to the war. 

"Are you okay?" You ask. You look at his hollow cheeks, turning your head as you approach him. He stands up, looking at you with wide eyes. You stop walking. You go to ask him again, but he interrupts you. 

"You're an angel?!" He says. It was more of a question than anything more. You know what the precautions are before you even realize what he said. Quickly, you close the door before covering the bullet hole with your hand. As you do, you realize that your skin has smoothed out and you're wearing layers of special rings. You run a hand through your hair, as soft as silk. God dammit. 

Truth is I'm helpless and can't do a thing

The boy opened up your guardian form, showing him who you truly are. 'Only a mere teenage spirit with a motherly instinct to protect the young boys of the orphanage,' supposedly. But no, you just like hanging out with children now. It's not a special sort of feeling or instinct. It's just a habit now. 

"You can't - god dammit - don't tell anyone," you command him. 

"Will you make my wish come true?" He asked. You thought he would be more innocent. Even though he had bright eyes, everything about him was dark. He had dark hair that shaded over his forehead in an ominous way. His voice was mature, deep but demanding. He wasn't the boy you thought he was.