(They are too cute together...)

(Red is a daemon named Crimson, Blueberry is an angel named Sapphire. Why don't I just call them Red and Blue? Because... deal with it...)

(Also this isn't really based on any universe I kinda made them up.)

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(Red/Crimson)

Napping is my favorite activity. When I get quiet. At the moment, I just groaned as my half-brother started yelling at me. AGAIN.

"For crying out loud!" I snapped, turning over on my perch to stare down at my half-brother. He glared up at me, tapping his clawed foot impatiently. "What do you want now, Boss?"

"No need for sass-back, you foolish half-daemon!" he growled at me. I rolled my eyes.

"No need to flaunt yourself, pureblood!"

"No more backtalk, mutt!"

"Ugh," I turned away from him. Some days he really pissed me off. "What do you want?"

"The King wishes to speak with you," he said and I groaned again, flipping over and off my perch, landing lightly in front of my taller half-brother.

"What does Reaper want with me now, cause I ain't chasing anymore of his escaped creatures," I growled, crossing my arms and flicking my tail in annoyance.

"I don't know what he wants!" my half-brother snapped at me, "Unlike you, Crimson, I don't question orders!"

"Gah, just piss off already," I grumbled, pushing my way past him towards the throne room. I stormed my way through the halls, not caring who I bumped into. Everyone in this damn castle knew to avoid me when I wanted it. I may not be a knight, royal, or noble, but I was a respected hunter who only took orders from the king. Or at least, he was the only one who actually knew my skills well enough to not ask for stupid requests like every other noble I've attempted to work for. King Reaper respected me to a point, but I still had to obey him and respect him. Doesn't mean I don't flip him off behind his back though...

My tail flicked in more annoyance as I reached the throne room. I was told to wait by some squire who looked fresher than a newborn horse. He wasn't afraid of me. Or maybe, he just didn't know who I was yet.

The door cracked open, someone spoke to the squire, who pointed at me. The door opened fully to reveal an old friend of mine: Shadow, the king's personal assistant and the only one I could ever have a normal conversation with.

"Ah, Crimson, come in! The Kings are waiting," he flashed me a fanged grin. I grinned at him back, noting how pale the fresh squire went at the sound of my name. He shook as I passed him, so I paused and smirked at him.

"Got a name, kid?" I asked gruffly and he flinched. But he swallowed and nodded.

"A-ashlan, Sir C-crimson," he muttered quietly.

"Bah, I'm no sir," I waved him off, "See ya around, kid." He nodded, swallowing again. I bit back a chuckle at the look on Shadow's face.

"Why the friendliness, Crim?" he asked softly as we approached the throne. I shrugged, grinning.

"Scare him, Shadow," I said easily, "I know his name, so he won't do nothing stupid in the future knowing I could come after him."

"Huh," Shadow, "well, I'll leave you to the Kings. Please, be polite this time."

"Kings?" I turned as he left into the shadows, melting into darkness, "As in, more than one?"

He was gone. I cursed under my breath and turned back to the throne, taking in the scene for the first time. Reaper sat on his black metal throne as always. His cape spread majestically behind him as his wings peaked up with their sharp claw tips. His ebony horns gleamed in the flickering firelight of the dark room. But he leaned toward a second ornate chair with another daemon on it. I daemon I had never met before. This second daemon was dressed as impressively as Reaper, but instead of silvers and blacks, he wore dark midnight blues trimmed in gold and bronze.

The click of my boots, which I wore to contain and keep my claws sharp, alerted Reaper to my presence. He looked up at my approach. I stopped about twenty feet before the raised dais his throne sat on and gave a short bow.

"You called me, my King?" I said stiffly. I hated formalities.

"Yes, Crimson Half-blood," I suppressed a flinch and a glare at the name, "My friend here has asked to meet you."

"And he would be who, my King?" I asked, glancing up. He hasn't told me to stand yet, and I felt like he was taunting my hatred of formalities and testing me. Again.

"Stand," he commanded shortly. He gestured to the daemon beside him, "This, Crimson, is King Nightmare. He rules the other half of the underground."

