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getitoutofmymindwrites · 1 month

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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

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sorryimananti-romantic · 8 months

Text

Hearts Awakened, Live Alive

demon!mingi x human!reader

fantasy au (inspired by howl's moving castle)

word count: ~26k

genres: fluff, really angsty, suggestive, mention of hostage situation, violence warnings, whiplash warning lol

synopsis: you finally run away from the clutches of your stepmother and encounter mingi, infamously known as 'the child of shadows'. you join his gang of three- the high healer wooyoung and the white flame seonghwa and start living with them. you find out mingi is cursed to share a body with the shadow demon that goes by the name erebos and start falling for it and mingi eventually, though tragic consequences await you as you find out more about the demon's curse.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (we were writing diff fics side by side on docs and messed up the tenses so bad)

The last thing you remembered as you woke up after what had to be another fainting spell was that your wrists had been tied together and you were locked in the tower of your house– but as you looked around and found nothing but the woods and greens of the forests, you started to feel dread creep up your chest and bubble out in the form of a short sob.

You spent only a few seconds trying to recall how you got here- you had run away from home and this time, you had succeeded, but now you needed to get as far away from the town as possible. You got up, not bothering to brush the leaves and dirt off your cloak and instead tried to figure out what direction you had been aiming for- the setting sun. Thankfully, it wasn’t dark just yet so you followed the rays of the sun and started running a little more carefully this time, head still dizzy from the overwhelmingness of the situation.

Sieun’s plan was perfect. She was one of the servants back at the castle house, a place that had once been your home when your father was still alive- under the reign of your stepmother, though, everything had gone to hell. She was the only one who had dared to help you escape and succeeded. You did not want to think about what had happened to those who failed.

You licked your dry lips and wondered if the sound of water you could hear was actually a stream or just a bait- afterall, this was a town of mages. It might be a trick to lure people- but…

There was someone else in your town now, someone feared by mages and humans alike. ‘The Child of Shadows’, they called him among his many other names. You had only heard rumours about him and you weren’t sure if they were true. What you did know was that as a mere human, you had to avoid him at absolutely all costs. You’d had enough of living in the shadows already.

The sun was starting to set so you decided to find shelter and followed the sound of the stream. The running water was cool to touch and you washed your face and hands before drinking it. You searched in the pockets of your cloak, finding a piece of bread and devouring it in a few bites, almost choking on it- you felt a sudden sense of dread when you realised that something about this whole situation was off-

Silence. It was awfully silent- you didn’t realise when the birds stopped chirping and the bugs stopped buzzing- not even the sound of a leaf in the air. The water and the unsteady beats of your heart were the only thing you could hear. You gulped, trying to recall when exactly the forest fell silent when you heard the sounds of leaves rustling behind you. You whipped your head around and pulled the knife out of your sleeve, pointing it at-

Not one, but a bunch of soldiers. You immediately put your knife back.

“Are you lost, miss?” One of them asked, a middle aged man with a unique moustache. “You look pale.”

“No, I… I’m travelling so I just stopped to eat-”

“Travelling? Alone?” Another soldier said, not buying your story. “Miss, you know the protocols, right? We would need to see your identification.”

This was it.

Without any identification, travelling alone? They were going to put you behind bars. That would be better than going back to the dungeons of your house, you thought, as the little spark of hope you had been harbouring ever since you escaped started to dim-

“She’s not alone,” a deep, raspy voice boomed and for a moment you froze, wondering if it had reverberated inside you. You found yourself unable to turn, instead letting the source of the voice come in your vision.

Nothing about him screamed normal, from his ragged appearance to his unmistakable dark aura, and even the soldiers took a step back. You remained frozen as he passed you a glance- such sharp eyes- and dug something from his bag, showing it to the soldiers. They looked from the card to you and back, straightening, and as if a spell had been casted over them, they bowed and turned back to join their squad.

The man who had just saved you turned and you scanned him again- hair swept back in black and blue spikes adding more sharpness to his pointy features, the dark cloak on his broad body not helping with the air he exuded-

“Who are you?” You managed to ask, taking a step back and finally understanding why the soldiers had too.

He passed an awkward smile and held his bag close. “Just a passerby.”

“What did you show to the soldiers? And where did you come from?”

“So many questions for someone who’s travelling alone, in this state,” he glanced at your rags hidden under your cloak before stepping towards you and you reflexively pointed your knife at him, making him scoff in amusement. “I’m sorry but this knife won’t do much to me,” he waved a hand and the knife turned to ashes and you gaped at it.

“You’re a mage…” your heart sank to your feet- you really were done for this time. He shrugged and started down on the path, turning to you after a few steps.

“Aren’t you gonna follow me?”

You hated how his voice made you obey instantly- more out of curiosity than fear, which was new considering the stories you’d heard about mages. Your own experience with mages was not the best either. You cleared your throat, falling just a step behind him and matching his pace from there. “Where are we going?”

“Where are you going? You seemed to have run away,” he said casually. You wondered if he often encountered runaways on the road.

“I just need to get as far away from this town as possible,” you almost shivered and he nodded.

“I’m travelling anyway. I don’t mind if you join- as long as you don’t make too much noise.”

“I can be as silent as a pin,” you told him and he glanced at you in amusement.

“Aren’t you scared of travelling with a stranger?” You ignored that, wondering what you would do if he tried something with you. However, his shoulders shook from laughter and he said, “Relax. I’m not alone either- I have company.”

You should have known that by company he meant more mages, and you were cursing internally at the thought of being surrounded by mages, because what if someone decided to take advantage of the fact that you were a mere human? Your stepmother had, even when she was human herself- and all she wanted was for you to hand over your assets to her. You wouldn’t put it past this bunch to not do the same.

What you didn’t expect was how incredibly normal they seemed. Their appearance? Not so much, but the way they approached the mage who accompanied you? You frowned as you watched their comfortable interaction- you couldn’t sense anything from them that would give you a hint of who they were, but you wondered if you were the only one who felt that dark, crushing aura of your companion.

“And who’s our new guest?” The man with white hair approached with a gentle smile though he passed a sceptical glance at your companion. “Another one, Mingi? Already?”

“What do you mean, already, it’s been a few decades. Don’t scare her off,” the shorter one tsk-ed at him and approached you with the warmest smile. “I’m Jung Wooyoung- you can call me Wooyoung. You might know me as the High Healer-”

“Wooyoung-”

“The High Healer?” You gasped.

Wooyoung folded his arms. “Yes?”

You looked at the other two in disbelief but when they didn’t react, you shook your head, trying to make sense of it. “You’re the High Healer.”

“I am,” Wooyoung’s voice was low and contained a hint of worry. “What’s the matter?”

You had been out to find him.

“Nothing, just-” you looked at the man who had accompanied you. “Who are you then?”

“Song Mingi,” he told you and you raised a brow, expecting more but he didn’t give in. You looked at the white-haired man.

“Park Seonghwa. The White Flame,” he muttered and you nodded- you had heard of him, alright. The Fallen Angel. You were wondering if that really was the case or if it was just a title he earned because he looked like one. “Did you lose your way while travelling?”

“I ran away,” you straightened- might as well pretend not to be a coward than quivering in their company. The healer hooted at that and you were once again surprised by the man’s behaviour- nothing like your father had told you. “You’re not how I imagined you to be.”

“Ah, I get that a lot,” he winked, “Everyone imagines a boring old balding man with a long beard, don’t they?”

“I mean,” you shrugged. “You are supposed to be old, aren’t you?”

“I’m not even that old,” he waved his hand dismissively. “They’ve got multiple centuries over me- they’re older.”

“Centuries?” You gaped at Mingi- you weren’t surprised about the White Flame- he was as old as time itself, and you wondered if part of his magic was exuding a calm air so you wouldn’t panic in his presence. Because nothing about the White Flame shook you to the core like Mingi’s presence did.

“That’s enough,” Mingi exhaled. “Let’s go home.”

You followed the three, wondering what was up with this odd bunch- the White Flame and the High Healer living in the same place didn’t make sense at all. So who was this Song Mingi? You tried recalling anything that rung a bell, but-

You paused when the three abruptly stopped and watched Mingi wave a hand in the air, and what you saw next took your breath away- it was as if a layer of fog had been lifted and you could suddenly see-

“That’s your home?”

Ruins was what it was. A house falling apart on itself. It was as if someone had gathered planks of wood and nailed them wherever they could- there were windows, yes, but everything was absolutely crooked.

Mingi turned slowly to glare at you, once again making you gulp. Wooyoung butted in between the two of you. “The inside is not that bad, I promise.”

Mingi and Seonghwa ignored the two of you, talking in hushed voices as they started to go inside. You stood frozen in place, feeling an odd sense of danger and calm battling for dominance within you. Wooyoung nudged you along but when you stopped again, he asked, “Do you not want to come inside?”

“Should I?” You locked eyes with him. “I’ve heard you’re a good person, High Healer.”

“I’ve heard that too,” he said with a smug smile.

“People- humans trust you. You help them, right?” When he nodded, you continued. “Tell me then, would I regret joining the three of you? Even if it’s for just one night?”

“If it’s for one night? Not really. You could be on your way tomorrow. But if you choose to stay,” Wooyoung pursed his lips. “I can’t guarantee you won’t regret it.”

“Well, at least you’re candid about it,” you started walking and Wooyoung grinned. “Just know I wouldn’t be walking towards that ‘house’ right now if it weren’t for you.”

“You seem to know me,” Wooyoung’s eyes twinkled. “Have we met?”

You simply smiled- he wouldn’t know you. This was your first time meeting him as well, however, your father was acquainted with him. You decided not to mention it to him right now.

The house did look better inside, you had to agree- it was a mess, still, but it did look like people were actually living in it. Seonghwa was in the kitchen and you tried to let the image of the White Flame doing dishes sink in. Wooyoung was laughing loudly at your expressions and you awkwardly glanced around, taking off your cloak and sitting by the fireplace.

“I always get such a kick out of whenever someone sees Seonghwa in the kitchen,” Wooyoung wiped his eyes, handing you a glass of what looked like orange juice which you gladly accepted. “Who would have thought the White Flame was obsessed with keeping his kitchen clean, right?”

“I don’t know where all of you got the impression that I would be doing something else,” Seonghwa muttered. “I have a house to manage and two kids to take care of.”

“Two children?” You frowned and Wooyoung guiltily raised his hand, you realised he was referring to Wooyoung and Mingi as the two kids. You looked at Wooyoung, “Well, where are the others?”

“What others?”

“You said you get a kick out of people watching Seonghwa in the kitchen. Do you often have visitors or are there others here?”

When Seonghwa and Wooyoung met eyes and shared a look, you knew whatever he’d tell you would be a lie so you decided to ask something else. “What happens to those who decide to stay with you for longer than a day?”

“You’re very sceptical of us,” Seonghwa tossed the washcloth in the sink and folded his arms as he leaned against the counter to almost glare at you. “If you’re going to keep asking questions when we’ve given you shelter, you might as well leave at the crack of dawn.”

And, there it was. Your suspicions that Seonghwa was making a conscious effort to emanate a calm air were confirmed when you felt a shift in the air and something heavy started settling in your heart, making your throat feel tight. Wooyoung called Seonghwa’s name in warning.

“Let’s be patient with a curious guest, we don’t often get that,” he waved dismissively and Seonghwa went back to fiddling with the utensils. You didn’t realise how hard you were clutching the glass until Wooyoung patted your back. “Don’t mind him. He’s so old he gets cranky sometimes. Would you like to take a tour of the mansion?”

“Mansion?” You almost laughed and he grinned.

“What better name to call this beauty?” He looked around and as if on cue, a pipe at the far end of the room burst, spraying water and startling all of you. Seonghwa muttered a curse under his breath before he went to examine it and you turned to the healer in amusement.

“Sure,” you smiled. “I would like a tour.”

—--------------------

The thing about mages was that they did not care for humans. They really, really didn’t- they were not humans. They would not understand the simple human struggles, such as why they always think selfishly- humans had a shorter lifespan after all, unlike most mages. Mages also didn’t quite understand that some humans had more things to worry about than death- there were more important things.

Such as finally being able to live.

You were sitting in front of the fireplace in the middle of the night, not quite sleepy. You reckoned it was because you still hadn’t made a decision- did you want to leave? What would you do if you left? How far could you make it travelling on your own, really? Sooner or later, someone was going to take advantage of you and you would meet a fate worse than death- something similar to what your life had been before you finally ran away from home.

And if you decided to stick with these mages…

“What are you doing here?”

You turned to the source of voice, identifying his presence first. Mingi. Why did his voice feel different this time? You straightened your dress and posture, not feeling a need to answer, wondering if it was the lack of sleep that was making you hear things-

“I asked you something.”

You frowned as you looked at him again- yes, he was Mingi, but why did he sound… different?

“Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“I thought you’d know that- it is you all who gave me the ultimatum,” you narrowed your eyes as you scanned him- he was wearing a cloak. Was he going out at this hour of the night?

“Ah, did we?” He suddenly sounded… cockier. You watched him step closer and pick something from the mantel and bury it in his pockets before you could see it. When he turned, you noticed the colour of his eyes now that the fire illuminated half of his face-

His eyes were almost glowing.

“Say, would you like some fresh air?” He suggested and you all but gaped at his sudden change of demeanour.

“Why would I go out to get some fresh air with someone I don’t even know at this hour of the night?”

“Well, you are staying in a house with three strangers who just happen to be mages, aren’t you?” He shifted his weight to one leg. “I told them not to let more of you humans in, but they always insist it’s for ‘the better’.”

“Why?” You dared to ask.

“Why would mages welcome human company, right?” Mingi scoffed. “Think about that before you go to sleep tonight, little bird.”

Even though your heart sank, you dared to ask, “Would you mind if I stayed?”

His almost devilish smirk made you wish you had never asked that. He stepped closer, slowly, until he was right in front of you and you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. You let him trace the side of your face, feeling in your bones first that this wasn’t the person you had met in the woods, not the one with the warm smile who had saved you, not the one who had been so hesitant to meet your eyes.

This wasn’t Song Mingi.

“Who are you?” You almost whispered and his eyes twinkled.

“I’m the shadows that you fear, little bird,” his voice sounded ancient, spreading like the very shadows he mentioned around you. He patted your cheek once, almost condescendingly, before disappearing and you wondered just what you were getting into. “And you should fly away when you still have the chance.”

You, of course, decided to stay. Simply out of spite.

You have always been like this. When your father died, you were far too young to exercise your authority and influence as the inheritor of the noble title and all of his assets, and you let your stepmother take advantage of you as you succumbed to grief. But as the grief started becoming something like background and you finally realised how you were trapped, you decided you would never let anyone get the better of you again.

Your stepmother had treated you like an inconvenience, and as you started rebelling, it took the shape of an ugly war. You, however, did not have anyone who had your back. Your stepmother had influence around town and she used that, hired mages to put wards around her house to keep you from leaving. You always asked her why she wouldn’t simply let you go. Perhaps, she was afraid she would lose. But it got to the point that you wondered if she was paranoid- especially when she started using numbing potions on you, locking you in a room in the tower.

Now that you hadn’t had that potion in two days, it was as if you were finally regaining your senses. The world was clearer and you felt awake for once. You owed it all to Sieun who had gained your stepmother’s trust, only to pretend to give you those numbing potions and a chance to run away. You could do nothing but pray she wasn’t locked in that tower like you, that she didn’t meet a fate worse than you did.

So maybe, it was spite. Maybe you simply didn’t want to be told what to do anymore that you decided to stick with this odd group of mages and see where it took you- after all, you had nowhere to go.

But it was also slightly because you knew you could trust the healer because your father had told you so, and because you were so intrigued about who this Song Mingi was. He had to be someone you had heard about- he felt too powerful to be a simple mage. He was too old to be a simple mage. The White Flame you had heard enough tales about. But…

A knock sounded on your door and you, who had been in the middle of making the bed, cleared your throat. The door opened and a mess of white hair greeted you, eyes curious.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run away in the night,” Seonghwa commented and you shrugged. “Slept well?”

“Not really, but that’s the nerves,” you finished straightening the duvet, glancing around. “And might also be the abundance of spiders in your ‘beautiful mansion’.”

“Ah, I swear I cleaned this room two days ago but the spiders keep coming,” he stood awkwardly in the doorway and you had to stop and stare at him- was he actually taking you seriously? “So you decided to stay?”

“For now,” you nodded slowly. “If you’re fine with it?”

“Oh, I don’t care,” Seonghwa admitted. “Wooyoung would love to talk to someone else other than the two of us too.”

“And… Mingi?”

Seonghwa raised a brow and you felt a shift in the air that almost made you bend. You frowned in confusion but Seonghwa was eyeing you knowingly. “Did you talk to him in private or something?”

“In the middle of the night…” you told him. “He basically told me to go away.”

“Ah. But you’re staying?”

“Yes,” you folded your arms. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Not at all,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “But a word of advice for you- stay in your own room during the night. You don’t want to see things that you won’t like.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s for me to decide, but thank you.”

Seonghwa shook his head in mild amusement. “I guess the potion is wearing off.”

“You can tell?” You wowed. Of course he could. He was a mage.

“You’re not the same person who almost cowered at our feet,” he tilted his head up a fraction, making you wonder if he was looking down at you- in every sense possible. “I like you better this way, but now I know what to do if you become too much-”

“You would not-”

Seonghwa paused- you sounded like a wounded animal but there was a hint of threat in there which made him intrigued despite himself. Somehow, he could relate to you in that moment, share the sense of once being trapped by your own people even though a lifetime had passed for him.

“I would not,” he assured you, this time without a smile. “Join us for breakfast?”

You exhaled somewhat in relief and followed him downstairs, surprised to see everyone on the table. You wondered if ‘breakfast’ was a regular thing here. You could not remember the last time you sat at a table to eat- you were too used to seating yourself in corners.

And you could not move when Seonghwa pushed out a chair for you. When he cleared his throat, you finally came back to your senses and sat, studying the others. Wooyoung waved at you and Mingi seemed to be too interested in his almost finished plate.

“Help yourself,” Wooyoung pushed a plate of eggs towards you. “I’m a good cook.”

“I’m sure you are…” you felt the need to take a nibble first, see if you could detect the faint scent of lavender in it which was a key ingredient for any numbing potion- however, you knew that the White Flame could probably read your thoughts from your body language alone. He was called the ‘Seer of the Hearts’ for a reason. So you stomped on your hesitation and took a bite-

Of the most heavenly eggs you could have ever tasted.

“There’s no way you did not mix magic in that,” you muttered to yourself, mostly, but Wooyoung caught that.

“I do not mix magic with my daily routine, I’m a healer,” Wooyoung laughed. “I’m glad you think it’s good. People here don’t really appreciate good food and the effort behind it, you know?”

You glanced at Mingi who sported a faint smile. “Tastes normal enough to me.”

You knew they were teasing each other- bickering back and forth so naturally in an argument about who was the best cook in the house. You couldn’t help but wonder if that is how they usually were, and Mingi-

He sounded like the same person you had met in the woods. Not the one who talked to you last night. No hint of that cockiness nor a sharp glint in the eyes. He sounded warm.

“Well,” Mingi, who had just finished eating, spoke out loud, seemingly addressing you and you straightened, breaking out of your trance. “Have you decided if you want to stay?”

“So the decision is in my hands?” You asked with a raise of brow, not able to hold yourself back. Seonghwa looked at you in warning but you ignored that. “I thought you decided for me last night.”

And then something flashed in his eyes making you wonder if you were imagining it. “Sorry if it seemed that way.”

Again, you were confused. “I think I’ll stay after all, and see what exactly are those shadows that I should fear.”

That made Mingi drop his fists on the table as he almost glared at you.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mingi-”

“No,” Mingi interrupted Wooyoung. “If she’s staying, she should know who I am. She should know to stay away from me- and she shouldn’t be here for much longer. There’s only so much I can do about this.”

You wiped your hands as you processed what he said- you had asked him who he was last night.

“Take it slow,” Seonghwa reminded him softly. “We do not make our guests feel unwelcome, Mingi, you know that.”

Mingi slumped back in his seat then, muttering an apology and you did the same, making the High Healer stifle his smile. “Kids, both of you. You should know that Mingi is publicly called ‘The Child of Shadows’ though, before you decide to stay. We don’t want you to think that we tricked you into staying or something.”

Seonghwa groaned loudly but you couldn’t hear that, because-

The Child of Shadows.

You had heard enough tales about him. The mage who could make you think you were blind in broad daylight. The mage who drove the best insane, the one who made you face years worth of nightmares in a second. The Cursed, the Prophesied, they also called him, though you had heard quite a bit of variations of that one. Cursed why? Prophesied to do what? The question remained even after centuries-

Centuries over you, these three mages had. You had never felt smaller in your life before, so insignificant, so-

When Seonghwa called your name, that’s when you broke out of your trance. You found yourself out of breath and locked eyes with Mingi again.

I’m the shadows that you fear, little bird. And you should fly away when you still have the chance.

His words from last night rang in your head and you sighed internally. It was a miracle you were alive right now, but then you supposed if you didn’t encounter them, you would have been dead anyway. So you cleared your throat, reeling yourself back in. “I’m here.”

“I understand that you are scared,” Seonghwa smiled. “He doesn’t have the best reputation, does he?”

“None of you have, except The High Healer,” you looked at Wooyoung who smiled proudly. “I just don’t know what to believe. I know your magic is keeping me calm- part of it anyway,” you admitted to Seonghwa who seemed genuinely surprised that you knew. “But I don’t know what to expect.”

Seonghwa looked at Mingi who kept his face void of any emotions. “The Child of Shadows… There's a very simple reason he is called that. And he’s not as bad as they made him to be- I can vouch for that.”

“I’d like to believe that,” you almost whispered and Mingi met your eyes, something like understanding passing between you two- you had no idea what exactly you understood of Mingi now, but somehow, you weren’t sour about the events of last night anymore. “Mages must struggle with their own magic too, as humans struggle with… being human.”

Seonghwa smiled knowingly at Mingi who awkwardly stood up, glancing at the three of you. “I have some business in town so if you need something, let me know now. I’ll be back in the evening and then we will move.”

“Move where?” You asked.

“We’re travellers,” Wooyoung sighed dramatically. “We don’t have a place we can call home.”

“But what about this… mansion?” You asked, making the three chuckle.

You were in for a surprise. In the evening, after you spent the rest of the day lurking around and watching Seonghwa prepare food and Wooyoung experiment with his potions, Mingi arrived, seeming out of breath, hair all messy as if he had been on the run. Your suspicions were confirmed when he talked with Seonghwa in hushed voices and the two went outside. You glanced at Wooyoung who was observing you already.

“It’s normal. No one really likes them. Me, though? I’m the only reason we get to stay in one place for a while.”

You reckoned it was true- the High Healer was a mage that every human wanted to meet at least once in their lifetime- and not because he was a ‘healer’. His wisdom was for the books, though you had to say you never imagined the High Healer was this cheeky personally. You wondered if he was like this with everyone.

“You still haven’t told me how we’re gonna travel. Don’t you need to pack or something?”

Wooyoung smirked yet again, like he had been doing ever since the morning whenever you inquired about their means or mode of travel. You passed him an annoyed look and the doors burst open, the two looking as calm as they could.

“Fuel the engines, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa ordered. “I’m going to the roof- Mingi will wait until it’s time.”

“Fuel what engines?” Your voice shook and you went for the window to get a look outside, not finding any sort of a transport, much less one with an engine. You turned to see Wooyoung at the fireplace with one hand in the fire and you had to swallow an instinctive scream. Seonghwa had disappeared and you felt a tap on your arm.

“You might want to take a seat,” Mingi motioned to the table. “First time can be scary.”

“I don’t understand,” you confessed.

“You’ll see,” he placed a hand on your back, urging you to do as he said. Unconvinced, you sat down and braced yourself for the biggest surprise of your life-

It started with Wooyoung shouting okay and Seonghwa responding. When the utensils on the table started shaking a bit, you wondered if there was an earthquake and almost screamed when you felt the floor rock. You could practically feel the foundations of the house shaking as it rose, finally earning a scream from you which went unnoticed. You spotted Wooyoung who looked amused and you finally got it then.

This house moves.

You had never heard of such a thing in your life. Not even in the stories. Your horror turned into something like surprise and perhaps a little bit of glee as you walked cautiously towards Wooyoung, holding on to whatever was near for support and when he extended his hand, you took it.

“I could have had a heart attack, Wooyoung,” you finally laughed, more in disbelief.

“And that’s why they have a healer here,” his eyes twinkled with amusement and you found him scanning your face. You realised it was your first time laughing in years and your smile fell but you let a hint of it remain.

“How do you do it?”

Wooyoung explained the mechanics- it was basically running due to Seonghwa. They had figured this mechanism out a few decades ago- Wooyoung, who had a fire affinity, would fuel the house through the fireplace. The house had a soul at this point which was thanks to Seonghwa, and he admitted even he did not know how Seonghwa did it. You realised why he adored this house then, despite its tattered form- and perhaps, it was tattered due to all the travelling they did.

You also learned that without Mingi’s magic the house could not move. The shadows materialised and binded the house in places you could not see and they also worked as tyres. Wooyoung showed you how it looked through the window and you were amazed. You spotted Seonghwa dangling from the edge of the roof, moving his limbs as if he himself was driving the house but when he looked down and waved, you figured it must be for the initial kick.

“So where’s Mingi?” You finally asked, unable to hold back your curiosity.

“Outside the space in his room, maybe,” Wooyoung considered for a second. “You can go and see him if you like. You don’t have to be scared of him.”

You pursed your lips and when you started to inch away, Wooyoung smiled, motioning at you to go ahead. You started climbing the stairs, heart filled with profound feelings of appreciation for the structure that was doing its best to simply remain and not fall apart. A house built on magic and friendship- on love. You could appreciate that, because you knew that no matter how pretty or magnificent a house could look, it could still be the ugliest place to live in and feel like a prison.

You didn’t knock on his door since it was wide open and you could spot him standing outside with his hands extended towards the front, shadows surrounding him- black, inky fog. You figured he would detect your presence anyway so you just watched, not once feeling fear- strange since the townspeople cried when they heard his name-

Why? What had he done to earn that reputation? You did not understand how the Child of Shadows you knew from the rumours and stories from people around you was the same person who had the warmest gaze at times, who looked almost scared at times- especially when he had come back today.

However, it was not the warm gaze that greeted you when he turned his neck back to look at you. It was the same glowing eyes from last night- the ones that looked like silver stars dipped in shadows. And when his lips curved not in a smile but a smirk, you knew that he was not the same person you had breakfast with today.

Swallowing, you stepped forward as if possessed by those very shadows, as if they were moving your feet in the first place. You stopped by the window- the entrance to the little space outside, when he finally spoke.

“You stayed, little bird.”

You didn’t answer but stood beside him and watched how the magic worked. When you finally spoke, it was to say, “You’re not Mingi.”

“That’s the quickest a stranger has guessed, and the calmest they have been,” it smiled- this time, it was void of taunt. “What made you stay when I warned you of the consequences?”

“Exactly that,” you admitted, peeking up at it, liking how focused it looked. “I’ll die anyway.”

Mingi- or whoever was in that body, shrugged, so you asked it. “What are you?”

“Humans called me a demon before I possessed this body, so maybe I am a demon.”

You considered that- was that why Mingi was called the Child of Shadows? A shadow demon of sorts?

“Well, what’s your name then?”

It paused, the outstretched arms falling back as it turned to look at you and consider your question- in all of its time as a demon in a human vessel, no one had ever bothered to ask its name. Such a simple, human question yet it felt something bubbling in its throat- perhaps those human emotions it despised. Perhaps it was Mingi fighting back for conscious control. Whatever it was… the demon found it so strange that someone was not immediately quivering and kneeling despite the visible shadows around it, despite the knowledge that it was a demon as old as time, perhaps.

As if someone was looking at the demon itself for the first time- not Mingi’s eyes, but its own eyes.

“I might have forgotten my name,” it admitted. “I haven’t been called by my name in aeons.”

Aeons. Your heart sank and the demon felt that, but did not comment.

“What do they call you then? They must refer to you by some name, right?”

“They just call me Erebos.”

“So you won’t tell me what your name is?”

Again. The demon found itself looking at you and for the first time in a while, a genuine chuckle escaped it. You, amused, turned to look at the stretch of the night sky, not wanting it to feel satisfaction- if it could feel anything in the first place.

“You’re funny, little bird. I quite like you already.”

You shrugged. “I bet you say that to every human who talks to you. A demon starved of company.”

This time, it roared in laughter and you couldn’t help but compare it to the sound of Mingi’s own laughter you had heard in the morning. Somehow, this one sounded more human than Mingi’s own laugh. “Feisty. You’re not like this when you’re talking to Mingi. You sounded like you hated him.”

“It’s not him I hate, he saved me. He was the one who saved me, right?” You asked and it nodded. “It’s you who confused me. I didn’t know you were… two separate people. How does that even work? Where is Mingi now?”

“So many questions,” it tsk-ed. “Mingi saved you. It was me last night. Mingi during the day, and me right now. Since we have to live in one body, we might as well get along and divide our hours, was the White Flame’s genius plan.”

“And is… is Mingi here right now?” You looked at him.

“Over the years, we’ve started sharing our consciousness. We might not always be able to control it, but we can see, hear and feel what the other does.”

Oh. So Mingi was there last night too. And he was probably here, watching you interact with the demon who had possessed his body.

“Why did you possess him?”

The demon’s smile fell right as it heard the question and it almost glared at you. You understood why but you refused to cower under its scrutinising gaze. “That is not something you ask a demon, little bird.”

If you had any more questions, they were lost with the shadows now. Its gaze was hard and unwelcoming and you thought you might have made a mistake. You didn’t leave, though. Somehow, these shadows were still comforting enough.

—-----------------------

You may have given Erebos some company last night, but Mingi was hell-bent on pretending you did not exist. You supposed it was awkward for him too- to watch from afar, someone inside him taking control of his thoughts and actions. You were not sure what to make of it- did he not want you talking to Erebos at all? Even Seonghwa, who had warned you to stay in your room at nights, didn’t say much when he spotted you and the demon sharing silence.

Somehow, that seemed to weigh on your mind more than the fact that you were not in your town anymore. You had travelled all through the night and stopped at the vast expanse of field that bordered the river in the neighbouring town. Most of the day was spent sleeping and you finally woke up around sunset when you heard the faint tinkling of utensils in the kitchen. After washing up, you peeked through your door and spotted Seonghwa who seemed to sense you, turning around with a smile.

“Breakfast- or I suppose, dinner is ready,” he tasted one of the dishes and nodded to himself in satisfaction. You joined him near the counter and fiddled with the ends of your plain emerald dress that had ‘magically’ appeared in your wardrobe after Mingi went to town yesterday.

“The others?” You asked.

“Wooyoung’s out cold, Mingi is outside inspecting our new location,” he told you. “I hope we get to stay here longer this time. It’s beautiful here.”

“Really?” The sound of creaks filled the room as you walked towards the window and you audibly gasped as you took in the pink and golden hues reflecting on the crystal clear river with hills across it, the fluffiest clouds in the sky and the grass a beautiful, darker shade of green than you had seen in the forest.

You also spotted Mingi, standing at the back of the river and staring into the distance. With a nod from Seonghwa who muttered something about him waking Wooyoung up, you stepped outside and inhaled the scent of wet mud which calmed your otherwise raging nerves. You cautiously walked towards the looming figure and cleared your throat, making him glance back at you.

“Uh, dinner is ready,” you said, hating the way you sounded. You scanned his eyes and confirmed it was Mingi.

Even though he didn’t answer, you remained standing a few feet behind him, drowning in questions that you wished to ask but didn’t have the guts to- why was talking to the demon somehow easier than talking to the human? Before you could open your mouth to ask something that was already at the tip of your tongue, Seonghwa shouted for you two to get inside and you clicked your tongue in annoyance, not waiting for him this time as you returned to the house.

The silence that hung uncomfortably during dinner almost made you choke. You saw Seonghwa cautiously glance between you and Mingi multiple times, and if Wooyoung had not been so sleepy, he might have dared to comment on it. As soon as Mingi finished eating, he dropped his plates in the sink and said something about going into his room. When he disappeared, it felt like you could finally breathe.

“Is Mingi avoiding me?” You asked, worried you were disturbing the peace in this house- you had heard him laugh with the other two when you were not present and it hurt you that he was shutting you out more as time passed. “Is it because of something I did?”

“It’s just because he doesn’t like anyone interacting with Erebos,” Wooyoung answered. “It took us a lot of time to find the balance between our interactions with Erebos and Mingi too.”

“Well,” you pouted. “He should have warned me himself then, shouldn’t he?”

The two shrugged, perhaps used to these mood swings. You pouted further. “He shouldn’t have saved me in the forest and asked me to accompany him then.”

“You should say that to Mingi,” Wooyoung was stifling a smirk. “See how he answers that.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned, turning to you. “Mingi helps anyone who needs it. We help anyone who needs it, because we all know what it is like to feel trapped and helpless. Mingi knows that better than any of us, so do not question him on that. Just… give him some time. He’ll warm up to you.”

You sighed deeply, understanding. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa smiled. “You’ll be fine.”

You did not go to find Erebos that night, waiting instead for Mingi the next morning at the same spot he had been in yesterday, at the bank of the river. And surprisingly, it was him who joined you with a book this time.

“Are you feeling well?” He inquired and you tried not to let the surprise show on your face.

“I am, thank you for asking,” you tucked the hair that blew with the breeze back in the clip. “Are you okay?”

“Why would I not be okay?” He glanced at you.

“Are we okay?” You rephrased it and he sighed.

“I’m sorry if I was being an ass. You’ve… met Erebos, right?” You nodded and he continued. “Over time, I’ve learned to cohabitate with the demon in my body. It wasn’t always so manageable but it’s unusual for a human body to contain a demon within it for such a long period of time.”

Human body. Mingi was once human.

“Do you wish to be free?”

Mingi smiled at that. “I was anything but free when I was human. Ironically, the demon possessing me gave me more freedom than I ever had. I guess that is why we can tolerate each other now.”

“Why did you say you want me to stay away from you then?” You asked, curiosity taking the better of you.

Mingi’s smile seemed to be painful. “Why would you not stay away from a demon, y/n?”

“But you’re human… aren’t you? Or a mage now,” you wondered out loud. “Should I stay away from you too?”

Mingi didn’t answer that. He opened his book and scrolled through a few pages, buying time to think. You kept watching him- it felt like he was finally opening up to you, still so cautious and hesitant. “I don’t know.”

Despite the impending sense of danger, you found your frown relaxing and lips curving into a smile and when Mingi saw you, he smiled back.

