#mirage of a desert rose (untouchable but smells so sweet) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

complete-in-ix · 1 year

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Mirage of a Desert Rose (Untouchable, but Smells So Sweet

Rated: M Warning(s): Suggestive

Description: Lee Eunsang has never had the best luck with love. His heart ached all through Produce X 101, and now a certain Myung Eunho is leading him through a desert of confusion and longing only to vanish as soon as Eunsang wants to talk about his feelings. That is, until the night Eunho decides to approach him first…

(Read on Ao3)

Eunsang leans against the kitchen counter, softly sipping at his tea. The dorm is quiet, the other members deciding to stay at their own dorns tonight and Sion having gone to bed nearly an hour ago. Eunsang is content to bask in the silence—a welcome change from the bustle and noise of the day. As much as he loves being an idol, the job still tires him out even on his best days sometimes. Then again, hearing Youniz’s cheers and seeing how his members light up upon hearing them… Just the memory of their smiles is enough to make him almost completely forget his exhaustion. One smile in particular stands out in his memory, for no particular reason other than his fondness towards the person it belongs to.

He hasn’t had much time to talk to Eunho about their relationship. They—and the rest of the group, really—both know that what they have crosses well over the line of mere co-leaders and close friends. Eunsang tries to tell himself that he doesn’t mind the ambiguity and would prefer things to just progress naturally without any big announcements, but he knows in his heart that it isn’t true. Perhaps Eunho would, but if the way his eyes drop to Eunsang’s lips when he thinks he won’t notice and the way his hands always linger whenever they make any sort of contact, that’s doubtful. Those actions themselves don’t offer much in terms of clarity, but surely if Eunho wanted to let their relationship go wherever they take it, he would have made a move and taken it somewhere by now, right?

Eunsang sighs into his now-empty cup. He shouldn’t try to get his hopes too high again. His luck with love has never been the best, with him losing to someone else not once, but twice; once during Produce X 101, and another in the short-lived flight that was X1. He’s mostly over them both by now, but some memories still make his heart ache.

His phone lights up with a text right as he’s putting his cup away in the sink. Upon checking who it is, all his previous melancholy melts away.

Little Demon hyung Are you still awake? I have something for you

Eunsang’s heart stutters once the last sentence processes in his mind. What could that mean, exactly? He had just been telling himself not to hope for too much, yet he still finds those familiar wings starting to flutter in his chest again. He types out a reply and sends it before he can start to overthink.

Eunsang Yes, I’m still up! What is it?

Before his message has even been read, Eunsang is already rushing to his room to get changed into something a little more presentable. He and Eunho have already caught little glimpses of each other in their less-than-flattering moments without any issue, but there’s something different about tonight that makes him really want to make an impression. He’s gone through two different pairs of pants, three different jackets, and is in the middle of deciding whether or not to put on his favourite rose perfume when Eunho’s reply comes in.

Little Demon hyung It’s a surprise. Meet me behind the dorms ;)

Eunsang has to bite his lip to contain his excitement. Eunho has always been the more direct one between them, but this is on a whole other level! It’s settled, he has to put the perfume on now.

After five minutes of checking and rechecking himself in the mirror and sneaking down the long way to make sure he isn’t seen, Eunsang opens the back door of the dorm building to see Eunho leaning against the wall. It seems like he and Eunsang had the same idea to get dolled up a little. From here, Eunsang can see a silver chain in Eunho’s hair glinting in the light of the streetlamp shining down into the alley. He remembers telling Eunho that he liked it while on set for Bad Cupid, and then being confused at the scheming smile Eunho had given him in return. Now he understands. Little devil. Then again, Eunsang isn't innocent of stealing from sets either. This jacket is from his Kcon Mirage stage.

"Good evening, handsome. Come here often?" Eunho asks upon catching his eye.

"It's almost one in the morning," Eunsang replies, determined not to let his racing heart show. Eunho is always this flirty behind closed doors, especially towards Eunsang. Still, he can't help but be wary. Does he really mean it or is this just his way of bonding as a group? He pushes those thoughts away for later. "What do you have for me?"

"Still a surprise." Eunsang has gotten close enough that Eunho has to look up at him now, that ever-so-charming smile never wavering even as Eunsang's shadow falls over him. He flicks a hand up between them before their proximity can get suffocating, something jangling around his fingers. Keys.

"You stole the manager's van? Where are we going, should I be worried for myself?" Despite his words, Eunsang isn’t worried at all. Eunho has always been safe for him.