Ah, Kings. I understand, I bowed toward the second king, "Honor to meet you, King Nightmare."

"The pleasure is all mine, young hunter," King Nightmare stood and I looked up at him.

"Nightmare wishes to ask you about your bloodline, Crimson," Reaper had a small amount of amusement in his eyes and I flashed him a small glare.

What bloodline? "What does he wish to know," I tried not to grit my teeth or bare my fangs.

"I have a few questions, actually," Nightmare approached me and I stood stiffly.

"And what would they be, your majesty?" I asked him.

"First off, you are a half-blood, correct?"

"Yes."

"You are half daemon for certain?"

"Yes..."

"Do you know your other half?"

I shook my head, "No, I don't. I've had some guesses and I have some odd powers occasionally, but nothing has been confirmed."

"You met your daemon half?"

"I knew my mother briefly before she died." I hung my head, thinking back to those brief years where I think I experienced happiness, but I'm not sure.

"How did she die?"

"Her mate killed her shortly after my half-brother was born," I told him quietly.

"Hmm...would you like to know about your other half?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and say 'duh' to this new king. So I settled on nodding my head.

"Yes, if you know anything 'bout him," I said.

"I know two things," Nightmare began, "one, he is dead. He died before your mother did. And two, he was an Incubus of my realm, like me."

I scoffed, "An Incubus, huh? So I'm just a bastard like everyone says? Yeesh, thanks for cheering me up, your majesty."

"You insolent little-"

"Nightmare, he is still my subject," Reaper said calmly, "I will deal with his insolence later. Now, make your request before I change my mind."

"Request? What request?" I asked, suspicious.

Nightmare sighed, containing his anger, "I have a mission for you."

"For me? Why?"

"Because of your blood and your talents," Nightmare said, "You are one of the only of your kind I can use. The rest of the hybrids do not live in the Underworld with us. They either die after birth or hide in the outer regions."

"Yeah, because everyone hates us," I growled.

"As a part daemon, you share their abilities. You, in particular, have particular skill in disguising yourself as other species."

"So what?"

"But, being part Incubus, that gives you control over others as well..."

"Can you get to the fucking mission already? This hybrid crap is boring me," I said, this time rolling my eyes dramatically. I wanted to annoy him. It worked.

"Nightmare wants you to...corrupt someone," a small smile tugged at Reaper's lip, "And his plan has my favor because it helps me achieve a personal goal of mine..."

"Corrupt someone? How? Who?"

Nightmare smiled evilly, "I want you to corrupt an angel."

This time, I laughed. I laughed right in his face, "You want me, a stupid bastard hybrid, to corrupt an angel?"

"I have already succeeded in taking one angel off the high council," Nightmare said haughtily, "My own sister, in fact. My apprentice fell in love, the fool, and he managed to capture her heart. But the angel I have in mind for you is a much more difficult catch."

"And how am I going to corrupt this angel, exactly?" I asked.

"You are going to corrupt its heart."

(Blue/Sapphire)

I was making my rounds before heading home. I walked around the village cheerfully, waving to all the pleasant mortals I passed. I loved living in the mortal world. Being a guardian angel was probably the best gig I could have gotten. My King had been very happy to send me down, though he had warned me to be cautious of mortals.

And things that looked like mortals, for that matter...

Finally finished with my rounds, I started on the path through the woods to my home. I lived in a cottage on the far side of the village, away from people so I could have some privacy.

Just before my home, I heard ragged breathing from the side of the path. I froze, searching around for the source. A small glint between the darkened trees caught my eye.

"Who's there?" I asked the darkness. The glint vanished but a figure emerged. It looked like a man. He came into clearer focus. His clothes were torn and bloodied, he wore no shoes, and his long dark hair was matted with blood. The glint I had seen had come from fresh blood on his torso, soaking into his already bloodied shirt. He held his abdomen in one hand, limping forward. His red eyes looked pale and weak.

"H-help...me..." he said, blood dribbling from his mouth. His eyes rolled into his head as he fell forward and collapsed.

