#fic: Reign from the shadows

[saiilorstars]

ch.17: Berthier's Day

Story Masterlist

Fandom: Sailor Moon (Crystal)

Rewrite of season 2, AU-ish in that there’s new OCs and the fusion of plots from the manga, crystal and the og series

Pairings: Eventual OFC x OMC, Usagi x Mamoru

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic​​ @kmc1989

Azula was very focused on the base's screen in front of her. She was busy constructing a digital timeline that would allow the team to place the important courses of events that were taking place in their city and in the future.

"This is really good, Azula," Luna praised the girl's work with honesty. Azula was always very meticulous about her work and she seemed to excel when it came to the science part of their missions, such as this one.

"Thanks Luna," Azula paused to smile at the cat. "I felt like we needed to see things on the big screen. Timelines are not a joke. We need to follow the right steps if we want things to turn out how they're meant to."

"Unfortunately the Black Moon Clan doesn't share the same views," Luna sighed and rested her head over her paws.

"No, they don't. But right now, they're not the problem." Azula cleared her throat just as the rest of the girls walked into the base. Azula turned on her stool and greeted them with a big smile. "Hey guys. Great job taking down Senka's minion!"

"That thing was creepy," Usagi shivered. "It really makes me scared of my own shadow." Azula playfully rolled her eyes. "Because she is one!"

"Yeah, and she hasn't forgotten about you," Rei said, grim about it. "She really wants to find you and see if you hold the Shadow Crystal."

"And I already said I was down to let her," Azula reminded them all.

"And we said no," Minako flatly said.

"Well anyways, I was busy working on ways to stop Senka," Azula leaned back on her chair. "Koan gave me the idea after talking about the Malefic Crystal."

"Malefic what now?" Makoto scratched her head.

"The Malefic Crystal is what the Black Moon Clan is using as their power source. According to Koan, it's what first attacked Crystal Tokyo before Reign put up the barrier. It's these things," Azula turned her chair back to the computer to bring up an old picture of Koan. She zoomed in on the purple dangling earrings Koan wore in the shape of crystals. "After listening to Koan, I think we could use the Malefic Crystal to bring Senka down."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Rei narrowed her eyes for any dangerous ideas Azula was about to spit out. "We don't even have one of them."

"Yeah, Usagi purified it all out from Koan," Makoto nudged Usagi who groaned at the reminder.

"Well I didn't know!"

"The Malefic Crystal could very well be the Silver Crystal's opposite," Azula explained, "Therefore, if we use it on Senka, we could theoretically cancel out Usagi's shadow in her."

"Oh sure, kill me off first!" the blonde cried.

"I'm sorry, if you have a better idea I'm all for it!"

"I think it could work," Ami spoke up after considering the idea. "We could redirect the energy the Malefic Crystal has and use it to expel one of the Shadows in Senka."

"Yeah, it sounds good but we don't actually have any of the Malefic Crystal," Minako reminded them again.

"Well, Koan did say her sisters would no doubt be coming after us," Azula gazed up at the screen now showing public streets. "We'll just have to wait until they do and then make our move."

"In the meantime…" Makoto had noticed the digital timeline sitting on the screen and became curious of its function, "...you want to tell us what is that?"

Azula beamed at her creation. "This is really cool. Well, at least I think it is!" She put away all unnecessary tabs to give the digital timeline the main focus. "The timeline I set up has all the points that we know must happen in order for the future of Crystal Tokyo to stay the same."

"Why not let some things change?" Usagi wondered. "Maybe by changing something we could fix the future."

"Yeah, or by changing something we could very well be creating what we want to destroy," Azula countered with. "Timelines are a very tricky thing. I say the best thing we could do is just find Reign" — Azula's eyes gazed over the dot that blinked in and out with 'Crystal Tokyo' labeling it on top — "and let her do whatever she needs to. I mean, she founded Crystal Tokyo, right?"

"That's our guess, but even that isn't sure," Minako crossed her arms and sighed. "And it's not like we can ask Chibiusa about it. She's already terrified enough as it is."

"Okay, well, the important thing about this timeline is that it will map out things that we've done, things that we need to do, and the ending."

"That's a lot of things to do," Usagi gazed at the screen with a weary face. They had to find Reign, find Sailor Circe, stop Senka, stop the Black Moon Clan and ensure the Shadow Crystal stayed hidden.

"Yeah…" Azula agreed, though it didn't scare her off. She was up for the challenge and she was sure her friends were too.

~0~

"It's a milkshake," Meroko laughed at Koan who was staring at the pink liquid in front of her with bewilderment. "It's actually not bad, alright?"

Koan took a sip from her milkshake with the funniest face possible. The moment she swallowed - which had been done in a very fearful manner - she hummed with delight.

"See?" Meroko laughed when Koan took more sips. "Asteria had the same reaction!"

Koan saw how the laughter subsided from Meroko's face after mentioning her sister. "Are they still not talking to you?"

Meroko shook her head. "I tend to avoid home now except for sleeping."

Koan understood the feeling. Her sisters had yet to make an appearance after turning human, but Koan was sure they had already seen her and were most likely disappointed in her, if not despising her for it. "I think you have a better chance of making up with your sisters than I do."

Meroko smiled lightly. "I guess we're two peas in a pod when it comes to family problems, huh?"

Koan could only blink at the comparison. "Peas in what?"

Meroko chuckled. "I'll explain later. We should just finish so we can make it to Ami's chess game!"

Koan nodded. She was so relieved that she had found such kind girls who were already treating her like they'd known each other for years. Already Ami had invited her to her chess game — whatever that was — and she was so excited to show some support.

~ 0 ~

If there was something Mamoru hadn't been expecting it was to find Asteria on the other side of his door. The platinum blonde had appeared unexpectedly and was asking for him to return her sister's hair brush. Of all the things to come and ask for...

Mamoru nonetheless allowed the girl in. "You realize I've been using that to get new images of Reign, right?" He checked to see if Emica was around but there was no one else in the hallway.

"Yes, but, Emica believes it's unnecessary to bring you in on Shadow business."

"Hm, and you agree?"

Asteria faced him, showing no emotions whatsoever. "It doesn't matter what I think."

"You haven't talked to Meroko in how many days? And you two live together, share the same room, actually—"

"Can I please just get the brush?" Asteria crossed her arms and motioned him to get going.

Mamoru gave her a disapproving look but went to find the brush. "You know, Meroko was a bit difficult in the beginning too. She kidnapped Azula and forced me to remember everything about my past." He opened up a drawer from the television furniture piece. "She had it all wrong too. She wanted to work alone but she ultimately saw that there are some things that can't be done alone." He turned around and held out Meroko's hairbrush. "Emica is wrong if she thinks otherwise. And I know you think so too."

Asteria snatched the hairbrush from his hand. "It doesn't matter what I think," she snapped. "Sailor Circe isn't around so that leaves Emica in charge of our team."

"And that makes her automatically right?"

Asteria didn't like her customs being challenged, especially when she had so little to fight back with. "I'm not in charge. I know my place and I wish Meroko would remember too."

"Change isn't a bad thing, you know. Meroko learned from Usagi and the others that being a Sailor Guardian didn't mean being the boss and following orders."

"It's our customs. I'm no one to change them."

And yet Mamoru could see Asteria was desperate to. "I know Reign would want them to. She would never be okay with two sisters - three sisters - to be so divided when they're meant to be on the same team."

"Well, Princess Reign isn't here to say it," Asteria said quietly and thanked him for the hairbrush before leaving.

~0~

At the local chess game - which provided the best way to open the brand new Chess Tower for the city - the girls gathered for Ami's game. Since there were no more seats, they lingered by the entrance upstairs but they still had a perfect view of the screens showing the chess players.

"It looks like Ami is a shoe in for the final round," Azula remarked first after watching the scoreboard notify of Ami's latest win. She was moving up, up, and fast too.

"GO AMI! GO AMI!" Usagi sprang with a set of chants for their friend, gaining in the process some odd looks of the quiet crowd.

"Usagi!" Rei hissed at the girl. "You need to be quiet! It's a chess game, not a football game!" Usagi sheepishly quiet down but still mumbled some chants for Ami.

"Excuse me?" an elderly man from a row below looked up at them. "Do you know Mizuno Ami?"

"Yes, we're her friends!" Usagi cheerfully answered him.

"And we're so sorry about her," Rei motioned to Usagi who glared in return.

"I'm a friend of her grandfather," the elder man explained over Ami. "She talked a lot about you during our last chess game."

"Do you think she has the ability to win?" Minako wondered as she once again gazed at the screen depicting Amy with her current opponent.

"She's more than capable of it but there is another strong rival on the same page as she is," the elder man made them see a different girl - a platinum blonde in a red and black plaid dress - making her way through opponents like a child's game.

No one saw Koan's eyes widened, and much less heard her faint gasp. Her next older sister, Berthier, was finally back...and up to the old Black Moon Clan tricks by the looks of it.

Ami and Berthier in disguise did end up meeting each other for the final round of the chess tournament. Ami was happy to meet the opponent, going for a fun game. However, Berthier introduced new Chess pawns decorated in black and blue gems.

"They're so pretty," Ami complimented them and set them on the board. "Let's play a fun game of chess!" she extended her hand over the table to shake hands with Berthier.

The blonde smiled rather smugly and shook hands. Ami noticed the unusual coldness in Berthier's hand, kind of...frosty. The temperature reminded her of an opponent Amy had battled with earlier, only it couldn't be the same person...

The game unfolded and while for a moment it appeared Berthier would win, Ami snuck in and got a check. Betheir's lips curled angrily, but she kept herself cool, because the game was not over. She still had the biggest card on her side.

"The real battle begins now, Sailor Mercury," she stood up from her chair and aimed a hand at the cameras watching them. One blast of ice crumbled them all to pieces.

Ami immediately got up, and since there was no point in hiding her identity, she transformed.

~0~

"That's not part of the game," Azula glanced at her friends. "You should check it out…"

The girls didn't waste a second thinking about it. They ran out of the crowd leaving just Azula and Koan. Azula took care of the crowd's questions by saying her friends were investigating it, and because the elder man turned out to be the owner of the Chess Tower it was a sealed excuse.

"What's the matter, Koan?" Azula noticed the overly worried look on Koan's face.

"It's... it's Berthier. That girl was my sister!"

Azula should have figured Berthier would come back to finish her fight against Sailor Mercury. "It's round 2 then…"

"She's still being manipulated by Rubeus," Koan sniffled. "We have to help her."

Azula recognized the look on Koan's face as the same one she often used to get into the battles. "You're going to run in there, aren't you?" Koan did not lie and so she nodded her head. Azula sighed and turned for the doorway. "And I guess I'll come with."

Koan smiled a little through tears and the two rushed out.

~0~

Berthier had trapped all the Sailor Scouts', except for Mercury, in a dark bubble of energy. She was forcing Mercury to play a final round of chess with a wicked spin. Sailor Mercury hissed when the terrible ice spread around her legs, locking them and her on her seat. She sent a glare at Berthier who simply laughed at her pawns' work.

"You wouldn't be in this mess if you would just stop trying to save them," Berthier nodded to the captive Scouts. "My pawns will encase your entire body in ice each time you lose. They will not stop unless you forfeit."

Sailor Mercury struggled to move her pawn. "I will never give up. They would do the same for me."

Berthier rolled her eyes, deeming Mercury's swords as rubbish. She easily knocked away another piece from Mercury's and took pleasure in it as more ice spread up to Mercury's thighs.

"Mercury!" Sailor Moon pounded on wall of their prison. "Don't continue! Just save yourself!"

Mercury shook her head with more determination. Her eyes examined the chessboard with the intention of taking a piece from Berthier this time.

Berthier laughed again and glanced at the Scouts. "She's going to die. And for you. How pathetic."

"It's not pathetic," Sailor Mercury snapped. Her teeth chartered from the ice encapsulating her body. "They're important to me! I will protect them no matter what."

Berthier raised an eyebrow, somewhat impressed by the words but nonetheless thinking it foolish. There was a puff of pink smoke behind her and suddenly her two older sisters, Petz and Calaberas, were standing behind her.

"Well done, Berthier!" Calaberas praised. "We've come to help you finish them off. That way Master Rubeus will congratulate us all and hopefully forgive us for what that traitor of Koan did."

"Finish the game already," Petz, too, was eager for the finale.

Berthier smirked with her sisters' support. She reached to take another pawn of Mercury's when a stark, red rose plundered into the board, breaking it in two. "No!" Berthier cried as her pawns fell to the floor.

Mercury was released from the icicle entrapment thanks to Tuxedo Mask. At the same time, the dark energy keeping the Sailor Moon and the other Senshi disappeared.

"Hm, well, that lasted shortly," Petz remarked at the sudden unfolding.

Calaveras laughed. "You really are useless just like Koan, Berthier! You couldn't even finish the game? Pathetic, really."

"Don't bother coming home if you can't clean this mess up," Petz warned before disappearing with Calaveras.

The rest of the Scouts and Tuxedo Mask shared similar faces of disapproval for the sisters. How quickly they had rescinded their "sisterly support". Berthier struggled to keep a straight face after her sisters' harsh words.

"You see that?" she addressed Sailor Mercury. "Even sisters don't fight for each other. It's how...it's how it should be." Her fight to smile failed but it didn't mean she was going to show emotions. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded through gritted teeth.

Everyone suddenly had her in the gaze of a poor, helpless girl. She was anything but that. She was powerful. She could take them all down if she wanted to. And she wanted to. She couldn't return home after being mocked so coldly by her own family - what would the rest of the Black Moon Clan say to her afterwards?

"You're all going to die with me!" she decided and unleashed her strongest power. Ice re-encapsuled the room, covering every last bit with frost. A harsh, violent snowstorm started from her own body and out.

"You don't have to do this, Berthier!" Sailor Mercury struggled to stay on her feet, and since she was the closest to Berthier she felt the job to bring the sister to the light was hers. "Your sisters—"

"Don't talk about them!" Berthier shouted and released a new burst of power. Mercury and the others were pushed further back. "There is no such thing as love! People are born alone and they die alone!"

"NO!" Koan burst into the room with Azula. The moment they touched the icy ground they slipped and fell forwards.

"What are you doing here!?" Sailor Moon screeched at Azula.

The red-haired raised her head and pushed her hair out of her face. "I couldn't stop her!" she nodded to Koan who was getting back up.

"Koan, you traitor!" Berthier put her hands together to get an attack ready for Koan, but that didn't stop the youngest sister from going to her.

"You just have to listen, Berthier! Like I did! Please!"

Berthier roared with anger and fired frosty icicles at Koan. The latter fell back with the chunks of icicles all over her body. Azula was the first to be able to reach Koan, followed by Sailor Moon.

Koan wasn't as hurt and so with the help of her friends she was able to get back on her feet. "Berthier, the reason you're sad - you're feeling like this - is because you need love. You want it. And that's okay. It's what we've been deprived of since we could remember." Berthier's eyes shined with the honest truth in Koan's words. "Don't let yourself fall because you deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy."

Berthier lowered her arms and slowly her frosty powers died down. She lowered herself to the ground, on her knees. "You...you want that for me? You actually want that for me?" There had never been any verbal hints of emotion between her and her sisters, not that she could remember. It was always about who had more powers and how to get more. Who could take down more people? Competition. It was always a competition.

Koan smiled. "Of course I do. Being human has allowed me to think beyond all the darkness instilled in us."

"Could I...could I ever do the same?" Berthier dared to wonder what it would be like to feel...human. There were always stories about being human and what weaknesses it entailed, but there was never actually any talks about what was supposedly so good about it.