Perhaps, this was the first step the two of you took together.

“I’d say we should stay away from you,” Mingi found himself saying with a teasing tone. “You humans are always so reckless. And that smile is unnerving.”

Your smile widened. “You don’t get human company often, do you?”

Mingi’s smile fell again and you decided it wasn’t a topic they wanted to talk about- neither of them. You cleared your throat. “Thank you for saving me that day. I don’t think I got the chance to thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, looking back at his book. “I felt your senses numbed because of the potions. I couldn’t simply leave you be.”

“Thank you for today too,” you almost whispered.

“Today?”

“For finally talking to me- I thought you were cross with me,” you explained.

“I still am, a little, just not with you,” he admitted, sighing deeply. “I don’t like the way Erebos talks to you, if I’m honest. It’s new.”

You pursed your lips- that explained his behaviour and the way he avoided you. He continued, “I won’t stop you from interacting with Erebos. Just be careful, okay?”

You nodded and sank your feet in the bare grass as Mingi went back to reading his book, the silence between you two comfortable for the first time.

—--------------------

You were settling into a routine in the house and it seemed like they had accepted you as a housemate.

It would have been much more difficult if it weren’t for the White Flame’s warm nature. You wondered how time hadn’t hardened him- he was more considerate than any human or mage you had ever met. You found his nature almost doting as he instructed you on the tasks you had to practically beg to share. As he taught you how to fix broken pipes or dangling planks, you shared stories of your life. He learned that you had been a servant in your own house before your stepmother resorted to imprisoning you in the tower because you tried to run away a few too many times.

You learned that he wasn’t an angel at all- he was also a demon, though a different kind than Erebos. He resembled angels too much- both in his appearance and mannerisms and was outcasted by the demons. The angels didn’t accept him either. That’s how he earned one of his names ‘The Fallen Angel’, though he complained about the inaccuracy. You asked him if he was still calming you with his magic when you were around him, and he revealed that he had stopped doing that when you decided to stay.

When Seonghwa was busy, you were with Wooyoung who didn’t have a fixed room for his experiments- he would drag his bag of potions anywhere he pleased and make home there, much to Seonghwa’s annoyance, though his smile would betray him. He filled any room with his presence, with his annoying but lovable loud laughter, with his stories and jokes. You finally told him that he had once come to your home and treated your father when he was suffering from the plague a few years ago, the one that took his life. He remembered that and was very surprised to learn that you were that man’s daughter.

“He told me I could trust you if the time ever came,” you had explained. “He told me to find you if things ever went south. I think he knew what was coming but couldn’t do anything about it.”

“He was a wise man,” Wooyoung had admitted. “And he couldn’t stop talking about you while I tried to heal him. You were so young, y/n. What did they do to you? You used to live like a princess.”

And that was the first time in years you shed tears for the life that was taken from you. When you cried, Seonghwa passed you a cup of tea and Wooyoung continued burning incense, muttering something about how some humans were worse than monsters. They let you cry in silence for as long as you wanted.

That night, it was Erebos who found you sitting on the roof, legs dangling. It tsk-ed as it nudged your thigh with its bare foot.

“I’m trying to attempt shadow-travel but I can’t focus because I can practically smell your tears and grief.”

“Shadow-travel?” You asked, and he scoffed at the curiosity behind your glazed eyes.

“I have some business to take care of in town, and it’s quicker to travel that way.”

“What business would you have?”

“I, too, have a life,” it slumped down next to you. “Would you like to join, little bird?”

“Can I?” You asked, wondering if Mingi would be okay with it in the morning.

“Yes, Mingi would be okay with it,” it rolled its eyes. “Can practically hear your thoughts.”

You stifled a grin, wiping your eyes. “Shall I get my cloak then?”

Erebos showed you around town- you decided to walk instead of shadow-travel- travelling that way with a human was risky business, it explained. You felt nostalgic as you walked in the lantern-lit streets, the smell of food and smoke filling you with an unexplainable glee in your heart. Erebos made you sit on one of the benches with a sandwich to keep you busy while it disappeared in the shadows. You didn’t complain- you were more than pleased to simply sit and observe the bustle. You hadn’t had such luxury in a while.

You almost didn’t notice the commotion behind you until you heard the faint sound of screams and you whipped your head towards the source, wondering where Erebos had disappeared. You decided to stick to its strict order not to move from this bench until it found you. Moments later, the demon was back, the people making way for it and you gaped at it.

“At least wipe the smug look off your face,” you muttered, making it grin. “What were you doing?”

“I don’t like unfinished business- especially when it’s people trying to start things that shouldn’t be messed with in the first place.”

You gulped at the threatening tone and it shook its head. “I can taste your fear, little bird.”

“I’m human, demon,” you taunted, making it laugh. “And I do not want to know what happened there. Just tell me if you hurt innocent people.”

“I may be a demon but I have morals too,” it tsk-ed in disappointment and you shrugged, falling in step with it as you went further away from town. “I never attack a human first.”

You asked why it needed morals when it was a demon and could do as it pleased. It told you that demons weren’t like how humans sketched them out to be in their poems and tales- they were much more than that. Despite being dark in nature, they weren’t consumed by evil just like humans weren’t all good, and angels not all that pure. Even as you reached the house, you spent the night learning about how demons were creatures with strict principles that they followed. You learnt that demons could feel emotions too, though time hardened them and morphed them, often into something unrecognisable. Erebos appreciated Seonghwa and told you how it was saved by him when it found itself in Mingi’s body, and how ever since they met Wooyoung, he was trying his best to make it easier for the two to cohabitate in one body.

And every time you interacted with the demon, just before you parted ways for the night, you would ask its name and it would look at you with unreadable eyes. You never got an answer.

Though your appreciation for Seonghwa and Wooyoung grew, you couldn’t help but appreciate Erebos too, you told it, for simply cooperating when it could have given up and taken control of Mingi long ago. It smiled and told you it wasn’t always so compliant and only settled down when it learned that it needed to find a way to leave this vessel without dying.

Mingi, you felt, was making a conscious effort to check up on you everyday- especially if you interacted with Erebos the night before. He never asked why or what you talked about, and you thought it was for the better. Since everyone else treated them as separate persons, you might as well too.

But it was so hard to look at Mingi and not see his lips curled in a smirk- something that you had started to look forward to, an expression that once put distaste in your mouth but now made your heart skip a beat. It was hard to see his eyes and not find the twinkle of stars in his dark irises. It was hard to hear his voice and not find it almost echoing within your skull.

And tonight, as your feet padded down the stairs, wanting to get fresh air having just woken up from a nightmare that you were back in the tower, you found Mingi relaxing in the sofa seat next to the fireplace-

Not Mingi. Erebos.

“Way past your bedtime, little bird,” it said without looking at you.

“Very unlike you to just sit and stare at the fire… demon,” you countered, watching its body shake with laughter as you went to the kitchen to drink water. You joined it, sitting on the other seat with the glass half full. “No hunting humans tonight?”

“There’s you,” it commented. “I don’t even need to go to town.”

This time, your heart didn’t sink to your feet in fear but skipped a beat, drawing a frown on its face. You sipped the water, suddenly very interested in the burning fire as you recovered.

“Someone couldn’t sleep well.”

“Right,” you sighed. “Do you need sleep?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re abusing Mingi’s body with lack of sleep.”

“He can sleep as long as he pleases when it’s his shift,” Erebos waved a hand in dismissal. “I have better things to do.”

“Definitely,” you muttered and Erebos raised a brow before leaning forward so it could meet your eyes.

“I don’t like that mocking tone, little bird.”

Though it was meant to threaten you, you rolled your eyes simply because Erebos was looking like it was enjoying this way too much. “Mean it when you say it then.”

Erebos clenched its jaws before relaxing back. “You’re not like this when you talk to Mingi or the others.”

You mirrored its posture. “You’re different.”

Perhaps, that’s not how you should have worded it. You saw Erebos’s eyes flash before you could correct yourself, its fists clenching and unclenching as if it was trying to control a response. You cleared your throat. “I mean… they don’t go around calling me ‘little bird’ and try to scare me or something. Wooyoung said it might be because you feed on fear.”

“Wooyoung was right, and I’ve been starving recently,” it licked its lips. “You’ve stopped fearing me, little bird. Not like you used to. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“That’s such a shallow way of thinking!” You couldn’t help the outburst. “When’s the last time you had a friend other than Seonghwa and Wooyoung?”

“They’re not my friends.” This time, Erebos’s voice did shake you. “They’ve been trying to get rid of me ever since they met me.”

“They’re trying to help you both,” you corrected and Erebos scoffed. “Do you like pushing people away? Do you like being alone, Erebos?”

“I’m not human enough to crave company or ‘like’ anything,” Erebos replied. “But I suppose I prefer when a certain human is not eating my ears off.”

You deadpan stared at the demon and it laughed in response. You shook your head, getting up. “Well, you can have the rest of the night with the one you love the most- your own self.”

Before you could take your third step, your wrist was grabbed and you were pulled towards a body- Mingi’s body, towards Erebos. It intertwined its hand with yours, noticing the glass still in the other hand. With a smirk, it twirled you around, earning a surprised yelp from you, leading you to the mantle of the fireplace. You placed the glass there just in time before you were pulled back.

“What are you doing?” You asked between laughs as you tried regaining your balance, your free hand instinctively going to hold Erebos’s. It scoffed in amusement, towering over you as it looked down at you.

Erebos didn’t bother responding, simply shifting its hands in yours, watching your small hands intertwine in its large ones and you felt butterflies as you detected wonder in its eyes. The demon was then swaying you in small motions as it scanned every inch of you, practically drinking in the sight and you felt so exposed that you wished you could go back to the darkness you were so used to in the tower back home.

“What are you doing?” You repeated, this time a whisper. Erebos met your eyes and you thought you saw its defences fall for a fraction of a second before it passed. The demon pulled you closer, just a step but enough that your bodies almost brushed.

“Why are you doing this to me, little bird?” It tilted its head.

“What did I do?” You dared to ask, feeling overwhelmed by the closeness of your bodies, by the fact that this was a demon in front of you, by the shadows that had now started to seep out of it.

Erebos scanned you one last time. “You should go back to sleep.”

None of you made a move to let go of the other’s hands, none of you looked away from the other. Not until you saw Erebos clench its eyes shut in pain. You squeezed its hands once, softly, before drawing back. The demon opened its eyes, almost out of breath. You stepped away, turning to go but stopping midway.

You turned to look at it one last time. “What is your name… demon?”

For the first time since you were here, Erebos passed an actual smile, waving its hand in dismissal. You smiled back before going back to your room-

Unable to sleep for the remainder of the night.

—--------------------

This time, Mingi was avoiding you on purpose. It was unsettling- you tried to strike up a conversation with him but his answers were dry and his smile didn’t meet his eyes. You ignored it until a few days passed, neither Mingi nor Erebos in your sight and when you were making your way to Mingi’s room to confront him, you noticed him in the hallway instead, bending down in the left corner and placing what looked like a scroll under the gap, sealing the plank back. You reckoned it must be something important he had to hide so you waited a few minutes until he got up.

You came into his sight and said, “You’ve been busy these days.”

“I have been,” he confirmed. For a second, you wondered if it really was just him being busy, having some ‘business’ to deal with in town, which he had explained a few days ago was attending the Conference of Mages which dealt with peace and accountability of rogue mages. But when his eyes didn’t meet yours, your suspicions were confirmed. He tried passing you but you spread your arms.

“I’m not letting you pass until you tell me why you are avoiding me- and don’t give me the same excuse.”

Mingi sighed in defeat- one thing he had learned about you was that you could be very, very stubborn. “I just needed to clear my head. We both did.”

We both.

You finally dropped your arms and followed him to the kitchen- he told you he just came home and wanted to grab something to eat. You stood awkwardly by the dainty glass decorations that Wooyoung had glued to the surface of one of the shelves so they wouldn’t fall when the house moved. You cleared your throat. “Did I do something wrong?”

Mingi didn’t like the way your voice shook when you asked that. He passed you a tight smile as he came to stand near the bookshelf, watching you. “You didn’t. It’s me this time.”

You stopped wiping, locking eyes with him. “What did you do?”

“I broke a rule- when Erebos and you were having… a moment… a few nights ago, I tried to take over. Erebos didn’t like it.”

You instantly knew what Mingi was talking about- when Erebos had clenched its eyes shut in pain. Your mouth parted and shut multiple times, trying to think of how to word your next question-

“I know,” Mingi answered anyway. “I shouldn’t have done it, but… I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way Erebos was looking at you.”

What way was Erebos looking at you, and why did Mingi not like it?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you almost whispered, drawing a step away, feeling overwhelmed by the proximity and his curious eyes on you. “I… I don’t like when you avoid me, Mingi. If my presence here is making it hard for you, I can leave-”

“Not at all,” he stepped forward as if to reach for you but stopped himself. “That’s not it.”

“I just miss you,” you exhaled in relief. “I wish you could tell me these things. I wish you would let me in, Mingi.”

Mingi looked like he was in pain and for a moment, you wondered if you had said something wrong. He finally smiled, taking another step forward and this time, you let him. You let him put his hands hesitantly on your shoulders.

“You’re right- I should have just talked to you. Avoiding you won’t make anything right. I’m sorry.”

“I wish you would stop saying sorry too,” you smiled and he finally laughed.

“I just am. I’ll try not to do that again, but I can’t promise. It’s hard when you’re not in control of your own actions, and if Erebos tries something with you, I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

So that’s what it was. You put your hands over his. “You’re not Erebos. Erebos is not you. I know that very well. Even though you share a body, you don’t look the same, don’t feel the same,” you said and Mingi gave your shoulders a squeeze. “We’re just y/n and Mingi right now, so talk to me, okay?”

Mingi nodded and asked if you wanted to join him for dinner- he didn’t have much time until Erebos would take over. You nodded and started setting the table, Mingi helping and he told you about the conference that took place today and how Erebos was also a part of it, helping eliminate threats to both humans and mages. You told him you learned to make bread pudding with Seonghwa and waited for him to try it, grinning when he told you it was better than Seonghwa’s.

It was so easy to talk to Mingi like this- an exchange of how your day went, sharing bits and pieces of your past sometimes, joking with each other- Mingi wasn’t very shy when talking which helped a lot. He enjoyed chatting with everyone but sometimes, you wondered if he was reminded of something from his past when he would zone out or his smile would fade. Just like now.

“Are you with me?” You asked cautiously, wondering if you were going to see the shift.

“I’m here,” Mingi blinked, shaking his head. “Just got lost for a second.”

“Is my company that boring to you?” You pouted.

“It’s not that,” he shook his head. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had such mundane interactions.”

“Does it remind you of the time when you were human?” You dared to ask. He didn’t mind, thankfully.

“Not really, but… we’ve had a few human guests over the time. Some stayed until their end. Some left because they saw what living here would mean for them. Now that we have you in our house, we enjoy the company. We’re a bit bored of each other, the rest of us, so we really don’t mind you. It’s just sad to think how it will come to an end one day.”

“You’re worrying about the future when you haven’t even tried living in the present… aren’t you?”

“It’s you humans who think living in the present is the right way. You understand later that every decision you make in the present influences the future. And when something bad happens, you start tracing it back to the moment it started going wrong. It’s too late then.”

“Then there’s no way of knowing if the decisions I make will be good for me. Does it really matter if they are good for me?” You paused, thinking about Erebos all of a sudden. Thinking about the way your skin ignited with pleasure for the first time and how you longed to feel that way again. “Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“You don’t mean that,” Mingi almost whispered, his raspy voice making you shiver involuntarily. You wondered if he had read your mind.

“Do you feel what Erebos does too?” You asked, leaning forward as well. “Where do your feelings differentiate?”

“Erebos is a demon, it doesn’t feel-”

“You’re wrong,” you shook your head. “You can’t tell me that when you haven’t seen the way its eyes changed that night.”

“Y/n-” Mingi warned, the left side of his face twitching. “I know I said I don’t mind you talking to Erebos, but it is a demon. It will take advantage of you at some point- that is its nature.”

“I can take care of myself,” you drew back and watched Mingi sigh in frustration. “You should understand that Erebos hasn’t done anything that I didn’t like.”

You let that confession hang in the air and Mingi tried processing it but he was so confused. Just why were you so fearless, so stubborn, especially about this? It’s almost like-

Like you had no reason to be afraid of.

Mingi got up abruptly, almost giving you a jumpscare. He looked at you, feeling out of breath. “You’re on your own then. But please be careful.”

You made a mental note to ask Erebos just what he had done to their human guests in the past as you watched Mingi disappear into his room. You didn’t want to see Erebos tonight, though. If the demon could give you this cold treatment, you could return that too. Even if for one night.

—------------------

“There’s something wrong with her.”

“Are you sure she’s not simply sulking?” Wooyoung glanced at Seonghwa who shook his head in denial.

“She’s never been this quiet since she came. She’s like you- always babbling-”

“I can hear you,” you called out, not bothering to look at the duo, instead continuing to stare into the fire with an unfinished black crochet scarf in your hands.

“Why are you so quiet today? Is it because I scolded you when you forgot to turn the oven off?” Seonghwa asked.

You finally looked at the Fallen Angel who thought you were worried because you left the burner on. He scoffed at your amused expressions. “That’s not it.”

“Let her be, everyone needs some peace and quiet sometimes,” Wooyoung waved a hand in dismissal, going back to messing with his potions. “I need some peace and quiet today too.”

“Right,” Seonghwa muttered. “If you make it past half an hour without speaking a word, I’ll let you use me as your lab rat for your next experiment.”

You gasped at his offer because you had seen Wooyoung dissect dead animals and it was not a pretty sight. Wooyoung’s eyes, however, glinted as he accepted the challenge. You sighed, going back to staring at the fire.

You kept thinking about every interaction you had had with Mingi and Erebos so far. Even though you knew they were two separate entities, you were worried you weren’t making the distinction clear- when you were angry with Erebos, Mingi got to deal with the aftermath and vice versa.

Mingi was still the same old person he was from the first day he met you. You would join him with a book by the river when he wasn’t out or you would exchange stories at the table. He stopped asking you about Erebos- you figured you had struck the right chord that day. Instead, he now answered your silly but curious questions about magic, about their travels and adventures. He would ask if you had a good sleep or if you learned anything new from the boys who were teaching you anything you were willing to learn. It was comfortable to talk to Mingi now and you had started looking forward to your interactions with him.

Erebos, however, was not the same person you had encountered on your first night here, the one who was so unwilling to look at you and wanted you to run away. If you could look at it from an objective lens, you were pretty sure Erebos was warming up to you. You had a habit of sleeping very late at night so you spent most nights hanging out with the demon- sometimes inside as you both fought your own battles in silence, occasionally exchanging words. Or sometimes, you would lie down with him on the grass and stare at the sky until you fell asleep and later wake up in your bed.

And when you had a moment with one of them, one that made you feel unexplainable things, one that made you shiver or made your heart flutter, you found yourself expecting it to be the same with the other. It wasn’t fair, but you couldn’t help it.

You kept mindlessly crocheting or resorting to staring into the fire even when Wooyoung finally gave up staying silent and Seonghwa and him started to argue like children. Mingi came and joined the ruckus and you only passed a small smile, busying yourself. The day passed just like that and at some point, you must have fallen asleep on the sofa because when you woke up, Erebos was seated right in front of you, watching you with curious eyes.

You blinked away the sleep, suddenly feeling conscious of the way the neckline of your dress exposed your left shoulder more than intended. You straightened your dress and watched Erebos relax back.

“How long have you been sitting and staring?”

“Not long,” it replied. You were pretty sure that was a lie.

“Not going to the conference tonight?” You inquired.

“I got a message- it has been delayed,” Erebos licked its lips slowly. “Why were you sleeping here?”

“I was…” waiting to see you- “crocheting…”

“I don’t see any evidence of that.”

You looked down in your lap and laughed a little- it must have been Wooyoung or Seonghwa who placed the material away and put a blanket on you. You pursed your lips. “You’re talkative tonight.”

“I bet you like that,” Erebos cocked its head.

“See?” You managed to say despite the fluttering of your stomach. “Very talkative. Go scare a human in town or something…”

Erebos let out a deep laugh and you joined, shaking your head. You stretched, spotting the new moon outside. “The sky is lovely tonight.”

“Do you want to climb the hill you’ve been watching every day since you came here? Might give you a better view.”

An offer. You smiled and nodded, getting up and drinking a glass of water before joining the demon outside. The hill was across the river and you wondered if you were going to make a round trip, but-

“We’re going through the river. I’ll make a boat for you.”

“There’s no way I’m going through the river,” you halted, Erebos laughing yet again. “I’ll drown!”

“Just like this house moves on tyres made of shadow, I can materialise a boat for us to travel in. It will be safe-”

“No-”

“And I will be right next to you,” the demon completed and you pressed your lips in a tight line. “You won’t drown.”

You didn’t answer, looking at the awfully still surface of the river. Erebos stood next to you and you felt your fingers brush its own.

“I won’t let you drown. Do you trust me, little bird?”

Did you trust the demon with your life? You could practically hear the sound of your own heart as you nudged its fingers with yours. A leap of faith. You watched Erebos’s lips curl into a smile and it spread his hands forward, shadow seeping out of the body until a black boat stood in the river. Erebos stepped inside first and even though you had seen the shadow tyres support the weight of this house, you still gasped in surprise.

The demon extended its hand for you. You didn’t hesitate to take it this time and it helped you settle in the boat but you refused to let its hand go and it made it chuckle. With its other hand, it steered the boat swiftly towards the other end and you laughed in both surprise and fear, water droplets spraying your face when you peeked out of the boat though you didn’t mind one bit- it was so thrilling. More thrilling than anything you had ever experienced in your lifetime.

And when you looked at Erebos with the biggest smile on your face, the demon felt its heart ache and it wondered if it was because of Mingi even though it had pushed Mingi far, far away into its subconscious. You felt its hands grip yours tighter as if squeezing it and you didn’t look away from its face until you reached.

The climb up the hill was just as silent, none of you letting go of the other’s hand. You let it be- it certainly helped you move faster as Erebos instructed you where to step and where not to. When you reached the peak and you were out of breath, Erebos helped you settle on a rock, finally leaving your hand only to shake its head and dig out a handkerchief from its pocket.

“Look at you, all spent just because you climbed a few rocks,” it tsk-ed and you pouted. Shaking its head again, it started wiping the sweat off your forehead, grinning to itself at the state of your hair blown back. Putting its handkerchief away, the demon pushed your hair away from your face, caressing your head with a faint smile-

And finally noticing the look on your face. The wide, curious eyes, the hesitant look in them, the parted lips. The uneven breaths.

You watched its eyes flash with something indecipherable yet again as it scanned your face, noticing its thumb almost at the corner of your lips. You watched its brows furrow as a flurry of emotions crossed its face- emotions you had never seen on anyone’s face before. You couldn’t hear the sound of cicadas or the wind anymore, only the rustling of your hair as its hand moved away from your face only to slide its thumb across your lower lip.

Even if Erebos didn’t watch your eyes to confirm, it could feel your heart beating as if it was an extension of its own pulse, taste the excitement mixed with a little bit of fear in the air. And locking eyes with you only made the demon more confused- you looked so vulnerable in that moment that its primal instincts shouted at it to shatter you, but it pushed them away. It pushed everything away and drew its hand back, about to move away but-

But you grabbed its hand in yours. You did not know what took over you in that moment, but you placed its thumb back where it was- between your parted lips.

And then you kissed it softly.

You heard the demon stifle a cry- of pain? Of surprise? You did not care. You locked eyes with the figure towering over you, ready to meet your fate.

And when the demon cupped your face with a hesitancy that almost broke you, you licked your lips, so eager to meet its own. When it inched closer, you let your hands grip its wrists, and when your nose brushed with its own sharp nose, you let out a small exhale. You were both at a loss of words at that moment, so you only arched your neck up to let it know you needed this, perhaps as much as the demon itself.

A demon starved of love, starved of affection. That’s what Erebos was. And when it pushed every thought away and brushed its lips across yours, it finally understood that it never craved fear-

It craved this.

Parting its own lips, it kissed you, for the first time in its life- it did not count the times Mingi had kissed his past lovers because Erebos thought it was disgusting and hid itself so far away in Mingi’s subconscious that it didn’t even remember what happened later. This was the first time the demon itself was in charge, and it had no idea what to do but found itself locking and unlocking its lips with yours, its hand automatically going to grip your neck. It swallowed your moan of pleasure, kissing you deeper and deeper until you almost slipped from the rock and your hands went around its neck for support, breaking apart from the kiss-

And looking at the demon, its eyes wide and perhaps as vulnerable as yours.

Erebos picked you up effortlessly, making you yelp in surprise and wrap your legs around its waist- perhaps, a wrong move because there was an unquestionable fire in its eyes. It led you to another rock and placed you on it so that your heights matched, out of breath- you wondered how a demon was out of breath now. You didn’t unwrap your legs, not quite, and you didn’t need to because it gripped your hip with one hand and brought you closer, craning your neck with the other and going back to kissing you, deeper and more desperate this time. You kissed back with equal urgency, welcoming its tongue in yours, feeling its hand creep up inside your dress and you finally drew back-

“Erebos-”

It swallowed your name back in another kiss and for a moment, you saw stars. This couldn’t be how it felt kissing a human, you wondered. Was it because Erebos was a demon? It couldn’t be like this, setting you on fire wherever its hands traced your skin and nails dug in, making you buzz with excitement and want-

“Erebos, please,” you broke away, pushing the blue and black strand of its hair back. “Look at me.”

Erebos locked its eyes with you and you felt your heart sink when you saw nothing but darkness in its eyes. It inched closer, kissing your jaw and sucking and nibbling on your neck almost harshly, and you stifled your moans-

“Not like this, Erebos,” you pleaded, cupping its face again and making it lock eyes with you. “Where are the stars in your eyes, demon?”

That seemed to click something in its minds as the pupils lightened and the twinkle of its eyes returned. It took deep, uneven breaths, caressing your face with both hands.

“I- I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” you assured the demon, though you had no idea either. “It’s okay-”

“Did I hurt you?” Erebos voice sounded so fragile that you felt the sting of tears in your eyes- this was the demon they warned you to stay away from? You watched its eyes darken when it inspected a bruise forming on your neck. “...I hurt you.”

“No, no you didn’t, look at me,” you scolded, pecking its lips again. “You didn’t hurt me. You just… I don’t know. Where did you go?”

Erebos looked so confused. You buried your face in its neck as you brought its body closer to you. “Thank you for bringing me here tonight.”

The demon caressed your head as it clenched its eyes shut again, in pain- Mingi was doing it again, trying to take over. Erebos supposed he had every right to now. However, it would not let Mingi take this moment from it, not again. So with all its willpower, Erebos pushed Mingi away and kissed the top of your head.

“Little bird,” it whispered. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

—---------------------

What had you gotten yourself into?

It was your turn to avoid Mingi this time, simply because you couldn’t face him. Not when you did what you did last night and Mingi shared the same body as Erebos.

What were you thinking?

You were mortified, yes, but you also did not regret one bit of it, if you were honest with yourself. Mingi could be angry with you all he wanted.

You might have regretted it- Erebos was a demon. You still didn’t understand why its eyes went so dark as if the demon lost itself for a moment, but when you called its name and it came back, when it asked if you were hurt as if it pained the demon itself…

You simply couldn’t imagine why Erebos looked at you with such worried eyes. Why would a demon care if it hurt you or not, unless it actually cared?

And if it actually cared… What did it mean for you?

“Little bird, what have you gotten yourself into?”

You refused to leave your room even after you woke up, even when your stomach grumbled with hunger. Even Seonghwa got worried and checked in on you with a tray of food, understanding something must have happened between you and Mingi- or Erebos. Thankfully, he didn’t insist you join them. He let you have your space and you were grateful for that.

That night, Erebos didn’t come to look for you either. You remained cooped up in your room, obsessively cleaning it to make up for the guilt of slacking on your other duties and sometimes peeking out of the window- neither Mingi nor Erebos seemed to have gone out today.

The next day, Seonghwa had had enough of your moping and came into your room, clicking a wooden spoon on a metal dish as morning bells to wake you up. You groaned and hid your face in the pillow but Seonghwa made the pillow burst into feathers with his magic, making you almost cry.

“I only tolerate moping for one day, y/n,” he told you as if it was a rule you had to abide by to live in this house. “Get up. Fix any broken planks- the wind last night was strong- and then join me on the roof for cleaning.”

“Why won’t you use your magic to clean?” You sighed and he ignored that, going in the next room to wake Wooyoung up- you could hear him yelling in response. Smiling at that, you finally got up and stumbled towards the bathroom, nearly forgetting Mingi lived in this very house until you bumped into a body in the hallway and muttered apologies-

Only to look up and see Mingi.

“Uh, I was just,” you pointed to the bathroom and he scanned your face, making you gulp. He muttered a sorry before letting you walk past him and when you entered the bathroom, you shut the door and nearly sank down the door.

How were you going to face him?

You were very distracted as you fixed the planks dangling by the window in the hallway, almost nailing your finger a couple of times. When you were done, you were about to head to the roof when you almost tripped on your feet-

You looked down and spotted a plank a little lifted in the air that had caused you to almost fall face-first. You were about to nail it when you recalled that this was the spot Mingi had hid something that day- you should probably not nail it.

Curiosity took the better of you and you moved the plank- there was indeed a scroll inside. Looking around, you hesitated a bit before you took out the scroll and unrolled it, a few verses of what looked like a poem on it-

“Once the shadow, once the light

As one, the two must thrive

A curse both must fight

To one’s end, they dive

For love, with all their might

Hearts awakened, live alive”

You figured it might be Mingi’s sad attempt at poetry and put the scroll back where it was, fixing the plank better- if he had to hide it, he could at least hide it properly.

Thankfully, he was not on roof cleaning duty with you and when you went to join Seonghwa there after a light breakfast, he passed you a sceptical look before handing you the mop.

“What’s up with you these days?”

You wondered how to answer that. Seonghwa tsk-ed at you. “Why are you avoiding Mingi?”

“Erebos,” you gave in and Seonghwa raised a brow. “Because of Erebos. Because…” you groaned in frustration. “I don’t know. I might have done something stupid. I don’t know how to face Mingi.”

“Just talk to him,” he told you, attacking a corner on the floor with a mop and you suppressed a giggle at his dedication. “Avoiding each other won’t do either of you any good. It might calm Erebos down too.”

“Why? What happened to Erebos?”

“I think it’s angry with Mingi for trying to take control of him again,” Seonghwa revealed and you wondered if that happened while you were on the hill two nights ago. “The last time this happened, the conflict grew until Erebos took full control of Mingi and didn’t let him back in for a while. So my advice is, just talk and smother their conflict if you’re involved.”

You bit your lips- you were messing things up. You didn’t mean for it to happen this way, and you needed to confront Mingi now.

So after you were done for the day, when there were a few hours left until sunset, you knocked on Mingi’s door. When he opened the door and looked surprised, you half expected him to slam the door in your face but he simply passed a smile.

“What brings you here?”

He noticed the flush on your cheeks. He didn’t need your answer, he knew why you were here. So before you could say something, he opened the door wider and let you in.

You had been in his room maybe twice before, but you still enjoyed looking around at the desk next to the window with a lamp and notes sprawled across its surface, the blue and grey curtains and pillows- had he matched on purpose? The paintings of shadows on his wall that must have been Erebos’s doing. You sat at the edge of the bed and he took the seat near you.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“I am,” his voice was low. “Are you?”

“I think, yes,” you wanted to meet his eyes but couldn’t look at him. “I wanted to talk to you about… two nights ago.” Mingi shifted uncomfortably at the mention and you licked your suddenly dry lips as you finally locked eyes with him. “Are you angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry with you?” Mingi’s voice was almost a whisper and it only confused you further.

“I… I don’t know what you’re thinking, Mingi,” you sighed. “I expected you to come bursting through my room and yell at me, warn me to be careful or something, but you… both of you- why are you giving me space now?”

Mingi took a deep breath. “I do want to ask you why you kissed Erebos. But… it’s not my place to ask, is it?”

“I mean…” your cheeks were flushing. “You do share a body, unfortunately. Maybe you do have a right to ask.”

Mingi took another deep breath. “I’ve lived a long life, y/n. I’ve had lovers in the past too. At first, navigating my relationships was awkward- especially when Erebos and I didn’t have better control of ourselves. And Erebos drove away anyone I got close to- more often unintentionally. No one likes demons- but you,” he cocked his head. “You’re different when you’re with Erebos. You’re not like that with me.”

“Do you wish I was?”

“And you ask the most unexpected questions,” he smiled in defeat. “So tell me, why did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, finally feeling a bit relaxed now that he had broken the ice. A part of you wished you and Mingi could talk about it as if Erebos was a separate, independent entity. “I like Erebos. The demon… is not all that bad. And I might have regretted it but… sometimes I feel like it has a heart too, you know? The way it talks or looks at certain things…”

“Erebos does not have a heart,” Mingi reminded you softly, leaning forward. “And I’m scared the demon might take advantage of you.”

“I understand your worries, Mingi,” you nodded. “But really, I think I know what I’m doing. I just want to know if you’re okay with that. I will take a step back but I won’t stop spending time with Erebos.”

“I’m not okay with that,” Mingi said after a moment and you frowned in confusion. “I… I don’t want you to get hurt. If Erebos does something… I fear you’ll look at me with hatred and disgust in your eyes.”

“Oh, Mingi,” you got up- he was genuinely worried about you. How stupid had you been to dismiss that? “I would never…”

“That’s the thing, y/n,” he shook his head with a sad smile. “I’ve always had to deal with the aftermath of things I didn’t do. I’m afraid it will happen again.”

“What did Erebos do?” You asked, walking cautiously towards him and he looked up at you with guarded eyes. “I’m sorry for your pain.”

“It’s okay,” he looked down. “I haven’t been all that good either. I’m no better than a demon myself-”

“You’re wrong,” you brought shaking hands to hold his face and make him look at you. “You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve met, Mingi. You saved me and I am forever in your debt-”

“There’s no debt-”

“No, listen,” your brows furrowed in focus as you locked eyes with his dark pupils, trying not to imagine the stars in his eyes you had started to love. “I like where we are, Mingi. I wish you would open up to me more and stop being cautious. I wish you would tell me exactly what bothers you so I can at least do something about it instead of treading carefully around you. I wish you would… look at me, Mingi.”

You didn’t know where the words came from, but one thing you were sure about was that you were addressing Mingi, not Erebos.

“How can I look at you when every time you look at me, you think of the demon inside me?”