“I got my brother to leave his car here for us, we won’t go anywhere sketchy with it.” Eunho pulls Eunsang down by the back of the neck, close enough that he can feel Eunho’s lips brushing against his ear. “The managers don’t know anything~”

Eunho steps away before Eunsang's nerves can crash on him, keys jangling at his side. They had been so close… Dazed, he can only follow Eunho to the car, silently agonizing over what might have happened if he had turned his head just so… God, he wants to kiss Eunho so badly. Would he give in under his lips, soft and pliant? Would he take charge, rough and demanding? He nearly hits his head on the roof of the car getting in—would have if it weren’t for Eunho’s hand cushioning the blow.

“Careful, Sangie. I wouldn't want you to get hurt on our first date."

First date?!

Eunho closes the door behind him right as his words process in Eunsang's head. He only has seconds before Eunho gets to the other side of the car and gets in, what should he say to him when he does?!

By the time Eunho has gotten in and started the car, Eunsang has exactly nothing. What can he say, when the one he’s been pining over since their debut together has pretty much confirmed that he returns his affection? Still, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up…

“I can hear you thinking from here. What’s on your mind?”

Eunho’s voice calls him back out of his head. They’re on the road now (was Eunsang really zoned out for that long!?), soft yellow streetlights passing by in pleasant smudges of colour. It’s hard to get a proper look at Eunho’s face as he drives them through the city, light and shadow forming an effective mask for him. Would now be a good time to tell him? Eunho’s tone had been light, but the atmosphere in the car is strangely heavy this time, confusion and something else hanging above their heads, just out of sight. Eunsang decides to skirt around it for now.

“Lots of things. Nothing important enough to really talk about though.” A half-lie. His feelings for Eunho threaten to tear themselves through his chest and out his throat, kept down only by his confusion and past experience.

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” There’s that tone again, that sweet and soft tone that Eunsang has only ever heard directed towards him. He resolutely stares out the window. They both know that if Eunsang looks at him now, he’ll break.

“I’m sure. Besides, you seem to have more on your mind than me if you’re sneaking me out of the dorms this late at night.” Eunsang dares to glance at Eunho’s reflection in the window and catches only the furrow of his brow before his gaze is back on the road. Had he been frustrated? Worried, perhaps? Eunsang forces himself not to think about it too much. His mind instead wanders to the words they had exchanged before taking off. Eunho has something for him, something that they have to leave the dorms for. Something not even the managers can know about, because it’s a surprise for their first date. Eunho could have been joking, of course, but if he hadn’t been…

It’s not much of a secret among the group that they both like men. Eunsang doesn’t remember who brought it up or why, but everyone had already clocked him by the time the company had put him with them. He wasn’t exactly as subtle as he thought he was on Produce X 101, after all. Everyone had been okay with it, thankfully. He remembers Eunho’s gaze lingering on him while the other asked him questions, and Eunho talking to him in private once that conversation had moved on. He remembers asking Eunho which way he swings, just because it felt natural to ask. Eunho’s response had been just as forward as he always is.

“Haven’t had much time to really explore. Not just girls though, I know that much.”

While that had comforted Eunsang greatly, that still raised more questions. Would he ever have a chance? Considering his track record with love, surely not…

“You’re right.” Eunho speaks again, sudden but slowly. “There’s something I want to tell you that only you can know. Nowhere in the dorms seemed like the right place, so.” Eunho shrugs. “I found a spot.”

Eunsang startles slightly when Eunho pulls the car over. He hadn’t even noticed that they had left the city, now stopping at a viewpoint on the side of a hill far above it. The lights below form urban constellations, their glow shining up to illuminate the clouds above. For just a moment, Eunsang’s worries are taken away by the view.

Rain starts tapping insistently on the roof and windows as soon as Eunho parks the car. Unfazed, Eunho just turns on the radio to drown it out. He plugs the aux into his phone, and Eunsang would recognize the sound of glass clinking to cue in those synths anywhere.

"Mirage? You like my songs that much?" He can’t help the teasing smile that spreads across his face as his debut b-side starts playing, smooth and sensual. “Is this your way of telling me you’re my fan?” Eunsang’s voice is light, as is his expression when he turns to look Eunho in the eye. Much to his surprise, none of that teasing is reflected in the older man’s eyes, only an almost solemn stare. Fear shines in those pretty eyes, contrasting greatly to the set of his jaw. “... Hyung?”