"You can be," Sailor Moon spoke this time, causing some hesitation in Berthier.

Berthier nodded her head then. "Then...could I become human too?"

Sailor Moon chuckled. "I think so."

"Actually…" Azula suddenly spoke with a finger in the air, "...do you think we could hold off on the whole becoming-pure-thing just for a couple of hours?" She sheepishly smiled at all the confused stares she got afterwards.

~ 0 ~

"Oh, look at me, so helpless and...possibly holding the Shadow Crystal…" Azula wistfully walked around the park later that night. Because there was no one else around as she spoke as loud as needed to be. "Oh, poor, defenseless, human me…"

"You are really milking it," she heard Artemis on the comm. piece in her ear.

"That's the point, my dear, kitty-cat. I've got to sell myself," Azula tried to hide her moving lips. She wasn't supposed to be talking to anyone else after all. She started all over again and this time made a show of herself by jumping on the familiar wooden bench then running up to the fountain and going around it.

When she heard the familiar clap of thunder, she smiled.

"You really are pathetically stupid," Senka's condescending voice remarked from behind.

Azula carefully turned on the fountain's ledge and lowered her arms to her sides. "It's been so long. I see you've got your figure now."

She eyed Senka's clear body and hated to admit they'd been pretty slow at stopping the Shadow woman. After sucking off energy from dozens of poor humans (who'd been rescued by the Sailor Scouts thankfully), Senka was a full on creature of two legs. Her long, black hair billowed in the air, falling over her black dress, yet it was in a familiar-like style. She seemed to have cuffs on her wrists but they were pitch black with no identifying features on it. The ghost of an odango hairstyle echoed over her head. Her skin was like a porcelain's doll but her eyes were an unusual shade of red-brown. The staff she wielded was a silver one with embedded purple.

"And soon I will be able to wield as much power as I want," Senka gave a mirthful laugh and pointed the tip of her staff at Azula. "After you give me the Shadow Crystal, Reign."

Azula's lips stretched into a big smile as she held up her arms again. "It's all yours."

"So easy this time?"

"Let's just say I don't want my friends caught up in this," Azula motioned her hands to get it over with.

"How heroic, and pathetic," Senka fired her dark, shadow energy from her staff. It captured Azula without trouble and electrocuted her with it. Azula screamed as she felt the familiar energy rupture inside her.

"Is everyone in position?" Luna's voice asked the others through the comm. system.

"So ready," Sailor Moon assured and hurried out of the bushes she and the others were hiding behind of.

"Shine aqua illusion!" Sailor Mercury began the string of attacks first. Frost grabbed Senka's staff and froze it, but unlike the others villains Mercury faced, it did not shatter into pieces. The staff merely broke off the icicle bits and continued to torture Azula. Senka laughed again and turned around to face the Scouts, leaving the staff to do the work.

"You cannot freeze a shadow you idiots," Senka spat and placed her hands on her hips. "Don't you get it? I am neither alive nor dead. I am the perfect cross between your world and the Shadow Dominion, and when I get my hands on the Shadow Crystal I will merge both worlds and become its Queen."

"Not if we have anything to say about it," Sailor Mars prepared her own attack. "Burning Mandala!"

Senka disappeared just before the fire rings crossed the air. She re-appeared behind Sailor Mars and retaliated. "Mysterious Masked Kiss!" ringlets of black energy threw Sailor Mars across the park.

"Sailor Mars!" her friends cried after her.

"Sailor Moon, you have to hurry," Tuxedo Mask had gotten to Azula's location. The girl was twisting and writhing under Senka's power but there was a shining light starting over her chest.

"No," Sailor Hemera stepped up beside him with an unusual determination. "We have to let the crystal - if it's in there - come out."

"Are you insane!?" Tuxedo Mask turned on her, ready to argue it out and go even further if he needed to.

No one was exactly on board with Azula using herself as live bait, but since it was the only option they had to draw out Senka they went with it. However, Senka wasn't supposed to actually get whatever lied within the girl.

"She asked me to make sure it happened," Sailor Hemera whipped out her sword and threatenginlgy pointed at Tuxedo Mask. "And I think it's the right thing to do."

"You betrayed us!"

"No! I'm doing what my friend asked!"

"Well, we're not on board!" Sailor Jupiter charged towards Senka with electricity hanging at her hands. "Sparkling wide pressure!"

Senka took some of the thunder's blow but it ultimately got absorbed within her. Sailor Jupiter gasped and wasn't prepared for the blow her way.

"Dark ripples!" Senka fired shots of black bits that encircled Sailor Jupiter.

"What the - AAAAH!" Sailor Jupiter became trapped in a similar field of energy as Azula. She screamed and fell to her knees.

"We need to stop this!" Sailor Venus raised her hand to command her love-me chain but it was promptly smacked by Sailor Hemera's boomerang. "HEMERA!"

"It's almost done!" Sailor Hemera stared urgently at Azula in the air.

The red-haired girl's body was arched upwards and the light from her chest was beginning to glow outside as it crossed her skin.

"Sailor Moon! Do it now!" Tuxedo Mask frantically ordered her.

Sailor Moon nodded firmly and called out her moon rod.

"It's out!" Sailor Hemera laughed when Azula's body had finally expunged the crystal embedded in her chest.

Senka was too, anxous, for her much awaited crystal...but when the light blinding them died down…

Azula's crystal had turned white with gold freckles...just like the rest of the victims before her. She didn't have the Shadow Crystal.

"NO!" Senka shouted with newfound rage for her loss of time. She commanded her staff and zapped the energy back from it.

Azula's crystal was sucked back into her body and without the energy holding her she dropped down to where Tuxedo Mask was able to catch her.

"I did my job," Sailor Hemera reiterated and threw her sword directly at Senka.

The shadow-woman laughed and easily knocked it to the side with her staff. "Did you really think that would be enough?"

"No," the brunette Scout put her hands on her hips, "but it was enough for a distraction."

"What!?"

"Moon Princess Halation!" Sailor Moon had summoned up her deadly attack and easily caught Senka in a web of the crystal's power.

"You cannot destroy me!" Senka repeatedly shouted at them but Sailor Moon kept going.

"Not alone I can't!" the blonde agreed. "Now Berthier!"

"What!?" Senka's darkened red-brown eyes widened when the platinum blonde jumped in.

The black, upside-down, crescent moon on her forehead brimmed with energy. "Dark power!"

Her malefic black crystal swirled around Sailor Moon's Silver Crystal's power and joined forces. Senka knew what was coming and could only scream in agony as the two crystals' powers crashed upon her.

"NO! NO! NOOO!"

Everyone watched as the purply-black energy around Senka began to wasp away like it was simple air. Her odango-like hairstyle let go so that it was only loose hair now.

"It's working!" Sailor Mercury exclaimed happily. "Keep going you two!"

Sailor Moon and Berthier focused as much as possible and gave it their all to eliminate the anti-Sailor Moon shadow living in Senka. A shadowy figure was pushed out of Senka and Sailor Moon shivered at the familiar figure she knew was hers. But the shadow figure disappeared with a screech and Senka was left with only two more Shadows.

"Damn...you…" Senka weakly reached for her staff and made herself disappear.

Sailor Moon and Berthier slumped forwards, both left weak by the burst of energy.

"You two did it!" Koan came out of the hiding spot she'd been vowed to stay in. She threw her arms around her sister. "I'm so proud of you, Berthier!"

"I didn't...know I could do that…" Berthier smiled with her sister. "It felt...it felt good."

"I'll heal you when I've got some more energy, I promise," Sailor Moon reached to take Berthier's hand, both happy with their victory.

Sailor Hemera didn't exactly share the same feeling of triumph. She stared down at Azula, who remained unconscious and with Tuxedo Mask.

"You could have killed her," he said, his words laced with bubbling anger.

"I just wanted to find Reign."

"This wasn't the plan," Sailor Mars walked over to the two and checked up on Azula.

"She asked, she begged me, alright?" Sailor Hemera knew she was under scrutinizing looks from the entire group. "None of you would listen to her! And now guess what? Senka won't be after anymore because she's not Reign. Happy win for everyone," she bitterly smiled and ran out of the scene.

"Hemera!" Sailor Moon tried to run after her but she was just too weak at the moment.

The air of bittersweetness couldn't help but affect everyone.

[luv-again]

got a small chunk of writing done tonight !! amy's having Worries, we also get into why's she's at cryptic castle in the first place . . .

soon, i'll be leading up to introducing (well, re-introducing ?) shadow and a whole 'nother can of worms will open >:))

[saintobio]

LUCIFER.

his fall was not from grace, yet in his descent, he found freedom—a kingdom of his own making, where he rules not with light, but with the shadows it casts. and you, unfortunate soul, are the sin that fuels his eternal reign.

♱ genre. gothic, dark romance, smut, angels/demons au, 18+

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ tags. 5.2k wc. this fic will contain dark and twisted themes. please heed the warnings and proceed with proper discretion. demon!sylus, sylus is ooc, not set in lads universe, profanity, heavy sacrilege/blasphemy, catcalling, sadistic undertones, noncon/dubcon, toxic relationships, corruption, sex in church, dacryphilia, mentions of obsession, allusions to stockholm syndrome, yandere, fingering, unprotected sex, explicit smut.

♱ notes. this is an old rewritten/reimagined fic of mine bcos i saw a theory abt sylus being a demon. and coincidentally, rewatching a season of lucifer only made my brain rot tenfold D; so if you've seen me post this fic before with another character, pretend you didn't >:D

Thunder grumbled as a flash of lighting struck through the dark blanket of twilight skies. The rumbling sound angrily resonated through the stretch of clouds as if the heavens were to wash away human sins that have long been plaguing this era of the 21st century. A shower of rain soon followed that started in huge droplets and later cascaded from the slate gray clouds like waterfall. 

Checking your old leather watch, it was only 6PM. It had been two hours since the power outage doomed the whole neighborhood because the utility poles were severely damaged after the hurricane ravaged the city yesterday. 

The thick soles of your boots landed heavily on the tessellated sidewalk with every step, holding your umbrella closer to seal you from the heavy rainfall. Your eyes followed the beads of rain that bounced off the cold cement as your mind wandered further than where your body could take you to. 

You had left Sylus sleeping in bed back in your shared apartment so you could walk around the city and drop by the church. It wasn’t like you sneaked out, but was only reluctant to let him know of your whereabouts because you didn’t want him to follow you around, especially to such a scared place like church. Before you left, however, you did ensure that his silver cross was still enclosed around his collar just for your sanity. 

It had been a while since you last visited the church. With the power out and nothing else to do, you decided it was the perfect time to visit the cathedral where you always made your most solemn prayers.

The streets were still in shambles, though. Road signages were sprawled on the sidewalk, branches were barely hanging off the trees—the city had vestiges of wreckage from the hurricane that emptied a usually busy metropolitan area today. Most people were still at the leisure of their homes as work and classes have been suspended until further notice, for everyone’s safety and to allow the government to clean the roads. 

You could already imagine Sylus shaking his head at your resistance to just stay indoors and simply be with him. The only reason you were confident to leave his side today was because it had been awhile since the last incident. You could live with the thought of coming back home to Sylus and his usual self. Sylus, who was always thoughtful and tenderhearted albeit his dominant exterior. Never did you think that you could land a man of such warmth—a year in two days—but how you met was a story made for another day. 

Amidst the already dismal atmosphere outside, stepping by the narthex inside the baroque church greeted you with an even more caliginous surrounding. Darkness enshrouded the interiors of your chosen place of worship with only as much as three paschal torches by the apse to light up the altar. Still, with God’s presence, your feet carried you in slow footsteps along the velvet red aisle as you made your way towards the nave. 

You were alone in the eerie cathedral, but fear did not consume as you were in attendance to the crucifix above the high altar. This was your favorite cathedral among all the others in the city simply because of its gothic Victorian architecture.

Fixed with the cathedral’s grandeur and bedight with ornate decorations, you became more comfortable at situating yourself by the pew—genuflecting on the elevated wood behind the stretch of oak benches as soon as you found your usual spot. 

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” you whispered in sotto voce, performing a sign of the cross with your eyes glued to the crucifix that represented Jesus Christ. You had your elbows propped atop the bench as you silently prayed. 

Loving and gracious God, with all love and mercy, we thank you for blessing us with another day and protecting us in times of natural disaster. 

You wanted to ignore the unusual cold air that slithered on your skin in horripilation. Your prayer resumed despite the Stygian gloom that darkened the cathedral’s interior or the sound of the harsh wind slamming through the towering doors by the vestibule. The storm is coming again, you mentally noted. 

With your grace and kindness, Lord, I pray that you will continue to guide us—

The manly fleer echoing through the vacantness of the church made you halt from your recital. “I knew my cute church girl would be here.” 

You knew that devilish voice all too well that it had you shutting your eyes, petrified. No wonder the air felt sinister. But if your gut-feeling about him was right, then there was no need to be frightened. “Sylus, I’m in the middle of a prayer,” you hushed, although before you could turn around to face his silhouette, he had already transported to your side with a wicked smile plastered on his pallid face. 

“I’m not him,” he spoke in an orotund voice, stepping closer and closer. His ash blond hair did not hide his incarnadine eyes. “Stop looking for that runt when you’re with me.” 

You stepped out of the pew with a rapid heartbeat, standing by the aisle as the tall man towered over you. “S-Sylus, where’s your—” you searched for his silver cross and found it still hanging around his neck, “did you break it?” 

He glowered at your accusation. “You know I would if I could, sweetie.” 

You exhaled a deep sigh. This was not Sylus, this was the malevolent demon inside of him. You ought to be cautious of yourself. “Okay, well... Leave me alone. I’m praying.”

“Ordering me around?” Each step that he took reverberated across the cathedral. He stretched his head from side-to-side in a manner that showed his ennui. “Don’t you miss me, kitten?” 

There was no stopping to the loud thumping of your heart as you stood along the aisle with Sylus backing you off further to the center. “Sylus, I said not now,” you begged, but he refused to listen and only wiped his lower lip with his thumb. 

“I hate it when you make me wait,” he muttered, stepping forward until your lower back hit the credence table at the altar. You found yourself trapped in a decreasing distance between yourself and the sadistic devil in front of you. “Don’t look so scared. We do this every time.” 

“I’m not scared, but...” Your voice was getting softer, yet filled with fret. You pressed a hand on his chest as he locked your body with both arms around the table. “Please, not here.”

You had to be firm, you just had to be but you couldn’t muster the courage to fight back in Sylus’s presence. He was the embodiment of power and you were the representation of weakness. 

He was a demon that thrived on sin, and he drew strength from indulging in the seven deadly sins. Vainglory, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, sloth—all of those fueled his existence. Today, however, it was the third sin that consumed him, the one that ignited his darkest sexual desires. 

“I’ll be quick,” he bargained, undoing the upper buttons of your dress despite your failed attempts at pushing him away. Doing it at such a place! You sent him a glare but he only returned a sly smile. “How about we show your God what you’re really like underneath that maidenly exterior, hm? Show him how dirty you really are?”

God, help me. You desperately shook your head, now overthinking if someone could see what he was about to do to you in this holy sanctuary. Long before you could cover your chest, he already pinned your wrist on the side as he lowered the fabric to show your collar. “Sylus—!”

“Don’t be shy, kitten,” the whisper he sent through the shell of your ear caused shivers to your spine. With his heightened senses, he placed his mouth on your ear, “No one’s here to watch us except for your God. Be a good girl now.”

You tried to push him once more to no avail as he sucked on the flesh above your shoulder. There was no warning to prepare you from the sudden harsh suction. “I-It hurts!” 