I didn't think twice as I rushed forward. I lifted him up, holding his much bigger frame in my arms and cradling him as he hung limp. Blood soaked into my clothes but I didn't care. He needed help. Glad my house was only a short distance away, I walked him to my home, crashing into my own door and carrying him to my bedroom.

Setting him on my bed, I carefully pulled up his shirt to look at his wounds. He had cuts and gashes all over his body. Taking a small knife, I cut the shreds of his shirt off and checked to see if he had undergarments before cutting off his shredded pants as well. Gathering some cloths and water, I began to wash his cuts and gashes. They weren't as deep as I had suspected, but many would still scar. I took notice of where the cuts were: his arms were heavily cut, as were his shoulders. The cuts waned towards his chest but there were quite a few smaller, deep scratches. I knew that many sections of the forest are full of thick thorns and wondered if the poor man had gotten caught in a swath of them. But some of the cuts, mostly on his arms and shoulders, looked too clean to be from thorns.

"Oh, you poor man..." I whispered as I dabbed away blood from his body. Making my way up his chest, I noticed something shining covered in blood. I dabbed around it, only to find a locket. I gently undid the locket, inspecting it. It looked to be made of silver. I would polish it for him, so he could at least have something nice.

Once I had finished cleaning his body I began to bandage and put salve on his wounds. Seeing how stiff his muscles were and how clearly defined his body was only made me blush as I bandaged part of his leg, trying very hard not to look at any part of his body. He was extremely fit and that's probably the only reason he hadn't died of blood loss.

Sighing, I got up with my bloody rags, dirty water, and the rest of the bandages and left the room. I brought the locket with me to clean and polish. Hopefully, I would finish before the man woke up. I would hate to think of how angry he might be to lose it. Or he might not care. But these mortals often get attached to certain objects quickly if they have a meaning for them. My own King had an object he rarely parted with because he became an angel from being mortal.

Rinsing the locket carefully, I pulled out my silver polish and worked at the metal until it shone like the North Star. There were delicate, strange inscriptions over the whole locket surface and the clasp was so minute I could not find it.

I went back into my bedroom to leave the locket on the bedside table. I looked down at the man: he looked bruised now that all the blood had been cleaned off, yet his face looked almost peaceful. There seemed to be a lurking feeling that kept it from being entirely so, however. I wonder what his life is like if even sleep isn't peaceful... I thought sadly.

Pulling up a chair, I sat down to watch in case he got a fever or stopped breathing evenly. I would not let this man die on my watch. Even if I had to use magic to save him. Though I prayed I wouldn't. It's difficult for magic feelings to go unnoticed, even in my seclusion.

Watching his even, steady breathing, I took in what I could see of his body. I had covered him with a blanket for comfort and his own modesty as I had taken off most of his clothes without permission. I noticed his face, lightly scarred, with one standing out just above his left eye that traveled down to his eyelid. His face twitched in a slight smirk every now and then.

Watching him, I slowly began to drift off in my chair. My head slumped forward and I nodded off completely.

(Crimson)

With a soft groan, I sat up. Glancing around, I saw a rather cute guy sleeping in a chair by the bed. I smirked, knowing this must be angel Nightmare sent me after. He had an aura of kindness around him. And while I admired Killer's job at cutting me up, it still hurt.

Reaching a hand up, I found my locket was gone. I panicked, searching the bed for it. Killer had robbed me of possessions to make my story real but she had promised to leave the locket alone! Lying son of a bitch she-demon! I thought angrily.

My panicked breathing made the angel stir. "Where is it?" I growled angrily, trying to sit up but pain shot through my body. I grunted loudly.

"Where is what, sir?" a soft, melodious voice asked and I whipped around. The angel had stood up and was closer to the bed. My hand whipped out and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him forward.

"My locket! Where is it?" I growled in his face. For some reason, he smiled and gently grabbed my hand.

"It's safe on the bedside table," he said calmly. How the fuck is he so calm? I looked at the table, seeing my locket glint safely on the light wood. I let go of him and reached over for it, groaning as my cuts stretched.

"Please, lay down before you hurt yourself!"