You smiled at that. “These brown eyes of yours don’t belong to the demon. Nor does the kindness in them. Neither are they so guarded-” you traced his brows and Mingi inhaled sharply. “And your smile- it isn’t taunting. It isn’t demanding. It is the loveliest smile I’ve seen and produces the loveliest sounds I’ve heard- they’re yours.”

This time, you couldn’t help but trace his lips. The same lips that had kissed you, the same softness of them- your heart fluttered at the proximity and switch of positions now. Mingi, however, was in a trance and didn’t move at all, only watching you staring at his lips for the longest time until you blinked, finally coming back to reality. You smiled again, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“When I see you, I only see you,” you said- it wasn’t a lie. “And when I see Erebos… I only see the demon. I’m trying my best not to mix the two. You don’t have to be worried about what Erebos does to me, just as Erebos is not worried about what you do with me.”

“And what makes you think Erebos is not worried?” Mingi said and you raised a brow, drawing your hands away from his face. “Do you know why I didn’t come yelling at you yesterday? Because Erebos took over me every time I thought of that.”

Despite the graveness of the topic, you couldn’t help but laugh at that and soon Mingi joined, both of you shaking your heads in amusement. “So I was right about you. I do know you.”

“No you don’t,” Mingi scoffed and for a moment, you saw Erebos behind those eyes. “Anyways, it’s really not a good idea, whatever you think you’re doing. Ask Erebos tonight what he wants with you, will you?”

So you waited for Erebos by the fireplace like you usually did. And this time, Erebos joined, hesitancy in its steps so unlike its usual behaviour. The demon slumped down on the sofa across you and stared daggers into the fireplace.

“Someone’s sulking,” you commented.

“Not in the mood tonight, little bird.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t,” you straightened, not liking its tone. “So tell me why.”

“Why did you talk to Mingi about us?”

The demon finally met eyes with you and you wiped any expressions off your face before you replied, “I didn’t realise I was not allowed to talk with Mingi about the very demon who lives inside him.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” it clenched its jaw and you realised you did. But you weren’t going to admit it.

“Why don’t you tell me what exactly you didn’t like?”

“Look at you,” it scoffed. “What answers are you trying to get out of me?”

You slumped back in defeat. “First of all, I can talk to Mingi about whatever I want. You don’t get to have a say in it. And secondly… I haven’t even asked you anything yet.”

Erebos mirrored your position. “Then why does Mingi get to have a say in what we do?”

“He doesn’t-”

“But you told him you will take a step back because he’s interfering-”

“That’s not why-” you paused as realisation dawned on you. “Are you pissed because I said I’d take a step back from what we did?”

When Erebos didn’t answer, you leaned forward. “I am taking a step back from you because when you kissed me that night, it wasn’t you. What happened to you that night, Erebos? You scared me for a moment and then you looked hurt. What am I supposed to make of it?”

Erebos didn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the ends of its shirt.

“What do you want with me, Erebos?” You finally asked the question that had been gnawing on your mind before Mingi ever instructed you. However, Erebos remained quiet. You let the demon have a few moments until you couldn’t take it anymore and then you got up.

“Don’t come to me until your head is clear.”

“Wait-”

You stopped walking away when you heard the urgency in the demon’s voice. You turned to find Erebos standing as if it was about to come after you if you didn’t stop. The demon came near you, running a hand through its messy hair and you turned to hear it.

“I don’t know what happened to me,” Erebos finally admitted, its voice low and your heart tugged. “All I know is that I’ve never wanted anything more in that moment and I was consumed by something foreign even for me. If you hadn’t stopped me, you would have regretted it. I thought I hurt you, and I didn’t like it, even when I usually enjoy hurting humans. What do I make of it, little bird? Why don’t you tell me?”

You knew you were treading on such dangerous territories but the fact that Erebos was making all these confessions, you simply couldn’t find it in your heart to leave it be. You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to work out a response but you found yourself speechless instead.

“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me, little bird,” the demon whispered and you shook your head.

“What will we do, Erebos?”

“Do we have to worry?” Erebos stepped towards you, making you take a step back out of habit. It smirked and you rolled your eyes, knowing it was in teasing mode now. It stepped towards you, making you step back until your back hit the wall and you were trapped. You glared at the demon.

“Now this is what I like to see,” Erebos grinned. You pushed its chest but it grabbed your wrists, making you gape at it but when it caressed them softly, your eyes changed-

“This look in your eyes,” the demon’s raspy voice practically sounded inside you. “I don’t want you to look at anyone else with that look in your eyes.”

“I didn’t-”

“Not even Mingi,” it almost snarled and instead of fear, warmth coursed through your body. “No one else, you understand?”

“I don’t look at Mingi that way-”

“Don’t make me shut you up,” it cocked its head dangerously. “Now… what were you saying about taking a step back from us? When I can practically taste your needs?”

“Erebos,” you sighed in defeat, resting your head on its chest. “Please. Let me think this through.”

“Why do you need to think this through?” Erebos practically whined. “Look at me, little bird.”

With immense effort, you raised your head. If you expected to see the same darkness that took over the demon that night, it wasn’t there. It was just… Erebos being itself. However, you were a bit startled by the sudden proximity as if it finally sank in that you were in its arms yet again. Erebos’s eyes were glazed and it pressed its lips to your temple, lingering before drawing back.

“You can think all you want,” the demon whispered in your ear, tugging at your earlobe with its teeth, making a whimper leave your mouth. “But I know you’ll come back to me, little bird.”

You instinctively craned your neck and you could feel Erebos smirk as it trailed its lips along your neck, resting at your collarbone, its warm breath caressing your skin. You longed to touch the demon but its grip on your wrists was strong. When its full lips pressed on the edge of your collarbone, your knees nearly gave in and you struggled to stand.

As if having proved a point, Erebos stepped back. “I’m not human so I can wait for you as long as you want,” it said, gaze travelling everywhere on your face. “So you can take your time.”

You narrowed your eyes, snatching your wrists away and rubbing them. “You could have simply said that.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Erebos smirked and you tried to calm your thumping heart. “Talking about fun… want to go mage-hunting with me? I have some rogue mages I plan to catch tonight.”

“I’m sure I’ll only slow you down,” you retorted but the demon shook its head, saying you wouldn’t.

It couldn’t have been more wrong.

“You may have the ability to see in the dark but in case you forgot, I’m a mere human,” you spat, scoffing when Erebos stifled its laugh, tripping yet again on another object in the narrow alley you were navigating through.

“Hold my hand then,” Erebos sounded so smug that you refused to comply. You knew the demon was trying to initiate physical contact through any means possible- all night, it had been a battle of finger brushes, stolen pecks to the cheek or forehead which may have made your heart skip a beat at first but was now annoying you to death-

Another kiss on your temple and a deep laughter boomed and you nearly screamed in frustration. “Erebos, I swear to the heavens above I will obliterate you-”

“Shh,” you felt a finger on your lips in the utter darkness. “Someone’s here- don’t move.”

You obeyed, eyes wide as you glanced around, barely seeing anything in the cloudy night. What were you thinking when you decided this was a good idea?

“I sense one of them,” the demon whispered in your ear, guiding you to stand next to the wall and stay there. “I’ll be back. You have your knife, yes?”

“Oh, I do, completely forgot,” you muttered, checking in your cloak. “Should have stabbed you when I had the chance.”

“I’m going to remove the shadows from around you,” Erebos said and slowly, your vision became better. With a gentle pat to your cheek, the demon went after the mage, leaving you smiling to yourself.

The smile fell when you heard a scream that did not belong to Erebos. You waited for the sounds to die, almost moving from your spot but you knew better than to disobey the demon. After a few minutes, it was back looking proud of itself and you shook your head.

“Are we done?” You asked and Erebos nodded. “Did you… kill the mage?”

“Only put shadow cuffs on him,” Erebos answered. “They nullify magic.”

Your mouth shaped into an O and you asked if you were going home now. Erebos told you it had one last spot to visit and you followed, this time hand intertwined with its own.

You never expected the spot to be a graveyard. You squeezed the demon’s hand but it didn’t respond, simply navigating through the graves until it stopped in front of an unnamed one with a cherry blossom tree sprouting from it.

You watched Erebos look up as if it was praying- who did demons pray to? Did they share the same gods as humans? It didn’t leave your hand once, though, and you felt as if you were invading a private moment.

When Erebos was done, it passed you a smile and led you further to a bench where you sat. “You must have questions.”

“I do, but you don’t have to answer them,” you told the demon who looked at you gratefully, though it decided to tell you.

“The first time Mingi fell in love after we started sharing a body, I was disgusted by those foreign emotions. It was like the human lost all control of who he was, of his heart and mind. And at that time, we did not know how to live with each other and often slipped into each other’s consciousness unknowingly. And with that… my magic was unstable as well. One wrong move on my part and I took away something from Mingi that I’m still sorry for.”

Your heart sank as you glanced towards the grave and then back at Erebos. “You blame yourself.”

Erebos nodded at your statement. “It’s the only thing I have felt sorry for in my life, because I, too, experienced the love when it was not meant for me. When I didn’t welcome it.”

It explained so much of Mingi’s hesitant and cautious behaviour, of his worries and fears. It also explained some of Erebos’s behaviour. You put a hand on top of the demon’s hand, caressing it.

“Actions like these wouldn’t have meant anything for me, but after centuries, my heart feels warm again- I don’t know if it’s Mingi’s heart or mine, and it’s making me confused. That night… I almost made the same mistake again and I was so scared. I’m not scared to face the consequences, I’m scared to live with them.”

“But you didn’t,” you whispered. “You didn’t lose control.”

“And what if I do?” Erebos looked at you, eyes dark. “Perhaps, living inside a human has changed me. All I wanted was to destroy yet here I am. I want you all to myself, so selfishly. I want to feel these funny and strange feelings more. I want you, but what if I make the same mistake, this time with someone I-”

With someone I love- the statement hung in the air- perhaps because the demon was not sure if it was love though it had never desired for anything more, perhaps because it was afraid to say it in case things went south, perhaps because it couldn’t bear to see the disgust in your eyes at its confession-

But then you rested your head on Erebos’s shoulder and all its worries dissipated. “I don’t know what it’s like to love,” you said. “I don’t know what this is either, but… I like it. And I’m not afraid of you, Erebos. I feel safe with you- I don’t know why. I never once felt unsafe with you, even when you nearly lost control.”

You felt Erebos relax considerably at your confession. You continued. “I’m sorry for what happened. It must have been hard for you too.”

There it was- your consideration. The one thing that drew Erebos to you from the first moment you met. No one had ever talked to the demon like that in its entire life- how could it not love it?

So the demon rested its face against your head, an impending feeling of doom swirling in its gut, because there was one thing both Mingi and Erebos hid from you-

That you could not love the both of them at the same time. Even if you were halfway there already and neither of them was able to stop you, you could not. It would be the end of one or the other, but…

Did it matter if they got a taste of your love?

—-----------------------

“Wait- don’t light the fire just yet- Wooyoung!”

You shut your eyes more in defeat than to brace yourself from the loud blast that sounded because Wooyoung lit the match at the wrong time during the middle of creating a potion. You could smell smoke and hear Wooyoung’s low giggles and you wondered why you ever agreed to experiment with the healer.

Your father had worked with mages for a long time, and when he was sick and had contacted Wooyoung, they had come up with recipes for new potions while Wooyoung healed him. Your father gave you his notes before his death and you still remembered the recipes, deciding to work with Wooyoung, trying the one for-

“Agility, you said?” Wooyoung asked, coughing a bit and you finally opened your eyes to see him draw a cross on his notes.

“Yes, and if you hadn’t been hell-bent on tweaking it, we wouldn’t be covered in soot,” you groaned. “I said light the fire after the lavender is soaked in the liquid, not when it’s still floating.”

“Are you sure it works?” Wooyoung passed you a cryptic look. “Maybe I do need to tweak it…”

“It’s worked,” you folded your arms defensively. “I’ve used them,” you said, recalling when you once saw your father and Wooyoung working in his lab. “You must remember from his notes, right?”

“Always sneaking around, were you?” Wooyoung cooed. “I distinctly remember your father telling you to go play in your room or something- you were always hiding in the corners.”

“I don’t sneak around now-”

“I saw you shadowing Mingi earlier,” he winked at you and you pouted. “Why do you keep following him around?”

You looked away from Wooyoung’s searching gaze but found yourself caged when he continued to stare at you, waiting for an answer. You sighed deeply.

“Because he’s either hiding something from me or he hates me and I need to know what it is.”

You did not miss Wooyoung’s subtle eye roll but only you were aware of how Mingi was trying to avoid your eyes, would look at you when you thought you didn’t know he was, and appeared to be about to say something but would then stop. It was a game of push and pull now, and you were losing.

“That’s not it,” Wooyoung shook his head. “It’s probably something else.”

“I’m just confused, Wooyoung. Is it because Erebos told me about Mingi’s first love? Is that a topic the demon should have avoided? Or is it because…”

Because you continued to tread on dangerous lines with Erebos. And because Mingi could probably see some of it himself- after all, how much could Erebos push him back into their subconscious? Was it making Mingi confused because it always used to be the other way round?

“Erebos, huh?” Wooyoung tsk-ed. “If your father saw you today…”

You glared at him. “He’d be proud of me for running away and making it alive. And proud that I’m tolerating you lot.”

“Isn’t it us tolerating the human?” Wooyoung wondered out loud and you threw the nearest object- a flask- at him, which he caught, grinning. “I can tell you he’s not avoiding you on purpose. Something must be bothering him. He couldn’t hate you even if he tried.”

You looked at the healer. “Why?”

“Why don’t you ask him that?” Wooyoung got up and began to clean the mess, tossing you a washcloth so you could help. “He’s not always like this. He looks like something is eating him up.”

Wooyoung wasn’t wrong. Over the course of the past few days, while you and Erebos only grew friendlier- the demon even more teasing and reckless than ever, you and Mingi had also settled into something calm and… cosy. Where Erebos was a literal manifestation of shadows and being with him felt dark and thrilling, Mingi radiated warmth like none other- his voice grounded you and being with him washed a sense of tranquillity over you. You did not know what you craved more, especially because Erebos had been busier recently and you spent more time with Mingi.

Mingi didn’t talk about whatever you and Erebos discussed that night in the graveyard, but his smile had become kinder as if he himself was grateful that you didn’t run away from him. You wondered how many people ran away from him simply because of the demon inside him- he, too, must have been hurt because of the looks of fear or disgust he received. You recalled a couple of days ago when you were watching him trim the plants surrounding the house and he had looked so shy that it made your heart ache unexpectedly-

“Don’t look at me like that, y/n.”

“Like what?”

“Like how you look at Erebos. As if he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“But-”

“I just can’t take it”, he smiled helplessly. “It makes me want something that isn’t mine.”

Despite this, Mingi didn’t push you away. He continued to find you during the day and engage you in some activity, and even if you two didn’t talk you’d find solace being in each other’s company. However, his casual finger brushes and pats hadn’t escaped your notice. You knew he was very physically affectionate even with Seonghwa and Wooyoung and perhaps this was the same, but he didn’t look at you the way he looked at the others. You knew that well and good.

After cleaning the soot, you went outside for a breather, spotting Mingi at the bank of the river, this time with his feet dipped in the water. He seemed to be enjoying the warm rays of sun, head tipped backwards. Despite your quiet steps, he seemed to have heard the ruffle of grass and motioned for you to join him. You rolled your trousers up a little before sinking your feet into the cool water, grinning to yourself as you settled down.

“Such a nice day today, isn’t it?” You looked up at the fluffy clouds spreading across the sky. “The sun is about to set. I should have joined you earlier.”

“We still have some time,” he smiled. “I heard a little blast inside. Wooyoung again?”

“Me, but it was Wooyoung who messed us up,” you laughed. “Did you manage to find the missing mage?”

“Not yet. I’ve been searching since sunrise but there’s no sign. Erebos might be able to sense the mage better so I’ll leave it to the demon. I’m done for the day.”

“Well, at least the demon is useful for one thing,” you joked and he laughed- he quite enjoyed when you made fun of Erebos and you were glad talking about the demon wasn’t something that made you two awkward anymore.

“But you should know,” Mingi started, “We don’t work for the Mage Society willingly. It’s something we have to do so they will allow us to live.”

You frowned- that was news to you. “Why?”

“They just don’t like the idea that a human is a mage now,” he looked at you. “You know they’ve always discriminated between pure mages and mages who were once human.”

You were aware that Mingi was once human, however, you were not aware of the circumstances that brought Erebos to possess Mingi. “Can I ask how…”

Mingi seemed to understand and he nodded. “I was simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Erebos needed a human vessel who it could coexist with. Not all humans can live with a demon inside them, you know.”

You made an impressed face. “So there was something special about you?”

“You could say. Perhaps I was stronger- maybe physically, maybe mentally. We did have a rough time coexisting in the beginning but we’re used to each other now.”

“And why did Erebos need a human vessel? Because it was cursed?”

Mingi paused and you realised he was wondering if you should have asked that from him. He took a deep breath before he said, “Cursed and exiled from the demon realm, like Seonghwa.”

You were satisfied with his answer. “Do you ever wonder if there was a reason why you had to be the human that Erebos possessed?”

“I do,” he admitted. “Even though we haven’t found any answer yet. I guess it was fate, then. So I could meet the people and be here at this moment?” He looked at you and smiled. “Something like that?”

Before you could respond, his brows furrowed and he brought his hand to the side of your face, his fingers gripping the crevice between your ear and neck as he ran his thumb across your cheekbone. “Were you playing with fire? You’re smudged with soot-”

Perhaps, he noticed the way your eyes opened a fraction wider or your lips parted as if it was suddenly hard to breathe. Perhaps, he could hear the loud thumping of your heart. Or maybe he noticed the way your eyes scanned his face- you could see the browns in his eyes, the shadow his lashes casted over them, the mole under his eye. Maybe he could tell you loved the way his hair fell over his forehead, the dark and blue strands resembling the night sky.

You blinked and waited for him to draw away but he didn’t and it only made you more anxious for what was next. Swallowing once, you barely managed to whisper his name. He only caressed your cheekbone in answer, still seeming to be in a trance as he locked eyes with you. When he started leaning forward, you wondered if your eyes betrayed you in that moment- that he saw that you wanted this. Wanted him-

He paused when your noses almost brushed. “I-I shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay,” you breathed, locking eyes. “It’s… okay.”

What was okay, he wondered? The fact that he had come back to his senses before he did anything? Or was it an approval to go ahead and do whatever he wanted to do at that moment?

Mingi looked down and smiled a bit- whatever this was… it had been such a long time since he felt like this- like his nerves were on fire. When he found you smiling shyly as well, he couldn’t take it- he planted a kiss on your cheek, patting it once before saying he was heading inside, leaving you wondering how during that moment, not once did you think about the demon inside him.

Not once.

—----------------------

Later that night, when you were fixing up a loose thread on your dress in your room, you heard two sharp knocks- a sound you were very familiar with now. Somehow, Erebos and you had come up with this- if your door was slightly open, he could knock and come in, otherwise he would take it as a sign to bug off. It also applied to you and being on the end of a shut door was not a pleasant feeling, but you two were also crossing these boundaries now- opening a shut door just a fraction to check if the other was okay.

“What you doing?” Erebos sang as it entered, making itself home on your bed. You hummed in response- the demon could clearly see what you were doing. Breaking the thread with your teeth, you secured the stitch and put it aside, folding your arms as you shook your head at how comfortable the demon looked.

“I thought I made it clear that I don’t want you in my bed.”

Erebos scoffed. “The seat is not empty.”

You glanced towards the seat- you did not remember putting a bunch of clothes on it. You narrowed your eyes at the demon but decided to let it go. “Did you find the mage?”

“Just returned,” the demon answered, “Was my little bird waiting for me?”

“As if,” you tsk-ed, looking away- of course you were. You just wouldn’t ever admit it. After all, you waited all day for this part of the night.

And all night to see Mingi-

“I can taste the lies in the air, human,” the demon licked its lips. “Tell me… why did you ask Mingi about why I possessed him today?”

So it had been listening. You gulped, wondering if the demon had also witnessed the look in your eyes when Mingi was so close-

“I didn’t mean to ask,” you glared at it- Erebos knew you never probed. You never even asked it, save for that one time you did and got the silent treatment.

“I know,” the demon’s gaze softened for a mere second before it darkened. “And why did you look at Mingi like that? I thought I made it clear that you cannot look at anyone else that way?”

You rolled your eyes even though your heart sank. You did feel guilty, but somehow… it felt alright. “I can look at whoever I want whatever way I want.”

“Oh? Can you now?” Erebos chuckled deeply and you passed it an annoyed look, getting up to put your clothes back in the cupboard.

However, you did not expect to find it standing- no, towering over you when you turned around- you hadn’t even heard the demon move. You shut your eyes as you tried to calm your heart, but-

But the demon’s hands cupped your face so softly that for a second, you wondered if it was Mingi instead. Only upon opening your eyes and spotting the stars in its irises confirmed that it was indeed the demon.

Erebos looked conflicted as it scanned your eyes. Your gaze softened too- it had been a while since the demon looked at you like you were not a meal- an inside joke now. It reminded you of your first and only kiss, in the hills when the demon had nearly lost control. You leaned into the demon’s touch when it caressed your face and saw the telltale signs of a smile on its lips.

“Can you not look at Mingi with these eyes, little bird?” Erebos almost sounded hurt. “I don’t like it.”

“Erebos, I-”

“No,” the demon shook its head. “I don’t want to know- just let me…”

If the demon was going to ask for permission, it must have decided against it because it crashed its lips on yours, earning a surprised groan from you but you immediately melted into the kiss, clutching at the demon’s shirt. Erebos leaned down to kiss you better and it was just like the first time again, making you breathless and your heart ached as it yearned to be closer to the demon in every way possible.

You broke apart, already out of breath but Erebos’s lips were back on your skin, peppering kisses all the way down your jaw to your neck and then back up, looking at you once- perhaps to make sure if you were okay- before diving back in to kiss your lips. You responded more eagerly this time, your arms wrapping around its neck and the demon took that sign to pick you up, earning a giggle from you and you absolutely loved the way the demon smiled at you- it was pure. You didn’t doubt the demon’s intentions once and this just strengthened your beliefs.

Erebos placed you on the bed- not so gently this time- and you both laughed a bit, taking a moment to simply look at the other. You crawled on the demon’s lap, its arms going to hold your waist, and ran a hand through the soft strands of its hair- Mingi’s hair- that you so loved. You traced the edges of its face- Mingi’s face- and kissed the mole under its eye-

How could you kiss him and not see Mingi?

Erebos seemed to notice the hesitation in your eyes and you thought the demon looked sad for a moment before it craned its neck to kiss you again, slower this time, deeper, as if it wanted to say a lot but didn’t have the words for it. You kissed the demon back just like that, making out endlessly with its hands everywhere on your body until you heard it suppress a little groan. You drew back for a second but then it pushed you back on the bed, getting on top of you and-

Pressing its thigh between your legs as it kissed you almost hungrily- the sudden shift almost made you a little dizzy and you cupped its face, breaking apart-

“Erebos- tell me your name, please-”

The demon kissed you again, slowing down just a notch and you moaned into the kiss, loving as its hands found your bare skin, loving the way it rocked its body against yours, loving the way its plump lips tasted on yours, loving the gasp that left its mouth-

Not Erebos, your mind screamed and you broke apart for breath, noticing even in the faint light of the lamp that the eyes no longer had stars in it.

Mingi had taken over.

Mingi seemed to understand that you knew, yet, when he drew in and brushed his nose against you, you almost moaned. You became hyper aware of his hand on your bare waist where your shirt had lifted, of his other hand squeezing your neck gently as if all his self-control lay there, of his chest rocking against yours as he took deep breaths. This time, you were the one who pulled him in and swallowed all his hesitation as you kissed him, with a dreadful realisation that perhaps, you had failed to keep the boundaries, the distinctions clear. Mingi didn’t seem to mind though- he kissed you back just as enthusiastically, welcoming your tongue in his mouth.

Just as Mingi groaned in pleasure into the kiss, it changed into one of pain and he drew back abruptly. You noticed how his eyes blackened altogether as he clutched his head. You got up into a sitting position and leaned towards him to help but he pushed you away-

“Y/n, run.”

“No, Mingi- please-”

“No,” Mingi clenched his jaw and buried his head in the bed. You realised it was Erebos and the demon must be so, so angry- not only with Mingi, but you. You caressed his head despite his constant warnings and held him.

“Erebos,” you almost cried. “Please. Not like this.”

Mingi calmed down almost completely and you wondered if he had lost consciousness before he raised his head and you saw the stars in his angry eyes as it looked at you questioningly.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, wiping your eyes. “I don’t have anything else to say.”

Erebos was silent and you wondered if the demon hadn’t heard you until you noticed the shadows seeping out of it and spreading in the room. You squeezed the demon’s hand, locking eyes with it. “Look at me, Erebos.”

“Why?”

A strangled cry left you when you heard how broken, how devastated the demon sounded. Erebos buried its head in your lap and shadows continued to seep out of its body and you dared to touch the edge of one, drawing away with a cry- it seemed to burn.

“Erebos?” You caressed its head. “Erebos, please-”

“Go away,” the demon simply said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You pursed your lips, looking towards the door when you heard the sound of footsteps- it was Seonghwa and he looked utterly surprised. He rushed towards you and said, “You need to get away from Erebos- the shadows are not safe right now.”

“I can’t leave Erebos like this,” you cried.

“Take her before I hurt her,” Erebos said, almost falling limp and you snatched your arm away when Seonghwa tried to grab it.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave them like this- both Mingi and Erebos,” you told him and he looked conflicted. You shut your eyes and hugged their body, not minding the way your skin burned wherever it came in contact with the shadows. You hummed a melody that your father used to sing at your bed and Seonghwa gasped, drawing away from you-

The shadows were not hurting you- not anymore.

He watched both your and Mingi’s body melt into each other as you lost consciousness, the shadows no longer in the air. He made sure the two of you were breathing and were alright before he left the room and found his way to the kitchen, slumping on a chair-

Maybe it was time- never had Erebos been able to control its magic from hurting someone until this moment. It was as if even though the demon had lost consciousness, it still knew to protect you.

Seonghwa smiled at the two bodies that clung to each other, as if providing comfort. His smile was sad though- it looked like the curse would soon break.

It was going to be a mess.

—---------------------

You woke up with every muscle in your body aching as if you had overused it. Groaning, you turned in the bed, biting your lips to swallow the cry of pain that would have left you. You blinked a few times, trying to recall just what you had done last night to be this tired-

Mingi.

You got up with immense effort- he was not here anymore and it was dark outside- just how long had you been sleeping? You noticed the glass of water and a potion next to you, a note attached in Wooyoung’s handwriting that said ‘you better drink this before you move’. Knowing Wooyoung’s potion would probably do you some good, you drank the bitter pink liquid before exiting the room-

It was so, so dark outside. Unnaturally dark and you could barely see anything. With a dreadful realisation, you started towards Mingi’s room, letting your hand against the wall guide you towards the end of the hall. You found a faint light from the room and when you entered, you first saw Seonghwa leaning towards something, a white flame lighting the lone candle in the corner-

Seonghwa was caressing something- someone. Mingi.

Seonghwa’s head turned when a strangled cry left your mouth and he urged you to wait outside. You stood like a little kid behind the door until he urged you to follow him to Wooyoung’s room, who was going through some notes.

“I can’t find anything,” Wooyoung sighed in defeat, slumping on the couch. “Don’t you remember if something like this has happened in the past?”

“Each curse is unique,” Seonghwa simply said as if that explained everything.

“What’s happening?” You tried not to sound frantic but failed. “Why are they like this?”

“Do you remember what happened before you passed out?” Seonghwa asked.

“I… I was trying to calm them down- Mingi and Erebos.” you recalled. “I was humming a song my father taught me and then… why did I pass out? Was it because of their magic?”

“You could have died, y/n,” Seonghwa shook his head. “Somehow, they protected you with their magic, even when they lost control. Do you know that’s the first time they’ve ever been able to do that?”

Your heart sank- you recalled all the stories Mingi and Erebos had told you about not being able to protect the people they loved when they lost control and the shadows burned them- they burned you a bit too but when you hummed…

“They must have felt you even when they were far gone,” Wooyoung smiled sadly. “I don’t know if I should be pleased about it though…”

“Well, we have got to do something about Mingi and Erebos,” Seonghwa said. “I wouldn’t suggest you going to them right now- it might not work in your favour.”

You didn’t quite understand what they were getting at. “But it happened because of me. I… I knew Erebos wouldn’t like it if I became closer to Mingi, but…”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Wooyoung muttered and Seonghwa looked at him in warning but he shook his head. “She should know.”

“What now?” Your voice quivered.

“You should know that it’s not your fault,” Wooyoung said gently. “The demon was cursed. Did they ever tell you why?”

You shook your head in denial and Wooyoung motioned at Seonghwa to continue. “Ages ago, Erebos was a high status demon in their realm. The Lord of Shadows. Erebos was powerful enough to control other demons, and though it had better things to do than involve itself in petty mischief, it was also powerful enough to undo their damage- mainly human possession which was very rampant at that time. One day… Erebos came across some demon who was violating the demon code- we are not allowed to leave evidence of demon possession, but that demon wanted to show the world that it could do whatever it pleased.

“Erebos wasn’t going to involve itself but one thing led to another and since Erebos held the authority, it killed that demon. Turns out the demon was some other high lord’s underling who got pissed and reported it to the court where Erebos was going to receive its judgement.”

“But… it wasn’t Erebos’s fault,” you said and Seonghwa nodded.

“The demons aren’t forgiving. If they forgive, wouldn’t that make them human?” He smiled. “Erebos could have been ‘grounded’, in layman terms, or stripped of his title but demons are a sadistic bunch. They twisted his intentions thinking that the demon ‘pitied’ the human. They cursed him to live inside a human, to feel like a human does, until-”

“Until?” You waited but Seonghwa glanced at Wooyoung now. Your heart sank as you recalled something familiar-

The scroll Mingi had hid under the plank in the hallway.

You got up and went outside, walking almost mechanically towards the end of the hallway and took out the scroll and watched Wooyoung shake his head, confirming your suspicions. You opened it and read it again:

“Once the shadow, once the light

As one, the two must thrive

A curse both must fight

To one’s end, they dive

For love, with all their might

Hearts awakened, live alive”

“What does it mean?” You went back inside the room and spread the scroll on the table. “They’re clearly talking about Erebos, but…”

“‘A curse both must fight, to one’s end they dive, for love’,” Seonghwa quoted. “They will continue to fight the curse to one’s end because ultimately, only one of them can live inside that body. No matter how much they try to coexist, it’s not possible- this episode they’re having is not their first one but it might be their final one, because…”

“‘For love’,” Wooyoung’s smile was sad. “Once the two fall in love with the same person… the curse will break. It’s twisted because a demon is not supposed to feel those emotions but Erebos can feel them now, because of Mingi. Mingi has fallen in love a few times in the past centuries but Erebos never gave in, until…”

It couldn’t be.

“This does not make any sense, it’s stupid,” you almost spat. “Is the curse even real or was it just to mock Erebos? And Erebos is a demon, it cannot love-”

You recalled that night in the graveyard well and good. You recalled what Erebos said about wanting you, wanting to be with you. Could you not call it love when it did so much for you, waited to be with you, touched you like you could break, kissed you like time was running short?

And Mingi… He told you not to look at him the way you looked at Erebos, like the demon was everything you ever wanted.

“It… cannot be,” you said, not realising your face was wet and your vision was blurry. “What will happen?”

“We do not know,” Wooyoung patted your back. “Maybe try talking to them. Seonghwa, let’s allow her to. We need to know if this is just another episode or if the curse is breaking- if this might be the end.”

“Why did no one tell me about the curse?” You looked at the two.

“Not our place to tell you, and they have forbidden us to,” Seonghwa shook his head. “We only let you know now because the situation called for it.”

“If I had known-”

“If you had known, it would have still happened anyway,” Wooyoung squeezed your shoulder. “Love is not a feeling you can control.”

You stared into the fire for the longest moment, wishing you could undo everything from the moment you met Mingi and Erebos. You wished you had not decided to stay, nor found a family in this odd group. You wished you hadn’t fallen for a demon and then the human who coexisted in one body. But no matter how much you cursed yourself over it, it was no use.

Love was not a feeling you could control.

You had long since stopped crying, now in a state of numbness. Seonghwa and Wooyoung were patiently waiting for you to make a decision.

“I’m going to try talking to them,” you swallowed the choking feeling in your throat. “I can’t give up- not like this.”

“You’re strong,” Wooyoung smiled proudly. “And I think only you could have done this- make a demon fall for you. How crazy is that?”

You laughed at that, hiding your face as it settled in and a sob left your body. Wooyoung was quick to get up and rub your back.

“It’s tragic, I know, but it has been very painful for them to coexist in one body,” he told you. “We helped in any way we could but it was never enough. I think they found comfort in you- both Mingi and Erebos. It’s going to be okay, don’t lose faith.”

“I don’t want to lose them,” you cried. “I don’t want to lose either of them. It’s very selfish of me, but-”

“We’ve grown quite attached to them too,” Seonghwa admitted. “But we can’t avoid it. It’s cruel, but it is the way it is.”

You nodded, preparing yourself for what was next, hoping for a miracle that you knew might not come.

—------------------------

It was dark and it was cold. There was no way out. The darkness hugged Mingi and the cold settled in his bones. There was not a sound- not even of his own breath. The shadows were endless.

Mingi wondered how he had gotten here but there was no answer. It was just the way it was, how it happened. There was no one to blame, no one to point fingers at. He had learned not to question how cruel the hands of fate could be. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if it really had to be this way.

Mingi called Erebos’s name, hoping to find solace in the darkness of their subconsciousness but Erebos seemed to have given in to the void as well. So Mingi waited, not alone but so lonely. He waited for Erebos to wake up, for a miracle to happen-

“Mingi? Can you hear me?”

It was your voice, so distant that he wondered if he was imagining it.

“Erebos? Mingi? Please, talk to me.”

No- it was real. Their names were being called. Mingi looked around, blindly thrashing around in hopes of finding Erebos, wondering if the demon could hear it too.

As Mingi started gaining a bit of consciousness, he could make out another figure in the void- Erebos’s figure- he did not know if the demon had a body of its own but whenever the two interacted in their subconscious, it was like they were looking in a mirror. The only difference had always been in their eyes.

“Erebos,” Mingi nudged the demon’s body, sitting with its head buried between its knees, arms wrapped around itself as if that could protect the demon from what was ahead. “Wake up.”

The demon didn’t budge and Mingi heard your voice call for them again. He was pretty sure Erebos was ignoring it on purpose now. “Hey, I know you can hear me and her. Look at me.”