Your nails dug into your palms to leave crescent marks on your flesh while you were squirming out of his strict hold. 

“It hurts? Good.” He continued to leave marks all over your flesh as he caged your waist around his arm. The feeling of his teeth pricking your skin had you whimpering in pain, and his eyes had grown rutilant when he momentarily pulled away to look at you. “You’ll hurt even more,” and then he erupted into a deep chuckle as if you were a meal that he was seasoning with a sprinkle of fear, “I should really just keep you for myself.” 

Your desire to breathe grew exponentially. “I’m not yours.” 

A low sneer and a dissatisfied ego had you pressed against the oak table in surprise. “Yes, you are,” he reiterated as though he was enforcing the idea in your head. “Your soul, your heart, your body—you are mine.” 

“I’m not! I wasn’t born in this world to be your property,” you protested, pulling away from his grip only to be slammed harsher on the table. You knew you should never anger a demon but his possessive nature irked you. Aside from your already shameful situation, you wanted nothing but to get away from him. “You’re evil.” 

“What makes you so brave? Your beliefs?” he gritted, reaching for an object near your head that turned out to be the Bible. “This?” he quickly opened the sacred handbook and ripped the pages in front of your very eyes with a distasteful smile. How easily he ripped it, how easily he also tossed it. “Whatever, then. There’s no God. You humans are complete idiots for worshiping a nonexistent being. Weren’t you the ones saying that I’d burn as soon as I stepped into a church?” 

“He is your father!” You sat back up, revolted by his blasphemy. He had no right to mock God like this. “Don’t taint my beliefs with yours. My faith in Him is stronger than you think.” 

“You should know what it’s like to be in hell before you say that shit,” he retorted, placing his lips back on your ear, “I’ll take you there with me.” 

This is not the time and place! What a shameful situation he was putting you through, so unbelievably shameful and obscene that you couldn’t look at him in the eyes. “Sylus, I swear. I’m going home if you’re gonna keep on—”

He huffed, showing boredom by dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “Ah, fine. You’re boring. Continue the prayer, then.”

For one of two things; first, Sylus would never let you off easily. Every act of defiance would garner you a punishment. Second, he was a time bomb. You never knew when his most cruel intentions would come to show. He was a malefic being that wouldn’t give two shits about where he was as long as he was having fun at torturing your soul. 

You should have known that when you chose to finish your prayer back at the pew. Sylus would simply not last long enough to just sit by your side in his apathy. 

“Holy Father, please forgive us for our sins—”

He snorted in ill-humor. “Pitiful.” 

And while you sat there looking up at the crucifix, Sylus’s hand was already sneaking its way under your skirt. His icy fingers traced your inner thighs until he reached your center, and that was when you finally grabbed his wrist to stop him with wide, scandalized eyes. Was anyone on the qui vive to see you right now? 

“Sylus, for heaven’s sake,” you hissed, pulling his wrist away but his slender fingers were already coordinating motions against your clothed core. You had to look around in panic lest there be any unknown audience peeking from the shadows. Despite your refusal to submit, the contact was eliciting suppressed moans out of your parted lips. “Y-You’re insane. This isn’t the place.” 

His smile was full of triumph and excitement, his right eye glowing ominously he spoke. “What makes it different?” he asked, raising your skirt and inserting his fingers inside your underwear. You had to press your lips together as soon as he started rubbing his fingers on your clit. “See, you enjoy the fuck out of it. I can see through your deepest desires, kitten. It’s telling me… ‘don’t stop’.” 

Your palm was pressed on his chest while his other hand tried to spread your legs open. The very position you were in—leaned on the wooden bench, legs spread apart, and being fingered in the presence of God—you were certainly going to hell. This was going against your belief, having your chastity corrupted in arrant disgrace by a man who was the devil himself. 

How exactly did you find yourself in this predicament? You came here to offer a quick prayer, not to be pressed on the bench by a man who was now unbuckling his belt in haste. You could only think of how Sylus, who was an angel beyond his demons, was perhaps trying to come out of being trapped in the dungeon where Satan had him caged.

“This is so wrong,” your lips quivered as you spoke, both of the curling of your toes and of the shameless sacrilegious act. You knew you couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried because Sylus would remain tenacious until he got what he wanted. 

With that, you fully submitted yourself to him and let the back of your head rest on the wooden surface while you stared at the stained glass that roofed the cathedral in different hues. 

Sylus was fast to display a smirk while positioning his hardened length on your entrance. The bands of your underwear were now resting mid-thigh as he pressed himself down on you with one knee supporting the angle of his hips. He was running his throbbing tip between your plump folds to lubricate himself with your slick. No screams could be released because you restrained your own whimpers, but your tears brimmed on the corner of your eyes from the initial penetration. 

“Ngh!” Your nails dug deep on his forearms. “S-Sylus!” 

“Are you crying?” His carmine eyes glinted of sadistic humor, running his gelid thumb across your lower lip only to sink it deep inside your mouth. “How does it feel knowing that the God you worship can’t save you?” 

A tear slid down from your eyes to your temple as Sylus started moving his hips in an achingly slow rhythm, each thrust going deeper than the last. You almost bit his thumb before he released your mouth by gripping your wrist. “Sylus—someone could see—!”

To your irony, the crucifix stared down at you and enkindled your conscience from this sinful act. Father, forgive me. You could only whisper those words in your head because your mouth was too occupied in crying out Sylus’s name.

“So warm.” It was hard not to think of how attracted he looked when he raked his fingers through his hair, later meeting your eyes with overpowering lust. He didn’t hold back at burying his cock into your cavern, allowing your walls to fit his girth like tight gloves—the feeling garnering his raspy grunt. “You’re mine, sweetie. All mine.” 

Sylus. You blinked your tears away as you closed your eyes. Sylus’s lips were now on your neck as he increased the pace of his member sliding in and out of your cunt with squelching noises that shamelessly echoed across the cathedral. “Sylus,” your lips were on his ear, “we’re in—aah—church.”

Unlike you, he was nonchalant about the sacredness of the house of God. He was mocking the supreme being that you held faith to as an act of engraving his existence into your mortal soul. While you restrained your moans as he slammed his pelvis against your hole, there was fulfillment rattling in his bones when he pressed your face to the side before diving in to suck on your sweet flesh.

“Cry more. Did you know your walls get warmer when you’re aroused?”

It was hard to describe the feeling. The median between pain and pleasure was the closest example you could liken it to. The grazing of his fangs added to the burning sensation that you had all over your body as if fire was ignited to light up all your nerves. 

Your hand latched onto his shirt before his body collapsed on top of you. With your legs spread wide, his head hung low on your neck—still and unmoving, strangely like he had fallen asleep. 

“Sylus.” You tapped his arm through the heavy rise and fall of your chest.

And before you could move away, he shot straight up and looked at you with those foxy incarnadine eyes that were now in the shade of deep crimson. Eyes that were wide and full of horror as he looked around the cathedral before he slowly realized what he had just done. 

“Y/N,” he said your name regretfully, pulling your dress down to cover your exposed parts, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I did this—? I don’t—” 

Long dried were the tears on your cheek. As you two scrambled to fix your clothes, you pulled him into a hug while he murmured endless sorry’s to your ear. At least, for now he was back. That was the most important thing with all the sanity you had left. 

“Just get me out of here, Sy,” you said, back into the arms of your human lover. 

~~

You’ve always wondered why Sylus often slept during the day. Or why his normal heartbeat was at the pace of someone who was having a heart attack. Or why he could get serious wounds but managed to heal himself fast. Sometimes he would disappear from your sight and transport himself into another. Sometimes he would see and hear things a thousand times clearer than any other person could. 

For almost a year of dating, these questions only came up to you without much of an answer. You thought that you were simply theorizing over things that you shouldn’t. Why does Sylus always wear that cross around his neck? At the back of your head, you were always intrigued. 

You didn’t find out about the real reason until two months ago when you finally met ‘Lucifer’ out of nowhere. If Sylus was Jekyll, Lucifer was his Hyde. It was his way to allow you to form a dissociation between the two beings in one body. 

You never believed in devils until Sylus showed his demonic face to you one night while you were supposedly peacefully sleeping. You recalled the screams that you released when you found out that Sylus was the fallen angel all along. That the rosary around his neck was meant to seal his dark side, the side that you still didn’t know much of. Up until this day, he didn’t provide a concrete answer as to why he needed to seal himself. He was taciturn about the topic of his other self despite you bringing it up every now and then. 

But because you loved him, trusted him, and believed him when he said that he didn’t plan to hurt you—you stayed. You knew his human side better than the monster within him, so you told yourself that you could stay for him. You just needed to learn more about him. 

There were still moments where you felt cautious around him, but when you looked to see his softened expression, you were comfortable at seeing the Sylus that you knew. 

“Y/N,” he broke the silence that lingered between you two as you walked around the city, “I’m sorry.” 

You tugged at his hand in reassurance. “It’s okay, I just...” As flashbacks of the earlier events returned to your head, you felt ashamed at having done such dirty deeds at a holy place. “He always gets what he wants.” 

Because you let him. 

“I can’t do anything when I’m trapped,” Sylus mumbled, keeping up with your footsteps as you strode along the street. 

Your curiosity bubbled from his statement. “What happens when he’s taking over?” 

This time, Sylus didn’t shy away from giving an answer while he interlaced his hand with yours. “I can hear everything, but I can’t feel or see. It’s all black, like I’m in a dark void.” 

“Like comatose?” 

“You could say that.”

How could a rosary seal his other self? How come he had two versions of him? 

“He’s obsessed with you,” he admitted, frowning at the thought as you passed rows and rows of boutiques and restaurants. “Your soul, your scent, your body. That’s probably why he always has the urge to come out.” 

The thought of it permeated heat on your cheeks even when it shouldn’t. Sylus had always been sweet and loving with his intimacy with you, but his other side was rough and sadistic. He liked tormenting your innocence with his immorality. 

“You said the rosary was meant to seal him, but how come he keeps on—”

“It doesn’t work these days. Only my father can help, but I don’t wanna go that far just to tell him about this.” 

Father. It was the first time he had ever spoken about his father in your twelve months together. Or did he mean father as in God? “Where’s your father, Sylus? Or the rest of your family? Are the other archangels roaming on Earth, too?” 

You could see it in his saintly face that he was about to give an answer and you anticipated it, not until the nearby catcalling distracted you two. 

“Nice legs, gorgeous,” whistled the man who was leaning by the street railings with a cigarette in his hand. The man was probably in his mid-40’s with disheveled hair and unshaved face. You sent him a glare but a crude wink was returned. 

“It’s a bit rude to ogle at my woman in front of me, don’t you think?” was Sylus’s warning, the tendrils of his black-red mist extending to surround the man.

You could hear the man hooting again, unaware of what would become of him. “Ha ha! You punk. I’d spread those legs in a heartbeat.” 

While Sylus’s eyes were deepening into a darker hue, you knew you couldn’t risk seeing him release his demonic side again. It was a dangerous gamble. And the city could become a bloodbath. So, in your insistence, you told your lover to just leave it be.

“Sylus, let it go,” you gently asked, tugging at his arm softly. You wanted to avoid confrontation and just continue walking with you until you could reach your destination. “It’s okay.”

~~

“Happy anniversary to my favorite couple!” 

The clinking of glasses was followed by cheers on the booth where your boyfriend and your friends sat together. It was Avery’s idea to celebrate the special day two days prior as an excuse to hang out and drink. Luke and Kieran, being Sylus’s minions, were very much willing to join. 

“It’s not until Wednesday,” Sylus corrected with a smile, sipping on his pint before putting an arm around you. He gestured towards Avery and Luke with a knowing look. “Now you two should date each other.” 

You giggled at the thought. “Yeah, I totally support that.” 

Instead, the two of them reacted heavily against it—faking a gag, making a face, name it all. They were adamant on showing how disgusted they were at the thought of dating each other and it was quite a hilarious sight to watch. 

“Boss, come on,” Luke replied in outward distaste. 

Avery, on one hand, was rolling her eyes. “You wish I was interested. I’d rather do Kieran than you.” 

Kieran was Luke’s twin, the less obnoxious and more empathic one. But when those two were combined, their level of mischief wasn’t really any different from each other. 

“Picking Kieran is the most insulting thing you can say to me,” huffed Luke, earning yours and Avery’s chuckle. 

After an exchange of playful banter and teasing remarks, the conversation was redirected back to you and Sylus as Avery curiously brought up how you first met your boyfriend. It was only a year ago and the memory was still vivid in your head. 

“Oh my God. I remember how Y/N first saw you at this auction,” she gushed towards your boyfriend while you blushed, gripping his arm closer, “and she’s acting like she just saw her soulmate.” 

Kieran decided to chime in, “Boss was looking at her too, though. He may look tough, but he’s a hopeless romantic deep down—”

“Enough,” Sylus warned before sipping on his glass. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and relaxed against him. “Next thing you guys know, we’re living together.” 

Frankly, everything was normal until Sylus showed up. 

“What do you like most about her, Sylus?” Avery egged on with a grin spreading on her face. 

Your boyfriend didn’t even take a second to answer, “She’s cute like a cat,” he said, caressing your hand with his thumb from under the table, “and smart, and caring. Can get spicy, too. It won’t end.” 

Sylus was the same, if not better. You didn’t have much experience when it came to dating, but you were surely on top of the luck department for being blessed with a man like him. He was the most protective person you knew, the most affectionate, the most thoughtful. Sylus was the moon that illuminated your dark nights. You could even remember how he would wait outside of your workplace to pick you up in his motorcycle—those were the little things that lasted for a lifetime in someone’s memory. 

“She’s also a nun.” 

The sudden panic in your eyes came simultaneous to the fast beating of your heart. You swiftly whipped your head to look at Sylus who was now displaying a deriding smirk across his pale face. Oh, were you doomed. The ruby eyes and the stony face was clear confirmation that the demon had taken over him. Twice in the same day. 

Even Avery was surprised by his word of choice, but nonetheless found it amusing as it was rare for them to see Sylus acting bold. You were grateful for her obliviousness because you didn’t know how else you could explain the situation at hand.

“She’s a what, boss-man?” Luke jeered, chugging on his pint and looking at his boss in his newfound entertainment. He was among the very few people that knew Sylus’s true nature. Because the twins were demons like him.

“A nun,” Sylus answered, sending a look of mischief your way. You were deeply panicking that you had to squeeze his hand in hopes of stopping him from showing his true colors. “What? Don’t be shy, kitten. Didn’t we have fun in that church?”

You quickly shook your head and denied it in front of your friends. “We didn’t. Don’t believe him.”

Avery was unbelievably taken aback. “Wow,” she held back a chuckle, “I didn’t know Sylus has a vulgar mouth.” 

~~

The night carried on while the downpour engulfed the streets heavily. Your desperation to leave the dinner earlier than intended was solely because you weren’t comfortable at having Sylus around other people. The man was clearly enjoying the embarrassment that he was putting you through. And you, you were only being cautious. Who knew what things he could do to Avery while in his other form? 

You didn’t want things to end up where Sylus would be ostracized by the people who knew him just because they couldn’t understand that he was completely harmless in his benevolent self. 

It took a lot of effort to finally make an excuse of getting home early while the skies have temporarily calmed down. However, as you two strolled across the street, Sylus wouldn’t stop blabbering on and on about how you should have stayed more to talk about how prudish you were. 

“I’m not in the mood right now,” you spoke in a detached voice, moving away from him as you walked together. Because you ruined it, you wanted to add. The cold breeze kissed your face through the dark. 

Sylus only moved closer to you. “You shouldn’t be so uptight,” he countered, “Is that how kittens should act? Or do I punish you back at home?”

