Creeps And Weirdos | Various JJBA X Fem!Reader

6| Won't You Be My Valentine?

(you thought this was never gonna update?? THINK AGAIN)

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The day had long passed by the time (Y/n) had become conscious of it, sleeping under the blanket of Valentines wing. The following morning, when she went to check the split skin for infection, she found it'd nearly healed completely.

"My healing process is a lot quicker compared to your own. Those with wings need to have better immune systems thanks to the bugs that hide in their feathers."

"There are bugs here?" (Y/n) asked, all too excitedly. "Everything seems so clean though."

"Bugs do not necessarily mean 'dirty'. But they can become a nuisance at times, I often pick them out of my assistants wings simply because they can't stand them." He rolled his eyes. "It's one of the only perks of having wings like mine."

"I suppose you're really winning then. Could you stretch it out for me?" (Y/n) made an extended motion with her arm.

"Stretch what?"

"Your hurt wing. See how far it'll extend and if there's any issues."

With a hesitant obedience, his body steeled and ready for the shock of pain bound to follow, he carefully unfolded his wing. It was nearly as time-consuming as you'd think it'd be, how he'd slowly push it out as if knowing that any moment his eyes would water all over again.

After what felt like half an hour of slowly stretching his wing, to lengths even (Y/n) was surprised by, it seemed like he was just fine. No whimpering, no tears, no yelps. He flexed it a few times, faster, to be sure. Nothing.

"It's like I never even tore it at all." Valentine gaped, waving it back and forth. "I reckon I could fly like this."

"You shouldn't, really. You might open your wound, or make the tear worse."

"Nonsense. I'm insulted you think I'm that weak."

(Y/n) thought back to when he was sobbing by his lonesome on that cloud, surely he was weak then. 

The thought made little itches crawled beneath her skin in reminder. The bugs seemed to have yet to forget their situation, stranded above spikes foretelling disaster should one wrong move be made.

(Y/n) shifted where she sat, the center of the cloud feeling more secure than the rest, as she continued to examine the wing. If he did fly out of here, She thought, and took me with him, where was there to even go? Back to the door?

From the few minutes she had taken to actually look at the world around her, the peachy pink skies that stretched into the beyond were only obstructed by white smears along its grace. 

That made her realize the peculiarity of it all; there were no buildings or towers, no shops nor laboratories. It was exactly as she saw it, an endless escape, like the deep of the ocean, where only water and sands reside. 

The cupids would jump from one cloud to another like rabbits in a field, disappearing behind each cover of discolor against the sky, enjoying themselves in what they did before leaping to the next. 

To her, they were only dots now, against the sunless pink cast they zipped from each corner like fleas. Wouldn't someone, with a view like theirs, be able to see someone stranded below them? 

Perhaps they'd fallen too far down to be noticed, also just dots to those above as they were to those below.

"Who are you," (Y/n) threw her hand to the cupids fluttering about, "To those people up there?"