Eunho heaves a short sigh, resigning himself to whatever he’s about to say. A dark part of Eunsang’s mind is reminded of a scene in a book he had read as a child, one where the main character had confessed a secret that sentenced them to death. The name of the book has long since left his memory, but those few pages had stuck. Something in the way Eunho resolutely keeps their eyes locked together and reaches for his hand makes him feel as if he’s reliving that scene—this time as the executioner.

“It’s more than just me being your fan, Eunsang. I think you know by now that I’ve fallen for you, right?”

The confession doesn’t crash over Eunsang in a great wave, instead hitting him gradually, drop by drop like the rain on the car roof.

“I didn’t.” Eunsang takes Eunho’s hand, a little too tightly like he’ll disappear if Eunsang lets go. “All this time, I thought I was the only one who wanted more…” The weight of his own emotions prove too much for the clouds of his confusion, and they come in a torrential downpour as the words leave his mouth. His parched heart almost wants to reject him, not yet acclimated to the flood of reciprocated feelings. “Please don’t play with me, I can’t take it if you do,” he says instead. He hates how much his voice shakes on those words, how delicate he still is after he thought he had fully recovered.

“I promise you, I’m not.” Eunho reaches up with his free hand to wipe Eunsang’s tears away, tears Eunsang hadn’t even noticed had spilled from his eyes. “Let hyung prove it to you, yeah? Don’t cry, come here.” Weak to Eunho’s warmth, Eunsang melts into his touch. They’re so close now, both leaning over the gearshift just inches apart.

“Can I kiss you?” Eunho asks, at the same time Eunsang whispers: “Please kiss me.”

Eunho meets him first, pulling Eunsang in until they meet. He’s heartbreakingly tender, kissing Eunsang as if he’ll break. Eunsang is the opposite, the rush of his feelings flooding out of him and onto Eunho’s lips. He takes it in stride, tangling his free hand in Eunsang’s hair to pull him closer. Up until a few minutes ago, this had been something Eunsang thought would be forever out of his reach, but now that he has it, has Eunho, all he wants is more, more, more.

All too soon, Eunsang has to pull away for air. How cruel of the universe, to give him the need to love this deeply yet deny his body the ability to do so properly. He wants to entwine their very souls, to be embraced by Eunho so tightly that he can no longer tell where he ends and Eunho begins, oh he wants. His whimper when Eunho pulls away is utterly broken, something that Eunho rushes to soothe with another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not going far,” Eunho assures him. “Move your seat back a little, I’m coming over to that side.” Eunsang obeys almost numbly, only half aware of what he’s doing. His craving for Eunho’s touch encompasses his entire being, and he feels himself starting to shake apart while Eunho crawls over the gearshift to settle onto his lap.

“Hyung, can I… Touch you?” Eunsang asks, perfectly in time with his own voice playing from the radio. (“Looks like I can almost grab it”) His hands hover over Eunho’s body, so desperately craving the warmth that’s so close to him. Eunho huffs out a fond sigh, guiding Eunsang’s hands around his shoulders.

“Why do you think I came over to this side, silly?” Eunho murmurs in the minute space between them. “We’ve held back for long enough. This is real, Sangie.” He cups Eunsang’s face—not to pull him in, just to ground him—and waits for him to make the first move this time.

Eunsang closes the distance between them without a second thought, determined to kiss all his love into Eunho until it’s imbedded in his skin. Eunho matches his fervor easily, slotting against him like he was meant to be there.

It gets far too hot far too quickly for Eunsang’s liking, the thrum of his desire fogging up the windows and suffocating him until he has to shrug off his jacket. Eunho unbuttons the top half of his shirt to match him before diving right back in, drawing a moan from Eunsang that matches his voice playing from the speakers. He had always known he can sound sexy, but with the way Eunho’s body shivers with every little whine that leaves his lips, he truly understands.

“Fuck, Eunsang, I almost want to bite you,” Eunho groans against his neck. Eunsang nearly mewls at the confession.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Schedules.”

Ah, right. That pesky little thing called a career that looms over them both, that inevitably will call them back home to more endless practices and shows that cut into the time they can spend truly together… Eunsang has half a mind to tell Eunho to just do it anyway, schedules be damned. Thankfully, he still has enough of a head to resist.

“I know a better mark for us,” Eunsang whispers, kiss-swollen lips barely brushing against Eunho’s ear. “Since it’s so hot, my perfume has probably gotten on you. You’re going to smell like me until tomorrow night~” Eunho’s next breath is shaky against Eunsang’s neck, and his pupils are blown wide when he pulls back to kiss Eunsang again.