Punishments. You didn’t wish to go through another round of his ‘punishments’ because you weren’t certain at how creative he could be at delivering them. There was no doubt that a man who traversed the ages would have seen enough torture devices used during the earlier times. Perhaps he could get inspiration from those. 

“I just wanna go home,” you muttered, almost inaudibly had his heightened hearing senses not worked. 

“Good, then I can have fun with y—” Sylus halted from his words as his face froze at the sight in front of him. His body had completely gone stiff and his jaws were clenched. You would have thought that he was angry until that evil upturn of his lips came to show. 

“Sylus...”

Following his sight, he was all eyes on a man from a distance before he dashed towards the stranger, leaving you utterly stupefied from where you stood. What’s he on about? You rushed as your heels landed in lightweight steps across the sidewalk while you watched in terror how Sylus mercilessly throttled the man by the neck and dragged him into a dark alleyway. 

“Sylus, stop!” 

As you reached him with a panting breath, you realized that the man he was holding high up against the wall was the same person that catcalled you earlier. The man was wriggling away from Sylus’s tight grip, only to be asphyxiated harsher than before. 

“Wh-What’s your problem?” The man struggled to breathe due to the strangulation and you were pulling Sylus’s other arm to stop him. 

At the sight of Sylus’s crimson eyes and vicious stance, you knew there was nothing much you could do to prevent harm. He was determined to do what he wanted without paying attention to his surroundings. 

“You’re fantasizing her, huh?” Sylus taunted with a sinister undertone in his words. “You wanna spread ‘em open?” 

Recalling the very words he spoke, the man saw you with frantic eyes as his face was reddening from the lack of oxygen. With a rushed shake of the head and a face that was begging for sympathy, he tried to break free. “N-No, no. She’s—haaa! She’s all yours.” 

“Sylus, stop it.” You grabbed his arms and attempted your best to pull him away despite the trepidation that caused you goosebumps. “Please stop, you’re gonna kill him.” 

Every time you saw this demonic creature, you were learning new things about him and most of those things were of the worst kind. Not only was he possessive—he was diabolical, potentially obsessive, and a cutthroat sadist who wouldn’t even blink before ending someone’s life. This was the true nature of a demon, not some silly fantasy that today’s pop-culture portrayed them to be. 

He was a body without a soul.

Unfortunately, you should have thought twice before choosing to get involved with him. 

“That’s my plan, sweetie.” 

[6ronze]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

jujutsu kaisen w SAMURAI!TOJI FUSHIGURO. format. fic. warnings. fluff + hurt/comfort + nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. beating mention. spanking mention. pretty domestic and vanilla ngl. lots of praise(good girl, etc). a bit of dirty talk. fingering. endearments. wife!reader. toji in denial that he’s stupidly in love. summary. samurai!toji w his pretty wife + non-sorcerer au so he’s just miserable here

author’s note. gcbuiawbf got this idea out of nowhere. a bit inspired by hell’s paradise.

toji zenin. His birth name given by his parents along with all the responsibilities he never knew he was obliged to carry. If his soul while a fetus was informed that he was about to be born in a family where prowess reigned supreme and the right to be treated as a human had be fought for, perhaps he would have never wished to be born at all.

Against his will, he was birthed by his mother anyway, having to be scowled at and ostracised by his own clan which was said to be family. Growing up as a child, he learned what he had wasn’t family by the sight he was greeted with when he went out to the capital—children his age, running around with colourful toys in hand instead of a sword. And most importantly, they laughed. Smiled even.

It was something so mundane—a smile—yet something so foreign to him. The only smile he knew of at that age was the smile his relatives had when they kicked him on the ground, using the wooden sword he was given to train to hit him instead. The only smile he knew, was one full of sadism.

The older he got, the stronger he became, the more he realised he was slowly starting to pick up that same trait from them.

Very so often, he’d accept challenges from his peers or outsiders that wanted to humiliate him and his skills, looking down at him despite his bloodline of the Zenin clan.

He’d unsheathe his the katana he had resting on his hip, lazily taking stance and staring the arrogant man dead in the eyes with his own void eyes.

Such duels would end with the same outcome—toji having them laid on the ground, the sharp edge of his long katana dangerously close to the opponent’s neck. Sometimes—just sometimes, he’d smile. Just sometimes, he’d unintentionally make a thin cut to the neck just enough to draw blood.

He would be lying if he said the view from above wasn’t satisfying, the feeling of finally being the one looking down on someone as pathetic as the ones that humiliated him for years. The sneer he’d make with his lifeless eyes under the thin shadow that masked his face from his muscular and tall physique would make anyone think their life was about to be taken in a blink of an eye. But he wouldn’t. Toji would spare himself the trouble of having to face his elders for making a scene out of nothing.

Toji’s lived at the isolated quarters of the zenin estate for years—and that wasn’t about to change. It was where his mother birthed him and died—and so it would be where he would live and die.

The very least he would expect or care about was having a wife to continue his bloodline despite his progressing age. He knew better than to be greedy and trap a lady to the hell he lived in. Besides, he had absolutely no intentions of taking the ladies he’d frequently meet at the brothels out in town as his lover, let alone as his wife.

So the news of the elders arranging him a wife from another samurai clan shocked him. It was early morning when he was informed of such news, he had almost spat out his sake. The only thing he could utter in response was a loud, deep, huh?

Toji finally met you face to face after hearing your name being repeated by his elders when he had a meeting with them. Your family name rang a bell, though he never thought much of them since they weren’t politically involved in anything other than war.

He’s sat beside you, his hair slightly better groomed and yukata straightened compared to the sloppy way he wore it before. Making an effort in his appearance was the least he could do—since he was convinced he wouldn’t bother changing a thing about himself just for your sake.

“Your wedding ceremony will be held five days from now. End of discussion,” one of his elders concluded, the leader of your clan bearing witness and agreeing. Toji merely stared head on to his peers, moving a hand to lift his cup of sake and chugging it down without a hint of respect.

After a few more minutes of discussing the details about the ceremony, he finally turned his head to look at you—his future wife. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, your figure considerably insignificant to his. From what he thought would be an average woman being wed to him, his eyes lingered on you quite some while before he glanced elsewhere, his expression unreadable still.

You two parted ways for the day and he returned to his quarters, cup of sake in hand and his arm rested on the knee of his leg that propped up while sitting on the floor, his other leg bent towards himself. Toji stared out the courtyard of the estate, trying to peel the image of you out of his head. He internally cursed himself and his elders for suddenly arranging a wife for him just because they didn’t want their reputation to be tarnished by having an unmarried man. What was he supposed to do with a woman he’s never met before anyway? Regardless, he refused to be like the men within the zenin clan that lacked sympathy towards women and children.

The wedding ceremony was brief but complete. He was the best dressed he ever was in years, with you by his side. Just some family member from your families and a brief dinner, and the ceremony was complete. You didn’t seem to say a word about it either. Deep down he wondered if you loathed him, or your parents, for setting you up the low life of the zenin clan instead of his cousins. He would never know, he didn’t want to anyway. Ignorance was bliss, he thought.

You were lead back to his quarters after the ceremony ended, the sight of the somewhat empty and undecorated room not giving you much of a shocking reaction as he had hoped. Toji didn’t know what exactly he hoped, maybe a look of horror, sorrow, or pity. Yet he looked at you only to see you nod and acknowledge him, your expression remaining calm as if saying ‘I can work with this’.

Your first night together was mostly silent, perhaps a bit awkward whenever he tried offering you a blanket and separate futon to sleep in. While you thought that he didn’t like you, he was worried (albeit in denial) that you’d be uncomfortable sleeping with him.

To his and your surprise, you ended up having a brief yet meaningful talk that same night while you were both in your respective futons, about to sleep. He liked that you didn’t have expectations, understanding of his situation and yours now that you’re his legal wife. Maybe you weren’t so bad.

Months had passed since your wedding. And he’s become increasingly close to you—he’s fond of you, is what he would say in his own words. Though in the eyes of servants, others that weren’t blind, could see just how infatuated he was with you.

With how he’s stopped going to the brothel he so frequents in the capital, with how he’s become more hostile to those who insult you, it was quite clear how he cared for you, at least. Though what they didn’t know was how flirty he is with you behind closed doors, how he it was simply impossible for him to keep his hands to himself whenever he was in close proximity with you. He was insatiable. Not that you’d tell that to anyone. Unless you wanted a good spanking in the privacy of your quarters.

“What’d I tell you about gossiping with the maids, hm?” He’d murmur against the skin of your neck from behind you, his hard body pressing up against your soft one. His hands were all over you, the curve of your hip and the soft flesh of your breast that he had cupped over your loosening kimono, his calloused fingers circling your nipple making you shiver and squirm.

“I wasn’t gossiping, you fool,” you mumbled, your breath shaky and your body writhing in vain attempts to rid yourself of his touch.

“Then what were you doing? Bragging? Complaining?” You heard from the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin and the sound of his breathy laugh making you groan in frustration in embarrassment.

“Neither,” you huffed, settling yourself down on the futon with his arm under you still, holding you close to him.

“Liar,” he quickly refuted, his lips grazing the skin behind your ear and slipping his hand under your robe, searching to cup one of your tits and fondling it the second he captured it. His other hand moved down to your thighs, hooking his fingers under the slit of your robe and pulling it away to reveal your bare thighs, and exposing a hint of your dampening heat.

“There’s my beauty,” he whispered, his eyes flickering down your body from your shoulder to see the present he unwrapped for himself, your pretty cunt. He’s reminded you so many unneeded times before that he owned it, you. His calloused fingers slid to the apex of your legs, parting your puffy folds since your legs remained insistent on keep closed.

“Toji—” you started only to quickly be silenced with a deliberate stroke of his finger up your slit, the pad of said finger resting on your clit. The sudden touch made your lips part to exhale a shaky moan, your eyes looking down between your legs to see the movement of his hand.

“Yeah? Need something, sweetheart?” He hummed by your shoulder, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feast on your skin. While his teeth nibbled and marked you up, his finger on your clit began rubbing deliberate circles, feeling you up until he felt it twitching against the pad of his digit. Before you knew it, he had parted your folds further, slipping his thick middle fingers into your entrance, revelling in the way it made you squirm against him, your ass rubbing against his hip. You could only answer him with pathetic mewls that were only music to his ears, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be giving you much time to catch your breath to utter coherent words.

“Thought so, baby,” he scoffed triumphantly at your soft moans, his fingers curling inside you as he thrusted it in and out of your slowly, making sure to leave brief harsh kisses on your g-spot to keep you wanting, to keep you clenching around his digit in need but not enough to make you cum.

“You’re so tight around my finger, darling, can’t imagine how much tighter you’d get when I have my cock buried inside you. Think you’d like that? Feelin’ stuffed?” Was what he kept on whispering to you while he bottomed his finger in and out of you at a steady pace, making sure you’re feeling it as much as he was—and fuck was he feeling it. Even if he had you drunk on his finger, you weren’t exactly oblivious to prodding of his cock on your lower back. You just didn’t have the capacity to focus on it, not when he was turning you on with the mere thought and descriptions of him fucking you.

Toji felt you beginning to spams around him, your voice getting more and more high-pitched and whiny along with your nipples hardened to peaks between his cruel fingers. Signs of you being close to cumming was everywhere and he noticed them all, though he led you on to brink just to pull away when you needed him most.

“Yeah, not on my finger baby. You know where I want you most—where I want you best,” he grinned, his voice gravelly and hoarse as his breath brushed against your already warm skin.

Toji slid his finger out of you with slowly, savouring the way your juices coated him. The mere sight of his slick finger assured him that you were ready for—so fuckin’ ready.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, his free hand now slipping under your thigh, lifting your leg up to forcefully part your legs knowing you’d cramp yourself while trying to keep it up for him. “Yeah, ‘m here,” he assured from behind you when he finally took notice how you kept calling out his name, your voice all whiny and shaky in desperation. He positioned himself from behind you, shifting his hips and snuggling closer to you to lose whatever distance you still had left between each other.

“Feel that? ‘M all hard and ready for you, baby. Just like how ready you are for me,” he cooed, tugging on his own yukata to free his raging hard on, letting the thick girth slick with precum prod your ass, earning a needy whimper from you. He couldn’t help but stare at your side profile, taking in the sight of his wife making such expressions you’d never make for anyone but him.

His arm under your body curled your body suffocating close to him, making sure you could feel his chest against your back and his chin buried on the top of your head, alternating the choice of preying on the skin of your neck or ear.

After a moment of teasing, he finally slid his cock over to your wet folds, letting the tip mingle his precum with your slick juices before he pushed upwards, slowly penetrating your entrance that fluttered around him already, making it hard for him to go further.

“Fuck, princess—you gotta relax. I know you can take me in like a good girl,” he groaned, his jaw clenching at the feeling your soft flesh against his tip before you finally relax, letting him push further into you. He kept on uttering filthy encouragements by your ear while he made you take him in inch by inch until the hilt, his head tilting to kiss down your neck. He stayed still for a moment to let you adjust to his size, not letting that moment go on for too long until he started bottoming in and out of you with you slow, deliberate thrusts, your leg trembling in his hand.

“All mine—this tight cunt’s all mine.” The foul words that reached your ears would have normally had you recoiling in disgust but now, knowing those words came from him, it only made you moan shamelessly in his arms, your insides churning with pleasure and need to chase that high that he so often gave you. His need for you was palpable, almost equivalent to yours with how his hand kept alternating between your tits while he fucked you, his pace quickening now that the knot in his loins was tightening.

Your shared bedroom room was filled with nothing was the scent of your arousals, the lewd squelching sounds of his thrusts into you and loud shared moans. Toji’s hips didn’t stop for even a moment to let any of you rest, not when he was so close, you were so close. His grip on your breast tightened along with his grasp that help your thigh up, his hips bucking into your until he felt his balls tighten, his cock eventually spurting ropes of his thick semen into your canal, his movements jerky until he stopped. He nestled his cock into you until the hilt, unloading himself and letting you clench all around him.

He savoured the feeling with heavy pants, deep growls on satisfaction leaving him when he realised you came with him. Toji kept himself inside you for a while, not showing any signs of pulling out as you both basked in the afterglow.

He’d finally lower your leg down, humping against you lazily now that you’ve both came down from your high. Toji cradle you close to him, his hand slipping out of your robe to move his hand to your stomach instead, his face buried in your hair as he inhaled your natural scent and the musk of your mixed fluids that had began to ooze out you.

“Think you’d be up for another round after this, darling?” His low voice breathless voice met your ears, earning himself an annoyed frown which he merely chuckle at in response.

[muntitled]

more dom!hazel would be so appreciated if u can hehe 🫶🫶

+ another anon who asked for a cleaning bruises fic

𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬 & 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Summary: "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?"

Warnings: Established Relationship, Hyper feminine!Reader, PJ as her own warning, Mentions of Bruises, Mentions of Violence, Cleaning Hazel's bruises, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Fighting Kink?, Fingering, Dom!Hazel, Sub!Reader, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Overstimulation

Can be seen as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

Your afternoon had been almost perfect, with Hazel nestled between your open legs just a step lower on the school bleachers. Her head had been thrown back, with her curls running rampant against your skin and tickling your chest. You smoothed her hair down in vain intervals while she played with a loose string on the stitiching of your plaid skirt as she droned on and on about the unlikelihood of being enlisted as a bomb tech by the US Army.