The demon finally gave an indication of not having lost it completely by tapping its fingers- a sign Mingi would have missed had he not been paying attention. Mingi sighed deeply. “How long are you going to be like this?”

“I’m just wondering…” Erebos finally said, not looking up. “If this is the end.”

Mingi was wondering too- it had never been so dark here. He could feel their magic getting out of control, nothing like they had ever experienced before. No matter how much he tried to get back into his consciousness, it wasn’t working.

“The curse, huh?” Mingi shook his head. “So you’re in love with y/n? I thought you were incapable of love.”

“I thought I was too,” Erebos finally looked up. “Until I found myself protecting her with all my might when you kissed her and we lost control.”

Mingi looked away- it was his fault too. The first time the demon fell in love and he had to be there and mess things up-

“I know what you’re thinking,” Erebos smiled. “I’m not sure I could have fallen in love if it weren’t for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am a demon, Mingi,” Erebos scoffed. “I may only be feeling these human emotions because I live within a human body now.”

“That is not how this works, and you know it,” Mingi tsk-ed.

“You’re the one who insisted that demons do not have a heart,” Erebos tsk-ed back.

“I was wrong. Seonghwa is also a demon- he would not have been helping us for centuries if he did not have a heart. He never demanded anything in return. And you…” Mingi shook his head. “I know you blame yourself over what happened when I first fell in love. It was not your fault, and if you were a demon, you wouldn’t have been wallowing in guilt. You would have enjoyed my misery.”

“Who says I didn’t?”

“Don’t pretend to be heartless now when you visit the grave every year and pray to god knows who,” Mingi said and Erebos pursed its lips- it had always tried to force Mingi the furthest back in their consciousness whenever it did that, but it looked like the demon may have slipped. “My point is, you don’t love y/n because of me. You love her because she looked at you- from the beginning. She didn’t care that you were a demon. And you love her because you have a heart of your own, no matter how… dark or ugly it may be.”

Erebos laughed at that and Mingi shared a grin as well, silence settling once again. “Okay, you’re right. We wouldn’t be here right now if I wasn’t in love with her. And you’re in love with her too.”

Mingi smiled sadly. “How could I not be in love with her when she is the way she is?”

“Little bird,” Erebos smiled fondly and Mingi was taken aback by the display of those emotions in the demon’s eyes. Its smile fell when your voice rang in the void again, calling for them both, begging for them to come back. “I know I wished I was never cursed to be in a human body, but I can’t say that I regret it now that I know what it is like to be loved.”

Mingi felt his heart sink. “What are you getting at?”

“I shouldn’t have been in this body in the first place,” Erebos sounded determined. “I do not deserve to choose to live on and kill you in the process.”

Mingi was taken aback by the sudden declaration. “I know only one of us can make it out alive but… I’m only human. I will grow old and die anyway. If you choose to live… I don’t think I would mind, I…” Mingi laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m willingly giving you the choice to live in my body and kill me in the process, but Erebos… that human loves you. You deserve to be loved too.”

Erebos shook its head. “I do not deserve to be loved, but I am thankful for the love I have received. I cannot go back and choose to live. The human loves you too, Mingi. I think she deserves a human, not a demon by her side for the rest of her life.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Erebos got up. “She’s human, Mingi. I would ruin her. And even if I love her with all my heart, I wouldn’t be able to live when she dies- because I will outlive her. I would rather kill myself than see her dead. You humans… you’re used to the notion of death. You understand that you grow old and die. I do not.”

Erebos raised its hands and the shadows gathered in its palms. Mingi took a step back, almost panicking. “What are you doing?”

“Putting an end to this for once and for all,” Erebos announced.

“Wait- wait,” Mingi pounced on him, surprising the demon as they fell. “You don’t get to go just like this. You can’t do this to her- you have to tell her.”

“I can’t face her again-”

“No, you listen to me,” Mingi groaned in frustration. “You can’t do this without saying goodbye.”

“If you think my mind will change once I see her, you’re wrong.”

“I know it won’t,” Mingi shook his head. “But she deserves a goodbye too.”

Erebos thought about it and Mingi could see the doubt in the demon’s eyes. Before Erebos could make a decision, Mingi grabbed Erebos’s hands, the shadows looping around his arm now.

“What do you think you are doing?” Erebos tried snatching its hands away but Mingi smiled, forcing the shadows to shift to himself and-

Forcing Erebos into consciousness.

You felt the shift in the air instantly and watched Erebos lift its head and look at you, almost in disbelief and confusion. A short sob left you as you knelt down next to him, bringing your hands to the demon’s face but hesitating, letting them hover until Erebos relaxed.

“You’re… back,” you caressed its face. “Are you okay?”

Erebos didn’t say anything, simply leaned forward to wrap its arms around you as if it, too, had been afraid. You smiled- this was the first time Erebos actually hugged you. You looped your own arms around its neck and the demon shifted under you, burying its face in the crook of your neck and staying like that for the longest time, not saying a word, simply relishing the feeling-

“Erebos,” you finally whispered. “What happened?”

Erebos didn’t respond, instead nudged your neck with its nose and you would have thought the demon was just having a moment until you felt something wet on your neck and you drew back to see-

The demon was crying.

“What’s the matter?” Your heart broke at the way Erebos was looking at you. Its hands were shaking as they cupped your face and caressed your skin, scanning you as if it was memorising the way you looked. “Erebos, please, tell me what’s going on.”

The demon only smiled, tears streaking down its face. You felt your heart sink in the worst possible way, looking around to see the shadows still wild around you. “The curse… it hasn’t broken yet, has it? Is Mingi okay?”

“He’s okay,” Erebos assured you but you couldn’t relax.

“Is the curse going to break?”

The demon’s silence was enough. You took a deep breath. “Tell me how to undo everything. I will leave. I don’t want you two to live like this-”

“It’s already done,” Erebos wiped the tears from your eyes. “It’s going to end soon, little bird.”

“What do you mean?” You cried out. “What’s going to happen?”

“It’s been an honour to have been loved by you.”

“No, no, please,” you gripped the demon’s hands. “What are you doing?”

“I was going to leave but Mingi forced me back here so I could… say goodbye,” Erebos laughed a little. “I think it was wise of him to do so.”

“Leave where?” You whispered and you heard a shuffle of sound behind you, Wooyoung and Seonghwa now present in the room. Erebos nodded at them, mouthing a ‘thank you’. Seonghwa took a deep breath, turning around and facing the white flame while Wooyoung put one hand over his heart and one over Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“I was never meant to be here,” Erebos kissed your forehead, lingering. “This is how it is supposed to end. You deserve to be loved by a human, not a demon.”

“That makes no sense,” you let out a short laugh. “I… Please, don’t do this. Tell me how to make it better- there must be a loophole. It doesn’t have to end with one of you-”

You couldn’t say it, hiding your face in Erebos’s lap as you cried your heart out, the demon caressing your body. The sobs racked through your body and you felt like you were in physical pain- you simply couldn’t seem to catch your breath. There was so much you wanted to say to Erebos, so much you wished to tell the demon but you couldn’t form the words.

“I don’t want to leave seeing you cry,” Erebos’s voice was filled with sadness. “I want to see you smiling before I leave. Please, little bird? I don’t have much time.”

You willed everything in you to tone down your sobs and got up, the demon shaking its head in amusement at your state. “What a mess. Still so pretty.”

Erebos tucked your hair back. “It’s been… a long life in this human body. I’ve never felt alive, not once, until I met you. There’s so much I want to thank you for. I’m not even sure if it’s because I am in a human body that I feel all this. Maybe if I was the Lord of Shadows, I still would have found you and still would have loved you. I feel like I was meant to be here.”

“Stop being so sappy,” you pouted and the demon chuckled, wiping the fresh stream of tears from your eyes. You shut your eyes, memorising the way the demon’s skin felt- cold. Too cold to be human. When the demon hugged you again, you memorised the pattern of its breathing- uneven. It had always been irregular. And when the demon kissed your cheek, you memorised the way it felt- like a feather. When the demon joined its forehead with yours, you noted in your heart the sound of its breath against yours. And when the demon kissed you on your lips, you tucked that feeling into the deepest corner of your heart- the feeling of being enveloped in the safest of shadows.

You stayed like that for a few moments before its body shook and you finally opened your eyes. You could see the light in Erebos’s eyes fade away and it smiled, struggling to keep upright. You sucked in your tears, remembering that Erebos wished for you to smile. You patted your lap and the demon lied down, looking up at you.

“Will you tell me your name now?” You asked.

The demon smiled. “It’s nothing much.”

“Just tell me your name,” you glared at it and the demon laughed. You memorised the sound of it as well.

“Tirich,” it said. “My name is Tirich. It means darkness- or shadow.”

“Tirich,” you called and the demon shut its eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Such a beautiful name. Tirich,” you repeated again, kissing its forehead.

“Y/n,” it called and you shut your eyes, willing yourself not to cry at the way it said your name. “My little bird.” You laughed and Tirich took one of your hands in its own, while your other caressed its head. “Can you sing me that song again? Before I go to sleep?”

You nodded. Tirich looked over at the healer and the demon still hanging by. “Come here, you two. Stop hanging like bats in the corner.”

You laughed at the duo, looking as messy as you with tear-stained faces and trembling hands. They came to sit near Tirich and the demon looked fondly at them for once, making Wooyoung shake his head.

“Not how I imagined you’d go, but this is better,” he grinned. Tirich grinned back and looked at Seonghwa, tsk-ing.

“Remind me why they kicked you out of the demon realm again?”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa muttered and everyone laughed at that. “At least I accept that this is the way I am. You’re still wondering if you’re looking at us with heart eyes because of Mingi.”

“It’s definitely Erebos- Tirich,” Wooyoung smiled as he corrected. “I must say I’m disappointed. We’ve spent centuries with you but you go ahead and tell your name to the girl you just met-”

“You wish you were me,” you stuck out your tongue at the healer and he did the same. Tirich coughed a little, drawing everyone’s attention back.

“I’m going now,” the demon said. “Please… sing me the song.”

You kissed the demon’s forehead one last time, whispering in its ear that you loved every moment you got to be with it and will never forget it. You hummed the song, caressing the demon’s face, your voice starting to tremble as you felt the shadows around you recede back and back until nothing was left. You didn’t stop- not when Seonghwa and Wooyoung hugged each other and cried. Not when the demon’s body went limp in your lap. The tears fell and you continued singing until the sobs took over when nothing was left and you felt the body in your lap move again.

Mingi was back.

Mingi let you cry with your face buried in his chest for the longest time until you passed out from exhaustion. He tucked you in his bed and he finally sat down, feeling the most empty even though his heart felt full for once. It was as if a part of him was gone now. He stared at his palm, so very human. He felt weak, and he couldn’t make it to the bed- he passed out as well, though Wooyoung came right on time, knowing it would be tough for Mingi to use a body that was fully human without the strength of a demon that had braced it for centuries.

The healer tucked Mingi beside you, shaking his head at the irony- two humans who lost a demon that they loved in their own twisted ways.

—----------------------

“I thought I said I wanted this in red and black, not blue and black.”

“I distinctly remember you saying how blue was a nice colour-”

“For you!” Wooyoung groaned. “I wanted my scarf in red and black!”

“Well…” you considered for a moment, looking down at the bundle of your knitted scarfs. “My bad?”

Seonghwa, who was watching you two bicker, snorted loudly, making Wooyoung jump up and down in frustration and you promised between breathless laughter that you would make him another scarf. Seonghwa shook his head. “We know you’re obsessed with the colour blue, but I want mine in pink and white. Not blue and white.”

You pursed your lips, muttering, “Noted.” The duo nodded at you before continuing to set the table for dinner. At that moment, Mingi came from outside, having collected fresh oranges from the trees not far from your house. You waved at him and he smiled, placing the basket on the kitchen counter before hopping to you and planting a kiss on your temple.

“That’s mine, right?” Mingi pointed at the blue and black scarf in your lap.

“You like it?”

Mingi nodded and you handed him the scarf, smiling at how his eyes lit up. He went to try it on in front of the mirror near the door and you gathered your wool, getting up. One of the balls of wool rolled down and before you could grab it, it continued to roll down endlessly across the living room and you groaned.

“Seonghwa, can you please make this house stand straighter? Look at that,” you pointed at the ball of wool still unrolling, bumping into whatever was in the way and changing directions. “The elevation is all messed up.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. You made a face before gathering the thread and following it to see where it unrolled off to, sitting under the stairs now. You picked it up and started rolling it, looking up and halting entirely-

On the table where you collected your candles, one of them was burning with a black flame- you wondered if you were imagining it but you took a closer look, in awe at how dark the flame was- you had never seen a flame that was shades of black. You picked the candle up, running your finger over the flame but it didn’t burn. You wondered if this was one of Wooyoung’s strange objects he used for healing-

You frowned, putting your finger right over the flame and feeling the familiarity of the flame, no, the shadow.

It couldn’t be.

“Uh, Seonghwa!” You almost screamed, making everyone look at you. “Is this your flame?”

Before Seonghwa could even make his way to you, you were rushing to him, surprised when the air didn’t make the flame budge, not one bit. You stopped when you reached them, blowing at the flame and everyone collectively gasped when it didn’t blow out.

“Wait, is this you?” Wooyoung looked at Seonghwa who shook his head furiously.

“My flame is white- you’ve seen it.”

“That’s not me. Mingi?”

“Isn’t this-” Mingi narrowed his eyes. “Douse it with water.”

“No,” you hid the candle away from him but Wooyoung was quick to grab the glass of water and spill it on the candle, making you shout and almost cry but you recovered when you saw the flame was still burning in its full glory. You settled the candle on the table and everyone stared at it.

“Should I say it?” Seonghwa looked at everyone. “It’s a shadow flame. It has to be Tirich.”

Your heart sank. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa smiled in disbelief, looking at Mingi. “You tell.”

Mingi poked his tongue in his cheek, a clear indication that he knew something. You waited for him to spill but he groaned, overwhelmed by everyone’s questioning gaze. “Look, it’s something Tirich said long ago as a joke- I didn’t know the demon could actually do it.”

“So it’s Tirich?”

“I’m not sure,” Mingi touched the flame. “Feels like it but I don’t feel its presence, you know?” Seonghwa nodded in agreement. “Maybe the demon gathered all its remaining energy to be this undying-” Mingi pressed his fingers on the wick of the candle, the flame disappearing but reappearing right when he pulled his fingers back, “-stubborn flame.”

Wooyoung cackled, clapping his hands in amusement. “It’s something Tirich would do. Just can’t leave us alone, can it?”

You laughed, nodding, happy tears leaving your eyes as you watched the flame burn endlessly, the candle wax not even melting. Mingi patted your back and the two of you shared a grin, a sense of relief settling over you.

The candle was placed on the fireplace mantel by you. You insisted that this was Tirich’s favourite spot though Wooyoung argued that it was the roof but you refused to give in. This was where you had first talked to Tirich and this was where you met every night. Once in a while, someone would try to see if the flame would budge- mostly Wooyoung again. He would try water, salt, everything in his book but the flame seemed to be immortal. Sometimes, when you watched it as you thought of Erebos, you could swear it flickered in response. You could swear it burned brighter whenever Mingi and you watched it together with the fondest memories of the demon in your hearts.

It didn’t hurt anymore, not like it did earlier. It was like the demon was still with you, in the form of that flame, watching over you. Whenever you felt like crying, you recalled how Tirich said it wanted to see you smile, always. So you never cried, at least not at your favourite spot where the candle stood. You only cried in Mingi’s arms who was always there for you, so loving and caring, so warm. He understood that you missed the demon- he, too, did. He had to cope not only emotionally but physically as well, so you focused your energy on trying to make it easier for him as well.

You learned how to etch on metal and with the help of Seonghwa, you created a candle stand for ‘Tirich’s candle’, as you all called it. It was a beautiful shade of silver and you etched a phrase on it that you would always remember. When you showed it off to everyone, they loved your idea and agreed the candle looked better with the new stand. You took to decorating the mantle next, everyone leaving a little something that they had associated with Tirich on it- a small bottle that Wooyoung used for storing their potion, a piece of mirror Seonghwa had brought from the demon realm where sometimes he could see his home, and the blue ribbon Mingi had tied the scroll with- the scroll which had turned to ashes the moment the curse broke.

You stared at the finished product now that the mantle was full of things surrounding the candle, your heart full as you read the etching on the candle stand.

Hearts Awakened, Live Alive.

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okwonyo · 2 months

Text

meeting you at a fansign.

ᙏ̤̫ ⠀엔하이픈 ♡ female reader & idol au fluff potential future relationship + cw. not-proofread skinship flirting 0.6k ｜ ( bookshelf )

heeseung would be at loss for words, eyes growing wide when they land on you; are you even real? fixing his posture so he’d be a little bit more charming, as if he’d not be already, he’d look up to you with pure amazement as you sit on the chair in front of him. he’d be the type to act as if he doesn’t hear you— just so he can lean toward you and you’d lean his way as well, a ‘you are pretty’ might slip out his mouth, and you’d chuckle as if you’d be sharing some secrets.

jongseong would talk to you in such a soft tone, with such a soft and reassuring smile that all your stress and awkwardness would evaporate.. he’d make sure to make you comfortable; that’s why his voice would be so tender— you’d, overall, just bring out his soft side and that’s why he’d like you a lot. hand absentmindedly finding yours as you’d tell him more about you, thumb rubbing your skin in a heart swelling mention; and so soft spoken... “hope i’ll see you again” he’d tell you when you have to leave, ...ah.

jaeyun would, for sure, be eyeing you a little even before his turn comes; his eyes would have lay on you for a slit second and wouldn’t be able to look away. cupid would walk through and shoot an arrow to his heart as soon as your gaze meets his. cute smile mirroring his growing adoration for you; he’d be too hang on your mouth, thirsty for your words and capturing every glimpse he can have of you. he’d squeeze your hand when you get up, “i miss you already,” he’d half joke.

sunghoon would notice you from the audience— amazed; because can someone be this ethereal. your beauty would whiplash him when you sit in front of him, he’d be a bit awkward at first: stumbling over his word and stuttering a bit as he talks to you.. but, then you’d ask to hold his hand, a wave of relief and comfort would suddenly wash over him. he’d smile to you so softly and start asking questions about your interests and things as such. he’d have sad eyes when you leave him...

seonwoo would be welcoming; so sweet as he talks to you, he’d want to know everything about you and would be genuinely amazed at every words that fall out of your mouth; you are pretty girl, with good interests and also very nice? oh well, you are soon to be his girlfriend.. a blooming flush would start to appear on his cute face when you’d compliment him, he’d make a little sad face when you’d shift to the next member.

jungwon would shower you in compliments; he’d be such a tease and he’d become addicted to the way your cheeks get pinker the more he compliments you.. his hand would slip in yours as he’d tell you how beautiful your name his, interlocking your fingers whereupon he’d say that he likes your hairstyle and would lean towards you as he’d say how petty of a girl you are. a cute grin would be drawn on his face during the entirety of the interaction; he’d shake your interlocked hands when you tell him goodbye...

riki would be a bit shy at the beginning, avoiding your eyes and giggling softly as he’d do so. you are just breathtaking and he doesn’t know if he has it in him to talk to you! but after a few jokes, he’d get more comfortable— although, a tad more giggly than before. he’d smile shyly when you compared hand size and, would even let you put cute accessories in his hair; such as sanrio hairpins! he’d not take them after >< “don’t forget about me!” he’d tell you as you leave, and he’d blush when you giggle.

...my apologies; i post too much ㅜㅜ

taglist open! @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @nwjws @lilriswife4life @alaezasmystery235 @teddywonss @tyussday @cholexc @hsgpoet @yuviqik @wvnrqs @strawberrywonz @y-ves @isawritesss @filmofhybe @ikeucakes @gweoriz @yunabi436 @ashtxrie @soul-is-a-strange-kid @jaelaxies @jwonsluvr @lynniebearrr-blog @bobabunhee @sunghoonsarmpit @ynsvnte @wonifullove @luvieden @shalkeren @thesunoosshining @smouches @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @sulkygyu @byhees @okwons @jwnghyuns @sleepyxxhead @baevsxii @nxzz-skz @who-tf-soddhi @armydrcamers @yeonzzzzs

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justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Note

okay but thoughts on sanji x reader where she gets jealous bcs he flirts with every woman he sees and she’s scared to confess because she doesn’t know if he likes her or just loves to play a flirt

Tell It To Me Straight (Because I’m Going Crazy) {v.s}

Summary: it was just like you to fall head over heels for a guy at first sight, only to later realize said guy was the world’s biggest flirt. It would also happen to be your luck that this same guy would join your crew — and now you had to deal with feelings and other things that were equally as unpleasant.

Genre: angst, fluff

Requested: ✅

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: insecurities, pining, Sanji (that’s a warning, right?), angst with fluffy ending ❤️

A/n: anon bless you for requesting my husband Sanji. I love this man so much. This actually took me entirely too long to write and I’m so sorry for that, writers block has been hitting me like a fucking train. Anyway I hope y’all enjoy even tho I feel this one might be a bit shitty ❤️✌️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Red painted lips curved into a smile, hair pulled into a classy updo, high rosy cheekbones, and donned in a dress that hugged every curve just right, the woman was truly beautiful, and when the dim lighting of the tavern reflected off the pair at the bar, you couldn’t help but feel that she looked too good next to Sanji.

It was a reality that was painful but long since accepted by you, the fact that you’d never truly be good enough for the charming man — but acceptance didn’t curb the cinching pain within your chest, or the burning jealousy that flickered to life in your gut and heated the underside of your skin.

You pursed your lips as you watched the two exchange murmured words and laughs, and fury burned hot in your lungs when the woman brought a hand up to swipe painted fingernails along Sanji’s forearm — Sanji, predictably, didn’t usher the woman away, and your next heartbeat was incredibly painful when Sanji instead leaned into the touch.

It was utterly ridiculous, the way you burned with flaming jealousy — and honestly, you weren’t sure if you were more angry with Sanji’s antics, or the fact that they affected you the way they did, even though you had been aware and exposed to them from the start. Sanji was a flirt, through and through, and it didn’t matter if the woman he flirted with was ugly or gorgeous, he just enjoyed the act of it — and this very fact put you in a position where you had to constantly remind yourself that just because he showered you with compliments and called you pet names didn’t mean they were genuine, or that you were someone special to him.

You’d also thought that acknowledging this fact would chase away the deep feelings you harbored for the man, and in the beginning, it actually did, but Sanji always found a way to drag them back to the surface.

Sanji was tall, he was handsome, and he had a way with words that could make any woman melt, you included. When you’d first encountered Sanji at the Baratie months ago, you had been utterly and hopelessly drawn in by these very traits of his, and still to the day, you found yourself stuck to him like a magnet. And it infuriated you from the inside out.

Because you’d never even asked for it, and the only chance at relief had been stolen away from you when Luffy invited Sanji to the crew, and the man actually agreed — and for the past few months, you’d been plagued with so many emotions that it gave you mental whiplash.

The center of this inner turmoil also didn’t help any. From the moment Sanji locked eyes with you, he was spewing compliments and sweet nothings at you, and looking at you with these eyes that made you squirm in both the most unpleasant and pleasant ways; you’d never had that kind of attention from a man, especially not from a man as attractive and damn sophisticated as Sanji, and it was just as exciting and exhilarating as it was flustering. It was no surprise you’d fallen as fast as you had — anyone would, should they get the time to really be around Sanji for a prolonged period.

You had even once considered admitting your feelings to Sanji; the prospect of confession had swirled into your mind the first night of his joining, when the crew was locked on the path to the Conomi Islands to retrieve Nami. You two had fallen into conversation late into the night, swapping muted stories in the comfortable air of the Merry’s galley, and Sanji was so attentive, so alluring, and his eyes… his eyes were locked onto yours, as if you were the only girl in the world, and there was something within their depths, something that had you wondering if he’d felt the same sensation you had when you two had locked eyes in the Baratie.

They had you wondering, entertaining, if he truly thought of you in the same way you thought of him.

But that notion was quickly tossed away the night at Cocoyashi village — because you noticed that Sanji gave those eyes to nearly every woman he met, save for the ones who were underage, and it hit you so heavily that you were not special to him at all that you nearly lost your breath. From that point on, you swore away your feelings for the man, and promised yourself you’d never let yourself be mislead or disillusioned by his flirts and charms again.

Except, things didn’t really go according to plan.

Because no matter how much you acknowledged the truth of Sanji’s flirtatious disposition, it still affected you — you would still feel so warm and fuzzy inside when he smiled at you, or when those soft endearments and compliments slid past his lips, or when he’d softly stroke your elbow to announce he was passing you aboard the ship…

Everything he did made you jittery and warm.

And you fucking loathed it.

“Are you alright?” Nami’s soft voice and gentle touch to your arm broke you from your scathing thoughts, and you tore your eyes away from the events unfolding at the bar to blink at her.

“Uh, what?” You asked, a little dumbly, and the redhead’s brows furrowed a little.

“I asked if you were alright.” Nami iterated, and you took in a sharp breath, a part of you so desperately wanted to flick your eyes over to Sanji, just to see what was unfolding — but you resisted the urge, and instead forced a smile to your lips.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… spacing out, I guess.”

Nami didn’t look convinced, and your heart stuttered just briefly when she glanced in the direction that you had been previously staring, and a strange sort of look shadowed her eyes. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything else, and instead took a sip of her drink. Now that you’d been pulled back into the present, you were aware of Usopp and Luffy bickering about making “subtle changes” to the Jolly Roger, and you could hear faint snores from your right — sure enough, when you turned your head in the direction, you pinpointed a sleeping Zoro nestled a few feet away from Nami. Part of you wanted to smile, but the thought that Sanji was still at the bar with that woman dulled your ability to do so.

Don’t do it, you warned yourself, but despite the seething voice in your head, you still turned your focus back to the bar, and sure enough, Sanji was still entertaining the woman.

“Jeez, all he was supposed to do was get drinks. Guess we should start sending someone else to do that from now on,” Nami huffed from beside you, and all you could do was nod numbly, because at the moment your throat felt too tight to possibly push words through. Sanji’s lips split into a beautiful smile, and moments later your ears were graced with the rumbling timbre of his laugh, and despite yourself you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine from the pleasant sound. The sight of his dimples and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes made your heart stutter in your chest, and in that moment, all you wanted was for him to be looking at you like that — to be on the receiving end of that smile and those eyes once again.

Just then, in a moment that was equal parts mortifying and electrifying, Sanji turned his head and locked eyes with you; your breath caught in your throat, and for an irrational heartbeat, you swore that Sanji had somehow telepathically received your desire to be looked at and followed the command, and you wondered if your feelings of burning jealousy and desire were reflected on your face. You forced a small smile to your lips and held up your near-empty bottle in one hand while gesturing to it with the other, silently reminding Sanji of the real reason he’d went to the bar in the first place.

Sanji’s expression changed from confused to realization in seconds flat, and you watched in growing anger as he addressed the woman once more and murmured what you assumed was some sort of departing quote; then he skimmed his fingertips over the length of the woman’s forearm before he turned back to the bar and grabbed three bottles by the neck in one hand and turned on his heel to stalk back to your table.

You tore your eyes from his and downed the small bit of liquid still in your bottle; the bitter taste and satisfying burn gave your mind something else to focus on.

“Sorry about the wait, my sweets. Here are your drinks.” Sanji said smoothly, placing a sweating bottle in front of Nami and then placing one in front of you as well. You tried not to look at him, but your eyes were drawn to his long, dexterous fingers by the light shining off his ring in just the right way.

Anger stirred in your gut at the way he apologized for the wait as if it wasn’t entirely his fault. You bit your lip and brought your hand up to grip the neck of the opened bottle in lieu of yelling at the cook, and downed a few swallows as you watched Sanji take a seat just across from you. Your eyes connected briefly, and you seriously wanted to rip out your chest because of the way it bloomed with warmth.

This was going to be a long night.

————————————————————————

You giggled into the skin of Nami’s neck as you both stumbled side by side; your breath tickling her neck caused the other woman to giggle profusely as well, and walking now felt even more difficult than it had before.

Behind you, Usopp and Luffy also walked side by side with one arm slung over the other, Zoro walking not too far behind them and perfectly, irritatingly balanced — screw him and his inability to get drunk.

The leader of your merry little pack was Sanji, guiding the rest of his drunken crewmates with a confidence and swagger that only he could possess. It kind of pissed you off — but it also made you really, really warm at the same time. And a little wet, but you blamed that on the alcohol thrumming through your system. It was easier that way.

By the time you’d all made it back to the docked Going Merry, Usopp had keeled over and thrown up a total of two times, and had to pull a deadweight Luffy to their sleeping quarters. Zoro was quick to follow their lead and enter his own room, with the assertion that he was going to “get more sleep.” As if he needed more.

“You comin’ to bed?” Nami slurred at you, and you shook your head; you were drunk, yeah, but you weren’t exactly tired at the moment.

“I think I’m gonna go hang out in the galley.”

Definitely not because Sanji would more than likely be there, prepping the rations for tomorrow’s breakfast as he did every night. But by the raised brow and smirk Nami sent you, you knew that she knew that’s exactly why you were going.

“Alright, don’t have too much fun.” Nami teased with an affectionate bump of her hip, and you glared at her back as she swayed her way to your shared room. When you stumbled to the galley, Sanji was there, as you’d predicted, a towel thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously separated a myriad of fruits and vegetables and grains. When you entered, he gave you a charming smile, one that made you extremely weak in the knees. It seemed that the buzz of alcohol had taken away your previous irritation with the cook, and all you could feel now was a warm sort of fuzzy fondness for him — one that you were far too used to feeling.

“Hello, love. Looking for something?” Sanji asked, his accent tickling your ears in the most pleasant of ways. You loved his accent; it just made him all the more handsome and charming in your eyes. You returned his smile with one of your own and head shake.

“Nah, not really. Just wanted to hang in here for a few.” You said, padding as gracefully as you could to the sofa. It took some maneuvering to slip yourself behind the hanging table, but you were able to do so without too much fumbling. Getting drunk wasn’t something you indulged in often, and your lack of stability and coordination was a major factor to that, but your drunken mind was just as unstable as your physical body, and you were quite prone to mood swings — that’s what you were going to blame your next actions on, anyway.

“Jus’ like watching you do your thing. ‘S nice.” You mumbled, and the smile Sanji sent you warmed you from your head to your toes, and you didn’t even have it in you to hold back whatever could be showing through your eyes as you rested your chin in your palm and stared at him.

Sanji turned his focus back to his prep, and he worked while you watched in a companionable silence. As he worked, your mind began to race — your train of thought wasn’t exactly clear or obvious, and the track was definitely a little misshapen, but as always, it was Sanji on your mind. You watched his fingers, his face, his arms, his everything, and you just thought about him.

You thought about the soft little smiles he sent you, about the crystalline blue of his eyes, how easy it was to get lost in them. You thought of the delicate Cupid’s bow of his lips, of the way the parted and formed sentences that were perfectly articulated to muddle your brain and chest. You thought of his hands, large and warm and dexterous. Of his caring disposition, of the way he was always so attentive to the needs of his crew. Your heart felt as if it was swelling within your chest, and you had to force yourself to look away from him lest it completely explode.

But Sanji didn’t seem to understand that you were seconds away from combustion, because he had abandoned his prep in favor of leaning against the island counter straight across from you.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart? You seem lost in thought.”

You snapped your eyes up to meet his, and he was looking at you like that again; eyes soft and brows relaxed, lips pulled into that little smile — you swore it must be love on his face. You immediately became angry with yourself, and instead of answering him, you demanded,

“Why do you do that?”

Sanji looked taken aback, and his throat worked in such a tantalizing way as he swallowed a couple times, confusion written clear on his face when he spoke. Your anger was momentarily replaced by a very warm feeling in your gut.

“Why do I do what, love?”

“That. Talk to me that way.” You said, flapping your hand wildly in a gesture. Sanji’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, an action your sloshy mind couldn’t help but track and froth over. His tongue looked so soft and pink.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Sanji asked, and in a show of bashfulness that you’d never seen from the cook, broke eye contact to focus on his hands — which he quickly busied one by swiping imaginary dirt from the surface of the island counter he was leaning back against.

“No, not exactly.” You said, lips rather loose from the alcohol. “I just don’t get it.”

Sanji’s brows furrowed and his hand halted in its movement, and rather than waiting for him to respond to that, you began to ramble.

“I mean, it’s just confusing for me. You look at me in this way, and you talk to me like that, all gentle and kind, and it makes me feel special and like I mean something to you.”

Sanji was beginning to look a little bit uncomfortable, but at the moment, your brain only had the capacity to really take your own feelings into consideration — and right now, what you were feeling was confusion and anger, and you needed the answer as to why. So you rose from your seat, knocking your hip into the edge of the hanging table as you did so, but even the shock of pain lacing through your abdomen wasn’t enough to stop your advance. When you were only inches from the man, you rose your hand in a fist and pushed an accusing finger into his chest.

“And you even had me feeling like maaaaybe you felt the same way as me, but was that true? Noooo.” Vivid memories of the night in the galley, when you’d first wondered if what you felt was reciprocated, flew through your mind painfully. You knew your words were slurred and groggy, and you knew you were spilling everything right now, but damn it, it just wasn’t fair.

“It’s not true, and I know it’s not, because you act the same way towards every pair of legs you come across. I-I ju-just—”

You’d started off strong, or as strongly as you could given your drunken state, but now there were tears in your eyes, words cut off by a wet sob, and the anger in your chest had been replaced by a heavy pain. Desperation clawed your mind fiercely, and you just needed to know.

“I’ve been torn ever since we met — I don’t want to feel this way, but you always manage to give me that hope, only to t-take it a-away again. J-just tell me Sanji, please — tell it to me straight, because I’m going crazy!”

Sanji was completely silent, his lips parted in a small ‘o’ as he stared at you with wide eyes. Your finger was still stuck to his chest, and you pulled it back quickly when you noticed, but you kept your eyes fixed on his in a weak glare.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Sanji’s eyes softened and his shoulders slumped with the force of the breathy laugh he released. Sanji hung his head, the laughter still bubbling from his throat. You took a small step back at the reaction, confused and heated with something akin to embarrassment, and the courage that the alcohol had given you seemed to have leaked out at some point, because now all you wanted to do was run; answers be damned.

When Sanji glanced back up at you, bright eyes slightly obscured by wisps of blonde hair, your heart skipped a beat; the smile on his face was small but genuine, and when he spoke, his voice sounded halfway exasperated and half way relieved.