“I like that. You’re making me yours,” he murmurs between kisses. Eunsang can’t help but smile against his lips, eagerly drinking in his desire.

“And the others won’t know a thing,” Eunsang adds. He knows exactly how much to put on so that only those who get very close to him will smell it. For this, for him to be the only one to know that Eunho carries his scent… His head starts to spin, his blood rushing down to somewhere else at the thought. Something dangerous rears its head deep inside Eunsang, a deep-seated hunger starting to take root within his body. It would be too much for tonight, no matter how much he wants, so they should probably—

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” Eunho moans against his lips. Much to Eunsang’s simultaneous dismay and relief, he pushes himself away, keeping his hand on Eunsang’s chest to reinforce their distance. “I almost forgot this is my brother’s car, what have you done to me?”

Right, that too.

“We can do more back home, let’s hurry,” Eunsang whines, pouting up at Eunho. He looks so good looming over him like this, a great contrast to their usual dynamic. Eunsang craves him.

“We should be resting at home,” Eunho chides. “Tomorrow is going to be busy.” He glances behind himself at the car's dashboard for the time, Eunsang following his gaze. 3:25 AM. Eunho's birthday, Eunsang's lovesick mind supplies.

“I don’t care about tomorrow, I want you now.” Eunsang punctuates his words by running his hand up Eunho’s shirt. Deep down, he knows Eunho is right. He had already been tired when Eunho first messaged him, and now that the heat of his kisses is dissipating, exhaustion has come creeping in to replace his desire.

“You have me now,” Eunho assures. “Now and forever.” Forever… That sounds nice. Eunsang gives in, letting Eunho go with one last deep kiss.

The drive back home is a bit of a blur, the only clear memories being Eunho’s hand on his thigh and his own singing lulling him to sleep.

When he wakes the next morning, there are three texts from Eunho waiting for him.

Little Demon hyung Last night was way hotter than I thought Hyunseung thinks I borrowed your perfume, the scent is so strong Little does he know ;)

Eunsang can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. Perhaps they’ll tell the members eventually, but for now… This love will be their sweet little secret.

#mirage of a desert rose (untouchable but smells so sweet)#younite #2eun #canon compliant #annual #wrote this for a friend who doesn't have ao3 or tumblr #sent it to her on the first night of hanukkah (she's jewish)#and was like 'idk if this is an appropriate gift but here you go' 😭#she loved it tho so that's good!

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stillyourprussianblue · 4 years

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Title: skyclad;

under the moon, long shadows are cast Part II of III

Author: feuillemort [AO3] / stillyourprussianblue [tumblr]

Rating: T

Pairing: 10088 (Byakuran & Bianchi)

Event: KHRWeen2020

Prompts: Digging up a Body | Blood Drinking

“Witch!” the magistrate gasped.

Bianchi smiled wanly. “Yes, and?”

“Demon!” he cried.

“He prefers ‘angel,’” she replied lightly when the flames danced higher

[AO3] [image] [Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

“You stand before us accused of witchcraft,” the judge presiding proclaimed, leaning forward to fix her with a look down his nose. “What say you to these charges?”

She smiled demurely and spoke after an uncomfortably long silence. “What do you know of witchcraft?” she asked. Bianchi tilted her head just so, letting her hair slip out from behind her ear, her full lips parted in an enigmatic smile that she knew would unsettle the panel assembled to arraign her because of the apothecary she owned and the feral cats that frequented her home. “What exactly am I accused of?”

“Witchcraft!” his voice boomed.

When he realized that he had failed to intimidate her, Bianchi tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Look at all of these men, afraid of a few kittens.”

“Ah yes,” a new voice said breezily, its prescience pervasive but somehow without form or substance, “but kittens also have claws.”

The chief justice looked around, his panic beginning to rise.

But nothing changed in Bianchi’s demeanour, as if this was a regular occurrence. “And teeth,” she added. Then she turned her attention back to the judge. “But yes, I am a witch.”

The man’s eyes lit up as if he had caught her in his web, but her next words made his smug smile falter.

“Of the worst kind.” She watched him squirm. “What will you do with that knowledge? You can’t kill me in any way that matters.” She paused to allow him to splutter. “But would you like to try?”

“Such impudence!” The man looked at the panel of judges that sat on his either side, reeling back slightly when he saw the same dreamy smile on each of their faces.