"I don't really know where else I could use my particular set of expertise. What else could I do that won't ultimately lead me down the path of... you know, treason and terrorism?" You nod vaguely as Hazel continues her equal parts aloof and equal parts worrying rants. All while combining your fingers through her hair, "I mean, I just feel like World War III is probably upon us, you know-"

"Ugh, could you guys get a room?" You had been so enamored by Hazel's ranting that you failed to notice PJ at first. Her and Josie made their slow ascent on the bleachers until their shadows blocked your afternoon sun.

"Could you get a girlfriend?" The words had snipped off your tongue with harsh vexation as you instinctively cradled Hazel closer to your chest.

"Jesus-" Hazel had muttered, as she craned her neck up to stare at PJ and a disgruntled Josie, "Why are you trying to hijack my boob time?"

You had to reign in all murderous intentions as PJ grabbed hold of Hazel's forearms and forcibly dragged her up off the bleachers… out of your arms.

"You don't get boob time until we all get boob time. And need I remind you that you're going to be late for Fight Club," You heaved a very loud, very obnoxious sigh as you tilted your head backwards, letting the rays bounce off your pink sunglasses, "You guys should seriously get a room." Said PJ, "Stop giving the entire football team a show. Come on, you're setting us back like 69 years-"

Before PJ sunk her claws into Hazel completely, she bent down until her lips pressed against your cheek, and she whispered, "I'll see you back at my place, yeah?"

Your heart deflated at her confirmation that she was indeed leaving you for Fight Club, "Hazel..."

"Shh, shut up. Just say yes,"

But before you could wrack your brain for something coherent to say, PJ had already begun to make her descent off the bleachers, taking your girlfriend along with her.

You did not hate PJ, nor were you her biggest fan at the best of times. However, nights like tonight made your vexation grow to unimaginable heights simply because PJ is completely and utterly inescapable.

This evening, however, waiting for Hazel to get back from Figh Club, had been perfect. Etta James had been oozing through The Callahan's home speakers as you prepared the butternut soup- Hazel's favourite Post Fight Club recovery meal (although she hated admitting it, because she did not want to put you out of your way).

You are perfectly content, trapped in your web of make-believe as you prance around Hazel's kitchen, assembling your respective bowls needed for the soup. Mrs Callahan had let you in, as she always did after school, with a dismissive wave while she babbled into the receiver of her iPhone. Before she completely disappeared into the innards of her sprawling house, Mrs Callahan vaguely threw over her shoulder "Hazel is at her thing until 5 but I'm sure you've been made aware," and you were left in this great big labyrinth to entertain yourself.

Sex had been even more seldom, given that Hazel was rarely ever in any shape to commence any form of coitus due to the various bruises popping up in unlikely places. You wish you can safely tell yourself you despised seeing her bloody and battered state - that you gain absolutely nothing from Fight Club and that you most likely never will.

But you're staring dreamily into the pot of soup, and you're stirring and stirring, with your heart racing in anticipation of Hazel's inevitable return with her inevitable bruises smeared across her perfect little face.

You had not planned on cooking for anyone because seducing Hazel in her inevitably bloodied state was on the forefront of your mind, and Mrs Callahan had a very tempting bright pink apron hanging on the hook.

So perhaps you did do this all for her.

Perhaps you were waiting for her, to stride on through the foyer, nursing a streak of dried blood down her nose, eager to catch her reaction at seeing you so comfortable in her space while you rushed to swoop in and fawn over her.

This near perfect daydream might have actually manifested…

Were it not for PJ's loud and obnoxious voice bleeding into the kitchen from the foyer, accompanied by the heavy groan of the front door slamming shut. Your shoulders visibly sag as you empty the rest of the soup into your bowl just as the trio rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Oh my God - soup!" PJ exclaimed rushing towards you with her gaze zeroed in on the bowl locked firmly in your hand. You had been so focused on keeping the bowl from PJ's incessant grabby hands that you failed to see the dazed, almost breathless look that sprinkled over Hazel's face who drifted slowly behind Josie despite this being her house.

Suddenly, every thought about the impending bruise she was facing due to not dodging a right hook earlier vanished from her mind like doves in the wind. Hazel's head was completely flooded with the image of you, in her kitchen, with your cute as fuck little skirt grazing just above your knee.

This almost did not feel real. Less than a month ago, no one barely blinked in her direction, but now...

So enamored was Hazel by your act of service, she nearly failed to catch PJ's innate need to flirt whenever you were in the vicinity.

"You look hot by the way," PJ had slyly said, still reaching for the bowl of steaming soup, which you only drew higher above your head.

"Sorry PJ, only people who make me cum get to eat my cooking."

"Is that an invitation?" She asked, leaning against the counter, "That sounded like an invitation."

Hazel cleared her throat, finally succeeding in having your eyes wash over her. "Can we probably not talk about you fucking my girlfriend, maybe, I think?" She said cooly, discarding her bag somewhere on the floor before making her up closer towards you. Her slouch was even more prominent and you swear the air in your lungs thinned as she brushed up beside you and muttered, "Hey,"

"Hey yourself." And Hazel's tummy instantly warmed as you discarded the bowl on the counter, turning to cup her cheeks in your hands as you observed her latest shiners acquired from Fight Club. Something sinister flashed through Hazel's mind as your big dark eyes scanned over her visage, eyeing the new bruise splotched across her eye and the horizontal laceration on her cheek.

"It doesn't hurt," She can barely find her words under the overwhelming feeling of your care and attention. Your scent is all encompassing, and before she ever allows for anymore of her arousal to stain her boxers Hazel attempts to draw her face out of your palm.

"Jesus, Hazel!" You squeal, pulling her head down closer to your height, until Hazel has to support herself with a hand on the counter behind you, "Please don't tell me you were sparring with anyone on the football team again!"

You hoped you succeeded in masking how turned on that thought actually got you...

Hazel's voice is deep and low as she replies,

"Jeff said that if I can at least dodge his left, left, right hook next time, I could probably be ready for the whole team." You breathe out and airy laugh almost the same time as her, the both of you silently aware of what the other was doing.

"Ugh, you're such a virgin." PJ mutters under a mouthful of soup.

"I literally have a girlfriend," Hazel mutters without looking away. Her gaze was nearly trapped in yours as she allowed you to pull her limp body away from PJ and Josie. "Come on, I need to clean you up."

And that's how you had found yourself, cross-legged on Hazel's bed with her leaning against the headboard like your Oh so compliant little patient. Her gaze is yet to waver from yours, in fact, cleaning the laceration had been utter hell, right up until this point because Hazel had taken to drawing various circles against the skin of your exposed thigh.

The skirt had ridden up marginally from your seating position, and Hazel seems perfectly fine toying with your various emotions.

"You look really pretty," Hazel breathed out as if those words were sitting heavily on her heart ever since you applied the wet gauze against her left cheek. You try to hold your composure, keeping a firm eye on the dressing of Hazel's wound as you say, "I don't really think I want you going to fight club anymore,"

"Tch'yeah okay," she snickers dismissively, "Hey, is this skirt new? It's hot- like 'gay 50s housewife' kinda hot," There's an edge to her voice that has Hazel sitting taller against the headboard before incriminatingly letting her hands drift just a little higher on your thigh. Your breathing becomes heavier as you fight hard to maintain your crumbling composure.

"I'm serious, Hazel," you had begun to whisper. Why had you begun to whisper?

"I don't wanna have to stitch you up every time-"

As soon as the gauze was plastered onto her cheek, Hazel's head was already melting into your chest, nuzzling at your open cleavage exposed by your Pastel v-neck as she says, "God, I love it when you mommy me,"

"H-Hazel," any warning you tried to inject into your tone gets fizzled out by the embarrassing moan that escaped your lips as Hazel's teeth dragged lightly against the skin of your chest. Her hands were restless, as if she was testing herself as to how far she'd allow herself to go so quickly.

You suck in so much air as Hazel's palm cradles the inside of your thigh and because you're cross legged, closing your legs is nearly impossible. "Fuck, I'm so turned on, right now," her voice cracks as she brings her face up from your boobs. Pressing a hand to your cheek, she tries and fails to bring your lips towards hers.

Hazel frowns as you say,

"You think it makes me feel good seeing you like this?"

You ignore the budding voice in your head echoing the loud and very obnoxious 'yes, yes you do like seeing her like this. You like seeing that reckless smile blossom onto her cracked and battered face. It gets you wet and you know it does-'

But your voice is full of fragile conviction as you say, "You think I like seeing my girlfriend beaten up everyday of the week?"

Hazel blinks once before she succinctly replies, "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?" An entire desert ecosystem is suddenly born inside your mouth, and you swallow thickly as your eyes evade Hazel's uncomplicated, piercing gaze. She tilts her head, smiles gone, simply waiting for your response.

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" She asks before steadily closing the distance between you once more. Only, you're so terrified of being caught out, so utterly embarrassed at the thought of her finding out about the pool of wetness that had begun soaking completely through your panties, that you back away the closer she gets. Your slinking backwards only allows Hazel to crawl closer until she's hovering above you in the centre of her bed.

You have her undivided attention, and she has yours. Your eyes recklessly scans her face, every cut, laceration, and every old bruise buried under a new one has your lips turning downward as a small, almost imperceptible whimper forces itself out of your throat.

"There she is…" Hazel whispers with a palm cradling your cheek, "There's my needy little girl," You're quickly slipping into subspace right in front of her and Hazel is more than grateful. A single silver pendant dangles from her throat as she dips down, finally connecting your lips in a quietly passionate kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut, and so does hers. The both of you are utterly enamored by the sheer lust communicated by the intensity of the kiss alone.

"Fuck," Hazel curses, momentarily breaking apart to peel off her oversized graphic tee. You're watching your girlfriend in her sports bra with unbridled lust shining heavily on your pouty lips.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She says, "Please, Baby."

You're slipping deeper and deeper but you still have half a mind to lightly whisper, "Hazel, they're right downstairs-" She's already crashing her lips back down onto yours.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She murmurs against your lips, never being able to stray too far.

The hand that isn't holding her up, hovering above you, is once again, underneath your skirts, only this time, the tips of her fingers are dragging up against your inner thigh with no chance of stopping.

"Fuck, Hazel,"

"Is that supposed to be an answer?"

You're already pulling your own hips off the bed, seeking her hand out like a whore as you break the kiss only to whimper, "Yes, okay, fine! I'm so wet for you, Hazel- just, please!"

She watches completely fargone as you let your soaked panties meet her awaiting palm. Watching you grind yourself against her hand has Hazel's mind absolutely descending into lust.

"God, you're so beautiful," she says, before finally pressing her own hand against your soaked panties. She rubs in harsh, rough circles, eager to bring you to the very edge of insanity. She needed to see you fall apart for her again and again-

"Inside," You whisper, watching your girlfriend rub your cunt with bated breath. You're still wearing your skirt but you figure Hazel needs to fuck you in it to fulfil some sort of fantasy and you don't entirely mind. Not at all.

"Hazel, Please. I need you inside-"

"Fuck- you're such a slut-"

Your head immediately falls back against the bed as Hazel's movements against your soaked panties increases.

"You like it when I call you a slut, baby?" Your hips stutter upwards in vague response as you moan loudly into the air.

"Fuck- Hazel, I'm close- I'm so fucking- fuck," the orgasm sneaks up on you like a villain in the night and you're spamming underneath her, while Hazel continues to rub your cunt through the torrid sensation. Before you've ever even come down from your high, there's a knock on the door, and look towards it with slightly parted lips and blurry vision.

"Hey- you have no more soup, and I think you two are fucking in there so Josie and I are just gonna g-"

"Fuck off, PJ!" Hazel screams at the door, failing to hear the small little 'Okay, rude' before she's lifting your skirt until they're pooling at your hips.

"Hazel, what're you-"

"Another one, okay?" She nods encouragingly before shifting your panties aside and pressing the colds tips of her forefinger and middle finger against your soaked cunt. "You're going to give me another one. I wanna see if I can do it."

You can't even roll your eyes at her unnecessary display of pride because your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as she drags the essence of your arousal along your clit. "Fuck, you look so hot-"

"H-Hazel," the aftershocks from your previous orgasm rack through your upper body just as the oncoming tempest of lust gears you up for the next one. Hazel leans over you once more as she continues to rub at your clit, "Just one more, baby, I know you can do it. Show me, baby." It's downright evil, the effect her manipulation has on your body as you descend further and further into your lust.

"Look at how perfect you look," she says with a voice thick with lechery, "Fuck, you get me so wet to, baby," she murmurs before instinctive pressing her lips to yours once again, as if something nestled in her being, craved the touch of your lips against hers.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Fuck- Hazel-"

"I'm right here, angel," she whispers, before bringing the tips of her fingers to your opening. Hazel is quick to slide her index and middle finger into your pussy until she's fucking you hard and deep. It takes a few short pumps for you to clutch mindlessly at her forearms with your vision slightly waning as you look up at your smiling girlfriend who watches you descend into your orgasm.

"That's it," she coos as you clench around her fingers, "You're doing so well for me, baby,"

"F-Fuck!" You stutter out as you fall into the depths of euphoria. Your mind is flooded with nothing but Hazel, all thoughts previously plaguing your brain is made null and void. In the end, you're just a beacon for her to release her frustrations out on. Even if it means overstimulating you until you become a noisy, helpless mess.

For a while, each other's heavy breathing is all you hear.

That is, until you hear a loud bump against Hazel's closed door, drawing both your attention.

"PJ-" whispers Josie with unimaginable frustration.

"Oh my God, they're definitely fucking-"

[fqntasies]

Prize - Feyd Rautha x Reader

Summary: The Na-Baron is set to fight in the arena once more; yet his opponent's reveal is a shock to you and perhaps the other Harkonnen as well. Upon his impending victory, your husband claims you as his prize, ravenous, of course.

Disclaimer: connected to my other fics of feyd. I dont write my stories as chapters, but rather time-jumps to various moments in the reader & feyd's story (considering that I write you both as connected through dreams since childhood, betrothed, etc.)

Word Count: 1,988

This was to be the second fight you would witness of the Na-Baron's, a momentous celebratory event that filled arena's and sparked a sense of frenzy among the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. The first you had witnessed took place just months before your wedding ceremony; in part a testimony of the Na-Baron's prowess and strength, a claim perhaps to your hand, if you were to view it as such. The spectacle had left you breathless then, and you were certain this time such a reaction would be warranted as well. If nothing else, the racing of your heart and the thunderous chorus of the crowds stood attest to it. They were like beasts among the stands, delirious for their prince, and loyal to their homeworld above all else, chants in the air.

This particular occasion already felt separate. Opponents were typically drugged enemy houses or military prisoners let loose in the triangular space, as was custom. But not today. You had seen odd glances among the servants, and even whispers from other members of the Harkonnen house along passing corridors. Something had been changed in the lineup. But what? Had a prisoner been injured? Escaped before the fight? When you look to your handmaidens, they give nothing away but reassuring nods, pale skulls angling towards where the battle will commence after but a moment.

You could not deduce; instead aware of the light breeze that clips at the base of your neck, and the blinding light that reigns above. It casts sharp shadows over your party, jutting from the edge of the alcove's decorative ceiling.

You stand from your seat to walk the few paces to the edge of the balcony, the dark silk of your gown sliding across your thighs like rivets of water. It is just a few paces, but you feel as though you have stepped into a new world as the sun lathes you in it's blanket of heat. You press your palms against the stone that greets you, and eyes turn down, fixed at the doors to the far north of the arena. The ring on your finger sparkles brilliantly in the day, and for a moment, the roars around you are deafening.

Then, silence... and there he is.