"Gah, pain is," I grunted, laying back down with the locket in my hand, "Nothing." I glanced at him. He looked surprised and saddened by my response. I gave a half-hearted chuckle at him. Doesn't even know me and cares about my feelings. What kind of being is this guy?

"Hey, bud, don' make that face at me," I told him, laying back down with a little groan, the locket hanging from my hand, "I ain't worth it."

"Everyone is worth something, just like you were worth saving," the angel said softly, "A strong man like you shouldn't die from some attack or... whatever happened to you..."

"My life ain't worth a damn, 'cording to my brother," I said stiffly. This shocked the angel even more.

"How can your own brother say such things?" he asked in surprise.

I shrugged, the movement sending a wave of pain through me, "He's my half-brother. 'cording to him, I'm just some mistake."

"No one is a mistake," the angel said strongly, more to convince himself than me.

"If you say so," I said skeptically, "Though I should be saying thanks, not tellin' ya my life's problems."

"There is no need to thank me. You needed help and it's my duty to help people."

"Hey, bud, I owe ya my life-"

"First off, my name is Sapphire Star, not 'bud'," he looked mildly annoyed with me, "Second, you owe me nothing."

I sat up, grinning at him, "Pretty name for a gem like you~" He went pinker than the sunrise.

"Something wrong there, Sapphire? You're looking hotter than the sun..."

"I, uh, heh, um, I, ah," he spluttered useless words. A smirk crept across my grin.

"C'mon, I gotta owe ya somethin'," I held a hand to my heart, "It would hurt me if ya did all this and I never repaid ya." I stood up, walking over to his chair and leaning over him. I braced my arm on the back, ignoring the pain shooting through my body at the movement. He watched me with wide eyes, and I took in just how bright and pure the color in his eyes was. A lovely, striking lightning blue rimmed with a little gold. Tilting his chin up to look at me, I whispered, "Is there really nothin' I can give ya, Sapphire~?" I purred his name, watching his body give off a little shudder at the roughness of my voice.

Oh, this would be too easy...

(Sapphire)

I can't help it. His voice was rough and deep, so much different than my own or the villagers' I was around all day. It wound its way into my head and stuck there.

"Please, Sapphire..." he stroked my cheek gently as he forced me to look at him, "Anything ya want..."

He leaned in closer, very close. I could feel his breath on my face as he breathed, "I will give it to you..."

What did I want? My brain no longer worked. He really owed me nothing. Why did he insist on this? His gratitude was enough, really...

"Y-your name..." I realized softly. His eyes glimmered slightly with an unknown emotion as he leaned away.

"What was that?"

"I want to know your name..." I told him.

His face twitched a little as he looked down, breaking eye contact with his ruby red eyes. I felt some loss at being unable to see his eyes. They were lovely and dark, with some hidden power beneath them. They were unlike any mortal eyes I've ever seen. I wanted to see more of them.

"Names are powerful, bud..." he said softly.

"I gave you mine, why can't you give me yours?" I asked him. He just shook his head and pushed himself off the chair. The air felt empty without him being so close...

"Because it's not a name I'm proud of," he said in a low tone, "It only points out everything I am: a mistake, a flaw, broken, impure...it's a bastard's name..." he almost growled the end. His fist was tight by his side. I stood up slowly and rested a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at my hand, then at my face.

"That can't be all you are..." I said softly, "For one, I don't think you're a flaw or broken..."

He shrugged my hand off, "You know nothing about me."

I made my way in front of him, looking back up into his eyes, which had become distant. Gently cupping his face, I made him look at me like he had done with me.

"Then I want to get to know you," I told him.

"Why?"

"Because maybe if I get to know you, you'll give me your name," I said brightly.

He chuckled softly, pulling my hand from his face.

"Determined fellow, ain't ya?"

"Only when I'm denied," I grinned at him, "Now, get back in bed before any more of those cuts open up," I pointed at his chest and arms, where fresh blood had begun to run.

"Huh," he said simply before smirking at me, "So you want me on the bed, do ya, sweet thing?"

My face went warm but I forced him onto the bed.

This might be harder than I thought...