Bianchi stepped forward, the lights in the room began to flicker and brighten as they filled with some sort of supernatural energy. The brighter it grew in the room, the longer the shadows that were cast and thrown about, criss-crossing and layering over each other until the contrast threatened to overcome them all.

Bianchi’s shadow on the wall seemed to tremor on the edges like a desert mirage, glowing hazily. A form began to take shape behind it, a silhouette of a man with feathery wings that oscillated between cold light and sinful darkness, tucked safely into her shadow, threatening to overflow, just brimming with untapped power and wild magic. But when the judge looked behind her, he saw nothing that could cast such an ominous and oppressive presence.

“Stop this at once!” he yelled, trembling in his seat as she continued to approach, pulling herself up onto the dais and leaned over until her lips brushed his ear and the collar of her dress dipped, tempting him closer. The others around him merely smiled dumbly, as if there was anything amusing at what they were witnessing.

“Witch!” the magistrate gasped.

Bianchi smiled wanly. “Yes, and?”

“Demon!” he cried.

“He prefers ‘angel,’” she replied lightly when the flames danced higher as the gas lamps struggled to keep up.

“If you don’t require anything else of me, I’ll be leaving now,” she murmured lowly in the judge’s ear, cupping his jaw in her long fingers, tilting his head back just enough to leave him vulnerable, with just enough volume to ensure that he was not the only one that had a shiver run down his spine. “You’d best be careful. There’s dark magic out there.”

She left a whisper of a laugh on his cheek and the faint scent of lilac and lemon verbena in her wake. Her eyes dared him to make a move. He didn’t; they were all under her thrall. They stared as she turned to leave, the smiling shadow of a spectre trailing at her heel, wings half unfurled as it moved like an angel in chains.

___

The first things she saw as she entered the dark apothecary were the white patches of Luce’s calico fur as the cat slept in a nest made in an empty crate on the counter. The matriarch of the colony had finally gotten comfortable enough in her presence to enter the shop and had begun spending more time indoors as she aged; she continued to sleep as Bianchi approached.

“There you are,” Bianchi murmured as amber eyes lifted from Luce’s sleeping form. “Renato,” she greeted. The black cat yawned, showing her his pink mouth before closing his eyes and returning to sleep as well, a sleek void curled protectively around Luce. “They mistook you for my familiar.” She chuckled quietly and lit the candles lining the space with a flick of her wrist.

Another cat pressed itself against her legs and she leaned down to give him a scratch behind the ears. “How wrong they were, right Fon?” It was hard to tell how old the feral was, especially given how spry he still was, but his once jet black fur had lost its pigmentation and he glowed a russet brown that was particularly red in the candlelight. He evaded her touch and disappeared deeper into the shop.

She watched him go fondly, seeing the small Russian Blue she had named Skull scamper after him. He had been the only one of his littermates to survive a particularly harsh winter, and now his gangly form shadowed Fon wherever he went.

“If you took any of them on as a familiar, they could stay with you forever, you know?” Bianchi felt the shift when his presence left her as if she were shedding a cloak. He materialized like a white shadow behind her. She didn’t bother turning to face him—he posed no threat to her so she went on to sort through her various sickles and knives.

“I already have you for eternity, my love,” Bianchi replied to the demonic presence as Byakuran floated forward to rest his chin on her shoulder, looking at the way she inspected each blade and placed each and every one precisely in its spot, lining them neatly beside the crucible.

“Until I tired of you, pet” he teased.

“Until I tire of you and send you back to that infernal realm that I summoned you from, darling,” she corrected.

“No, you wouldn’t!” Byakuran gasped with his eyes as wide as saucers. “As an immortal, hell does grow dull.”

“And you and your epicurean ideals simply could not be contained,” Bianchi said, stepping away to check on her greenhouse. Byakuran followed closely as she continued to poke barbs at him. “Except, that’s exactly what it was – you can’t sustain your form in this plane of existence without feeding off of my magic. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“I’m just another one of your charity cases,” he concluded, smiling down at little Skull who peered out at him from behind the safety of a cabinet. The kitten hissed and leaped away.

Bianchi ran her hands over the soft leaves of a silk sage plant, pausing to consider for a moment when the leaves crunch faintly –much too dry. There wasn’t a moment to spare to water it; there were more things to follow and she had to move things along.

Byakuran sensed the moment of hesitation and he took a half-step closer, and then away again when she gave him a look that was a little more forceful than necessary to remind him of his role.

His eyes narrowed, but he smiled as he held his hands up in feigned surrender.