You see that pale visage stark against the darkness behind him, hands gripping twin blades, and you are rapt with attention. Feyd's shoulders heave with his heavy breaths, armor only enhancing his form. You knew if you were to stand up close, his eyes would be endless black pools, ravenous for the blood that was to spill before him, striking against the milky softness of his skin. He was his own animal. Foreignly alien, and yet yours all the same. Husband.

You blush as his eyes find yours abruptly, and he stalks from the entryway, steps bringing him towards you in the sand, even as he is leagues below. Your mind drifts to just hours before, where the Na-Baron had caged you among ebony blankets in your shared chambers, leaving no escape from the broadness of him in the cool of the morning. Ghosts of his tongue and mouth have you heaving a breath; licking your lips as though parched. You knew you would dream of him again tonight, even as his arms would trap you like a vice in the safety of sleep. It thrilled and frightened you alike.

Feyd lifts his blade in oath above his head, like a promise to the heavens, and you nod in reply as that sharp edge glints in the light. This blood he spills for you. Always for you. As he would for any who dared to come between.

When he turns, he rolls his shoulders languidly with a tilt of his head. Ready to strike. And you shift to look towards the very same gates he had come through moments ago. That's when you pause - a breath catching in surprise.

The harpies - you were sure of it; their angled forms were roped about each other, a strangling mess of light limbs as they were dragged by burly guards towards the center of the sands. An offering before their dark prince. Proposed like some strange kind of sacrificial lamb.

Suddenly you knew - this was what had made everyone so surprised.

Feyd has turned again, his face now determined, set. You can see it in the sharpness of his jaw, like he vibrates with a new kind of rage. It's his declaration of his love. He will destroy the things that sought to destroy them and their bond; greedy creatures who cared not for the destiny set before their master. Only seeking flesh and carnal sustenance.

At one point, members of the Harkonnen house had thought to leash the Na-Baron with the harpy creatures; perhaps thinking such temptations could control him, avenues orchestrated by the Baron himself, or Rabban, though you assumed the former. But they had failed to see the lengths to which Feyd was devoted to you, had never known the dreams you both had shared since before your very meeting.

This was what he offered to you. Power and promise. Heady in the air, and ripe with opportunity.

---

When they were lifeless upon the sands, you meet your husband's gaze again. There is red painting his body like stars in the milkyway; and a gash covers his chest where one of the harpies had caught him in her claws. He sways a bit, almost drunkenly; and a bloodied grin paints handsome features as he picks up a pace towards you, black cloak carrying behind him like a billowing shadow. You know where he is headed, as his form disappears beneath. It sets your heart to a stampede, goosebumps prickling along the flesh of your arms, and you are swift to dart from the cover of your ladies.

He hunts you, a hulking form somewhere below, closer and closer.

You envision the Na-Baron stalking through the main doors as you flit between sunlight and shadows, a rasp low in his chest as he parts his lips to taste the air, bloodlust and craving. A needy hunger. It makes your legs feel unstable as you blindly chase between archways, imagining the ghost of your prince behind you at your neck. Would he grab you, you wonder...? Would such hands that had slaughtered moments ago trap you now? The horror. The wonder. Your fingers grasp fistfuls of your gown, bare feet pressing against the cool of the marble under your padded steps.

You huddle swiftly behind a wall to catch your breath, angling your jaw to listen as you puff air in and out of your lungs.

"I know your here, princess."

You startle in silence, running cold - gosh - that voice. It was a weak point for you, Feyd had learned swiftly (as had you). A dangerous piece of knowledge, used more often than not as a way to keep you in your shared bed, wanton and delirious as he sought you out. You knew he carried a dare in his words now. Try to run, little rabbit. Try and see.

You want him to catch you, you think. Though perhaps not yet. Your mind fights for what to do - envisions him around you, and you battle the fog of your machinations in a fleeting moment - dashing towards a new hall at the opposite side of the room.

His laugh is low and drawn out as you fly from him, turning into a growl. You are nearly through a new door when he has you - twisting your fighting form and pulling you with him into the unfamiliar space, strong fingers gripping at your waist.

Then he is claiming your mouth with his, pulling you down with him and into his lap, arms trapping you like you were meant to be there - precisely so - all tongue and taste; the two of you stumbling against a wall. You moan - preen against him, fitting to his hold like a puzzle piece that was perfectly matched.

The slide of his tongue on yours is wet and heavy - and in the haze of kisses you see his eyes heavy lidded, watching, following a growl and the nip of his black teeth. It has you sighing again, mewling like some wanton thing, and the silk of your skirts are gripped in his hand at your hip, which cranes to push you against him. The other angles your neck, tipping your mouth deeper into his, and you think for a moment there is no where else you could go. No where quite like this where you belong so completely. His touch is so warm, and broad - iron too, you are aware that even if you attempted a form of escape, he would have you again in an instant.

"- My prince."

His eyes flash at your breathy words. You two had danced this game before - pretending it was your first meeting, feigning some kind of unaware strangers scenario, though you were both well aware of the visions that plagued each other's sleep for years.

He couldn't ignore the calling of your soul even if he tried.

"My lady." He sounds debauched as he cranes to attach a hot mouth to the spot below your ear, and you arch further into him, brows knitting together at the sensation; fighting for control. You make that sound again - the gentle whine that makes his eyes nearly roll back in his skull, and he chases it with another lathe of his tongue, and a warning rumble in his chest.

Don't tempt me - he taunts.

You have half a mind to mark him the same.

"You're not leaving this time, sweet one. I still haven't even gotten your name." His words proceed a suck at your bottom lip, and you angle to taste him in the fog that covers your mind. You almost don't understand the words in your haze; but the smile you taste in his kisses brings you back, and you pull away enough to face him, lips detaching from his own with a wet gleam.

"But my lord - you know I am engaged." the rumble he makes is another warning, hips against your own as his hands hold you there.

"Then I shall cut him down like all the rest." There is a pride and a jealousy that glimmers in the Na-Baron's eyes, even in this pretend world the two of you have crafted, and it takes you a moment to snap out of your heady admiration of him, chasing after his tongue with your own as you lean back in. Heads turn this way, and that, the heat of your breaths and the wetness of your kisses filling the silence of the space you've chosen.

Feyd groans - followed by a gentle tilt of your head, and his lips are by your ear, his hand in your hair, a commanding hold - though you know he'd never hurt you.

"I quite think you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you, little one?" You pant softly in response, only able to suffice a delicate nod in his embrace, overcome with your desire for him. And that's all he needs to hear, sliding his tongue against yours once more before he's hoisting you in his arms, the fabric of your dress bundling by his hold, baring the soft tenderness of your thighs. It has the muscles in his neck craning with a ragged groan, eyes trailing to meet yours with barely restrained tension. A man at his breaking point.

His swift strides have you clinging tightly to him, nose against his neck, pressed just under his ear. The wafting aroma of his cologne and the sweat and blood of the arena are filling your senses. You know he brings you to your chambers; the grip of his hands and the speed of his steps tell you as much; it makes you taste your lip between your teeth, pressing just so against him.

His prize.

[utterlyotterlyx]

ooo i have an idea

just something fluffy where reader loves hugging azriel because he always wraps his wings around her? maybe a little comfort fic after reader and az go on a rough mission together

Your wish is my command x

You Are My Shelter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - No one can comfort you like Azriel can, and after a mission goes wrong, you need him wrapped around you more than ever before.

Warnings - blood, injury, angst, lots of fluff and comfort, happy-ish ending

It wasn't a rare occurrence for you to accompany Azriel on the odd mission. He would never admit it, but you, his mate, was definitely his favourite partner.

You were quick and nimble, observant, and you held yourself with a feline prowess that had him awestruck each time he saw you prowling through a woodland or the bridge of rooftops clad in your matte black second skin and hugged and kissed ever single curve of your body.

Azriel may have been the Spymaster of the Night Court, the King of Shadow, but you were death incarnate, his Queen.

Though, he and your shared family saw a side to you that no enemy would ever be able to catch a glimpse of. Deep down, beneath that harsh exterior, you were the softest thing any of them had ever encountered, and as Azriel lingered back, watching you stalk along the rooftops of Windhaven, did he know that as soon as you reached the cabin that you called home, would you beg him to hold you, to wrap you up in his arms and furl his wings around your form.

It was your favourite thing in the world, your greatest comfort. Despite knowing of his largest than most wingspan and the certain benefits of it, there was nothing you loved more than to have his wings curl around you and block out all of the negativity of the world. As long as you were with Azriel, nothing bad could ever happen to you.

The situation hadn't been so different that night you had met him and your entire life had changed.

Azriel had been your target once upon a time, the one you had been sent to trail, to learn more about, and the moment you laid eyes on him, the tug you had felt in your soul for your entire life had become unbearable. The feeling didn't stop you from doing what you needed to, sauntering after him down the dark alleys where he stalked, sticking to the shadows of his shadows and going by unnoticed.

It was easy to tell how surprised he was by you the moment he had found himself pinned beneath your body, unable to move as could only watch as his shadows danced to the rich tone of your voice.

The infamous Shadowsinger had heard of you, the assassin whose reputation superseded his own, born in Autumn and the personal spy of Beron himself. Azriel should have been disgusted by you, but as your eyes connected and he saw that gentle fire spark within them, he knew that you had no other choice, no other option but to do what you did best. Kill. Azriel could sympathise with the notion.

Beron's assassin was his mate, and there was no way that he was ever going to let you fall back into the clutches of Autumn, he knew what Beron would do if he knew of the bond between you.

Fond eyes followed you, you could feel Azriel peering upward past the treeline as you hopped from beam to beam, not wavering for a single moment, even when he appeared behind you on that thatched rooftop.

"Don't throw me off of my game, Az," your voice was low and tinted with warning as it sang to him, and he had to reign his shadows in from dancing toward your melodic tone. They had a job to do too.

There was no way that you were going to refuse to stay cooped up in your cabin in Velaris whilst Azriel hunted the males who had took it upon themselves to continue to barbaric act of wing clipping.

Rain pattered against the wooden beams and thatched roofs, the gentle sound of it covering the sound of your cat-like movements as you searched every home, every clearing for a sign of those males, excited to tear them apart for even thinking that they could harm a female and get away with it.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," he purred softly to you, his blue siphons dimly glowing in the night, the rain plastering his hair to the sides of his face.

Azriel ran his callused fingers through his locks and looked to you, "You're extra cold today, my love," he motioned to you, namely to the mask you had put on that evening, a mask that even he found intimidating, so gods help anyone else that crossed you that night.

Damn him.

Twin blades idly twirled in your gloved fingers, you had unsheathed them from your thigh holsters the moment you had landed on the thatched shelter, just in case any Illyrian male was stupid enough to attempt to meet you there. Countless moments had gone by when Azriel had watched you take down men three times your height and build, you were as quick as the speed of light, your agility was something that even he couldn't stand against, and he loved you for it.

He had finally met his match and found his equal in one fell swoop.

The tight coronet that Nesta had styled for you glistened in the moonlight, two thin slices fell over your face and they whipped against the breeze as you turned to face him, "I'm just feeling extra broody today is all."

Azriel cocked his head to the side and smirked, too entranced by you to notice his shadows slithering up his legs and coiling around his thighs, "You're due on your cycle soon."

Your eyes narrowed and you took a single step toward him, the beam creaking under your weight but you didn't falter, you didn't wobble, your balance was pristine, "That has nothing to do with it."

Silly moments like that were what made you happy, how, even in the midst of a mission, he could still find ways to tease you and make you smile. Azriel opened his arms to you, his wings unfurling from the tucked back place behind his back, inviting you in, "Do you need a cuddle?"

You could never say no to that.

The resolve within you fractured and fell, and you wasted no time in sheathing your blades, shrugging innocently, you told him, "It would be rude to deny you the comfort."

"It really would."

Azriel was too focused on you, on your bright eyes and curled lips to notice his shadows darting about in warning, and he didn't realise until it was too late.

A metallic tang tinted the air, and you inhaled sharply, stumbling backward a couple of steps before your foot slipped and you were sent tumbling off the beam. Azriel dove off after you, he didn't waste a second, he saw the pain twist in your features, but he wasn't quick enough, and you landed on the ground with a sickening thud, a soft cry flew from your lips.

Arms were around you instantly, his fingers were flittering around the arrow that was burrowed into your shoulder and the nausea hit you like a horse as all of the fire within you vanished from your body. Footsteps thundered from all around you, but you couldn't pinpoint the exact direction of their origin as your world span.

Muffled words enveloped the world where you lay, "Get out of here, Az. They're coming."

Azriel knew it, he could hear their shouting and stalking footsteps, and he cursed himself and his siphons for meddling with you whilst you were so high up, so vulnerable to their arrows. Azriel had stolen your focus.

Faebane held a putrid scent, it had always made his nose burn and crinkle, he clasped your face in his hands, noting your weary eyes that were getting heavier by the second. The arrow was protruding from your shoulder and he could smell your blood mixed with the poison, there was a lot of it, you were loosing too much too fast.

"I'm not leaving you here," he hoisted you up in his arms, cooing soft apologies as you groaned in his embrace with every turn his shadows barked at him to take, half of them scouting ahead whilst the other half wrapped themselves around your wound, applying pressure and doing their best to keep you comfortable, "Eyes on me, Angel."

The sound of his desperate plea gave you enough strength to keep your eyes open, you fought the darkness as hard as you could until you felt the hope that you'd gotten far away enough for Azriel to stretch his wings and soar into the skies.

It was usually a thing you loved, flying with Azriel, he made any excuse he could to take you flying, just so that he could hold you close to him. Not like he needed any reason at all to touch you, but he would always find one.

You had never felt so weak, or so stupid, or so helpless in that moment. Azriel held you close, pleading at you to keep you pretty eyes open, to stay awake, and you tried, you really did, but it was too hard.

Only when Azriel landed in Velaris did your consciousness jolt, purely due to the sound of his roaring voice shouting for Rhys who had appeared moments later with Madja in tow, commanding Azriel to place you onto the bare table thanks to Nesta's quick sweep that sent an array of plates and glasses crashing to the floor.

Sickly paleness clung to your skin, sweat coated your brow and you were shivering so violently that your teeth were rattling in your mouth, and your gaze shifted to Madja whilst Azriel told Rhys, Nesta, and a newly appeared Cassian what had happened with a strained voice.

"Is she going to be alright, Madja?" Rhys' voice echoed, he felt so far away, but from the stoic hand he had rested on your forehead, you knew he was much closer than you thought.

Madja was silent for a moment, her lips were tight as she pulled the arrow from your torn flesh, sympathy flashing in her eyes at the powerful cry that she had pulled from your lips, "She's lost a lot of blood," that much was clear from the red coating the tabletop, "But she'll be fine," Azriel was by your side, releasing a breath he didn't realise he was holding, pressing his lips to your hairline and stroking the matted hair away from your face.

Gauze become embedded into the wound, coated in a healing tonic that made you hiss and trash in Azriel's grip when it touched the gaping hole in your shoulder, and Madja worked as softly as she could as she wrapped thick white bandages around it. Madja left with strict instructions.

Rest. Fluids. Comfort.

Rhys hadn't even finished thanking her before he saw Azriel cradle you in his arms from the corner of his eye and whisk you to the room you two had shared before you had moved to your little cabin in the woods.

He had never been as gentle with anyone like he had been with you, you placed you onto the bed like a feather, pressing a cold cloth to your forehead to cool you down and rid your brow of sweat before he peeled his own clothes from his body and fell into the comfort beside you.

Weakly, you reached for him with trembling fingers, wincing as he pulled you into the position he knew that you needed. Head on his chest so that you could listen to his heartbeat which was racing in that moment, with your fingers tracing serene circles into the muscles of his pecs as his own hands wound around you, his wings drooping over your frame and binding you in their warmth and protection.