“I’ve been pretty stupid, haven’t I, love?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. You knew you looked a lot like a fish, what with your eyes wide and your lips soundlessly flapping, but your throat just couldn’t produce any sound — and that ability was further stunted when Sanji gripped your wrists in his large, warm hands. Using the gentlest of tugs, Sanji pulled you forward until your nose bumped into the broad expanse of his chest, and his hands released your wrists in favor of sliding down to grip your hips softly.

Your entire body froze, skin buzzing and mind drawing blank, and the only thing you could really focus on was the rise and fall of Sanji’s chest, his warmth, the spicy cedar of his cologne, and the hold he had you in.

“Oh, darling… I’m sorry. I never even noticed…” Sanji cooed to you, chin grazing against the top of your head as he did so, and you were definitely about to spontaneously combust right there in the galley. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t moved couldn’t do anything else aside from simply short circuit in Sanji’s arms.

“I’m just flirty by nature, love, that much is true.” Sanji said, and he gently pushed you back only far enough so he could hook a finger beneath your chin and tilt your head up. Your lips were now a hairsbreadth from his, so close that you could feel every undulation of his breathing. Your heart flipped and twisted in your chest, and your skin heated, your gut tightening in a mix of anxiety and arousal that left your mind reeling.

“But all those other pairs of legs, they’ve got nothing on you. You’re the only girl I’ve got eyes for.”

Finally, you found your ability to speak — but your words were still very weak, dampened by a mixture of utter confusion and disbelief. There was no way this was happening, right?

“If I’m the only girl you have eyes for, why do you flirt with every one you see?”

Sanji’s smile was wide and dimpled, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that way that always sent your belly aflutter, and you could feel more than hear his words —

“Because I didn’t know the girl I had eyes for had eyes for me, too.”

#opla #opla x reader #Sanji #opla Sanji #opla Sanji x reader #Sanji x reader #x reader

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klausinamarink · 2 months

Text

He Want Kiss

rating: G | cw: none | wc: 630 | tags: post s4, getting together, first kiss, Steve is down bad | prompt: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him

written for @steddielovemonth

Steve is obsessed with Eddie’s lips.

Like completely to the point that he might actually start going to therapy.

But Steve is just a simple man. He sees a pair of well-rounded lips that can make a perfect smile with dimples and he’s a goner. For example, look at Eddie. They’re so plump looking that Steve cannot believe it’s legal. And the way they move whenever Eddie speaks-

“-ink I should go for this one?”

Steve snaps his gaze up, barely surviving from the combination of head whiplash and the pointed attack of Eddie’s eyes, Jesus Christ, look at them Bambi eyes.

“Oh yeah, man.” How Steve manages not to stutter is both a mystery and a blessing.

“Yeah?” Eddie looks at him, his expression mixed with expectation and nervousness.

“Yeah.” Steve repeats confidently. He’s already forgetting what exactly they were talking about but he knows it has to do with Eddie trying to get a job, hence why he called Steve over to help him out with the few applications that believe in Eddie’s innocence. “Like, yeah, go for that.”

Christ, he might as well bash his head again. Steve really doesn’t want to come off as a douche again, but it’s not his fault that Eddie’s lips are just right there. They’re just begging to be kissed.

Thankfully, Eddie seems pleased by his answer. He smiles, dimples and all - oh lord please have mercy on Steve’s soul because he cannot handle the adorableness any longer - as he says, “Well, if Steve Harrington says so, then I will do it.” Then Eddie starts biting his lip, glancing down at the resume they’ve polished together.

Steve digs his fingernails through the jeans over his thighs, but it’s not enough to bat away the growing temptation to reach forward and brush his fingers over Eddie so the other man wouldn’t abuse his lips anymore. The skin had already been cracked and bleeding in the past few months and it’s always so devastating to see Eddie hurt a part of himself like this.

Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, Steve should kiss him.

Eddie is right there. While there will be lots of opportunities to have him at Steve’s side, there’ll never be another perfect chance like this.

Steve leans forward a bit but stops himself. Has Eddie ever been kissed before? If he did, does he like the faint touch of lips brushing together? Like smashed together? Full-on make-out sessions that lead to something more passionate?

Okay, Steve could work on the slow route. He’s done it before with his previous girlfriends. He could lean in at a snail’s pace so Eddie has enough time to register what’s happening and-

“Steve?”

Suddenly, Eddie’s face is much closer than Steve remembers. He feels a heat of breath against his lips. Then the rush of realization comes over Steve because he was about to kiss Eddie.

Yet despite this, Steve barely feels a sense of embarrassment. He stays in place, staring into Eddie’s wide eyes as they flicker over his face, lingering on Steve’s lips every few seconds.

Finally, Eddie huffs out a nervous little laugh, “You, uh, listened to what I just said?”

“Hm-mm.” Steve shakes his head. He feels like he’s on cloud nine and whatever Eddie does next, he’s going to scream at the heavens anyway.

Eddie’s lips form the briefest of smirks, but it’s gone in a blink. They part open slightly.

Steve can’t hold it anymore. He closes the space between them and meets Eddie’s lips at last. It’s more rough and desperate than he plans it to be and tries to dial it back. But when Eddie kisses him with a similar force, Steve goes screw it and kisses back like it’s their last chance.

#klaus writes #steddie #steddielovemonth

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ellssbellss · 1 year

Note

I may or may not have been awake for about 48 house, so I wanted to ask a request before I fall asleep.

The hosts when their SO was up for 2 days straight doing work and starts to slip when get to the host club and acting a little bit too much like the Kyoya.

been thinking about this more than my actual story lately, and i have terrible writer's block, so hopefully this will help! {thank you, anon for the idea!}

The Host Club and their Sleepy, Cranky S.O. {Ohshc X Gender Neutral!Reader}

.oOo.

"mon amour? you need to wake up, darling." tamaki's voice whispers gently in your ear.

the darkness that had surrounded you minutes ago suddenly vanishes as you open your eyes, your head swiftly lifting off of the hard surface that you had rested your eyes upon just a few minutes ago.

it had been just a few minutes, right?

coming out of your tired daze, you feel a warm hand under your chin, and your eyes are turned to meet the concerned, violet gaze of your boyfriend. he is positioned above you, one soft hand resting the club's table in front of you and the other on your face, trailing gently from the point of your chin to the roundness of your cheekbones as his thumb runs gently over the skin there.

"my love, do you know what time it is?" his voice was like butter as dips his head a little deeper, worry creasing his perfect face as he watches you lean into his touch almost automatically.

"mmph..." through his stress about your exhausted state, he giggles slightly as you sigh and shrug, your eyelids dropping more with each second. "i don't know, love."

"it's nine, (y/n)."

"what?" any haze that had chained your brain was broken as you shot out of his gentle hold.

straightening your back, you peer towards the large windows that created a barrier between the club room and the outside world, seeing an endless night erasing any of the natural light you had experienced when you walked in here after class.

"it's nine o'clock?" panicked, the chair screeches across pristine tile as you grab at the things scattered across the table. laptop, charging cords, notebooks and pencils all make their way into your grasp as you hurriedly shove them into your bag. "why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

tamaki had watched the stress bunch up in your shoulders the minute you broke away from his grasp. he watches it wind into your muscles and face as you close up your pack and swing it around one arm, hastily pushing the chair in.

"you look like you needed your rest." he says softly, taken aback by your harsh tone. "i talked to my father to let us stay here a little while longer, since i know you have been working really hard on that project you have, and i thought-"

"exactly!" without raising your voice, he feels the sharp frustration rolling off the tip of your tongue, and it pierces something tender as you whip around to face him. "i have been working so hard not to get behind on my schedule, and now that's all out window. why didn't you wake me up like I asked?"

yellow eyebrows raise as you bite back at him, and he is getting whiplash from the sudden venom in your voice. "i tried, (y/n), but you didn't wake up!" his hands move in an pleading gesture. "you shoved my hand off when i tried to shake you and faced the other way when i kissed your cheek. the end of the world couldn't wake you."

your lips purse as your eyes squint and roll, and you stomp towards the door. stuttering, your golden retriever boyfriend follows behind as you nearly rip the door off it's hinges in your haste.

his words are rushed as he rushes to follow you out of the club room as you make your way down the long, empty staircase. "truly, you're not as behind as you might think, angel, not with all the work you've been doing?"

"you would think, huh?" another frustrated sigh escapes you, but it's more tuned towards yourself than anything. you push through the grand entrance of the school.

tamaki chases you out into the moonlight. his tall form stops in the doorframe though, when he sees the way the pale light drapes over your figure.

your usual bright stance sags in the night, and the hand he loves to hold rakes harshly through your perfect locks before it disappears to run down your face.

"(y/n), mon amour, what's wrong?" you hear his dress shoes click against the pavement. long arms wrap around your waist from behind, and a soft cheek nuzzles against the side of your face. tamaki tightens his hold, encouraging you to melt into his form. "talk to me."

after nothing more than a second, you do, because how could you not?

your head falls back as your spine molds into the bends and divots of tamaki's long torso, and a deep, shuddering sigh ripples out of you.

"i'm sorry, my love." tamaki feels your apology vibrate against his chest. "i just-, i've been extra stressed lately."

"about your project?"

"yes."

"why, angel?"

your neck twists, and you meet your prince's gaze in the complexity of his embrace, and tamaki sees the deep circles under your eyes. he notes how they had darkened since the last time he noticed them.

"i just have a lot riding on my grade for this course. my mother is counting on me for the future of her company, and if this project doesn't go well, then..."

"stop it." the comforting hug he had wrapped you in briefly vanishes as his touch pulls against your uniform. his fingers travel up your waist and forearms, gently grasping your shoulders as he spins you around to face him. "stop thinking like that."

when you're looking at him, his hands run up the rest of your body to your face, holding your jawline in his touch. "you've been working and worrying for two days, mon amour. you haven't been taking care of yourself, and there is nothing more important than your wellbeing."

his tone is different from his gallivanting, and incredibly endearing, dramatics. it's gracefully intense, like when he helped a struggling doctor find his way to his estranged daughter. the way he looks at you is also fierce, love and determination swimming in his purple irises.

"tamaki..."

"why haven't you been taking care of yourself?"

"i haven't had the time!" your voice tries weakly to defend yourself, but tamaki raises another eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "there isn't enough time in the day for me to work as hard as i have been and get a full night's rest."

"then why haven't you come to me about it?"

"i...i don't know." defeated, there is a drop in your gaze as you give up trying to defend yourself. "i thought i could do it on my own."

"you don't have to do anything on your own. not when you're with me." tamaki bends slightly to get into your line of sight. "you know you can talk to me, (y/n); that i'm here to give you anything and everything you need."

your (e/c) eyes whip back up to him. "i know that, love, but i-"

"no buts. you come to me if you need me. that's how it has always been for us."

the moonlight reflects off the small amount of wetness in your eyes, and tamaki's serious expression crumples. all of your stress and exhaustion breathes out of your body at his words. he smiles softly as you bury your face in his chest, placing his hand on your hair and another at your back, kissing the side of your head.

"i need you." your voice sings through the night, into the air as it's carried into the rose garden, red petals fully in bloom.

.oOo.

kyoya has seen this look before.

the tension of your lips as they writhe over your teeth. the slam of your footsteps as you make your way over to your usual seat across from him. especially the small smile you give to whomever greets you.

the smile that doesn't reach your eyes. the smile that falls immediately after you give some random excuse to dismiss yourself from the conversation, and you let it fall because you think no one is looking.

but kyoya was watching.

"good morning, (y/n)." he greets over his laptop as you click open your own, and you meet his gaze briefly before turning your attention back to your computer, giving him the same dismissive smile.

being that he was your boyfriend, that hurt a little.

"good morning, kyo."

he lets his eyes linger on the bored, dull look that you attach to your screen, accompanied by your sluggish movements and purple smudges under your eyes. a dark eyebrow quirks from behind his glasses as your chest rises with a sigh, and your face crinkles despairingly at whatever you are working on.

"what are you doing?"

your lashes flick up to him once more before returning back to your task at hand. "i'm working on the budget."

he blinks a little at your reply. "still?"

the tension from your mouth seeps into your form at his question, and you shift in your seat. "yes, love, thank you so much for pointing that out."

lips parting slightly at the sarcasm in your voice, the club's director raises his fingers off of his keyboard, favoring to clasp them under his chin instead as a more calculating gaze sweeps the figure of his beloved.

he catches an eyebrow twitch, a flare of your nostrils, the way your head bobs slightly before you shake it, as if that could erase the pure exhaustion radiating from you.

yes, kyoya has seen this look before.

in the mirror.

"how much sleep did you get last night, my dear?"

this time, you don't even look at him when you answer. you just shrug at him, too focused on your typing to really concentrate on a reply. "i don't know. maybe an hour or so-."

a sharp flare of concern rises in his chest before you spin your computer on it's base, shoving the screen in his direction with a wary look in your eye. "does this look right to you? i feel like something's missing."

his hands are still at his mouth when he glances at the spreadsheet you two created together, the perfect, color coded numbers arranged into straight columns.

but his brow furrows even more the longer he looks at it. lowering his hands to the device, kyoya pulls it closer to him as he scrolls through, skimming the text for any sign of error or miscalculation.

he finds none.

"(y/n), this is perfect." his pupils dart across the page behind his frames. "i have no idea what you're stressing over."

the laptop is pulled away from him once more as you run a hand through your hair. "no, no." you hit the backspace button on your keyboard, tired eyes squinting over the excel sheet. "something isn't right."

your aggressive typing fills the air once more, a little more frenzied and anxious than a minute before.

kyoya leans back in his chair, still observing. "(y/n), have you been working out this budget since the time i sent it to you?"

"of course."

"that was two days ago."

"i know."

he stands, pushing out his chair, but you don't notice. "have you slept at all?"

"not really. i've been going through the math, the incoming inventory. sure, it looks perfect now, and we are within this month's spending range, but i know there's a way to save more money. if i could just-"

"that," the lid of your computer is suddenly pushed down, closing the screen in front of you. a pale hand with pianist-like fingers attached to it splays across your protective case. "is more than enough, then."

"kyoya!" you sit in front of him, shock emanating from your face as his name is gasped from your lips. "what the hell?"

kyoya leans in front of you, one hand bracing your laptop closed while the other slips into the pocket of his trousers. his raven hair falls into his eyes a little bit, but the gray color is still piercing and raw.

"my dear," he pulls away slightly, adding pressure onto your computer so that it drags to his side of the table. "you need to take a break."

"a break?" you rise as well, trying to keep a cool demeanor. but your director could tell that your patience was thinning. "i'm on the brink of figuring this out, and you want me to take a break?"

"you already have figured it out, (y/n). i looked it over. you found the solution."

"but it could be better."

quickly, kyoya rounds the table, walking into your space to grab one of your hands.

he places both of his palms around one of your own, trying to get through to you through his touch instead of his words, even if the connection was small.

"how much sleep have you had in the past forty-eight hours?"

abandoned by the distraction your work gave you, you now face your boyfriend head on as he studies your movements.

since the moment you met him, kyoya has always watched you intently. as a man who didn't involve himself with anything that he didn't care greatly for, the process of dating him has and will always include him taking the time to observe and study you; to commit your mannerisms to memory. gray irises will forever notice how you bounce your leg underneath your desk when you have something to say but won't say it out right. or how you take your (f/h/d) in the morning, and the exact brand that you use.

or how your face lights up when he comes into view from down the hallway, and you excuse yourself to meet him halfway.

or how you always seem to kiss him with soothing, deep movements, which always encourages him to respond in kind.

but, very rarely is that intent stare coupled with concern.

yet, here it was, bathing his beloved gaze as he waits for your reply, leaving you with an aching heart. you think back to they way you've been acting, cranky and stand-offish, and a pang of regret sparks in your stomach.

your hand adjusts slightly in his as you hold onto his grasp, albeit a little nervously.

"you want the truth?" your beautiful eyes break his gaze as you stubbornly shift in place.

"always."

"not very much. maybe three hours." he swallows as that sharp flare of concern burns into an engulfing flame in his torso. "in total."

A disappointed frown etches onto his handsome features, but it's not angry. it's sad.

sad that he didn't see your exhaustion before, not in it's totality. he saw your frequent yawns and the way you tended to drift off mid-conversation, but he was busy with work as well, and couldn't connect the dots until now.

"(y/n)-"

"i know, i know. it's not the best." you take a deep breath and look at him with more confidence, ready to admit to your actions. "the perfectionist in me kind of let loose. i'm sorry, i just wanted it to be the best that it could be. for the club, ya know? for you."

tugging on your clasped hands, a deep hum resonates from the ootori son as he draws you closer. soon, your hands naturally loop around his neck while he settles his hold at your waist.

his forehead rests on yours as he sighs deeply, and you close your eyes as his low voice reaches your ears. "i think the best thing for me and the club is for you to get some rest."

he smirks a little as he feels you giggle tiredly against him. "yeah, i think you're right."

kyoya chuckles softly as he raises his forehead off of yours to place a kiss in the same spot. "i'm always right, my dear."

.oOo.

"hikaru! stop it!"

arms caged yours as you writhed against his chest. your legs were wild as they kicked up into the air, barely missing your boyfriend as he picked you up from where you had sat on your desk.

"put me down right now! what are you even doing?"

he grunts a little as your swinging legs hit his calves before throwing you down on your bed. unceremoniously, the bed frame creaks with your weight as you land face first into your duvet.

a loud huff escapes you as you turn around from your position, seeing hikaru standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed, a victorious smile plastered onto his sharp mouth.

"well, i asked you to take a break from your studying. and you said 'make me.'" his fingers come to either side of his head to create quotation marks. "so i made ya."

"i didn't mean literally, jackass." you grumble as you shift. your palms push your body up off the bed and spin you so that you are seated properly on your comforter. scooting roughly to the edge of your mattress, you barely stand up before your pushed onto the bed again.

"hikaru!"

"nope. not gonna happen."

"i need to study!"

"that's what you've been saying for the past two days!" his rough voice sounds exasperated as he gestures wildly to you. "in the clubroom, in the cafeteria, on our facetime calls. shit, (y/n), i don't think there has been a single second where i haven't seen that textbook open in front of you."

he points to the hefty calculus book open on your desk, three quarters of the pages turned to one side.

"that's what studying is!" you move to get up again with another frustrated sigh. "my test is tomorrow, my love, i can't afford any breaks right now."

this time, instead of simply pushing your back onto the bed, hikaru pins you down. in a flash, golden eyes fill your vision as his fingers clamp around your wrist. when you fall back, his weight takes you down as he flops heavily on your chest.

"you're not going anywhere, baby. not until you tell me what's going on."

"nothing is going on." you huff, blowing a few of his ginger strands out of his face. "now get off me."

"i don't believe you." ever the stubborn twin, hikaru makes a point to wiggle his body on top of yours to amplify the fact that you have no hope of pushing him off. "and i'm not moving until i believe you."

"what?" you bite back.

a more serious tone laces his voice as he scans you. "today, during club hours, you looked like a zombie."

you shoot him a blank look. "thanks."

"a gorgeous zombie, but still."

"not helping."

a crease forms between his eyebrows at your usually soft, bright tone crackling into dry one. "you were dragging your feet, and talking to yourself more than usual. it was creepy."

you rolled your eyes, and hikaru watches as the bags under your eyes moved with the motion, his jaw setting into a firm line.

"so i'm not getting off of you until you tell me what's been up your ass lately."

offended, you gasp and writhe once more, trying to break free of the surprisingly strong grasp the hitachiin twin has on your wrists. "i don't have time for this!"

he chuckles a little at your flustered expression and sinks more of his weight onto your figure. "well, if you're not going to take a break, than i will. i think i'll take a little nap on this comfortable bed."

realizing he doesn't need to pin your arms down anymore with all of his weight on you, he lets go and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his arms and legs sprawling out over your uniform.

"don't you dare, hikaru!" you say as you try to bring your arms underneath him to push him off, but he's just a block of dead weight.

his breath hits your ear, and you can feel the mischievous smile on his lips. "oh, wow, this is a bumpy mattress." wriggling, he adjusts so that he locks perfectly into your body, and a deep sigh emits from his lungs. "that's better."

another weak push strains your muscles before you give up completely. flopping back onto the mattress, you let out a frustrated groan.

"hikaru, please."

"oh, the mattress speaks?"

"my love."

laughing, he presses a kiss onto the column of your throat. "what's up, baby?"

like a weighted blanket, hikaru's body flush against yours has calmed your heart rate slightly, and all the exhaustion and stress that you have been feeling suddenly comes to a head.

your arms lift from your sides to wrap around his toned back, and you turn your face into the divot connecting his shoulder and his collarbone, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne and laundry detergent.

"i've been awake for the past forty-eight hours."

his chest rumbles with a sympathetic hum. "i know."

"i'm tired."

his head pops up from the embrace, and sincerity shines in the liquid gold of his irises. "let's take a nap, and then we can figure something out afterwards, yeah?"

you can already feel your eyelids dragging over your pupils. "yeah, that sounds nice."

as you succumb to your fatigue, you barely register the way hikaru rolls off of you. his warmth returns when you feel an arm wedge itself under your waist and pull you to him so that you can lay on his chest with ease. the other wraps around your shoulders, and you feel his breath tickling the top of your head as he settles in beside you.

"thanks for telling me, baby."

.oOo.

"so, i think because i found the magnitude of this vector, than i should be able to find the acceleration, right?" kaoru asks, back hunched over his desk, spinning a pencil in his left hand as he concentrates on the paperwork in front of him.

when he doesn't get a response, he stops fidgeting and looks over to you: his incredibly intelligent, and usually helpful, partner.

you're sat next to him, slaving away at your laptop while he watches the blue light practically burn your retinas.

well, sat is a strong word.

you slouched, your neck barely able to keep your head on your shoulders as you worked at his desk, fingers robotically clicking at your mouse and dragging images to their predetermined place, your graphic design coming to fruition with each release of a button.

"(y/n)?"

at the sound of your name, your spine flinches slightly as it straightens. you whip your head towards him with such a quick motion, that he winces at the twist of the muscle, hoping you didn't get whiplash.

his hopes are dashed when you immediately face the front, bringing one of your hands up to massage the nape of your neck.

"are you okay?"

"i'm fine," you breathe, exhaustion sprinkled in your sigh. "what did you need?"

cautiously, kaoru slides his paper over to you while you shift closer to him, pulling your chair over until your legs touch underneath his desk.

"i don't know if i got this problem right."

through a yawn, your eyes scan his homework, everything coming together in a blurry font due to your lack of sleep. you can barely make out his handwriting on your best day, so the fact that you hardly think straight doesn't really help.

but you couldn't let kaoru know that.

"it looks good, babe."

he quirks a ginger eyebrow, glancing between the paper and then back up to where you sat.

"yeah?" he asks, studying you carefully.

"for sure."

"okay, well then," your boyfriend flips the paper over, where another disarray of words meet you. he scribbles something out before circling an answer choice from his options, then looks back at you. "that must be right, too, yeah?"

you nod, blinking slowly. "mhmm." you turn to look at him, a small smile on your lips. "you're so smart, love."

his lips curve up into a half-smirk as he tilts his head, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. golden irises squint as he glances over your face once more. "it's a smiley face."

your smile fades. "huh?"

the sneaky twin gestures towards the paper again, and after rubbing your palms over your eye-sockets, a happy face penciled in lead comes into accusing focus.

"i drew a smiley face, and you said i was smart." kaoru summarizes, a deadpan tone only being interrupted slightly as he laughs through his sentence. "what is going on with you?"

a frustrated whine ripples past your throat as you rest your head in your hands. your voice breaks into a quiet groan, and while your volume doesn't rise, your disappointment does. "god, this essay is making me lose my mind! i can't even think clearly, let alone write three more pages of this shit."

"hey, woah." kaoru rests his hand against your spine and rubs it, moving his hand back and forth in calming motions. "talk to me."

another deep sigh rushed out of you as you talk behind your hands, and your poor boyfriend can't hear a single thing.

the hand on your back glides to the side of your face, bringing your chin up and out of your grasp. he locks his gaze with yours as he leans back in his chair. "try again, babe."

"this essay makes me want to jump off a cliff."

"and you were gonna do that without me? i thought we had an agreement."

"shut up." despite yourself, you laugh.

the fingers on your chin shift to your scalp while he laughs with you, pushing only a few of the stray hairs away from your face. "have you slept?"

"not well."

kaoru notes a redness in your eyes he didn't see before. "not well, or not at all?"

you roll your eyes a little, but he knows it's not directed at him. you're disappointed in yourself. "a mix of both." hastily you look back at him, widening your eyelids a little at a poor attempt to look more awake.

"but it's no big deal!" your voice is a little too bright. "i can catch up on sleep once i submit this paper."

the gingered twin squints his eyes, but to your surprise, he shrugs, spinning in his office chair as he refocuses on his work. "yeah, i guess you're right. i get it."

your mouth was slightly agape at the fact that that actually worked. "you get it?"

"yeah. sometimes, people just can't sleep enough with everything going, ya know? i only got two hours of sleep last night, so i understand what you're going through."

there's a pause. kaoru fights a smirk as he scratches an equation into the top right of his paper.

"what?" a concerned voice reaches his ears, and he almost feels bad for lying. "only two hours?"

"mhmm." he hums, not even giving you a second glance.

"kaoru," the sweetest whine escapes your lips as he feels a hand on his shoulder. he steels his expression into one of confused nonchalance as he faces you again, only to be met with the spot you get between your crinkled eyebrow when you're worried. "why didn't you tell me?"

"what do you mean? it's not a big deal."

"yes it is!" your other hand reaches his opposite shoulder, and he turns to face you fully, reveling in your touch as you move to cradle his face. "sleep is important, babe, you can't just-"

his grin widens as a flash of realization flutters across your face. The worry in your features melts into a blank expression, and he laughs as you push his face away from yours, muttering a "jackass" under your breath.

the sneaky twin closes the distance though, pulling your chair ever closer to his to where nothing was standing in his way to pull you to his lap. you resist slightly, pouting as your sat into the space between his legs, but a natural, familiar gravity pulls you towards him anyway, and your face rests gently in the crook of his neck.

"rest for a couple minutes, okay? your paper will be here when you wake up."

a contended sigh seeps out of you as your exhaustion bubbles up to the surface. your eyelids begin to drop when you speak into his neck. "and what about you?"

kaoru's arms come to wrap around your folded form, burying you closer into his chest. "i'll always be here."

.oOo.

mori had gotten used to your talkative nature. being a man of little words, you complimented him well with your bright, energetic commentary about anything that excited you.

he supposed that he hadn't just gotten used to your bubbly personality shining through your lovely voice, he had come to love it; to rely on it.

so, when you entered your usual sparring session with your heels dragging on the wooden floor of the dojo, not only did the air feel off, he felt off.

your white gi hung off your rounded shoulders, the karate belt around your waist haphazardly tied in a knot at the front. and while you still looked as stunning as ever, mori could feel the confusion and worry well up in his chest.

he stood up from stretching out his hamstrings, his long body gracefully walking over to you to greet you with his usual hug. your smile was tired, and when you wrapped your arms around his thin waist, he felt you snuggle more into his hold and release a breath.

still gripping his waist, you looked up at him, your grin still exhausted but content when you propped your chin on his chest to meet his eyes.

"hey." you said, and your voice was airy and cracked.

"hi."

"how was your day?"

"good." his palms tightened on your back. "yours?"

you could barely keep your eyes open as you shrugged. "meh. it was interesting."

"yeah?"

"yeah." still, even in your tired state, you inched your face closer to his, a dazed look in your eye. "but we can talk about it later."

a disbelieving, good-natured scoff left him as a sharp exhale, your boyfriend knowing full-well that would not want to talk about it later. but he met you halfway, and your lips met in a lazy, soft kiss as he lowered his head to yours.

you had nearly put all of your weight onto him at this point, and as you sunk into his grip, he arched his back to counteract the force. his hands glided from your waist to your cheeks as he tilted his head, smirking slightly at the warm hum that left your throat.

pulling away, he kept his forehead on yours as he held you. a breathy left glazed over his face when you separated from him, and he opened his eyes to see a light curve on your plump lips.

"thanks, takashi. i needed that."

that brought all of his worries rushing back.

"(y/n)..." and you opened your eyes at the way he said your name. since mori wasn't the most vocal man you've been with, you learned to pick up on his tonal cues.

your name could be spoken in many ways. a gentle breeze as he tells you that he loves you, a deep inhale as you, yet again, prove your the clumsiest human alive, or maybe a groan in the late, late hours of the night.

this one was a mild warning, forming at the front of his mouth as he stares at you, deep brown eyes boring into yours with earnest.

"what?" you didn't want him to ask. but, he was kind and loving and really fucking stubborn. so, of course he was.

"what's wrong?"

a whine bubbled to the surface of your soft pallet as you dropped your face into the crook of his neck, even if you had to stand on your tip-toes to do so. abandoning your hold on his waist, you preferred to bring your arms up and around his shoulders, locking them around the back of his neck.

"i don't want to talk about it."

"what happened?"

"nothing, really. i promise."

"doesn't feel like nothing. here," gently, you felt a pressure on your hips as mori pushes you out of his hold, instead moving to grab your hand as he leads you to a traditionally decorated wall of the dojo.

letting go, the stoic leans his back against the wall before sliding down, tucking his lanky form into a sitting position before inviting you to do the same. "sit with me."

and he looked so sweet, his gaze hardened on the surface but filled with emotion and weight within it's depths. so how could you say no?

plus, he really wouldn't stop until you told him.

taking a spot next to him, you let your head roll onto the back of the wall before resting it on his shoulder. and the spot was so comfortable, so familiar, you wanted to fall asleep right there.

mori was stubborn, yes, but he was also patient. he waited like a boulder against the tide as you gathered your thoughts, loyal and permanent and determined to help you through whatever was plaguing you.

in your thoughtful silence, he imagined the stress you had been baring when you were assigned that presentation in class. even if you were energetic and outspoken, he knew public speaking terrified you. the pure panic that had erupted in your irises when you told him about the ten-minute powerpoint you had to put together in three days told him everything he needed to know about how your weekend was going to go.

that was two days ago, and he had suggested this impromptu sparring match to give you a little bit of a break. physical activity always cleared his head when he was stretched, and he figured if he could remind you how strong you were, then you could convince yourself that this would be a piece of cake.

but the bags under your eyes and the unanswered calls from him on your cell-phone made him think that this had been harder on you than he had originally expected.

a small snore broke him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at the source.

your eyes were peacefully closed, and your lips were parted as deep, calm breaths washed in and out of your chest. he relaxed slightly into the wall, and smiled as you cuddled closer to him in his small movement.

kissing the top of your head, he rested his cheekbone upon your hair as he rested his eyes as well.

you two would talk later. it wasn't physical activity you needed, or even a helping hand if you had let him.

all you needed, really, was a little bit of rest.

.oOo.

"(n/n)-chan! (n/n)-chan!"

honey bounced up to your desk as you typed away, usa-chan banging against the side of his calves as he stopped at the end of your chair. "wanna play with me, (n/n)-chan?"

you barely spared him a glance, but your eyes met his with a quick shake of your head as you returned your urgent glance to your laptop. "not right now, honey. sorry."

the blonde's bouncing stopped, a little to awe-struck at your rejection to feel sad about it. he was more confused than anything. you never said no to him.

a deep, apparent wrinkle appeared between his brows as the boy-lolita tugged on your sleeve, causing your fingers to slip off the keyboard slightly as you typed. "please?"

"what the-?" your hand having slipped, it gently brushes the cup of tea near your working space, and you gasp before rolling your eyes. "no, honey. i told you, i can't. go play with usa-chan, okay?" you quickly pulled your sleeve out of his grasp and got back to your work, leaving him deflated at your side.

this time he was pouting, and the wrinkle on his forehead turned from confused to determined as he walked around to the opposite side of the table to crawl into the chair across from you.

"what are you workin' on?"

this time your eyes flicked up to him for a longer moment. you wondered why he couldn't leave you alone, but you guessed it was better that he was sitting over there rather than pulling at your uniform and keeping you from your work. "the club's website."

he gasped as he swung his legs on the chair, too short to reach the ground from this height. "ooh, are you making it pretty?"

a sigh came from deep within you as your eyes squinted, zooming in on something on the other side of your screen. "you could say that."

"what are you doing to it?"

you shrugged, still focused on your work. "formatting, graphic designing, boring tech stuff."

"cool!" honey excitedly places his palms on the table, seeing if he sat up straighter, he could get a better view. "how do you know how to do all that?"

you suspiciously scanned him over as he edged closer, pulling your computer forward on the table. "lots of practice."

a high-pitched hum exudes from the third-year as he tilts his head, almost fully on the table now, but something has caught your eye, and your back to your furious typing, not noticing how close he's gotten.

his voice sounds distant in your focus. "couldn't you take a break? for cake? a cake break?" he giggles, but his smile falters when you don't hear his joke.

"haven't taken a break in two days, honey. not gonna start now." your voice is low and inattentive, trailing off as you scroll through the columns and columns of pictures and texts.

still crawling towards you, his brown eyes widen slightly. "two days?" he gasps, and begins to count on his fingers. "that's uhhh..." honey counts his fingers under his breath for a moment before he brightens with an answer. "forty eight hours worth of work! did you even sleep?"

"nope. no sleep. kyoya needs this done by tonight."

"what?!" at that, honey stands to his full height, his small but strudy weight easily supported by the desk underneath him. you jerk back as he points a finger in your face, his voice still young but firm as he speaks down to you. "you need to take a nap right now!"

"honey!" the blonde has your full attention now. "get down!"

"nope!" his pink lips pop the 'p' noise as he shakes his head defiantly. "not until you agree to sleep! kyo-chan can wait."

your hands come up in an exasperated motion and you stand up, pushing your chair out from under you. "honey, this table is not stable. you're gonna fall if you don't get down!"

"will you take a break?"

"i can't!"

"well, then i'm not coming down." folding his arms across his chest, he puffs it out, a proud look on his face.

his confident aura melts, however, when the table shifts with his dramatic movement.

you suck in a breath as honey throws his arms out to balance himself, barely keeping the table at bay as he wiggles side to side.

"okay! okay, i'll take a ten-minute nap! just, please sweetheart, get down from there."

even in the midst of chaos of his own making, honey still finds the. motivation to negotiate. "twenty minutes!"

"fine!" you round the table and extend your arms, and he leaps into them as you pick him up. your heart rate slows as you hold him while the table falls with the loss of his added weight, your tea and computer skidding to opposite sides of the tile.

blankly, you look at honey as he winces at the impact, and then at the dark aura that slowly begins to crowd around your frame.

"i can pay for that." he promises.