She moved onto the next pot, pushing aside the fronds to check on the condition of the soil. The herb hadn’t seemed to be thriving as well as she’d hoped and she had crushed some eggshells to hopefully enrich the soil. She poked around the check the moisture and hummed appreciatively when she saw the fractured femur was dry of marrow and that the flesh had started coming off of the knuckles tucked into the roots –the plant would begin its recovery as nutrition was slowly absorbed.

“How is the dead man’s dill?” Byakuran asked conversationally.

“I know you don’t care unless it’s a flowering plant,” Bianchi said, to which he laughed, stepping closer to encircle her in his arms.

“I was hoping that once I escaped from hell I could at least stop and smell the roses,” he whispered with his lips on her ear.

“I’ll give you something better than roses,” she murmured, placing her finger in his mouth. He bit hard enough to draw blood and felt her magic flow, filling him with more of that energy until he was brimming with the madness and his dark wings unfurled behind them.

His tongue ran over her finger before he pressed a chaste kiss on the tip to stop the bleeding.

“Better than roses,” he agreed.

“Oh there’ll be more than roses, love” she promised.

They stayed like that for a while, swaying lightly, as confidantes in the low light, dangerous and untouchable. His voice was like crushed velvet, hers like sultry satin, his laughter like warm sugar, hers like a poisoned apple; both of them hardly soft and bitterly sweet.

___

He followed her to the graveyard, able to maintain a humanoid form at her side now that the world was asleep. Knowing his floral fixation as an aesthete, she wanted to give the demon enough to satisfy his greedy nature.

Finding a spot among the burial grounds, Bianchi drew the circle around her with her athame, carving it lightly into the ground. He felt the energy thrumming along the seam, and how it intensified as the circle was completed, letting her channel it freely.

The silky white robe she wore slipped from her shoulders and pooled on the ground by her feet. She slid a hand up her bare thigh and up her exposed arm. He followed the motion of her hand, gaze flicking over to her other hand as she beckoned him closer.

He took a few steps towards her, unable to get any closer than the circle’s barrier would allow. He watched her move: the tantalizing sway of her hips, the soft movements of her hands, the flutter of her lashes as she turned her face to the firmament. He had never seen someone so connected to the sky; the clouds had parted, letting the moonlight make her bare body glow and the stars dance in her hair as she turned slow circles with her arms raised. She looked like an angel, the picture of heaven, like a beautiful painting he would taint.

The blood blossom buds burst open, reaching for the energy she emanated. The moonvines grew around her feet, curling around the headstones in their vicinity, crawling closer until the flowers bloomed a brilliant white.

But something distracted him from fully appreciating the show.

There was a sound, a thudding, a pounding, repeating somewhere in the middle distance. So while Bianchi lost herself in the dance, Byakuran floated between the headstones to seek out the source of the sound, until he found the girl in the ditch, desperately clawing at the earth with her hands. He caught a glimpse of the hand that jutted out of the ground and the metal ring on the corpse’s finger and chuckled under his breath.

“Interesting,” he murmured, looking at the girl’s small frame as she and her beastly companions paused in their excavation. “So you’ve got something to do with that lovely man that wreaked havoc in hell.”

He floated back over to his mortal patron. That bit of amusement would only grow more interesting with time, aging like a fine wine, but he wanted to enjoy this moment with an angel before it was lost to time.

He saw her eyes fly open before he heard the first explosion, like a crack of thunder that shook the ground hard enough that she had to grip a headstone for support.

A dark figure flew past them in the opposite direction, stoic and steely-eyed, towards the graverobbing girl.

There was another explosion that shot fire between them, and he skidded to a stop, only to see Bianchi break the circle and make her way towards him, somehow still graceful while moving swiftly. He took her outstretched hand and pulled her close, his black wings wrapping them up as the fire raced along the edges of the graveyard. Loose feathers whirled around them, catching fire and taking flight.

“Hellfire not too hot for you I hope, darling?”

“It’s fire and brimstone, my angel; it’s the beating heart of stars, and it keeps me warm.”

The intensity of her words made him look into her eyes and really look—she was no longer acting. Bare of costume or disguise, she was somehow more than a skyclad sylph, more than passion incarnate, and he would gladly drink her love potion, poison and all.

___

[AO3] [image] [Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

#KHRween2020 #10088 #khr #khr byakuran #khr bianchi #under the moon long shadows are cast #feuillemort #prince supersharky #stillyourprussianblue #tumblr still isn't showing me in the tags so I'm reposting #tumblr equivalent of elo hell #cast me into the void

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