"I'm so sorry," he voice was wounded, strained with guilt, his fingers found the back of your neck and he worked slowly to unpin the coronet Nesta had styled for you, dropping the pins to the floor and unwinding the braids as you sighed softly at the tightness diminishing.

A hoarse hum rumbled at your lips, "It's okay, Az," you shivered again and he pulled you in tighter, being careful not to cause you any pain, and his wings curled tighter around your frame, waves of warmth seeped into you and your relaxed, "I'm here, I'm okay," your voice was a hush above a whisper, laced with exhaustion.

"I love you so much," his shadows grazed over your skin, and for a moment you believed that Azriel's hands were roaming over you, but they weren't, it was his shadows waving across every inch of you that they could, soothing you, cooing to you, "Go to sleep, Angel. I'll be here when you wake up, and we can spend all day like this tomorrow. How does that sound?"

The smile that graced your lips was peaceful, your lips parted to answer and Azriel waited, but when soft snores filled the room, all he could do was rake his fingers through your hair and swear to himself that he would never dare to put you in such danger ever again.

Author's Note

Just a little post-work drabble for you all x

[kabuki-writes]

And All Eyes Were Set On Brutus

chapter: 3 chapter 1 | 2

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: After their visit of the Colosseum, Marcus Acacius worries even more about his beloved daughter. Meanwhile a dangerous rumor finds its way into the Emperor's ears.

warning(s): NSFW | mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Thank you all for your ongoing support and your comments on my previous chapters✨🙇‍♀️! I really enjoy to write this fic as a Geta and Cara stan myself and it honors me that you continue to share your love for these two and this fic. I really hope you like this chapter as well, because this time it gets a little more... spicy.🌶️

word count: 3.6k

Rome was becoming nothing more than a painful cage for General Acacius. From the very first day he had to wear the white armor of victory, he felt like a slave with no other choices than to watch how everything he had known changed for the worse. He despised himself for not being able to protect his own daughter from the eyes of the Emperors, that were now set on her. He should've never taken her with him, he should've sticked with his principles. But then again, what choice did he even have, when he faced an order by the most powerful men in the world.

There was no chance to defy them openly, speaking up now would bring danger to his whole family as they would have to face the consequences of Marcus Acacius' actions. He wasn't so delusional and naive to think that the anger of the Emperors would only befall him alone, no, they weren't like that. So when the day came and a senator stepped forward to the General, he hesitated. Geta and Caracalla were beloved by the people as they gave them victories, bread and games - as long as the plebs had that, no one gave a damn about who sat on top. For them it was all the same, but the senate was different.

After the death of Emperor Commodus, the senate reestablished the Roman Republic, but wasn't able to secure their power. Many cities and regions took their chance to rebel against Rome as most of the generals refused to serve the new order - that included Marcus Acacius as well, who quickly sided with his old friend and brother-in-arms Septimius Severus, the father of the now ruling Emperors Geta and Caracalla. They took their legions and marched on Rome, where Severus took the power from the senate again only one year after the rebirth of the Republic. Acacius did believe in Severus, he did believe in the vision his friend had for Rome as well as his strength and wisdom as Emperor. Nearly two decades he was not disappointed while he served his old friend as a close advisor and his first general.

The senate got reduced to nothing more than a theater stage, with no real power or influence. And Acacius was sure that they would forever hate him for the service he did to Severus. Yet men like Gracchus must've sensed that the general was getting more and more delusional given the current reign of the twins. So the politicians approached him carefully and together they formed an alliance in the shadows. Their plan: Overthrowing the two Emperors and install the Republic again. Acacius stood never on the side of the senate... but nothing was as terrible as Geta's and Caracalla's tyranny. And if that is a way to protect his daughter and his family from them, he happily claimed himself a Roman Republican now.

Coming from one of his nightly visits at senator Gracchus' home, Acacius noticed that there was someone still sitting in the inner garden of his Roman city residence. He took off his cloak and approached you slowly as you watched the turtles in the small pond between the plants and flowers, while the water of a small fountain rippled in the silence. "Your mother told me, that you were sitting here the whole day", he said with a low tone, careful not to scare you with his sudden appearence, before he took a seat right next to you on the stone bench. When he watched your face, he saw all the thoughts that were probably going through your head after the situation in the Collosseum yesterday. For a long moment, the two of you simply sat in silence, while one of the turtles walked along a mosaic before it fell into the water.

"I am not a child anymore, i don't want you or mother to protect me any longer", you suddenly whispered, before your head turned to your father. In your eyes he saw how you struggled to maintain your neutrality as you faced the danger that may come over you, if you'd accept this new attention further. "And yet i don't know how to deal with... them? I suppose i cannot refuse any of this?" Your question carried a sense of pain, because you already knew the answer and it was equally as hard for your father to shake his head in response.

"I thought so...", you mumbled and leaned forward give one of the turtles a leaf of salad you had snached from the dinner table earlier. Acacius had seen many battles and many terrible things, but nothing was harder than to see you like this. And nothing was harder than to feel helpless. All he could do was laying his hand softly and reassuring on your shoulder.

„You’re my daughter, y/n. And you’re right, even if I want it to, I can not protect you anymore… all I can promise you, that it is going to be alright."

He searched for a way to fix all of this, even though he couldn't tell you how. It was better this way as it would only drag you deeper into the dead end that your own father had already set up. The mere thought about it made his heart grow even more painful.

"Do you regret it sometimes?", you suddenly asked, looking at the vibrant clear water of the pond. "What do you mean?"

"That you marched with Emperor Severus back then?"

This question wasn't easy to answer, it was written on Acacius face, as he turned his face to the turtles and sighed.

"I did believe in Severus... i still do. Under him, Rome was able to secure itself and become strong again. What comes after that now - only time will tell. But what i know is that i have to leave in a few weeks with my troups again. An order of the Emperors."

It wasn't a particular surprising news, but nonetheless your fingers digged themselves into the fabric of your toga-like blue dress, while you still hept your head high. Despair was no useful emotion and not a good thought right now. You needed to stay calm, stick to yourself and find a way on how to deal with all of the things that were happening. As you'd said you were no child anymore - you will find a way out if this, even without your father.

You didn't say a word in response, however you closed your arms around him as the fear that with him being gone it could get even worse, lingered on your mind. Little did you know that the world you had known was already on the brink of falling apart.

_____________________________________________

The smell of incence, wine, sweet perfume and sweat filled the rooms of Emperor Caracalla's chambers, while naked bodies moved themselves to the rythm of a small group of musicians. The melodies of their instruments mixed themselves with the moans of the men and women in ecstacy, the worshippers of Bacchus - god of wine, euphoria and madness. Drinking and making love was the way they prayed nearly every night as Caracalla found in it a way to escape the reality that almost drove him crazy. Here in his chambers, the only Emperor that mattered was him, the only word that was heard was his own. At least one small realm for himself, while he had to share the rest of the world with his twin brother.

But it was different this time, when he stared at the scenery with a mind clouded in intoxication. His breaths went ragged, while he sat on a bed decorated with velvet cushions, a young man kneeled between his legs and sent him to elysium with his tongue, while he was surrounded by beautiful slaves, women with golden chains, that decorated their naked breasts and hips. And yet even in a scenery like this, where he usually found a way to calm his restless mind, he was still thinking about her. Not only her, sadly - that goddamn General was another thought. The hero of Rome was no pleasant figure for him anymore, he was nothing more than a Brutus, but Caracalla was not the one to end up like Julius Caesar.

The mere thought of killing this treacherous son of a whore hit Caracalla's brain and made him cum into the mouth of the slave that had his dick deep in his throat. This peak of his pleasure would've helped him to relax if not one of the praetorian guards stepped in and walked with his black and lilac amror through the voyeristic scenery like it was a halluzination in front of the Emperor's eyes. Without a second thought, Caracalla simply pushed the young slave, who was still sitting at his feet, to the side and stood up. His hand quickly grabbed the white toga that layed on the floor which he threw over his own naked, pale body. "Why do you disturb me!?", he hissed, as if he wasn't already expecting him.

The soldier ignored the music, the slaves that layed on the ground and fucked each other, just as he ignored the half-naked Emperor right in front of him, who still wore his golden laurel crown and his jewelries. "Emperor Geta waits for you."

For a moment, the young man with the gingerblonde hair stared at his guard, before he nodded quickly, as if it got him out of a daydream. "Yes, yes i will come to him, i am right there, tell him that. And get that slave Marcellus here," he answered, hand waving him away before his tone shifted and he screamed at his 'guests'. "Get out, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! NOW!" The music stopped immediately and all eyes were set on Caracalla, while the first slaves already got to their feet again. „NOW,“ he repeated in a louder and added in a hissing tone „…or I will claim your tongue with a dagger!“

Caracalla was impossible to read fully, just as he was impulsive. It would’ve not been the first time one participant of this nightly debaucheries had lost his tongue or another part of his body.

_____________________________________________

Emperor Geta waited in his embroidered night robe, which was half open, exposing his bare and pale chest. Sitting on a cushioned wooden chair, he stared with tired eyes out the window of the balcony, the darkness of Rome in front of him. Just as his brother he had someone in his chambers, but instead of a whole horde of slaves he had chosen one good whore with hairs that reminded him of you. It was just a dull replacement, he knew that, yet it was enough for a good fuck before he would’ve went to sleep.

If there was not his twin brother, who‘d call for him in the middle of the goddamn night. By the gods he hated to be disturbed like that, especially after countless of times his brother got him here only to share uninteresting - sometimes even paranoid - gossip with him, which Caracalla had heard from the mouth of one of his slaves.

When the curtains of the attached room opened and Geta saw his brother entering with his wild hair and only with a toga over his bare body, his nose twitched in anger. „Don‘t tell me you disturbed my sleep and called for my immediate coming while you were fucking whores at your damn orgy!? When you’re telling me that your problem is, that you can’t sleep now, I will cross you myself!“ Yes, it wasn’t the first time Caracalla had called him for such nonesense. And usually Geta had a lot of patience with him, given his psychological condition, but not tonight.

Caracalla stopped in an instant and looked at his brother with big eyes as if he tries to convince him that he wasn’t guilty of anything. „Yes, but- I had a reason for that!“ he insisted, which only fueled Geta's anger. „Lucinius, bring us the slave!“ Caracalla quickly said and the Praetorian guard who just had informed him about his brother came in with a skinny, yet tall young man. He was a slave but given the clothes he wore, it was clear that he had a higher rank within the household he was serving in.

„Who is that, one of your toy boys?“ Geta asked, eying the stranger he‘d never seen before. But Caracalla shook his head and stepped forth to place his hand on the shoulder of that slave.

„No! He is a slave from the household of senator Gracchus,“ he explained and couldn’t hide an almost devilish smile as this said slave was here for one reason alone - to tell them everything. „Marcellus, tell him,“ he ordered and whispered into his ear. „I promised you your freedom and a good amount of gold, to return to your family. You want to see your daughter again, right? So don’t disappoint me now.“ With those words he stepped back for a moment, giving the slave a moment to breath as he seemingly tried to find the right words. He was nervous, the way his fingers twitched and his eyes were glued to the marble ground under his feet.

"I... i am a servant in the household of senator Gracchus for nearly a decade now", Marcellus began and forced himself to look up into the testing eyes of Geta, who was growing more impatient with each second passing. "The General... General Acacius as well as a couple of other senators visit my master regularly in the middle of the night and they always retreat into a secret room in the cellar of his villa."

With an amused whistle Geta interrupted him. "Why should we care for the sexual escapades of a group of old men?", he hissed, but Caracalla threw in with a darkened shimmer in his eyes. "Wait for it, you will be furious, trust me! Continue."

Marcellus needed a second to calm himself down and stop to shake as he formed his next words. "When i brought them wine once, they stopped with their conversation as long as i stayed in the room, but when i was in the corridor, they spoke again. They didn't know that i was still there, so i just listened and- it was clear that they questioned you, my Emperors. They questioned your leadership and the general - i wouldn't dare to speak out loud such a blasphemy against your rule, if it was not what i've heard with my own ears."

Geta's face darkened with every new information Marcellus was telling him and slowly he realized why his brother was so eager to get him here. The laugh of his twin filled the room, which turned hysterical. "Tell him, Marcellus!"

"General Acacius and the senators Gracchus, Livinidus, Galba and Erebus plan to overthrow you with the legions that are under Acacius' command," he said and had to force every word out of his mouth, afraid of the anger that cooked like a vulcano in Geta. His hands formed fists and he bit his tongue. All this time, Acacius - the hero - was a traitor, a Brutus. And now he connected the dots, thinking about every time this General wined about going off to war. This maggot.

"And this is true!?", he asked in a loud, demanding tone. "If that is a lie, we will punish you in the most terrible ways you could imagine and feed you to the lions in the Colosseum!" Marcellus eyes were filled with tears of fear, yet he shook his head heavily.

"No, please! I speak the truth, i swear it! I swear it in front of Jupiter himself, please, you must believe me! I came to Emperor Caracalla, who promised me my freedom if i tell it here again. It is no lie!"

"Kill him", Geta ordered in a cold tone and before Marcellus could even scream, it was the blade of the Praetorial Guard that cut his head off from behind, making it fall to the ground like a ball of bones and meat, followed by his body. Under the resounding laugh of Caracalla, Geta ordered the Guard to leave them so that he could speak to his brother in private.

"You just read my mind, dear brother! I wouldn't have let him go either", Caracalla sang. "We should kill them all, that bastard Acacius and his old senate sluts! Let's cut off their heads and spike them on the Palatin for all to see!"

But Geta was already two steps ahead when he closed the distance between him and his twin. Yes, he was furious, it took him all restraints to not give in the urge of ordering their murder. "No," he said, which drew a questioning look on his brothers face.

"What no?! Those are traitors, TRAITORS! You've heard the same things i did!?"

"I did, but the senators are no danger. These old men talk about the republic which is nothing more than dust and ashes! A faded dream and without any backing, they just continue to shit themselves in the senate. When our father took Rome, the people cheered to him, because they didn't want a Republic but a strong Emperor to guide them, remember? The head of the snake is Acacius! He must die, and he will die, but not yet!", Geta started and turned to the balcony, leaving his brother for a moment as he stood in the darkness with his his white toga. "We need his legion, and we will make him our fucking dog, who has no chance to ever decline any order of us, if we have his beloved daughter. If he doesn't do as we say, then she will die."

But he will, Geta knew that. Nothing seemed to be more precious in Acacius' life than his family and especially his dear daughter. And this whole situation had a bonus for Geta, because when he turned to face Caracalla again, he announced. "I will force him with an order to marry his daughter to me!"

Caracalla froze in place, his eyes staring at his brother as if he just had a bad dream. "What?", he simply asked again, while his brother's anger turned into anticipation. "With a marriage we bind her to our reign and therefore we will bind the General. Acacius delivers us his own daughter and his own head on a silver tablet with his treacherous nonsense!"

Geta wanted to place his hands on his twin's shoulders, but Caracalla slapped them out of his way. "I don't accept this! NO! I DON'T ACCEPT THIS!", he screamed at him, which really irritated his twin. "Why can't I be the One to marry her!?"

There it was. For the first time, the twins revealed in front of each other that they longed for the same girl. And that made it complicated. Nonetheless Geta was still confused, why his brother reacted like that, so he reminded him of what Caracalla said all those years.

"You never wanted to marry? How many times did you told our father before he died? Every time he said to us, that we would need to find ourselves someone to take as a wife, you refused. You were too busy indulging in your late night activities and Bacchus rituals."