.oOo.

your knee bounces under your desk as you watch haruhi's eyes flick over your screen, the words you spent two days writing reflecting back in her dark brown eyes as she reads your work.

your hands are clasped in front of your lips, keeping you from saying anything like 'i changed my mind!' or 'okay, you can stop now', because you're pretty sure haruhi would ignore you anyway.

she had insisted on reading your short story. it was something you did in your free time, and it was something she knew you took pride in.

sometimes, if you felt courageous enough, you would submit them into newspapers, or maybe magazines and blogs if you were really going all out, this past weekend being one of those times. day in and day out, you sat at your writing desk, typing away for what felt like mere seconds as the story in your mind began to unfold onto the pages in front of you. barely any food and close to no sleep rendered a masterpiece of literature, or at least that was what haruhi had assured you she would call it if you let her proof-read it.

your natural host promised that it would take her only a few minutes to read the whole thing, and then you could be on your way to submit it to the magazine's editor. plus, it was the least you could do since you basically ignored her calls and used up all of your study-date time to edit and revise your concluding paragraph.

but finally, finally, after many torturous seconds, your girlfriend leans back. her hands wrap around the edge of your macbook to only shut the laptop halfway and push it aside, turning her full attention back to you.

very briefly, you pulls your hands away from your mouth to ask the question you've been dreading. "what do you think?"

the gentle look that haruhi always wears stays frozen for a moment, but slowly starts to melt into a soft smile as she meets your nervous gaze. "it's good, love. it's really good."

straightening, your eyes widen as you bite your lip. "really?"

her smile gets brighter as amazement floods your cheekbones. "really."

"oh my god." releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you throw yourself into the back of your chair. pulling your palms up and around, they rake over your face before scratching through your hair, a groan morphing into a laugh as relief sputters out of you. you feel like you need to say it again, probably louder for good measure. "oh my god! you really liked it?"

the honor student's deep laugh joins yours as watches you bask in a job well done. "why would i lie about that?"

touching down to earth, you shrug, your hands falling into your lap. "because you love me, and you would do anything to make me happy?"

she snorts, leaning forward as she is drawn into your space. "you're right. i do love you. probably just enough to never lie to you again."

a teasing smile curves your lips as you fake offended disbelief, scooting closer so that your knees slip between her own. "again?"

brunette eyebrows work upwards as haruhi mirrors your smirk, nodding as she gets even closer. "mhmm."

"and what have you lied about, haruhi dear?" her breath is mixing in with yours now, and she keeps her kiss barely out of reach, her lips grazing yours as she responds.

"about letting you leave tonight."

"wha-?" your eyebrows knit as haruhi shoots out of her chair, and before you can protest, she is straddling your hips, one of her legs on either side of you as you blush at her sudden proximity.

"haruhi!" but even if your voice sounds surprised, you hold her closer, your palms coming to rest on her thighs.

"when was the last time you slept?" she asks, suddenly serious as she cups your face in her hands.

"last night." you say, but she squints at your response.

"for how long?"

"enough." you whine, bringing your hands around her waist, encouraging her to be flush against you. "don't worry about it."

"(y/n), you look exhausted. i'm going to be worried about it."

you look at her for a moment before realizing that she isn't going to back down. shoulders slumping, you drop your head onto her shoulder, hugging her close to your body. "two hours. maybe."

a displeased noise expels from her throat, but suddenly you feel slender fingers rubbing your back, toying with the hairs on the back of your neck. "you need to sleep."

making a grunt of blind agreement, you melt into her hold, the excitement and anxiousness you felt about your story being blown away by a gust of drowsiness. the scratches on your scalp weren't helping.

"like right now." she emphasizes, and tries to wiggle out of your hold, but you were stronger. tightening your grip around her slim waist.

her shoulders shake with another endearingly low laugh as she hugs you back. "let's get to the bed, love."

you don't think you've ever slept deeper in your life.

.oOo.

starting to write again, and i used this as a little exersise to get back into it. hopefully it can tide you over! i'll see you soon :)

2K notes · View notes

moonsaver · 30 days

Note

Yan Sunday with fem reader that love praise everyone but get embarrassed when someone praise her?

Fem reader rarely get praise by everyone so it’s not common for her to being praise by people.

Imagine Yan Sunday praise reader whenever he has a chance, and smirk when see reader almost faint from embarrassing.

Hello, dear requester. Im happy you appreciate my writing and you've frequented my inbox, but id also like you to please be aware of when my inbox is open or not. Ive had to delete a few of your other requests because you'd sent them in while my requests were closed.

Yan!Sunday would be absolutely torturous with a darling like that, to be honest.

He loves control, and he plans everything in meticulous detail, so when he discovers although you may like praise, you also get embarassed by it, he'll abuse that to no end.

Of course, at first he'll use it to appeal to you. He's very kind and polite with his praise, and it's obvious he's absolutely relishing your embarrassment, knowing he's getting more and more on your good side. But also, when the time comes, he'll use it to his advantage and absolutely berate you when he sees fit.

It's a violent oscillation between praising you and then degarding you, going from one extreme to the other. He knows you rarely get praised, and he sees it as a golden opportunity to have you right under his thumb. You'll be extremely confused when the whiplash of it hits, and before you even realise what's going on, he's absolutely lovebombing you, and praising you. You'll be too embarassed to think about what happened, so.. just let it be. Don't mind what he said.

Sunday exploits it to a degree that, if you come to him seeking for approval or praise, he'll put you down vigorously, through a passive aggressive tone and an unimpressed face. But when you least expect it, he'll praise you endlessly, and coo and smother you in affection. No one praises you the way he does, and it makes you crave it so much more, until he's depriving you of it and making you eager to please him, and he keeps you under his thumb by continually holding a false hope that he'll praise you again, until he senses you're on the edge of detaching from him, when he somehow points out all the great things he's seen you done that week, day or month.

He's patting your head, kissing the side of your face so tenderly, fixing and even braiding a few strands of your hair, all while telling you how grateful he is to have you by his side. It's such a tender and loving moment when he enjoys and laughs softly at your embarrassment you might aswell forget all the harsh words he's said that border on verbal abuse. He wasn't always that bad.. just tough it out for a while, no matter how long it'll be. It's nothing compared to his recognition, right?

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sunday #hsr x you #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday x reader #honkai star rail x you #yandere hsr sunday #yandere hsr x you #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail

232 notes · View notes

romaritimeharbor · 3 days

Text

BLEED. — in which the Knave attends to her wounded little sibling.

— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injuries & blood, descriptions of violence, implied murder. 1.4k words.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. arlecchino & younger sibling!reader. reader is a member of the fatui. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). arlecchino is referred to using her real name.

— author's notes. arle <3

"Oh, you— you came."

Their surprise was evident, written all over their features as they stared up at the Harbinger. The eerie, echoing click of her heels cut through the silence that, upon her entry, had befallen the Fatui's medics. The microexpressions on her face—brows furrowed inwards, gaze focused on nothing else but them, and lips pointed vaguely downwards—promised a fate far worse than death for anyone who dared to interrupt her.

Arlecchino was a calm, even-tempered woman...

...That is, she was a calm and even-tempered woman when her beloved little sibling was both safe and well. However, the blood soaking through the bandages wrapped around the lower half of their torso made it clear that they were not well. Safe, yes, but well? That, they most certainly were not.

Her tall stance cast a shadow over their body. Perhaps if they were anyone else, they would currently be fearing for their life... but as they gazed up at her with a meek smile, it occured to them that they were definitely concerned (though undoubtedly in a far more lighthearted way than any other person would be).

"You look so scary like this," they giggled timidly, snapping their gaze away and looking anywhere but at her. Subconsciously, their fingers fidgeted with the blanket draped over their legs. "Don't be mad... I messed up a bit. You know. Things— things happen..."

Arlecchino sighed, cutting them off: "Are you wounded anywhere else, [Name]?"

"No. Just there."

"I see," she muttered thoughtfully, rolling up her sleeves. The inky darkness of her curse pulsed and spread, crawling further up her arms than it usually did—they couldn't help but frown slightly. Nonetheless, they said nothing of it. She would surely brush them off and tell them to worry more about themselves if they did.

Arlecchino turned to the nervous agents in the room; the second they did, everyone immediately tried to appear busy, whipping their bodies away from the direction of the Knave and her baby sibling with such speed that it surely gave a few of them whiplash. "You all are dismissed."

'Get out. Now.'

With polite acknowledgments to her unspoken command, heads bowing to the Fourth, the Fatui's medics were quick to leave, urgency evident in their speedy steps. Anything they had been working on was long forgotten and left behind; certainly, the soldiers were unconcerned with their work. If anything, the only thing they were concerned with was getting away from Arlecchino. It wasn't very difficult to understand why.

No agent wanted to so much as imagine what might happen if they were to somehow invoke her fury, especially now of all times.

Once the final agent had left, and the heavy double doors shut—shockingly without any echo; perhaps the medics were afraid that even closing the door forcibly enough would agitate the Harbinger—their eyes shifted upwards.

"Peruere..." they murmured softly, straightening their spine somewhat and removing the blanket from their legs so that they could gingerly swing them over the side of the bed. They wished not to agitate their wound further—it still throbbed and ached, so they knew that one incorrect move would render them doubled over in pain. Their elder sister took notice of their enhanced caution.

"Did they give you any medication yet?" Arlecchino—Peruere, rather, inquired. She turned away from them briefly, speedily shuffling through the medical supplies on a nearby table. Scissors, gauze, antibacterial ointment...

"They tried, but nothing worked... well enough, that is. My fever has gone down since I arrived and it hurts slightly less, but it just hurts far too much for any of their weaker painkillers to be effective. This base isn't well-equipped to handle wounds like this."

Even breathing was a chore, really; each time their chest rose and fell, painful sparks clawed through their skin, originating at the gash in their side.

"Hm." Her face twisted and soured somewhat. "...I suppose I have no choice but to speak to the Doctor once we return to the Motherland, then."

Peruere then began thoroughly scrubbing her hands with special attention to the underside of her nails in one of the medical sinks, as to ensure that she did not cause any kind of infection to fester in their wound.

Their breath hitched, and they immediately went on to frantically ask, "Aren't you busy? You don't have to come with me. I can return by myself, it really isn't a big deal... even if that means talking to him—"

"No." Her eyes shifted to their direction (and for a moment, she couldn't help but think that they looked a little bit like a kicked puppy—dejected and pouty, as if they had somehow upset her). The Knave's tone softened slightly. "No. I do not trust the Doctor around you, nor do I trust these agents to ensure your safety. You are injured. I am the only one who can ensure no harm will befall you."

"I can defend myself," they asserted. "I'm your sibling, you know."

"I have no doubt that you can," she softly assured, drying her hands with a clean towel. "However, at the moment, you are in no condition to fight."

With that, she collected the necessary items and walked back towards their bed. Setting all but the scissors aside, she kneeled down, and began cutting away at the gauze.

"Did they clean your wound?"

"Yes."

She hummed in ackowledgement.

Peruere's gaze softened somewhat at the sight of their wound—still wet with blood, the perimeter of the wound lined in matte crimson. She observed the way their stomach heaved with each breath.

Scorching flames burned in her veins. Had she not known any better, she would resolve to deliver a fate far worse than death to whoever did this, to personally escort them straight to the lowest circle of hell and splatter their guts across the floor.

(She awaited and anticipated the day that the Doctor somehow, in some way, brought harm to her sibling. Should that day ever arrive, she would finally have a reason, an excuse, to reunite him and the previous Knave.

Peruere was patient. She could wait.)

...She did know better, however, and her sibling was just about as much of a force as she was.

Whoever did this was certainly already well-acquainted with the devil.

After squeezing some of the antibacterial ointment onto her fingertips, she gingerly spread it across the area of their wound.

They grimaced somewhat, body instinctively snapping away from her hands. Peruere's freehand shot out to grab their hip with enough pressure to keep them in place but not enough to hurt them any further.

"Shh. Be still."

"But it stings," they whined, shooting her an accusatory glance; there was a glimmer of mischief in their glazed eyes, however, and she immediately understood that whatever they were going to accuse her of was unserious in its nature. "You're making it hurt on purpose."

At that, the Harbinger rolled her eyes. It was clear that there was no true agitation behind the gesture.

"No, it doesn't, and no, I assure you that I am not," she replied calmly, continuing to spread the ointment to ensure that every part of the injury was adequately lathered. "I put nothing on it that would make it hurt. Don't be dramatic."

"Ahh... you're so mean, Per..." they sighed dramatically. "So terribly mean to your beloved, wounded baby sibling~"

She chose not to feed into their mischief. Instead, she began winding the gauze around their body. Once she felt that it was properly wrapped—covered with enough layers to keep dirt and debris out of their flesh and blood—she pulled. "Is this too tight?"

A soft hum rose from their throat as they inhaled as to ensure that it really wasn't too tight, even when they breathed deeply. "No. The pressure helps with the pain, actually."

The Harbinger nodded, securing the end of the gauze. She then rose—though not fully, and rather bent at the waist somewhat to meet them at eye-level. The hand that was void of any residue from the cream softly carressed their face.

Her pupils bore into theirs, thumb rubbing back and forth across their cheekbone. She was mindful as to avoid scratching them with her nail. Though she often told others not to gaze into her eyes for too long—'What you see may not be very pleasant,' she would say—they seemed to be an exception.

In her eyes, as most do, they saw destruction, death, and madness. In them, it did not induce fear. It made them feel safe.

And perhaps that made them no less mad then their elder sister was.

That fate, however, was one that they were content with.

The Knave withdrew, though not before placing a tender kiss on the crown of their head.

"Rest now. We will depart for Snezhnaya when you awaken again."

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#✧— aphe's creations.#astronetwrk #divider by @/cafekitsune ♡#platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin #genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x reader #genshin x reader

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

can we have a headcannon of y/n (female) thats throwing dark humour around everytime and have 141 + Rudy, Alejandro nd konig react to her lmao 🤣

Can we have that? 💜 Thank you

Girl. Literally me. (I give my coworkers whiplash but they dish it pretty good too lmao)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Might actually get a decent laugh out of him, we’ve all heard his horrendous hilarious jokes, so we all know he can dish it, but can he take it? Depends on the type of humor

If it’s self-depreciating, probably not. Doesn’t really get it? Like he does but he sees you too positively for the humor to click.

Unalive jokes? Definitely not. Hates hearing it from you even if you’re laughing about it, so if you want to make them, you better be cheeky about it (“Head down, sergeant you’ll get spotted.” “Aw sweet, you think so?” You don’t have to be near him or even see him to feel his glare)

Jokes about your traumas? Not super keen on it but if you’re at a point in your life that you feel ok enough to laugh about it, he’s not one to take wind out of your sails (“Damn, this drink hits harder than my dad.” “Sweetheart. Please.”

But if your jokes are similar to his, then your chances of getting a laugh out of him went up exponentially (he thinks he’s so god damn funny and he’s right. king.)

“How do you turn a salad into a Cesar salad?”

“How?”

“Stab it 23 times.” Soap audibly groaned,

“That’s my girl.”

All in all, you’ll get a deep sigh with pinching the bridge of his nose for every joke you make, and maybe you’ll get a pretty laugh from him (god I bet his laugh is so nice 😭)

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

(laughs nervously) what the fuck?

He’s heard Ghost’s jokes firsthand, so the dark humor isn’t new to him. He might even laugh with you and crack a few of his own

Honestly, as long you’re having a laugh he’s not really that worried (still a little worried tho)

He trusts that if you’re feeling particularly bad about something, you’d talk to him about it and he’s here for that

He kind of enjoys the theatre of it, the dramatic reactions to something so seemingly mundane,

“So when are you gonna take me out?”

“To dinner? We just ate, bonnie.”

“… not what I meant but I love where your heads at.”

“Not in a million years.” He laughs kissing your temple and squeezing you against him

“So you’re saying there’s a chance? It’s just a matter of when, got it. Thanks babe, I owe you”

John Price:

He’s not thrilled about it but he’s worked with Ghost so he’s somewhat built a tolerance

He knows you sometimes use dark humor as a coping mechanism but he’ll tease you saying you should come with a warning label

He’s definitely choked at hearing some of the things come out of your mouth, at least the jokes relating to your own traumas, those always give him whiplash

He finds your situational dark humor much funnier than anything you might say that involves you being harmed, even if it is a joke that’s kind a nightmare scenario for him

Those will definitely get a chuckle out of him, just please stop making jokes about yourself, he loves you a little too much to stomach them

“What does my dad have in common with Nemo?” He refuses to answer, he knows, he fucking knows

“They both can’t be found.”

God damn it, sweetheart

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He’ll join you for sure lmao

He’ll see you sparring on the mats with Soap and he sees you land a particularly rough kick that he managed to block

“Damn babe, that was clean. Now do it right here.” He’s pointing at his temple, you laugh and throw your sweaty towel at him

You’re out on recon and you’re making your way towards the targeted area,

“I’d be terrible if I was discovered, sure hope there aren’t any snipers to take me out. That’d be awful.”

Price groaned even as Kyle stifled a chuckle,

“Come on, love, we’re a bit too good to let that happen to you.”

“That’s the real tragedy, honestly.”

“Enough, you two.”

König:

He thinks you’re funny but low key a little worried at how easily the jokes come to you

But if you’re laughing and having a good time, then so is he!

Sometimes you really do say some crazy things and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or to hug you

He likes the jokes that have nothing to do with you much better, you’d be sitting at a briefing in the far corner when you lean in and whisper quietly,

“Köni, what’s red and bad for your teeth?”

“Hm?”

“A brick.”

He stifles a laugh and shakes his head, you can see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he tries to hide the smile.

Alejandro Vargas:

Honestly, he kind of gives me the vibe of “telling a joke becomes receiving a lecture”

Like you’ll make a joke and look at him and he’s deadpanned,

“Mi amor, that’s no laughing matter.” And then he goes into a full lecture about why what you said was out of pocket and a little hurtful

It’s not that he doesn’t understand the humor he’s just concerned

But, he prefers the goofier jokes I feel like,

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away, or at least it does if you throw it hard enough.”

“Mensa.” He pushes your shoulder playfully with a laugh.

Dumb jokes like that get a good laugh out of him, just don’t make them about you please he loves you so much and he will lecture you

Rodolfo Parra:

Mortified in Spanish

“Mi vida, please don’t make those jokes.”

They break his poor little heart :( he loves you so much it makes him sad to hear make such harsh jokes about yourself or even see such awful things

He sighs every time he hears one of your jokes and gives this look 🥺

He doesn’t like that you joke about yourself or the things that have happened to you like that

He understands that humor is sometimes a coping mechanism, but he’d much rather talk through the things you’re joking about

He just cares about you so god damn MUCH

But if they’re nonsensical, then he’ll chuckle quietly,

“You don’t need a parachute to go skydiving.”

“What? Amor you definitely-”

“You need a parachute to go skydiving twice.”

“Dios mío, amor.” He chuckles.

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persefolli · 7 months

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐱

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @xylianasblog, @scarasbaefy, @sukunasbigtiddiewifey, @the-mourning-moon, @childofgod-05

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Tonowari listened to his wife’s breathing pattern while laying straight up in bed. He’d been listening for about an hour, waiting for Ronal to fall into a deep sleep before he could sneak off. After a few more snores, he determined it was safe to go. His arm slithered from under his wife’s head and he got up, looking down at her sleeping figure before walking out of the pod.

He made sure to take the unlit path to his destination in case any of the clam members spotted him. They would likely question and possibly even follow him. If anyone caught him, he might as well kiss the respect he has goodbye. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he had urges, and Ronal couldn’t satisfy them.

Tonowari was tired of being perfect all the time, tired of being humble, and treated as an equal. He wanted to be worshiped, he wanted the power to mold someone, to be feared, and respected all in one. That’s why he had you.

You worked as a scientist for the RDA; the department that focused on Pandora’s sea life specifically. You and your lab partners were tasked to work with the whales…well, Tulkun’s, and analyze the brain matter that had an anti-aging agent for humans.

The men you worked with fucked up. They angered the Metkayina by killing a na’vi’s spirit sister. After failing to capture the men in the first attack, the na’vi decided to infiltrate the lab and took you all hostage. Tonowari, the leader, killed off the men one by one, but left you.

He didn’t tell Ronal he didn’t kill you, which left you with questions. Especially if only him, and a select few of warriors knew he was keeping a human hostage.

"Why did you do it?"

"I didn't do anything!" You responded fearfully.

Tonowari glared down at you, shaking his head. His knuckles turned white from gripping his spear too hard.

"Then what is this for." He pulled out a small vial of the golden liquid you kept in your station.

"That's-...humans...we can use that for our aging, it slows it down."

He inspected the vial again. "You HAD to kill the tulku to get this little thing?”

"I didn't kill it! I'm against this, really, they are intelligent, beautiful creatures, I opt out of the killing part.”

Tonowari tilted his head. He believed you. Why?

When he first came for you, you bowed down,surrendering. You already knew what he was there for. You expected him to hurt you or impale you like the other mercenaries in the lab, but no, he just kidnapped you and kept you on a stray boat he’d also taken control of. Somewhere you could breathe properly, under his supervision.

He noted the way that you apologized between sentences when speaking to him, the way you looked at him with those big, doey, watery eyes. You were indebted to him, and the two of you had a mutual understanding of that.

Tonowari found himself visiting a lot, making excuses, questioning you about the RDA, until he turned to ask you about your own interests. The sudden changes in his behavior gave you whiplash. Maybe he was realizing he couldn’t get too close to you, but again, he wasn’t trying very hard to fight it. He realized he was emotionally cheating on you about a month into your incarceration, but he didn’t feel guilty about it.

The two of you got closer and closer, until he buttered you up enough to get more…intimate.

He watched in satisfaction as you gagged on his cock. "Take your time." He looked at you through lidded eyes. To be honest, he didn't want you to take your time. He wanted you to continue to struggle to take his length in your mouth.

Your tiny human mouth was no match for his length, only able to take in his tip and using both hands to make up for the rest. This wasn’t the best sexual intimacy he’s had, but it was something so stimulating seeing you go down on him. Tears streamed from your eyes and the rim of your mouth was soaked in saliva. You looked so dumb to him, and he loved it. He shut his eyes and kept a tight hold on your head as he felt himself coming. He grunted through clenched teeth and spilled into your mouth, sending you back, coughing and choking on the overload of semen.

Tonowari reached for his mask and took a breath of air that was made to keep him stable in environments like this. “On your back, bend your knees.” He commanded.

You did as told, and he shifted with you, looping his index finger around your panties and pulling them down. You let out an embarrassing moan, as he ran his large finger along your folds. It had to be the same size as any male you’d ever been with, maybe even bigger.

He pushed his finger past your folds, causing you to jolt and moan. You gripped at your breasts desperately as he worked his finger in and out of your tight hole. Tonowari had drowned out your moans and looked at your cunt intently, nearly drooling at how you sucked his finger in. If you were this tight around his single finger, how would you feel around his cock?

Tonowari instinctively curled his finger upwards which caused you to sit up on your elbows, letting out a loud moan. “Fuck! Wari-” He pulled his finger out of you with a popping sound and you whined from the sudden emptiness.

He pulled you on top of him, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. “Turn around.”

You did as told, turning around so he could have a good view of your ass. He groaned and unclipped his loincloth, springing free behind you. You looked back nervously, hands on his thighs as you waited for him to give you the next instruction.

He squeezed your ass, warmth covering your entire cheek as he gripped at the flesh. He then pulled it aside to expose both your entrances to him. He groaned at the sight and allowed his length to rest on your ass.

You wanted to tell him to be gentle, but you knew he enjoyed having his way with you. It was a power thing for Tonowari, and he wasn’t giving that up so easily.

“I'll go easy on you tonight.”

You were sidetracked by his statement, fully expecting him to fuck you.

“But-”

“I haven't trained you properly.” He sat up and placed a kiss on your spine, between your shoulder blades.

“Wouldn't be noble of me to just force myself in.”

You took a breath of relief, closing your eyes as he rubbed his finger along your folds again. You moaned softly, letting out a whimper when he prodded at your hole. You let out a yell as he pushed his finger inside, smirking as the sounds of pleasure filled his ears once again.

“I'll have to train you.” He tilted his head, working his finger in and out. “Want another?”

“Mhm. I want another!” You whimpered. Tonowari flicked at your clit before slowly worming his middle finger into your hole. Tonowari held you in place as you jerked forward, practically running away from his fingers.

He continued pumping his fingers in and out. Leaking a bit himself, seeing a ring form around his fingers. It would take at least 3 fingers for you to even think about taking his dick.

This regime would continue for a week or so, until you finally fit that third finger inside.

He was ecstatic.

Ronal didn’t know what was up with her husband's sudden glow, but he was more attentive to clan duties, that's for sure. Tonowari already had a date planned in his head for the day he would officially claim you as his.

You were already his, and he knew that by the way you looked at him with glossy eyes when he came to see you. You were wrapped around his finger, and he took pride in finally feeling like a man.

Tonowari came late one night. Later than usual, but it's not like you were keeping track.

He moved around the boat silently, taking off his armor, then untying his loincloth. You got eager and began removing your clothes but he turned and held up his hand.

“I’ll do it.”

You laid back as he crawled over you, working your underwear down and leaving your bottom half bare under him. He moved his hand down and began stroking himself between your folds. You bit your bottom lip and moaned softly, looking up at him with a pleading look.

Once he was satisfied with how wet you were, he moved to push his length inside of you.

“Oh god!” You grunted and threw your head back. Even though the past few nights you got accommodated to three of his fingers, you still felt a burning stretch as he pushed inside. He was also unbelievably long, which added on to the circuit of pain coursing through your bottom half.

“I took my time training you.” He placed a kiss to the back of your ear. “You can take it.” He encouraged. “We were patient so you can learn to take it, hm?” You looked down with tears welling in your eyes, but you nodded. You looked down to see a slight bulge in your belly, clearly from his invasion of space.

Tonowari closed his eyes, took hold of your hips, and began thrusting slowly. You were painfully tight. Not even Ronal had him straining like this. You were molded to him, fit like a glove.

“Wari- I-, Fuck!” You couldn’t even form a sentence while he was inside of you. You were addicted, to the pain, to the sweat, to the expression on his face as he fucked you slowly. It was obvious that he wanted to be rough with you, but he was a patient man, and he suppressed his own urges to please you.

“I'm gonna-” He panted.

He didn’t even finish his sentence. You knew he was coming by the way his moans got breathier and wimpy. You let out a squeal as you felt his liquid seep inside of you. You felt full, full and warm. He felt slightly embarrassed from how fast he finished, but he wouldn’t show that. This was weeks in the making.

Tonowari held himself up, panting and opening his eyes. You trembled under him, pressing at his pelvis in hopes he would pull out. He let out an exasperated sigh and pulled out of you slightly, before turning you to your side and pushing back into you, to cockwarm him.

You expected a lot when you accepted the job on another planet, but you certainly didn’t expect this.

#tonowari #tonowari x reader #tonowari x reader smut #tonowari smut #avatar2 #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #kinktober #persefolli #persefolliwrites #wattpad #atwow

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defectivehero · 1 month

Note

If you'd like, please write about an injured hero who needs to be carried around by villain! >:D

“One more complaint and I’m dropping you,” the villain announces, briefly readjusting their grip. They have one arm looped under the hero's knee and the other supporting their enemy's back.

The hero has been steadily avoiding eye contact, instead looking ahead. They look a bit flustered, for some reason. “This is humiliating,” the hero sighs, looking down at their ankle with a menacing glare.

“Yes, it is humiliating,” the villain agrees, an annoyed expression on their face as they stare ahead. They thank the stars that they're walking down a rather narrow and abandoned side street. They wouldn't be able to do this downtown, in broad daylight—both because they're too prideful, and because someone may recognize them. “Maybe if you had paid attention instead of tripping over nothing-”

“Hey, that’s not very nice bedside manner,” the hero interjects. The villain has to take a moment to process that statement.

“Bedside manner is for people who are ill or dying,” the villain sighs, “You’re just dramatic.” Gods, why do they even bother? They could be at home right now, washing the dried blood from their skin and melting under the warm water from their shower. Instead, they're carrying the hero across town as if they're some sort of delivery service. Absolutely ridiculous.

“You haven’t dropped me,” the hero points out. They look far too smug for the villain's liking. Indeed, their next remark nearly makes the villain's jaw crack from how hard they're gritting their teeth. “So I must be doing something right.”

The villain takes a deep breath, trying to maintain their composure. Leave it to their enemy to make a simple act of kindness so painful, overcomplicated, and tedious. “You’re clinging onto my neck so tightly that I’ll get whiplash if I drop you,” the villain feels the need to point out.

“Fair enough,” the hero acquiesces. After a moment’s contemplation, they loosen their grip on their neck. The villain can almost feel the weight slowly seeping from their shoulders. They had underestimated the hero's grip strength, it seems.

They expect the hero to be still once more, but their enemy doesn't relax. It only takes a few moments for them to snap. "Stop squirming," the villain demands.

"I was loosening my grip, asshole-" The hero seethes irritatedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that?" The villain asks, making a show of looking around at the empty street around them. "Was I just insulted for helping my enemy back to their agency—which, might I say, is an entirely voluntary and selfless act of heroism?"

The hero scoffs and rolls their eyes. "Oh, please," they huff. The villain gets the feeling that, if their arms were free, they'd cross them over their chest in indignation. "You wouldn't know heroism if it punched you in the face."

The villain just stares at them, waiting for them to catch on to what they just said. The hero connects the dots moments later, as they evidently realize that they themself have indeed punched the villain in the face before.

An awkward tension clings to the air. The villain continues walking down the street towards the hero's agency, internally cursing their pure heart. If this is how inconvenient it is to be a hero, then they don't plan on doing anything remotely good ever again.

Mercifully, the building begins to appear in the distance. As the villain crosses the street, the hero begins to murmur. “Let’s go in through the back,” they say, “Just turn the corner, there’s a door back there-”

“Oh, absolutely not,” the villain interjects immediately. "If we're doing this, then we're doing this." They readjust their grip once more and stroll towards the elaborate front doors of the city's top superhero agency. They can feel the hero stiffen in their arms.

“Please, no,” the hero begs them. The villain doesn’t bother listening, instead continuing to walk purposefully towards the entrance. The security is laughably lax at this hour. It's when they cross the threshold of the entrance that the hero attempts to break free from their grasp. Thankfully, the villain had been expecting them to do just that, and they manage to hold tight.

The villain pointedly clears their throat, satisfied with the way the occupants of the foyer immediately swivel around and stare with gazes of recognition. “I think I have something of yours,” they announce, looking down at the hero in their arms. At this point, the hero is positively wriggling in their arms—desperate for escape. The villain finally decides to take pity on them and they release their grip, leaving the hero to fall to the ground.

“Ouch.” The hero mutters once they hit the ground. The villain rolls their eyes, knowing that the hero managed to break their fall with a tactical roll and land without injury. They push themselves to stand on one foot and someone nearby rushes to their side, providing them adequate support to remain balanced on one side.

Everyone's eyes are on them, as if they're waiting for the villain to do something. "You may carry on," the villain orders, when a few seconds pass and the onlookers continue to stare expectantly. Their voice seems to break through the confusion and anticipation, and the people scattered around the space return to whatever they were doing. "I've done my civic duty for the year." They mutter to themself, turning on their heel and heading for the door.

"Hey." The hero's voice makes them freeze in place. The villain inhales slowly, summoning more patience. They turn around and manifest a calm expression.

"What?" They ask, struggling to keep the frustration from their voice.

"Thanks." The hero smiles.

"Just- don't let it happen again," the villain answers, looking away from the hero's far-too-bright smile. They turn on their heel and walk away, pushing away any and all feelings born from their enemy's gratitude.

endnotes below!

the villain, holding the hero by the scruff of their neck: look what i foundddd!

the villain: this heroism stuff sucks. the hero: *expresses their gratitude and smiles* the villain, visibly flustered: now hold on a second...

this dynamic really amuses me. I can't get rid of the mental image of the villain holding the hero by the scruff of the neck like a kitten, and the hero just kind of hanging there in defeat. good stuff.

the villain lies awake that night, unable to stop thinking about the hero. :3

and thanks to the anon who sent this request! I posted a cry for help yesterday very briefly and then got embarrassed and deleted it, but! the original point still stands: my ask box is open! send me stuff and i *may* write it!

if ur reading this, ily <3 hehe

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stickyspeckledlight · 6 days

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Waxing, Waning, My Unraveled Body Beheld By the Moon [Yan!Aventurine x GN!Reader]

The sun is not always shining. But the moon can only shine because of the sun. A companion piece to Sunrise, Sunset, My Destroyed Body in the Onset. This fic assumes you've read it, so I heavily recommend you read it first before reading this. It'll make more sense if you do.

Ao3

Word count: 15.4k

TW: Implied/referenced noncon, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, mild gore, violence against reader, choking/strangulation, Stockholm syndrome, Aventurine's Past shows up, EXTREME tonal whiplash due to the beginning (but frankly it's so you can brace yourselves...the calm before the storm), Reader needs a hug, Ratio where are you my man needs therapy NOW, twisted "happy endings" my beloved

Note: This got so out of hand. Aventurine is the most potent brain worm I've had in a while. Poor reader though. They used to be such a cringefail, now they're a poor little meow meow 😔

(Written before 2.2)

You stand on the top of a tower.

It’s a modest and small thing, but every second and breath you’ve taken is in its service. Time is its mortar, and actions are its bricks. It is stable, for you’ve built it straight up; a wide and strong base, with little deviation. If it had a shaky foundation, then you wouldn’t even bother.

You have no plans to construct it into something grandiose and spectacular. It’s best to keep your ambitions realistic, for it is so very easy to use and dispose of those with dreams bigger than themselves and small enough to be crushed in the palms of those atop skyscrapers. Your tower is modest, and you will keep it that way. You will have to become a cog in the machine for that to happen, but you can meagerly control the stability of your cog.

It is cruel that it has to be that way, but you aren’t capable enough to change the way things are done. You might as well make the most out of this.

You know this song and dance, by now. The park is closed at this time of night, but, and it might be your greatest achievement of them all, you found a way to sneak in undetected. Granted, there wasn’t anyone to stop you, but you were always good at being quiet, so rarely are you noticed.

You park your bike, well hidden in the bushes and trees. This is the noisiest part of your visit since the bike is heavy and you can’t suppress your soft grunts as you weasel it into its spot. But it’s worth it. After that, you walk along the trail, and when you’re far enough away, you stop trying to silence your steps and enjoy the sound of your boots falling onto dirt. It’s a soft but firm sound, and it brings you a sense of peace. You hike until you reach it. A little trail to the side; few sets of feet have paved the dirt, and even those who decide to pursue it usually turn back at the impenetrable foliage. But, you know there’s a stop. It’s tucked away, discovered by a much younger and adventurous you. You’re not sure if you found this place because you wanted to pretend to be a fairy princess or a heroic knight who saves the princess, or if you might’ve always been a little bit lonely. Whatever the case, you found this place, and it has since been your reprieve whenever things become too much.

You know the area like the back of your hand, so you turn off your phone’s flashlight as you make your way. It’s a small clearing of forest, but it’s perfect. Bushes and trees surround you in a half-circle from behind, and in front of you is the ledge of a cliff. From here, the sky has a clear view and it is always lovely whenever there’s a sunrise or sunset. Sometimes, when your mind wanders, you wonder how long you’d fall if you tripped over the ledge. But those are just musings you have no intention of acting on.

The moon does not grace you with its shine, but that’s alright. You’re here to see it shine on everything else. You’ll bask in the darkness, and admire the silver sheen on the rest of the world; the world which gets a fraction of the sun, even at night. You settle into your spot against the tree trunk, shaped so it nearly encircles you in its embrace. A silly thought crosses your mind: has this tree loved you? Of course not, but it’s just that: a silly little thought.

You’re not here for any especially soul-crushing reason or anything. It’s the usual: schoolwork ramping up and deadlines creeping up. And the accompanying existentialism of what comes after. It’s just another peaceful night during a stressful time. It will soothe your soul, the comfort within shall ebb and flow, and then it will all fade away when you’ve returned to the world blanketed in the sun’s golden sheen. When it all piles up again, you know you can always come back here: your special place, where you can curl into yourself as much as you want to. And as always, you will fight the urge—so tiny that it’s insignificant but still so omnipresent—to sink your head fully into your stomach and become a mass of unthinking flesh. Becoming smaller and smaller until you aren’t even a speck.

The wind picks up. The cold doesn’t bother you much, but your so human, and instinct propels you into nuzzling into your cotton scarf. It does mean you have to wash it often, but the inconvenience outweighs the comfort it provides. Yes, tonight will be a lovely one, spent doing nothing but staring at the moon from the shadows, alone with your thoughts and nocturnal critters that may tussle in the shrubbery. You hear a series of quick rustles—squirrels, maybe? Two of them, considering the frequency of rustling and the fact that it’s their mating season (well, you’re pretty sure spring is mating season. It could be wrong, but it’s useless trivia anyway, isn’t it? In the back of your mind, you imagine someone berating you). Another rustle plays, and you sigh wistfully. And then—

“…Hello,” A voice, shrewd and low sounds out.

Ink makes your vision go black and the only reason you don’t gasp or scream is because you’ve always froze before you ran. But even if you were a runner, where was there to go? You don’t know who this person is, where they are, why they are in your special place and why they’ve come here like a malicious boy kicking down a toddler’s sand castle or could they be here to prevent you from ever coming back to your special—

You swallow your panic and look for an exit before it forces itself back up. It’s not the first time someone’s noticed you, but you never really had to worry; you could just slip into here, and they’d give up when you couldn’t be found. But this is uncharted territory. More importantly, if anyone else were to know about this place, it would be a ranger. And you aren’t very interested in counting empty donut boxes and coffee cups during a run-of-the-mill interrogation.

Slowly, and as quietly as you can, you make your move. Your hands are clammy, and each step feels like it will cause the earth to crack and you’ll fall into its molten core. You’ll be melted down, and the idea that you may be reforged sends another surge of panic within you. You cannot let a single brick crack.

“I’m not here to hurt you if that’s what you’re thinking,” the voice says, much much much closer now. The words themselves should be of relief to you, but the fact that he’s closer means he knows where you are—in fact when you turn to look behind you, you can see a vague silhouette. Still, the few seconds you took to turn around also made it so that rather than relief and panic nulling each other, somewhat cool relief washed over you. Even if this entire situation is very, very, very weird.

Should you just leave? He could just be lying to you. You weren’t great at figuring out people’s intentions, but you’d think that the most likely one in this situation leaned toward the malicious. However, you didn’t even notice his existence until he spoke. The fact that at the very least, he could weave through mostly undetected. If he could do that, then you think it’s not very likely you can just get away.

You accept that defeat, so you decide to do something a little stupid. You talk to the stranger. In the event he’s a serial killer or something, maybe a conversation will let you get a good enough handle on him that he might just…let you go. Your heart hammers and you want to do nothing but shake, but you will yourself into a blizzard. If you are there, then you might be able to freeze and delay the ink that begins to drip.

“I’m pretty shocked,” you mutter. Your voice is still a bit disconnected, still reeling, “I’ve never met someone here. How’d you find this place? Why’d you come to this place?” You ask these questions, and you won’t mind dying as much if they’re answered.

“Work,” he cryptically says. You just barely pick up on a sardonic lilt.

“So you’re a park ranger,” you deflate, and you nuzzle into your scarf as you brace yourself. But levity is powerful, and you’ll tap into it. “Here to arrest little ol’ me, then? You could’ve waited, at least until the moon started to dip. It’s a pretty solid night, methinks.” Your heart feels a little numb from hammering into your ribs so much.

The ranger hums, “Moon’s the moon. It’s not bad, but the sun’s always pretty nice. But you’re right. It would’ve been better to wait till the sunrise. Alas, my schedule as of late has been a horribly rigid thing. I’m sure you know how it is.”

“Hmph,” you frown. It feels like he’s a cat playing with a mouse. You sigh with defeat, “Oh well. I’m not exactly known for being slippery, so I’m not even going to try and outrun a ranger of all people,” you extend your hand lazily, “Just get the cuffs already,” you decide to pout, to turn the situation around to something more comical and less soul-crushing, “Any longer, and the suspense’ll bury me six feet under. The records might call that cardiac arrest, but I call it embarrassing—the thought of dying like that is a real heartstopper.” Ha, look at you! A true punster, you little rascal. There is no reason for you to defame or attack a guy just doing his job, so if you go down, you’ll at least go down with a slow-witted joke or two. Across from you is a law-abiding Joe, and you are the evil thief mothers warn their children about. Truly, it cannot be more black and white than this, so it’s best for everyone that you don’t make too much of a fuss. See? You are capable of ethics! Or maybe that was more like philosophy? Eh, what’s the difference? You’re still fucked, and you very much want to die.

“Arrest you?” The ranger’s voice teeters toward, um…you think it’s some mix of sarcastic, mocking, and—oh wait, you’d call it ‘teasing.’ “Do you want to be arrested?” He teases, but it feels like the way an owner would talk down to a beloved puppy. You don’t appreciate it.

You frown. “No. Why would I want to be arrested?” You deadpan, “Can you please stop skirting around the issue?” More ink blots your sight, as your palms start to clam with unwanted anticipation. You think they could be gushing with your blood, if this guy keeps dragging your arrest out like this.

The ranger laughs. Laughs. You aren’t sure if you want to join him or shove him off the cliff. Whatever the case, now you know that there is a nonzero chance this ranger has a bit of a sadistic streak. Instinctively, you take a few steps back, as if that could save you from disaster, from plummeting over the edge of your tower.

“…Please tell me you aren’t planning anything…” The words you were thinking of saying suddenly elude you, but you’re already speaking. You have no choice but to see what haphazard replacements you make, “…goofy silly. Or something.”

The ranger clicks his tongue. It seems he’s fully dipped into a playful veneer; whether that’s his true self, or the mask he thinks you’ll best respond to in the way he wants, it nudges you a little further to the edge. You defensively nuzzle into your scarf, trying but failing to calm your nerves. You’ll give yourself one point, though: you thought you’d be more inclined to be screaming or crying. That’s probably because you are technically doing something illegal, so there’s really no one but yourself to blame for this predicament. Really, why do you still come here like this, when you know it’s against the rules? It’s not the first time you’ve asked yourself that question, but it’s certainly the first time it feels sort of tangible.

“‘Goofy silly?’” The words seem all at once perfect and dubious when carried in the ranger’s voice, “Hm…you know what? I do feel like I’m in a ‘goofy silly’ mood!”

Oh. Well, guess you’re double fucked. It was a good life, the clean record, you suppose. But what is life if not change? You’re entering a new era now, hardened criminal you. Crime will be your lifeblood; anything scared shall disintegrate into something depraved at your touch. You’ll do it all: tax evasion, defamation, shoplifting, parking offenses. Society will not be free of your crime sprees—all will fear the Suburban Terror. Karens will cower before you, the neighbors will hate you, the teenagers will prank you, and the children will scream with fear at you. All because the consequences of your actions caught up with you at the behest of the actions of some guy who just so happens to be able to arrest you.

“So, about that arresting,” the ranger continues, “I won’t be doing that!” he peps.

Everything stands in place. “What?”

“I’m not gonna arrest you!”

“W-well, I heard that,” you stammer, “but why? You literally said you’re here for work!”

You can practically sense the ranger’s lighthearted shrug, “I am. And I’m not arresting you. Simple as that!”

Everything feels like it's going too fast and too slowly. Whiplash isn’t good for the soul, in your opinion. “But…but the law…”

“Who said the law needs to be followed?”

“The government and state…” and then something clicks, “Hey, if you’re a park ranger, then aren’t you working for the government? Is this corruption?”

You imagine the ranger smirks. “What is corruption but a tool of the game?”

“What does that have to do with this conversation?” You find yourself deadpanning. “And why aren’t you answering?”

“Life’s a game,” he breezily purrs, “and conversation is a part of life, so really, it has everything to do with this conversation.”

“I think I’d rather go through a physics textbook than deconstruct that sentence,” but you find yourself smiling. The ranger has a good sense of humor, you find. You take a few more steps, no longer teetering on the edge. In the back of your mind, you think that he could just be lowering your guard, but honestly? Maybe you shouldn’t doubt a person’s goodwill, even if it’s technically illegal. Well, you don’t care about what’s illegal and not; if hairless monkeys with godless monkey brains are imperfect, then the things they make are imperfect too. Regardless…you don’t know his face, and he doesn’t know yours either. In other words, you’re both complete strangers. If you ever meet each other, you won’t even recognize each other, won’t ever truly register each other’s existence outside this singular shared moment.

That anonymity, the opportunity to exist without future consequence…it entices you, and you’re drawn into it. Drawn into levity and shedding your superficial guard.

“Careful, you might insult a doctor of physics or two,” the ranger says with an insinuating lilt. Perhaps he knows a physicist or a student suffering with their doctorate thesis. Information that is all at once useful and impeccably useless. “You might just get a piece of chalk lodged in your skull.”

You shrug. “I’m living my best life while they’re stressing over the mechanics of a rat yawning and how that like. Affects the physics of the air or something.”

That gets a soft huff, like he breathed out a laugh, “I say that too, but then he starts going on about quantum mechanics and wormholes…probably a lot more than that, but the stuff’s so incomprehensible I tune out.”

“Your friend sounds…well, like a scientist,” you unceremoniously blurt. “Sure, they’re called nerds, but for good reason. They can talk your ear off, all the while you nod without understanding a single thing…and then they sigh to go talk to someone who actually knows what they’re talking about.”

“‘Talk your ear off’ is a bit of an understatement,” the ranger says, “though I think it’s better to say ‘gives a tongue-lashing.’”

You wince at the image. “Oof. Sorry about that.”

“I’m used to it,” the stranger says. “Besides, I have a quip or two to throw back.”

“Oh.” You aren’t sure how to react. “That…that sucks.”

“‘That sucks?’” his tone isn’t accusatory; it’s curious, with a hint of what you believe is wariness.

It flusters you a bit, for some reason. “W-well,” you stammer, “if you’re used to it, then that means you get, uh, ‘tongue-lashings’ a ton, right? I don’t think people should be getting a ton of tongue-lashings…”

“But what if I do things that deserve a tongue-lashing?”

“Well, then you’d get a tongue-lashing. But, I dunno. I don’t think people should be mean to each other all the time, I guess,” you try, practically rambling, “Maybe it’s just cuz I know I’d just be on the floor in a sobbing heap if someone so much as raised their voice at me…but…but…w-well, you know what I mean!” You raise your hands, making desperate gestures as if you could telepathically communicate with them. Unfortunately, you do not live in a sci-fi with magical reality-bending wizard monk powers, not unless you devote yourself to a singular concept. “There’s always plenty of room for, um. Positive reinforcement, yeah! In fact, let’s practice!” Shit, your cheeks are heating and at this point you’re just incoherently blabbering but now that you’ve started you just can’t stop oh dear Aeons save you— “Uh…you…you follow your heart! By choosing not to arrest me out of…out of principle or, or, or pity…um, well, point is, you have defied the law of your own choosing, which is a pretty uh, gr~eat show of your super strong will! Your beliefs! They say within all delinquents lies a heart of gold, after all! And you know how to be sneak of super! I mean sneak super! I mean super sneak! Urgh, I mean suppppperrrrrrr sneaky. And I bet that’s really nice and I know that’s really cool! It’s a super power on par with that of uh. Uh. An Aeon? Yeah, an Aeon!”

You’ve lost your steam, and now you’re left blinking. The embarrassment flusters you, and now you’re something in between a fish being choked in the hand of a cruel fisherman and a wonderfully eloquent failing car engine. You truly are the epitome of grace and elegance. There was no way the ranger wasn’t at least cringing. Maybe he’d change his mind and just arrest you; after all, how else to fix cringe if not rehabilitate it? Well, if he did arrest you over this, you’d be back to haunt him with like, cheese, or something. You’d jump that hurdle when you got there.

Hm…but you think you kind of wanna crawl into a hole and die…but that expression is too cliche, so instead, you think you wanna crawl into a hole and start a society of mole people. It’ll be like LARPing, except you wouldn’t be role-playing! …Actually, yeah…someone should just kill you right now before you start to laugh and then cry as your embarrassment transitions into self-conscious despair……..that’s how it usually went when you got like this….

It’s a good thing you can’t be seen.

You think the ranger will laugh, stand in baffled silence, mock you, or just walk away, but he chuckles. “Hmmm…you know, I could get used to this; hearing people stumble over their words to compliment me!”

You’re a little dumbfounded, but you’re decent enough at rolling with the punches. You can come up with a headcanon or two on the spot. “Yeah! That’s the spirit! Now that’s what I call some good old-fashioned character development!”

He lets out a soft whistle, “That so? What trope would you say I embody, out of curiosity?”

“Hm…” you tap your chin in thought. You’re in a forest, and there’s a moon, and you get an award-winning idea. “Maybe…hrmmmm…a mysterious vampire, here to whisk the unassuming protagonist away to a forbidden romance, sustaining your very being on their essence…”

“Oh? Am I really that charming even without a face?” He teases.

You laugh. “Well, you are pretty charming, but I was just kidding. I couldn’t just let that opportunity slip away,” your laugh calms into a soft chuckle. “No, I’d say…a mysterious stranger, with a past unearthed and a charming veneer, but beneath it all lay an affable man…who may or may not heed the word of law.” Sure, it’s cheesy, but you don’t care about if he likes cheese or not. You like cheese, and that’s all that matters in this cruel world! If the world doesn’t like that, it can kiss your ass! (You think all of the is while very aware that the world can just as easily kick your ass)

“So…you’re just saying you don’t have a single clue about what my deal is.”

You feel a little offended. In hindsight, maybe you wouldn’t have been great at terrorizing Karens. “I mean, I’ve only known you for like, half an hour. All that I know about right now is that you’re some flavor of anarchist. Probably. Maybe.” But the same applies to him! He knows nothing about you! “But if you’re so confident, then it’s time to prove your mettle!” You point towards him challengingly, even though again, he cannot see you, “You tell me what character trope I am!” (And you briefly realize that you feel light and happy, that your smile is wide)

And at that moment, just at the cusp of truly extraordinary conversation (a claim which may or may not be exaggerated), an annoying thing happens. Your phone vibrates and your screen lights up; your alarm has gone off. Your phone always has the best timing, and you don’t want to scream at it and crush its sorry little body into itty bitty pieces.

“Oh…” you awkwardly exclaim. You’re wearing a light jacket, so the ranger can see the soft glow just as you do. “That’s…yeah, that’s sorta…alarm. Yeah. It’s my alarm. Not me alerting the IPC or the CFSS or something. I…have to go.”

“I see,” the ranger’s voice is light and airy, entirely unaffected. “A shame. I really did enjoy our conversation.” Your mind tells you it’s all empty, but your heart is aching to soar to heights unseen. Because you are only human, those with lone hearts die first.

You want to ignore it so badly, to just converse with this ranger a little bit longer but…but you really can’t. You must abide by it if you want to mitigate your suffering in the morning (re: you’ve run out of energy drinks and coffee at home and it’ll be hell to start your morning without slugging around like a zombie). And just like that, the ranger and your conversation will fizzle away into a distant memory. And you’ll still live, the same as you’ve ever been. And because you’re both strangers, there is no reason to ask each other for anything. Because if you do, then you will both have to live with the consequences of your words. And who knows? Maybe the ranger has only spared you this night because he was in a good mood. Maybe he won’t be so affable the next time you meet.

But there’s something to it. Some allure—no, the same allure of your special place. So you offer something, and you think your face might melt off, with how your cheeks fluster to the point its searing.

“...I come to this place a lot. It’s like…my special little place,” you awkwardly offer. “If…if you were curious about that, er, sorta thing. Yeah. Bye, have a good night.” You stutter awkwardly, stiffly and uncertain. And then you walk away, simultaneously desiring and afraid of hearing what his response to that would be. Of having your fear being validated with rejection.

If there was one moment you could point to that sealed your fate, it wouldn’t have been that conversation by a longshot, nor was it your second, third, tenth, or even your final conversation before he revealed himself to you; it was your offer. After all, people only think fate is immediate whenever it comes to hit them straight in the face. In truth, fate is gradual, of many bricks stacking up into a skyscraper. That offer led you to swim in ink; to traipse into fields of cotton; to weather against frozen infernos; and then finally, to dance in a flowering meadow, your feet raw and bleeding, sanded against the soft blades of poison ivy and oak.

—

He sees you’re on the balcony.

(Only right after when he woke up and felt that you weren’t in his arms and nearly tore apart everything and anything with a scream and that you were gone and had left him like everyone else—)

He’s rather taken aback by this. He was sure you wouldn’t even be able stand come the dawn. But you still unwittingly find ways to surprise him even now. You should really give yourself a pat on the back! Even if it seems like you’re leaning onto the railing for dear life.

The moon covers you in its silken silver sheen. The breeze tussles your hair and makes your robes softly billow. It’s a heart-throbbing serenity, and he finds an iota of respect within him to make his ambush on you gentle. You’ll squeak, pout, insult him, banter, and hiss before you resign and then he can hold you in peace. It’s a predictable song and dance, but he hasn’t tired of it. Seems even he can surprise himself.

(But oh, it’s because it’s something resembling something warm which has become so familiar…and a sturdy rock he can hold onto)

The smile spreads on his face easily (but whenever he’s around you, it’s a little less weighted, a little less about pitiful survival), “Sick of me already?” he adopts his signature lilt, albeit weighed by sleep, as his arms encircle your form. “We’ve only been a couple for a few of months.” You squeak, comically so, and violently flinch as he settles his head in the crook of your neck. Your reaction almost immediately invigorates him, like he’s wide awake in the sun. Your heart rate beats more rapidly, but your tensed muscles relax, just a little. You’ve been practicing, he thinks, to lessen your own burden rather than increase his pleasure. Maybe there’ll come a time when you can mold yourself however you please, and he’ll be none the wiser in your embrace when your hand snakes into his back.

(Don’t do that. Please, he just asks that you melt in his touch, melt right into him and stay—)

He inhales—his chest expanding into your back, and he feels your own breath hitch as if it slices into you—taking in your scent, all at once overwhelming and (newly) customary. A pungent ink comes to burn his nose at first, but underneath it comes moonlit snow, fresh and cool; dancing within a floral and earthy aroma, a dusty cedar scent with wilting flowers; and the afternotes of a decaying musk, passionate and vying for an end. He hums in appreciation, exhaling with contentment. You shudder in disgust because it’s him and you still aren’t used to the way his breath feathers and scratches your skin, over the bits of dried blood speckled over your neck.

“Aw, nuts…” you softly curse, but there’s no surprise to be found. Your words are laced with sleep, but there’s something else to them, he’s noticed. Your words still drip with vitriol (though it’s always been measured with ink, and it makes him purr in delight and it makes him feel even more empty—), but they’ve gotten softer, for lack of a better word. Exhausted, the same way one is when they’ve walked through a blizzard or sandstorm for long enough. How one gets frozen in the bowels of hell’s fires, or how one burns in solitary inferno in the frigid arctic.

And still, you haven’t reached your limit and killed him.

Surprisingly, you turn to face him, and he turns down the urge to lean in and kiss you. For now, at least. He’ll take it when you’ve said your piece.

You probably think yourself expressionless, but there’s a certain way your mouth subconsciously curls in displeasure like you want to scream or vomit your organs. Your eyes can host anything from enraged clarity to dull acceptance. The latter has only appeared a few times, but he anticipates that it will be a common sight as the months pass by. He wipes that look from his mind, and smiles wide as he looks intently into your eyes. The scent of ink burns his sinuses. Right now, your eyes are exhausted, disgusted, and a touch confused; nothing he isn’t used to. His smile goes soft, for he is more than willing to swallow poison you gift him. And as lovers, you’ll have to reciprocate, won’t you?

(Stop. Let him apply thinner to that ink, let him wash it all away and please please stop drowning in it)

“I was sick of you the moment you revealed yourself as the orchestrator.” you bluntly say, as if it’s an obvious fact—and it is—and for a moment he feels like he’s touching ice. You shake your head and sigh, looking back to the moon. You don’t want to discuss the matter, so you move on to another. “I just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. It’s nothing personal. Happens all the time.”

“‘All the time?’” He echoes and slides his hand into one of yours, where you lean on your arms against the railing. Your hands have been clamming; gosh, he really was something, to get you so worked up in a matter of minutes! His self-restraint is already on a thread when it comes to you. He gives in and gives you a chaste peck. Your lips slightly pucker with disgust, like you’ve sucked on a rancid lemon. But the kiss was meant to be brief, so that’s not an issue he’s too hung up on in the moment. He’ll just work on it with you, later. He trusts that you’ll cooperate, anyway.

(That you do not immediately hurl in his mere presence is miracle enough. He’ll take what he can get, and work from there. That’s how he got here)

He tilts his head boyishly and gives your cheek a playful pinch, “I mean…lately, you’ve been able to fall asleep without medicine—” your eyes widen and your cheeks flush as you’re caught off guard—but he doesn’t cut open your stomach or slice at your ribs to let your own body be the weapon which kills you—and he’s, his goal is always to win, but that doesn’t mean you have to fight. Right now, he’s merely having a heart-to-heart with you, sweetheart. So he doesn’t bother to point out the red on your cheeks, because he knows you hate it. Knows you understand it on a logical basis but still hate it so, so, so deeply and intricately. He doesn’t mind pushing you, but he would rather not see you bashing your head on the wall, crushing your skull and mind into lumps of grounded flesh, to try and ‘fix’ it. He sees that you’re mentally dismembering yourself when you locate the opening you gave him anyway. He doesn’t really need to try with you sometimes; it’s not an insult, it’s the truth, and he still loves you so very much. “These nighttime stirrings of yours aren’t going to be the norm, you know. If you’re able to fall asleep in my arms once, you can do so twice.”

Your eyes flit through a captivating kaleidoscope of disgust, intrigue, disgust again, pungent ink, and then victorious confusion. You scoff, but you don’t entirely deny what he said. “Waking up in he middle of the night and not falling asleep is a common thing. You shouldn’t misconstrue these sorta things y’know. Makes you seem desperate.”

“‘Desperate?’ Coming from you, should I consider that bonafide or just another desperate act?”

You frown. “I was only desperate because of you. The shit you pulled gave me no other choice.”

“Really?” He smirks, letting out a mocking huff, “You weren’t desperate before that?”

You scoff. “If you’re talking about school, then fine, I guess I was desperate to graduate as soon as possible.”

“Errr,” he mimics a buzzer, “two strikes.”

“Are you just projecting?”

“Make that three.”

“Bruh.” You deadpan. You’re quite amazing to be able to momentarily take yourself out of reality, he muses. “I’m not desperate,” you insist, practically hissing the words.

(He’s a bit jealous)

“If you weren’t desperate, then why’d you blindly befriend someone whose face you didn’t even know?”

“…I don’t know my online friends’ faces,” you weakly respond. You’ve conceded, and all you did was for show. For him or for you or for you both. He’s not sure either.

“Alright,” he pretends to concede, “Putting aside that they could just trace your information and learn everything about you…” his hand strokes your neck, goosebumps blazing in its wake, “They wouldn’t have been able to just…snap your neck, with you none the wiser,” He presses a kiss to your uneven pulse with a soft huff of laughter.

“It’s not like I didn’t think that,” you shoot back, “I figured at the time that if you could sneak up on me like that, then I’d be helpless to your whims.”

“Ah, but then…you offered me something: another night, in your special place, underneath the moon…who’s to say that I wouldn’t have been able to carry out any malicious actions? To continue to gain your trust and then stab you in the back?”

You frown. “Well…I…”

“Cat caught your tongue? Well, as I’ve said, the word you’re looking for is ‘desperate.’”

You swallow, and then you say, meekly, softly, like your voice is about to crack, “…I guess. And in the end, you did stab me in the back.”

He did, it’s true. That same iota of respect emerges, which makes him gently kiss you instead of speaking. Anything he’d say would only dampen your mood. You both may know about how disposable—

(Yet when it comes to you, something unpleasant twists his tongue, whenever he calls you disposable and he can’t truly come to vocalize such a statement)

—the two of you are. Nothing more than dots in the universe, nothing more than pawns in another’s game. The hand that moves him is the IPC, and it’s only natural he’s found a pawn of his own: you. Even if you’re not particularly valuable on the grand chessboard.

[Do you even want them on the chessboard in the first place?]

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises. But you don’t believe him.

“You can make it up to me by never showing your face to me.” Ice encases his hands, stabbing into him; but it also roots him right at his spot. He is unused to the ice’s painful cold, but for as much as it is a deterrent, ice has a tendency to trap.

“Hmmm…how about no?”

“You half-ass…” You groan, tired and defeated. He feels a thread fall. “Seriously, people like you who use others to make promises you can’t and don’t keep are just…well, you know just how much you disgust me.”

(But he admits. He admits that your vitriol is tiring. He admits that he wants to hear you whisper in his ear, the same way he does to you, that he wants you to harbor the same carnal adoration he has for you—that he wants you to tear into him and expose him and then kiss and embrace him and that he wants to feast on you devour you consume you infuse you with his heart and soul so that he knows you’re here and will always be h—)

His jaw expands and closes down. Blood spreads along his tongue like wine, bitter, salty, metallic, and well-aged. You let out a scream of pain, and he only bites harder so that he burns himself into your skin to prove that he has you and that he is hu—

“Ah—ow…ow ow ow owwww—” you hiss, muddied by a sob, “W-why…?” You whimper, “When you already—AH!” His mind is blank, excited by the sweet flesh, only focused on devo—

“S-s-stop! Please!” You beg, and he feels you struggle uselessly, “H-hurts! I-I, what d-did I do to—?! Gh!”

Satisfaction and triumph weave into him. Your screams mean you’re here, means he’s carved himself into you, means he’s indulging in wine.

(But that’s a bit of a leap. He wishes he was as calculated as he makes himself out in front of you when it comes to you)

He pulls away. You breathe laboriously, looking at him with hate and terror, cradling your weeping neck with your hand. You aren’t completely exhausted, but he has made you even wearier if such a thing was possible. “Sorry,” he emptily apologizes, and presses a soft kiss to irritated skin, before moving on to your tears. Blood quickly smears your skin.

You growl, the pain making way for your unfiltered words. “You keep doing it, and it’s always so fucking painful.”

“It doesn’t help with how irresistible you are, sweetheart,” he smiles, and you bristle. “You know it’s because I love you,” he says, to rile you up a little. It helps that he means it.

(So you don’t notice the fact that he was in a hypnotic daze)

“‘Love.’” Your voice shakes. Your eyes are wide, angry, disbelieving, and blank.

“Yep.”

You shake slightly with anger. “Eat shit.” You spit. “Whatever the fuck this is, don’t call it that. Don’t you dare twist that word like that.”

He blinks. It’s not the first time you’ve lashed out over the word or the admission, but he still doesn’t quite know how to answer you. He settles, then, for what he’s always said. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know. Obsession. Hate. Sadism. Loneliness. Whatever it’s called, it’s one hell of an insatiable beast. All that matters is that it’s hurting me.” You grunt, and bury your face into your hand, sighing blearily. “It’s late. Let’s…let’s not,” you exhale, tired, “Let’s not,” you repeat as if it were all a hopeless prayer. It might be more fitting to see you as a beggar, however. Leave me alone, you beg. Get buried beneath the sands already you Sigo—

“Why don’t you come back to bed?” he softly mutters, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and presses a kiss to your cheek. The lingering blood on his lips blossoms into a weeping flower, a venomous and invasive species. They can be found throughout your skin, dried and wilting, but they’ll always blossom back. “You can sleep in.” Translation: he’ll still wake you up, but only for a kiss before heading to work. Though you’re still hesitant to exercise any bit of freedom he offers you. To be fair to you, you’re so very well aware of where your freedom and “freedom” lie. One has been crucified, and the other is merely its poorly preserved remains.

His mercy isn’t lost on you, but the hope in your eyes is quickly simmered by your hesitation and dread. You look away and grunt, likely hoping he’ll just shrug and walk away. Or at least delay the inevitable. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, you know. So painfully aware of your complete lack of power, so painfully aware that any outright resistance just isn’t worth it; isn’t worth risking the pain you fear so, so, so much. But that doesn’t mean that a reminder is remiss. Hesitation is fatal for the gambler, after all.

He hums and grins. He pulls you back and flips you around so that you lean against the railing, slightly hiked up so the tips of your toes just barely press against the ground. It grants him an unfettered view of your expression, almost comical shock morphing into fear as you register your newfound positions. You may not be entirely dangling over the railings…but you’re still at his mercy. You don’t hold onto his hand for dear life because that’s just what he’s decided. And you don’t want him to pursue that option or even fancy it.

[You mean…you want to point a gun into their heart, again?]

Fortunately, he has other plans. As much as he loves staring into your eyes, it’s the only thing he likes about you. He moves his head against your chest, right against that sweet heart of yours. It misses a beat before it resumes its cacophonous rhythm. “Wha…what?” your mortified tongue manages to get out. “Put…put me down!” He gives a content hum in response, nuzzling further into your heartbeat, tracing patterns into your back with one hand and securing you by the waist with the other. His silence only intensifies the cacophony, but he could never bear to shut down any sound of yours. He chuckles. You shiver. He can see you fight not to struggle, fearing that it would send you plummeting.

“It could be so much worse. You know that, don’t you? You live without chains and in a land where dawn shines, but that’s all my choice.” He finally speaks, when he’s decided you’ve had enough. Sure enough, the sound of screams and crumbling cities joins the cacophony. He pushes so he may discover all of the cacophonies your heart plays. He giggles, to twist the point further, “Relax! You haven’t done anything to warrant that! Yet.” You take a sharp breath. “But you still do things. Small things, but still bad things,” you quiver. “I’ve had a few thoughts. A tattoo,” your heart skips a beat, “of a peacock’s feather, maybe, tickling your thigh, or an ace of spades. Nothing too extravagant. Hm, although,” you’re frozen in place, so he moves his hand up to drift around your chest, clutching your waist tighter, “maybe we can just have my name, somewhere here…or…” he hums, for any and all matters pertaining to you need great care and thought, “....maybe we can just go with them all!” He exclaims.

(What is he doing what is he doing no he knows what he’s doing yes he needs to see and feel and taste your ink he’ll take what he can get but what is he doing why is he doing why why why is he doing but why’s he asking it feels so so so good to be the one towering above)

He resists the urge to look up at your expression. Not yet, he’ll save it for when it’s truly exquisite, for when ink burns up into his skull. “Oh, and now that I think about it, maybe something fancy on your back? Ah, haha, but it can’t be super big. It has to complement you, not overtake you! On that note, a piercing or two. Your ears are a no-brainer, but…” he takes on a teasing lilt, like he’s a boy unsure how to act around his crush, “...where~ else~ do we go? The belly button? That’d be pretty cute! Or…” his hand drifts further along your chest, “here…” he giggles, “that’d be so awfully adorable, wouldn’t it?” Your unease rolls out in waves. His grin widens further, foxlike, silently thanking you for giving him so many openings. “Ah, but doing all of that’s like saying you aren’t enough, isn’t it? I’m sorry for implying that,” he purrs the faux apology, “and maybe those kinds of accessories would get in the way of your full resplendence.” He sighs, similar to the way he does whenever he’s done talking. After a few moments, the cacophony quiets down, the ink merely stings, and you breathe close to steadily. Poor thing. You think he was done? “Clothes, too.” Your heart plunges into the depths. His hand teases dipping into your robes, “Why have a wardrobe when it can’t possibly do you justice?” He clicks his tongue. “That just~ won’t~ do~,” he singsongs, and then transitions into a friendly tone, “and hey! You can just think of it likeeee…going full-on commando!” He feels you seize up with disgust drawn out from the very depths of your soul. “That’d be pretty fun, wouldn’t it?” He laughs, “And comfy. A self-proclaimed couch potato’s dream is to endlessly lounge away the days, right? So, then,” he slightly dips his fingers, featherlight against shadowed skin and bitten gifts, “you really should just spend all day in bed. It’s not like you could go outside anyway. And just think about it—” An image pops into his mind, widening his smile, “Wrapped in my blankets, tangled in silk, entrapped into a web of it…” he slides a hand around your trembling wrist, his thumb rubbing over your thundering pulse, “this would look so beautiful, in red ribbon,” he presses a chaste kiss to your thundering pulse, “your ankles, waist…a mess of them over your chest…” he sighs, but he isn’t a negligible man, drifting his touch to lovingly wrap his hand around your neck, “and that pretty little neck goes without saying. You’ll be just like a little gift and I’d really . And,” he chuckles, “I don’t imagine you’d want to leave, either.” You shudder, tremble, make a sound a cross between disgust and a gasp choking on ink. “Hm, actually, that’s a good question,” And then he finally looks up. He is not disappointed in the slightest. You are choking, and completely pale and the only signs of life on your frozen face are your infrequent blinks and quiet breathing. “Do you want to leave me?” He wonders: what will you do? Say? You both know the answer, but for him to ask it would have you second-guessing yourself on what to say. Should you be honest? Should you give him the answer he wants to be true? Should you merely say that the two of you know that already? Or do you just say nothing, as ink clogs your throat?

[Do you really think you’re playing a game? With them of all people? How do you think they even ended up here in the first place?]

The cacophony of your heart cracks and twists the earth into pieces. You shake like a leaf, slowly but surely devoured by a caterpillar. Soft and innocent at first glance, but it only knows how to feast and gorge itself. Your breath comes out in short gasps, as burning ink drips through them and into your stomach. It forces itself out violently, as your sensitive skin clams up, as it painfully inches out of your skull, to thrust itself out through your eyes.

You’re beautiful.

It’s an honor, he thinks.

(And stand so highly elevated)

Although your terrified silence was anticipated, he doesn’t quite appreciate having a one-sided conversation, sweetheart. It seems you need a bit of encouragement, but he’s more than happy to provide. Regrettably, that means fully raising his head, but at least he won’t have to strain his neck to get a look at your face. He hikes you up, and you shriek in with fear, vaulting to wrap your arms around his shoulders as you struggle in vain to give yourself any semblance of contact with the ground. But the tips of your toes just barely graze the smooth concrete. “Dar~ling~,” he sing songs, “don’t keep me waiting, now.”

He smiles kindly. He takes your left hand into his own, gently rubbing in soothing circles. Your heart beats louder, as you’re forced to rely on him even more. You take in a sharp breath, stifled by a flood of ink. He leans his head down, over that nigh-on unbearably beautiful mark on your neck, placing his lips on it like a fleeting feather brushing past. He looks up into your eyes, blackened and blurred, while his own are rounded and soft. He coos and kisses the few that fall, a delightful flavor of vulnerability flowering on his tongue that he can’t get enough of. He tilts his head when he’s done, his expression lovesick and deviously innocent, and goes caress your cheek, to chain you to place. You stay still so that it doesn’t go from choking to cutting. He gives your hand a maliciously reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve got you,” he reassures, “you’re safe, with me.” The words are heavy and loaded yet he says it like he’s holding you close in the afterglow, whispering sweet nothings that mean everything into your ear. Impressively, a scoff is drawn out of you, yanked out through a sea.

(It reassures him, in some strange way)

You clutch at him harder, almost pulling him flush against you in an effort not to fall. Adorable. You’re still enveloped in ink, so looking up at him, you seem little more than a trembling newborn fawn.

Something dark flickers in your eye; the same dark thing he saw on the luckiest day of his life, as the sun shined so brilliantly on the gun held against your forehead. That dark thing which he didn’t foresee, and hadn’t seen since that day, until now.

You tremble, but you purse your lips, and, as resolutely as you can, give your answer.

“Yes.” And then you lean back. Your feet do not touch the ground.

His instincts are far more trained than yours. Pulling you away and into the room is a simple affair. You whimper in pain, struggling against his hold, but it only takes a slight twist to your wrist, an effortless suggestion, for it to cease.

(It’s his whole body that trembles, but you never seem to notice, when you tremble so much yourself and are so often a prisoner in your own mind)

“My friend,” he says, dropping any semblance of emotion in his voice. You nearly shriek as you’re engulfed in an inferno, hyperventilating in vain as smoke from your own burning body clogs your lungs. You’ve brought this upon yourself, though. Trapped in the fox’s jaw, you have nowhere else to go but right here. He smiles emptily, knowing that it makes you want to die. “Why don’t you come back to bed with me? And we can have a chat.”

(He hides his arm behind his back)

Just before he opens the balcony door, a drop of rain hits his cheek. The clouds obscure the moon, sealing its light shut. The sun will not shine on you two.

—

You aren’t shoved onto the bed, to skid across it like a sea of sharp rocks, or anything like that. That makes it worse, you think. Though, with how heavy your mind is, with how much ink fills it, you could see a blossoming flower and think that doomsday was nigh.

Trapped in his hold, out of endless possibilities, Aventurine elects to merely guide your forms to sit on the edge of the bed. He releases you, but whatever relief you felt was burned away when he slots your hand with his own, the other held behind his back. Like this, you two must look like a normal couple. One that had a fight, but then cooled down enough for them to sit and have a serious conversation; to communicate their feelings to one another, leading to a gentle reconciliation and promises to do better. But Aventurine…you’re sure that he holds a butcher knife, hidden behind his back, in moments like these.

You almost don’t hear him over the pounding in your ears eyes heart and lungs and everything. “Just what were you thinking, acting like that?”

Thinking? Thinking? Why would you tell him that? Actually, thinking? Did you even think? You feel your hand get squeezed like a lion clamping its jaw into a gazelle. “I—I, I…I,” you stammer.

“‘I don’t know?’” and you almost demand for how he was able to guess your answer. He hums and leans in further and further, boring those terrifying eyes right into you; you fear that he’ll bore a hole right through your eyes and fill it with himself. So that even in death, a part of him would always infect you.

Your mind, badly addled, nods.

He hums again, betraying no emotion, “I know what you were thinking. And you will, too. I’m sure the two of us are eager to get back to sleep, so it’s best to cut to the chase.”

“Cut…to the chase?”

“To the takeaway.”

It happens slowly, or quickly, or something, you don’t know you don’t really know at all everything drowns in ink—

He leans toward you, and gently pushes you on your back. You reactively scramble, but it doesn’t take much for him to make your struggle useless—and he wraps his hands around your neck and squeezes. Softly, then firmly, then roughly, then chokingly. He doesn’t butcher you, doesn’t spill your blood, doesn’t dismember you and put you back together, doesn’t meticulously carve himself into your skin, he just simply squeezes. That might’ve been the truly shocking thing about this. But you can’t think about that when you breathe and nothing comes in. You gasp, but it comes out as a silent, dying wheeze. You kick, but it’s useless. You try and pull his hands away. Useless. Useless useless useless everything is useless your future and very being are an endless abyss devoid of hope and life and everything you do have done will do is useless meaningless meaningless meaningless you’re dying you’re going to die you are dead you are hopeless and miserable and scared and dying dying dying dying dying he’s bored of you sick of you hates you he hates you hates you hates you hates you hates you stabbed you in the back choking you choking you you cry cry cry cry cry but your tears are searing ink that burns your flesh you’re burning burning burning burning there is no sunlight or moonlight—

You think and think about everything and nothing. You think about your cotton scarf. You think about your parents. You think about your degree and how useless it’s been. You think about the tiramisu you made earlier, and how it needed to set in the fridge overnight.

But no matter what you think about, or what you stop thinking about, you cannot stop thinking about Aventurine.

It hurts, but you can’t say that. It hurts so much, and you feel that your neck will be sliced off your head. You must look so ugly. You feel your eyes bulge, expand from out of your sockets, just a few seconds away from popping out and hanging by a nerve that could so easily be cut and gushing blood that Aventurine will lap up before throwing your corpse out of the window, to throw the trash out of the house. Your nose uselessly tries to inhale, but all it does is marginally slow the hideous mucus that leaks. Your mouth is equally useless, and it isn’t long until you give up and your tongue ungracefully lolls from your mouth. You feel all at once overwhelmed—the tears from your eyes burn your flesh, your eyes will become weights that shake with every movement, the snot will leave behind anguishing trails of acid, your tongue feels like a dumbbell crushing your face—and floating. You decide to float. You think about your cotton scarf, nuzzling—

You dimly realize you’re nuzzling into the grip that’s killing you.

Your body becomes lead.

Aventurine’s expression betrays nothing. But you feel something shake—your body? It’s surprising because you can hardly even blink, let alone move. It’s mostly around your neck. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen. Your hands have gone limp, uselessly falling to the side, but you haven’t died yet. Aventurine is still busy killing you, and looking at you like you’re nothing and that he couldn’t care less about your reaction. You don’t want to look at him anymore. You don’t want to die with his face as the last thing you see. You’d rather die looking at the moon. But against his ironclad grip, your head doesn’t move. You struggle, but Aventurine’s face remains. Your mind begins to fill with cotton, and your eyes start to glaze, but it's burned away by a particularly forceful squeeze, which quickly lightens, but the damage has been done.

Your tongue is drying. Your vision spots. Not with black, not with the shade of ink you’ve grown used to, but it spots with light. Sunlight. You’re being cradled in the sunlight. Warm and soft, but you’re wretched out of that false sense of security when your body begins to blaze.

And then he lets you go after what feels like years. Something burning and cold and wonderful enters your nostrils and mouth—air, air, air air air air you need air air air air air—

The air doesn’t come rushing in like you’ve seen described in books. It painfully pumps into you, but it’s vastly preferable to the pain you were experiencing just a few moments ago. Your head slumps, turning to the moon's salvation—but you see only the clouds.

When your lungs stop burning, and your breathing returns to normal, Aventurine gently pulls you up into his lap, where he leans against the headboard. A single arm draped over your waist confines you to his chest. His other hand is out of sight. When he’s sure you aren’t getting away, he takes a breath, and his hidden hand comes to tip your head up.

His eyes all at once resemble an aphotic ocean and a flooding dam. You aren’t sure where it comes from, but you realize that, for this brief moment, he has dropped his facade.

“If you want to die,” he says, quietly, softly, almost vulnerably. You must have brain damage, if this is how he sounds. “this is how it’ll happen. By my hand. By my choice. And trust me when I say it’s infinitely better than anything you could do with your own hands,” he removes his hand from your chin to intertwine it with your own, all at once invasive and sweet, “I promise, (Name).”

Your chest begins to flood with a sob. It comes out wrangled and inhuman, but he only clutches you closer. Strangely, he doesn’t lap up your tears. Like many nights before and to come, you pass out, weighed by the agony of living with a man so obvious and indecipherable.

Your last thought before finally shutting your eyes is that Aventurine won’t be throwing you out anytime soon. You do not celebrate the thought, not entirely, anymore. It’s only much later that you realize why: he finally succeeded in forcing a small part of him into you.

—

When you pass out from complete exhaustion, Aventurine quietly tucks your head deeper into his chest. He thinks about yanking apart his ribcage, forcing you into it, and then pinning you there as he forces it to close. It’s begun to rain outside. It pitter-patters, booming in his ears, and nearly shreds his ears apart.

[But a part of you likes it when you drag them down to your level, right, Kakavasha?]

—

His master swirls a glass of red wine. It may as well have been blood; bought by blood, drank in the wake of blood, and spilled into blood. Kakavasha pursues his lips, to not scream in agony as the wine sears his wound; but it will be okay. He is used to weathering the sun, trudging through heavy sand, with his mouth drier than the environment. He can withstand this searing heat. He’s already withstood iron-hot metal pressed into his skin for minute after agonizing minute, no matter his involuntary cries and tears and pleas to stop.

But that was an exception. The desert has long dried his tears.

Besides, this is a ‘reward.’ For triumphing yet again. For surviving yet again. So the master sees it fit to briefly lavish him in luxury. At least it’s fitting for the occasion, Kakvasha thinks, the wine puddling out like blood. He waits for it to end. He’s already battered and bloody, beaten down, and he doesn’t need his neck chaffed and bleeding. Every yank of his chain evaporates energy he cannot afford to lose, cannot sacrifice or else there won’t be a bet he can emerge lucky from.

And, he admits. He’s a little (no, very) afraid of being brought to the edge between life and death again. He doesn’t want to be chained to the wall again, and have the chain around his neck pulled further and further away—

A sneer that would get him tortured spreads across his face. His face is already forced to the ground, so he’s not too worried.

“My lucky hound,” his master drawls, “stay with me. You did pretty well; it’d be a shame if I had to reevaluate you if you pass out just from this. C’mon, gimme a lil’ bark.”

He wipes his sneer and looks up with a practiced expression: defiant, but sanded down with fear; feisty, but compliant. Just enough fight to entertain, but not enough to be a nuisance. “Alive and kicking,” he grunts. It’s a strange mix of genuine and manufactured, biting back his cries of pain. It took him a bit to figure out what his master liked, but all that matters is that he got there. It’s fine, he tells himself. He doesn’t need to know how much he’s using him, too. “And savoring your gift.” He’s sure it’s the right answer, but the slight tremor indicates the awful anticipation he has for the results. If it isn’t, then everything he’s done to get here would all have been for nothing. He cannot afford to fumble his gamble now.

Luckily (ha!), it was the right answer. He’s given something his master can poke and prod at, and he’s gladly taken it. “I thought I asked you to bark,” he snarls, and the flaming wine ceases. But it’s for a reason, as he soon gets a kick to the stomach. It knocks the air out of him, but if his master were truly offended, he would’ve done much, much worse. Kakavasha coughs, just enough to suggest that he’s sorry and begging for forgiveness, but not enough to seem desperate and begging for a release and to stop stop stop— “Speaking is for humans. Honestly, I don’t even know why you Sigonian hounds were born with mouths. Universe’d be a better place if slaves like you were born with their mouths sewn shut—by the Aeons, do you disgust me!” he scratches before a smirk twists his face, “Though, ‘suppose that would mean I wouldn’t be able to hear the dogs whimper.” A shoe grinds into his stomach. He wants to see Kakavasha’s face then. “So, you gonna bark, or what?”

Kakavasha doesn’t need to act much, this time. His face falls into grim acceptance; the face he made when heat emanated from his neck; the face he made when the doors to his cell closed; the face he made when he saw the sand bury his sister’s body. Although the expression this time isn’t genuine, it’s not quite fabricated, either.

It’s fine. It’s fine. This is but one gamble. Acquiesce to his whims just enough, and then strike.

Soon, wine pools at his feet. But the wine in his master’s hand hasn’t all spilled, yet. Memories flit by in his mind: his master, flaunting his wealth in front of him.

“Humans wear clothes, accessories, and jewelry…dream all you want, but an animal can never become what it’s fated not to be.” His master’s voice echoes.

His limp and cold hand is adorned in rings. His still wrist holsters a beautiful watch and tasteful bangle. Kakvasha takes a sip of the wine. It burns, dripping down his throat. It leaves his tongue rancid and as dry as the desert.

He supposes that’s what it means to be human, then.

—

When you wake up, pain radiates throughout your neck and legs. Absently, your hand goes to your neck to relieve it but meets soft cotton. Gauze. Did he disinfect your wound (brand, that bastard branded me get him out of me I’ll—) when you passed out?

You close your eyes and try to fall back asleep but to no avail. With a moan, and then a hiss of pain, you roll over on your side. You see a note, a couple of pills, and a glass of water have been placed on your nightstand. With concentrated effort, you sit up and read the note.

Darling, dearest, love of my life, (you’d scoff if it didn’t hurt like hell to even breathe)

A painkiller. One every three hours. I suggest you take it if you want to get through the day comfortably, so please don’t spend your day staring at them in contempt like they’ve killed your dog. Contrary to what you might think, I do care for your comfort. (You feel a jolt of anger through your spine) I’ll try to be back a half hour or so earlier, but if fortune’s on my side, I’ll be back to you a full hour earlier. Wouldn’t that just be amazing? Actually, let me do a coin flip to gauge today’s fortune—oh! Look at that! Seems that it’s an hour. You won’t be lonely for long, I promise. (You frown) Business is wrapping up, so we’re leaving today, but I’ve already packed your bags. Focus on yourself, sweetheart, and get plenty of rest. And before you start overthinking things, I’m not worried at all. You won’t be forgetting anytime soon, and you’re not going anywhere. (You grit your teeth)

Use lots of ice on your neck! It helps a ton. And eat soft foods that go down easy; broth, oatmeal, the works. Now that’s what I call a good excuse to gorge on ice cream; not too much though, you *might* just throw up. And no, you can’t break the windows. Literally. I know you have your impulsive moments, but you’ve gotta be conservative with your energy today. I’ll make sure you are. If not…well, you like guessing games, right? Haha, now I really do have to go. I can’t believe you got me writing such a long letter! Alright, see you later, sweetheart.

Love, Aventurine.

You stare at the signature. Love, Aventurine sounding over and over in your mind, hitting the walls and coming back in a cracking echo. Love—a knife impales you—Aventurine—and you’re eaten alive.

Love, love, love, love, love.

You force yourself to look at the painkillers. You have no reason to believe him, but he doesn’t have any reason to lie to you. You decide not to take them.

Instead, you take a few slow sips of water, letting it coat your throat and tongue thoroughly. Then you force your sore body to the kitchen. You stumble, you trip, but you still make it to the countertop. It’s not complicated. Your mind can’t process complexity in its current state anyway.

It’s simple. You yank a knife from the block and plunge it into your chest, through your ribs, and into your heart. Blood gushes out like a waterfall, glistening like a ruby in the light of the dawn. You grin, pain wobbling your mouth, and swiftly cut open your stomach. Bile creeps up your throat as you gag violently, until you finally retch on the elongated mess of your intestines, unraveling into a bunch. You laugh hysterically when you notice that it looks like a horribly butchered plate of spaghetti—hilarious. It’s all nearly too much to bear, but there’s more work to be done. You’re still thinking; that just won’t do. You raise your knife, the tip shining in the sun and sparkling through your tears, and slam your forehead into it, finally putting an end to your existence.

That’s what should’ve happened. But the knife hasn’t taken that first plunge, yet. You will your arm to rectify the mistake. It shakes harder. And then everything from the night before rushes to your head, and ink clouds everything and everything and—

You can’t do it. Not by your own hand.

You violently throw the knife into the sink and collapse to the ground in a brutal sob.

You never attempt it again.

—

He was wrong about something. Your shattered limit would never end with his demise—it was yours.

(Is he really surprised? Or was he in denial this whole time?)

He’s not sure how to feel, that you’d rather destroy yourself than kill when backed into a corner. But he can at least understand that urge of yours to take someone else down with you; only, that person isn’t him, this time.

The wall you have built crumbles, and he wonders if you care if your destruction ends up killing another unintentionally; if that part of yourself has been killed, or if it has been twisted so you are born anew. But that’s a bit silly. You can destroy yourself, but you won’t ever lose yourself, even if you become fractured. That’s what experience has taught him, and it is both excruciatingly painful and relieving.

You’ve pinned him down. Your eyes are wide and dilated, and that spark of life within them is just nearly dimmed out; and yet, beneath that spark, something awful and alive pulsates. They hold an unabashed focus, yet they also look past him. For a rare moment, he is completely taken aback, and cannot conceal his surprise and dubious, almost hesitant delight. But he drops the hesitation. It’s fatal for him.

(His heart nearly stops. Is he pinned to the ground, or is he looking into a mirror? He almost feels like he’s been turned inside out)

“What. Were. You. Thinking?” It’s your voice, but he can’t help but think it takes on a cadence similar to his own. He can see that awful creature brandish its claws.

As much as he enjoys seeing such a creature, he cannot allow himself to be ripped apart by it. He’ll assert his control, and you’ll back off, the same as it’s always been. But he doesn’t quite mind being pinned down by you, so he’ll allow it for the moment. “You watch me gamble all the time, dearest.” He tilts his head, knowing just how much it pisses you off. “I don’t see how that’s gotten you so worked up—and you’ve been so sweet lately.”

Your jaw trembles, like a dog, he thinks, on the verge of barking and biting an intruder. Yet, a part of him also tells him that isn’t quite right. “You played Russian Roulette.” Drip, drip, sounds the blood of his challenger, but such a sound has been white noise all his life.

He smirks. “Are you jealous?” he teases, “Did you want to kill me, or were you hoping to take the bullet yourself?”

You, ever so slightly, begin to shake. “No,” you respond, without any sense of the word. “Answer my question,” you demand. He’s a little surprised because you so rarely make demands. He can see the beast grind its teeth, gnashing at the mere idea of his flesh, drooling its filth in gluttonous anticipation. But he knows you so, so, so very well. He can smell your fear—but of what? Fear that you might not be able to personally exact vengeance? He’s a little lost, for once. But he’ll know soon enough, he supposes. He continues with his usual demeanor.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, making you shake in agitation. “Well, I suppose I’m in no position to refuse. It was a good gamble with a good thrill, of course! I thought you knew this.” He knows you don’t believe that entirely, having spent so much time with him. The look in your eyes tells him it was the answer you were expecting. But you still aren’t satisfied. You still haven’t strewn his guts about the floor, to join the foolish challenger.

You do not respond, remaining as still as you can be. He decides to encourage you; you can’t just lead him on like this, you know.

“What’s wrong?” he goads. “Or have you finally come around to just how irresistible I am?”

The blood’s aroma has wafted over. Your eyes glaze impossibly further. The beast breaks its chains.

“I want to hollow out your chest,” you admit. His heart stops, and it’s only through years of practice that his face doesn’t instantly break out in shock. “And burrow into it, so I can listen to your heartbeat and feel the expanse of your lungs pressing into me with your every breath,” you shake, nearly violently, and you take each breath as if it’ll be your last. His own heart begins to beat erratically; he’s excited, he doesn’t know what’ll happen, but whatever it is he needs to have have have it— “I want to breathe in your blood, taste your heart, blood, sustain myself on nothing—” Aventurine feels a thread be pulled apart. “—on nothing but you!” You cry out, leaning in closer as you collapse to your knees and elbows, practically exchanging air. You’ve finally begun to cry, and with it, the beast has come—

No, he thinks. It’s already ripping apart his flesh. Your tears fall onto his face. His heart beats faster and faster; just as fast as when he ran away into those bloody puddles all those years ago.

“If you die…I might just join you, because…there’s really nothing else for me…” you sob, face contorting in a way he finds so breathtakingly pathetic and beautiful. For a moment, your mouth curls down, not maliciously, but with a determined promise. “If you die…I’m pulling the trigger, not some random sap in a casino.”

Oh. You…you remembered. Of course, you did. You never would forget. You couldn’t ever forget. His chest feels numb with how brutally his heart has beaten it.

He feels something cool seep into his pants and legs.

He is well acquainted with the touch of ice. How could he not? The time spent with you feels like a (fragile) eternity, and in it, he has glued himself to you; and you’ve, however unwittingly, froze him in place. Even if he’s always been able to force you into the desert with him, there are still those moments when a nigh unbearable cold seeps down into his bones, threatening to kill him, to preserve his dead body to be dusted ogled at whenever the master of the house needs to showoff their private collection to guests. But he feels it melting. He feels the cold you’ve desperately embraced crackle.

You sob a sound of euphoric despair that has him resisting his every urge to cradle you, and confess the truth; confess your want.

“I love you, Aventurine,” you take in a shuddering gasp.

His heart explodes. It is then he realizes that he, too, has gasped, and is breathing irregularly. That his composure has shattered without his realization.

“I love you…” you cough, no longer able to hold back your breakdown, the volcano of your emotions erupting in a destructive blaze that killed a part of you; the part of you that’d been holding on. Flora and flowers burn, snow becomes hellfire, and any and all life is replaced by a hungering beast desperate to keep itself satiated.

But only Aventurine can satiate it. A blush dusts his cheeks.

“I love you, I love you,” you hiccup and sob, repeating the mantra like a prayer (to a devil in velvet), I love you I love you I love you I love you.” And then you finally collapse on him, a pile of bricks and rubble and dust. You curl into his chest, over his violet heartbeat. “Don’t throw me away…don’t l-leave me…” he immediately secures your waist. It’s a disgusting implication. Why would he do that to you of all people? “I need you,” and his heart soars. A smile finally cracks his face, shattering something deep inside of him.

[No, no, Kakavasha, that’s really quite wrong. You haven’t been whole for a very, very long time.]

And then something brief surfaces in you, a small piece of useless reasoning, “and it’s your f-fault I’m like this…” That’s very true, which is why he needs to take responsibility. Which is why he has to continue keeping you, caring for you, and brutalizing you. The blood has trailed down to his back.

And then you’re back to sobbing, and practically howl, “Please, please Aventurine, tell me you love me and won’t ever let me go!” you beg, and entirely break down into a concentrated sob, distant from reality. You blabber, likely unaware, utterly lovely and incoherent words. The blood has reached his head.

His entire body shudders, rapturing him into a pile of broken flesh. He can’t hold back. He holds you tighter than before. It snaps you out of your daze, your body instinctively flinching away, but his grip doesn’t cease; it can’t cease, because if it does you two may never truly meld with one another. He sits up, positioning you so you straddle and completely rely on him for support. He looks at you. His long-lasting appetite has finally been satiated, but now a new one takes hold of his shaking form, his excitement electric and bloody.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he shudders breathlessly, just barely keeping himself from pouncing, “that was beautiful—you’re beautiful,” he pants, as his hunger grows painful, “how could I refuse such a heartfelt and adorable confession? You’re so perfect. You’re the other side of my coin…”

[Took you long enough.]

“...yes,” he groans, “I’d love to bring you down with me, and to tear you apart if I’m back in that dawnless land.” Because you aren’t leaving him, nor could you survive if he plummets back into that land. But you’re still coming with him because you need him (and so does he).

The dawn shines on the two of you, and finally, he kisses you. You’re too dazed to reciprocate, but you offer no resistance at all. But it’s a (relatively) chaste kiss, as he pulls back to whisper against your lips, wholly reverent. “I knew you were the one,” he confesses, and he sees your blush deepen, your eyes widen, “Thank you, for destroying yourself for me,” he brushes your cheek, “It’s truly an honor, sweetheart.”

You blink, eyes wide with tears, and just as he’s about to caress them away your mouth twitches—almost like you’re glitching as if the very expression was some bug in a game—and then you laugh. And it isn’t crazed, it isn’t weighed by madness, nor does it carry that familiar undertone of despair and fear he’s become so used to hearing from you—it’s warm like the dawn has cut through the rain to shine on him.

It’s that lovely laugh which the sun shines overhead and erases any shadow of doubt:

You’re insane. You’ve frozen over in hell, and have shattered yourself into pieces to melt into it.

If ‘I love you, Aventurine’ was the straw that broke the camel’s back, then your laughter is what made the camel burst and seep into searing, soulless sand.

It makes sense. Only someone destroyed and insane could love Aventurine.

(Kakavasha was dead. His hands are sticky, his chains rusty with blood and his throat burns)

[Is he? Or do you just need him to be dead? No matter how you slice it, I still see that same boy who clung to his Big Sis till the very end.]

But he’s a selfish man. If you give him your love, then he’ll gladly take it.

[Tsk, tsk. A desperate man, Kakavasha.]

But more importantly, there’s a feeling in his heart. It’s the feeling of a peaceful day beneath the scorching sun, of when he wins a game, of when he and his sister were just themselves with each other. All of it coalesces into something he hasn’t felt in—no, something he may have never truly felt until now:

Happiness.

[The closet thing you can call happiness, you mean.]

And is that feeling that has him lift you up, and spin and twirl with you in his arms. It is sheer elation, a hedonism that is so self-serving yet selfless all at once—sheer bliss—that fills him this: this is what he wants to feel. Your laughter is infectious, permeating his body and sapping it of rationality, but he does not try to fight this virus. For he is happy. The corner of his eyes crinkle; he is unused to the feeling.

He laughs and laughs with you. His clothes and shoes are tracking blood. Normally the thought of even rain getting on his clothes disgusts him, but now, all he can think about is basking in this crimson victory. The dawn shines on you both, commemorating your unholy union.

You really are perfect for him, he thinks. Because he must be insane too, when he laughs like a crazed dog—the same dogs he nearly drowned in bloodied water to get away from.

—

You both deserved a treat. He whisked you away to a room—he can deal with the casino room later, call on a few favors—because you deserve his utmost attention, as he does yours. The prospect of your complete attention, entirely unfettered, excites him.

It’s a fine room. The bed is large and soft, the bath is large and pleasant, and the view is utterly breathtaking. But neither of you cares about that. You could be rolling in sewage and shit and you’d still look at him the way he looks at you, still enter demented laughter and twisted joy, still parade under that veneer of love.

He gets his fill, as do you—but you both know neither of you will ever be sated, not when you two can’t be joined together in the ways you want to.

The dawn is rich and bright, shining on the waking and sending the begging crawling away into the shadows. You breathe softly, utterly exhausted. A complete 180 from just a few moments ago, too. Your arms wrap weakly around him, tucking yourself into him snugly. His kisses, imprinted with your blood, create a field of flowers on your face. As does his own. …He makes a note to tip room service extra for the bloodied sheets. There’s a reason he doesn’t dress (as) extravagantly for when he needs to get his hands dirty.

Perhaps after this, he’ll gift you something truly special, he thinks. His earring’s twin has just been gathering dust. And it would be quite romantic to get your ears pierced by him, too. His heart beats at the thought. He’s sure you’ll agree to it if it’s by his hand. Maybe, after this, you’ll wear his gifts of your own accord. Small things, for when you go out, a modest bracelet or watch, a tasteful necklace (of ownership). Nothing overt so as to not draw any thieving eyes, but something to signify to those that know what to look for that you aren’t to be messed with. As for when you’re inside and home…he still remembers how red your face got, and the curses you threw at him. And you’ll finally concede that his taste is actually pretty solid (but, and he will clarify just for you, it's not a sore spot in the slightest! He’s more mature than that).

He feels a bit of pride at your exhaustion (“I…erm…wanna…well, I can d-do some of the work,” you said, flustered and embarrassed by the mere admission. He found it endearing, that you could confess your desire to burrow into him and then stammer when asking him for something. You really did hate the idea of using him, didn’t you?) The remembrance of that moment makes him smile.

(He doesn’t bother dissecting what kind of smile he makes)

However, a single moment is on repeat in his mind. His hand absently drifts to the crook of his neck, weeping but a few minutes ago. Your teeth, sinking in so deeply, intimately, just on the verge of ripping a chunk of his flesh out; you were practically dining on him. It sent him over the edge.

When you pulled away and looked at him, he was again taken aback at what he saw.

Your lips, slightly parted and utterly breathless, speckled with rouge. Your cheeks were red hot with adoration. Your eyes, brimming with love and care and everything he couldn’t believe someone besides his own family could direct toward him.

(But your love is very different from his family’s. They wanted to nourish. You want to devour. But he sees nothing to criticize there—indulge, and he will gladly indulge back, until there’s nothing left of either of you)

But what truly pushes him over the edge, is the smile you give, softly stained in crimson. It is pure and untainted, angelic and sweet, soft and warm like how the dawn kisses his cheek. It is as if this love of yours was born not of a tower’s rubble but of whispered secrets and touches shared in the shadow of moonlight. It’s as if the love you show him now would’ve been what he got if he was a more selfless man (if he were any other man). You both know he does not deserve the love in your eyes—it is the last thing you owe him. Yet you give it to him anyway.

You are utterly insane. And now that he knows what insanity on you looks like,

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

But before he can shut his eyes for an hour or two of respite, there’s something he has to do. He promised many things as you both feasted, but there are two absolute ones he has to reaffirm. Two absolute ones you wanted so badly that you unleashed a frozen inferno.

“I’ll never leave you,” he promises, “And never would. I admit, it stung a bit for you to fear that from me, but…I’ll make it up to you tenfold, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you don’t feel that way ever again,” He kisses your cheek gently. He pictures your response and giggles. “Yeah, I’m being sappy, but you’re,” he boops your nose with each following word, “just~. As~. Guilty~.” You stir, groggily groaning but it’s not enough to rouse you. After a short while, you nuzzle your head further into his neck with a sleepy sigh. Something tells him that even asleep, you’ll somehow know what he’s telling you. Your lips come to rest on the gift you gave him, as if even in sleep you’d rip him apart. His heart flutters. “You’re so sweet…” he exhales with a shudder, “seriously, how do you manage it? Not that I mind, of course…” he plays with a strand of your hair. Candy and clouds and raw flesh burst on his tongue all at once, and he can’t get enough of that flavor of sickly sweet rot. He smiles, a soft and predatory thing, and his lips drift to his favorite spot.

But don’t get him wrong—every part of you is lovely and he would kill to vivisect you if only it didn’t mean killing you and putting you in extreme pain. It’s those two latter thoughts that quell his desire to do so.

(Maybe he would enjoy it, but only for a moment, only for so as long as the euphoria and awe of seeing all of you lasts. If you did die—especially with cries and shrieks of pain—he would sob, curling around your body…and then he would take you with him, so when he goes to that place, you’d be with him on that very first step)

It’s where he first bit you on the luckiest day of his life. It’s bruised and tender, red and ugly and scarred. Renewed countless times, it is beyond repair. Moments ago it held a crimson sheen, but its been smeared throughout your collarbone and shoulder. The way it smears makes it appear like a red mist, like a curling wisp of smoke that dirties clouds and infects rainwater. He brings you impossibly closer, to keep you from becoming red mist. At the same time, should he squeeze just a bit too hard, then away you go into the mist.

(As if to keep you far, far, far away from the rainwater which had swirled with a thick, red mist—to keep you from breathing in it, from having to hide so you didn’t become like the cold bodies which floated beside you)

His lips seemingly slot in with the spot perfectly. It only makes sense. It was today where you’ve melded yourself to him.

(And he’s melded himself to you for a long time. Against his better judgment and sense, he melded himself to you; at the time it was only the idea of you, but it didn’t take long for it to be you.

He sighs in content, but he still has another promise to make.

“We’ll be together, you and I. Two sides of a single coin can face away from each other, but they can’t exist separate from each other. You’re pretty smart, so I’m sure you get it,” yes, he has plenty of faith in you, sweet thing, but he can’t help but ramble, “and it’s because I love you, (Name).” He says it so tenderly, your name, and unexpectedly (or very expectedly) something he thought he’d never feel ever again invades his chest, and it forces itself out, “I love you, I love you,” he thinks his grip has tightened and that his heart has started to race and that he’s shaking but he doesn’t care about that right now and he doesn’t care if he has been losing composure without his notice. “I love you I love you I love you. You have no idea just how much I want to devour you, just how much I want you tethered to me. How much I need you to be unable to live without me. If I’m alive, you’re alive. If I’m dead…you said it yourself. You’ll follow me. It just needs to be by my hand, and you’ll follow me. You won’t have to worry about being alone, being without me. And it’s all because…

I love you.”

He dimly realizes that something salty has trailed to his lips. Are you awake? Or are you having a nightmare? Either way, he moves like he has so many other times, to remind you that he’d be there, even at your most vulnerable. He goes up to kiss your eyes and lick your cheek, but nothing’s there.

Something flutters against his cheek. You’re awake, and he feels something warm and wet travel on his cheek. He’s not sure what he feels, when he looks up to you.

(What does his face look like?)

You blink, eyes bleary with sleep and weighted with content. But tinged with the sleep and contentment, there’s another thing, which makes everything within him burn. Which makes him shake and his heart nearly explodes.

Dimly, he realizes that your destruction didn’t just kill a part of you. He’s buried beneath the fire and rubble, too.

[And it’s lovely.]

And then (at that moment), for some reason (for all the reasons), he buries his head in your chest (into your heart),

To sob in the sunlight, soothed by the hands that unraveled him.

#yandere #yandere hsr #yandere aventurine #destroyed onset #aventurine x reader #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere x you #yandere hsr x reader #tw noncon #tw suicide #next fic is gonna be sitcom esque #the calm before the storm 😉#and also because i need to write the reader being happy in a #not fucked up way LMFAO

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