He stepped forward with an intense glaze in his eyes. This way of being instructive, while Caracalla was still his twin and technically even older than him, made his brother's mouth twitch in response to his next words. "May i remind you about the fact that i am the one of us dealing with most of the political responsibilities, because you always wanted to stick to your fun."

Those words were indeed true, as Caracalla hated those senate discussions, which lead to nothing and were only for show - an illusion for both the plebs and the upper-classes. Geta continued, but not without making clear that he saw himself worthier of you being his wife, bound in front of the gods. "All of that is fine, brother. I've always protected you from the boring senators and hypocrites of the Roman elite, while you collected the most beautiful slaves and enjoyed yourself. You have no duties, as long as i take them off your shoulders and finally shut up all the people, finally demanding a royal marriage after all those years. And given all of that, i do think i deserve to marry before you to present Rome an Empress."

Caracalla stared at him, straight into the eyes of his twin Geta and his fingers twitched. If he would just have a dagger now? But he had none right here and given the fact that his brother was always taller and stronger with his statue, it wouldn't make sense to start a fight. In fact he couldn't even argue against him, as it was true, he was never an Emperor that bothered himself with any political nonesense. Yet he couldn't shake off the urge to kill Geta for this. Again, he took a thing from him he wanted to own for himself - only for himself. Even though his twin showed his goodwill, as he always did. His hands layed itself on Caracalla's cheeks and he gave him a brotherly kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear brother. I am not above sharing her divine presence with you. But she will always be my wife," he whispered, followed by a smile on his lips.

With those words he simply turned and left the room, leaving Caracalla, who was still wearing his white toga over his naked body, as well as the body of Marcellus alone in the dark. His mind got corrupted with so many thoughts in this very moment, but the most prominentely thought was anger. So he screamed hysterically and grabbed the table that stood at the side to throw it down, taking the vase on top and hurled it straight through the room, followed by the head of that damn slave. He hated Geta. He hated him so much and still they had shared the whomb of their mother, which made them share the same blood.

How long would he be able to hold the urge to murder his own brother - especially now as Geta claimed you?

_____________________________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 33,577 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

The habit of loneliness settles in between, and the flame they thought in deep slumber rekindles, burning with their long time unattended needs.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[theetherealbloom]

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

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A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.  

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.  

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.  

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”  

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”  

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”  

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.  

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade. 

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”  

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”  

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.  

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”  

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”  

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.  

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.” 

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?” 

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. 

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. 

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY  

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.  

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”  

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.  

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.  

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.  

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.  

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.  

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”  

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.  

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”  

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”  

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.  

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.  

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.  

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.  

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”  

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.  

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.  

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.  

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”  

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”  

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.  

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”  

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.  

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”  

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.  

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”  

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”  

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.  

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.  

VILLA DI DOMITIA LUCILLA — NIGHT  

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.  

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.  

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.  

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.  

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.  

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”  

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”  

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.  

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.  

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”  

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”  

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”  

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.  

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.  

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”  

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”  

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”  

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”  

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.  

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.  

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.  

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”  

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”  

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.  

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”  

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”  

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”  

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”  

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”  

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.  

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.  

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”  

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”  

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.  

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.  

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.  

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.  

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”  

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”  

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”  

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.  

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”  

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”  

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”  

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”  

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”  

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”  

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.  

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.  

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.  

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.  

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”  

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.  

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.  

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”  

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”  

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”  

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”  

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”  

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.  

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”  

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”  

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.  

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.  

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”  

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”  

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.  

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.  

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”  

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.  

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”  

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”  

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.  

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.  

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”  

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”  

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”  

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.  

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.  

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”  

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.  

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.  

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”  

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”  

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”  

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.  

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”  

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”  

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”  

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.  

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. “No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”  

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”  

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”  

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”  

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.  

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”  

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”  

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”  

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”  

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.  

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”  

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”  

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.  

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”  

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.  

[sorryimananti-romantic]

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.

[saiilorstars]

ch.15: the spectre sisters

Story Masterlist

Fandom: Sailor Moon (Crystal)

Rewrite of season 2, AU-ish in that there’s new OCs and the fusion of plots from the manga, crystal and the og series

Pairings: Eventual OFC x OMC, Usagi x Mamoru

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic​​ @kmc1989

"Shadows are more than just shadows. There's an entire world of them," Princess Reign had her hands over her heart. "Shadows of us, of the lost, of the dead, they're all sealed away in another world and to get to that world...you literally have to go through me."

"The Shadow Crystal is embedded in your heart. Doesn't that pose a threat to you?" Endymion inquired, looking very concerned at her with the news.

"The Crystal doesn't hurt anyone. All it does is hide, and in return it gives you small gifts," Reign smiled.

"But it's not what made you a…?"

"Sailor Scout? No," Reign laughed. "The Crystal was a responsibility bestowed to me by the Gods. Being a Sailor Scout was my birthright."

"And yet you don't…"

"Practice? No. My mother won't allow it."

"There's a lot of things your mother doesn't allow," Endymion noted. He wondered how she hadn't gone mad with resentment.

"Yeah. Even though I'm sure she doesn't follow her own rules either."

"How so?"

Reign looked around before speaking again. As far from home as she was, she was always careful about speaking so freely. "I'm pretty sure she's found our sister civilization and has contact with them."

"You mean Obscurius?" Endymion vaguely remembered her mentioning it once but she never really went into detail about it.

"Yeah, them. They're supposed to be like a civilization close to our abilities and yet we are not allowed to speak with them," Reign leaned against a stone pillar. Her eyes drifted once more to the sky above. "When I am Queen, I'm going to take down all those rules and I am going to welcome anyone who wishes to live in peace. I will not rule like my mother who is governed by paranoia. My Kingdom will be all of people, Shadows...humans…" she smiled purposely at Endymion, "...anyone so long as they want peace."

A tall, blonde haired girl trudged behind Meroko and Asteria into the cafe shop where the rest of the girls were waiting. After getting settled (and ordering), they began to discuss business.

"She's going to enroll in school as our cousin, under the name Emica Pala," Asteria informed the group.

"I don't see why I have to give myself a ridiculous human name," huffed Emica herself. Her dark blue eyes flickered side to side, giving the impression she was not yet convinced of the new world.

"Because we can't just call you 'Siren'," Minako said, earning a hard glare in return. "It would give up your identity," Minako added what she thought would finish convincing Emica that it was the better option.

"Sure," Emica rolled her eyes. Unazuki turned on the blender from the counter and made Emica nearly spring into her feet.

"Easy there, Black Canary, it's just a blender," Azula motioned Emica to sit back down. The blonde gave a questionable stare in response. "It's a comic? She has the ability to scream as deadly as you?" Azula waited a moment but once again, Emica looked confused, prompting Azula to shake her head. "Never mind."

"These humans…" Emica looked around the room again as she sat down, "... they're very advanced now, aren't they?" She eyed the blender on the counter that, in her opinion, was way too loud.

"In comparison to the last time you saw them? I'm sure we are," Azula smiled.

"Emica never saw the humans in our past lives," Meroko explained. "Except for the time Princess Reign stepped out from the Shadow Barrier."

"So what did you do all day?" Usagi wondered.

Emica sighed. She'd been warned by her comrades that she would be subjected to various questions by the girls. "I made sure the palace was protected. Given my abilities, I was named head militarist of Shadow. It was my task to make sure no foreign threat invaded the palace and the kingdom."

"If you could hypnotize people the way you did two days ago, then that palace must have been safe all the time," Makoto meant that as nothing but a compliment. It seemed to work for a minute.

Emica rested a cheek on her hand and produced a fine smirk. "My songs are the best in the whole universe. However," her smirk faded, "it wasn't enough to stop whatever the hell killed the humans back then."

"It was the Moon Kingdom's fault," Asteria was kind enough to tell her, instigating the offended 'hey's!' from the others.

"It really wasn't," Rei snapped. "Nobody is at fault for Queen Metaria's attacks."

"Okay let's get back to business please," Azula lightly clapped her hands before the two girls got into another argument. "Emica, we're having trouble finding Princess Reign and stopping Senka altogether…"

Emica snorted lightly. "I imagine you would be. Senka is no ordinary enemy."

"You know something we don't?" Ami inquired curiously, ready to listen to anything new that could help them stop Senka.

Emica gave a light shrug of her shoulders. She lowered her hands to her lap and sighed. "Senka was a dark legend that Queen Nyx once told me about. She told me about our dark enemies so that if I once had the unfortunate luck to meet one of them, I would be prepared."

"What did she say about Senka?" Minako asked.

"Senka is a creature that's made up of three different beings," Emica motioned with her hands in the air. "Queen Nyx said that these three beings were the Shadow Dominion-counterparts of actual, living people. Warriors."

"Do you know who those warriors were?" Makoto asked.

Emica nodded. "They were Sailor Scouts' shadows. One was unknown, but Queen Nyx assured me that this shadow was the counterpart of a powerful Sailor Scout. As for the other two Scouts…" Emica gave a tilt of her head, "I'm sure you know."

"We really doubt that," Rei said flatly.

"Sailor Reign and Sailor Moon."

Usagi squeaked in her chair. Her eyes widened and she pointed at herself to make sure Emica had just said her name.

Emica nodded her head again. "Sailor Moon was always a Scout to come therefore her shadow always existed in the Shadow Dominion."

"But I'm not…" Usagi didn't want the others to think she was being modest or anything because she really didn't consider herself all that of a good warrior.

Emica playfully rolled her eyes. "You possess the power of life and healing. Sailor Reign controls Shadows, and the third scout possessed powers of destruction. You three together are…"

"Invincible," Meroko rubbed her face, feeling that pressure rise tenfold. "That's great. Really."

Usagi scratched the back of her head and sheepishly smiled. "Sorry?"

"Don't do that," Azula told her right away then looked to Emica. "How do we stop Senka?"

"Are you kidding?" Meroko said with a face that assumed Azula had lost it.

"Hey, no matter how powerful, Senka has to have a weakness. Everyone does," Azula assured. "It's human nature."

"Senka's not human!"

"The concept still applies because it's basic biology." Azula looked at the rest of her friends to see if they were on the same page. "No matter how powerful someone is, they always have at least one weakness. And even if it's small, it's still a chance. And I don't know about you, but I'm taking at least one chance."

"She's right," Rei was the first to say. With determination, she directed her gaze to Emica. "So? What is it?"

Emica was troubled but she did have one idea that could prove to be useful. "Shadows from the Shadow Dominion can be destroyed if hit with a powerful attack. But, since Senka is made up of three shadows, you'd have to destroy each of those beings one by one."

"There you go," Azula proudly smiled.

"It's not easy!" Emica snapped.

"I never said it would be, but it's definitely a start."

Emica rubbed her forehead. "You don't understand. This attack I'm talking about? It has to be phenomenally big."

"Well, there's plenty of Sailor Scouts' power we can combine," Ami thought of the idea rather fast. "We could combine our powers and let Sailor Moon direct the attack."

Usagi squeaked again but this time out of fear. "M-me!?"

Azula laughed and clapped a hand over her shoulder. "It's definitely fitting."

"Great," Usagi suddenly felt like the air in her had gone without her permission.

~0~

Meroko and Asteria had made sure that their shared apartment felt like a comfortable home for them. The same feeling could not be shared by Emica. She had already gone through the entire place ten times and could not, for the life of her, find it suitable. The "luxuries" humans had in today's world seemed so pointless to her.

"And people just waste time watching this box?" Emica stared in disgust at the television in the living room. They were silly pictures moving and talking all day long.

"It's a big thing here," Meroko shrugged. "Don't worry, we don't use it much."

Emica turned around to her younger comrades. "Good. I should like to think that you haven't wasted time."

Asteria narrowed her eyes on the girl. "Of course we wouldn't. Finding Reign is our priority."

But something in Emica's face wasn't so convinced. "Really? So this Black Moon Clan I heard about earlier...you haven't helped with that?"

Meroko groaned. She forgot how difficult Emica was sometimes. Like Asteria, Emica prioritized her duties before anything. However, Emica spent more time ordering others than anything else. It shaped her personality into an assertive girl. It was great for ordering...but it conflicted with her comrades at times. She often forgot that while she was head of the Shadow military, she wasn't the head of their team. That belonged to someone else.

"Well of course we have," Meroko huffed and ignored the disapproving look she was getting. "What were we supposed to do? Let that ridiculously-named club destroy us?"

Emica released a small, frustrated sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, further annoying Meroko. "Our top priority is to find the Princess. Even finding Circe comes second. This Black Moon Clan is not our problem. It's those Moon descendants' issue."

"Yeah, but they're on the same planet that Reign is on so what if they hurt people and one of them ends up being Reign? Then what?"

Emica considered the idea with some degree of thought. She shook her hands and turned away. "We should be focusing all our resources on finding Reign."

"Hm, we've been trying," Asteria huffed and moved closer to her. "You wouldn't happen to know what Reign did with the Shadow Crystal?"

Emica's head was quick to snap in Asteria's direction. "Of course not," she said within the second. "A Sailor Scout should never know that type of information. Not even Circe knew...and she knew everything. We wouldn't like to become the next Forbidden Soldier, would we?"

Both Meroko and Asteria shook their heads.

"Look, Senka is searching for it," Meroko said. "She terrorizes the humans on a daily basis for it but she hasn't found it...and neither have we."

"The most logical thing would be for the Crystal to be hidden inside the unawakened princess," Emica leaned on a hip as she thought some more. "Therefore, the most logical thing to do would be to let Senka search the humans."

Asteria smirked. "That's exactly what Azula thought."

"Azula?" Emica ransacked her mind for the identities of each of the girls she had met earlier. "Is it the little redhead?"

"Yup. She's my favorite human."

"But don't get your hopes up," Meroko cut in before Emica said anything. "The others didn't go for it."

"Well" — Emica clapped her hands together — "since I am the second-in-command of the Shadow Scouts and therefore first at the moment, I am taking control of this mission."

"Emica—"

"We," Emica purposely spoke louder, "are Shadow Sailor Scouts and we do not answer to Silver Milleniums. They are the reason we're in this situation and the idea of them thinking they're in command is laughable. We no longer hold contact with them." Thinking she made her point, Emica walked into the room Meroko and Asteria had given her the previous night.

"I forgot she was annoying," Meroko admitted a few seconds later, and ignored the reprimanding glance of her sister.

~ 0 ~

"She's pretty but I can tell she's gonna be even more difficult than Asteria," Azula relayed what Emica was like to Mamoru as the two headed for Usagi's house. In comparison to the other Shadow scouts they had met, Emica seemed to have more tude.

"More?" Mamoru laughed shortly. He didn't think that was possible.

"You laugh now but you haven't met her. She has this...face...that screams 'bitch'."

"Okay, Azula, I think you're overrreacting—"

"Don't ever tell me I'm overacting. Serious bad move."

The two barely turned the corner of Usagi's house when the blonde girl herself crashed into them.

"Usagi I do get tired of these types of welcomings," Azula sighed and fixed blouse.

"I'm sorry but Chibiusa isn't home and my Mom literally yelled at me not to come home until she's back," Usagi said with nothing but irritation. "As if she didn't know Chibiusa's favorite sport was run and hide!"

"Usagi calm down, she's probably at the park," Mamoru said with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Yeah, we can go with you if you'd like," Azula smiled.

Usagi had no disagreements there. She happily took Mamoru's hand and walked together to the park. "What are you carrying an umbrella for?" she had spotted the red umbrella in Azula's hand.

"I thought it was going to rain," Azula admitted. Now it was her burden.

"It matches your hair," Usagi giggled.

"Yeah let's not talk about my hair issues, alright?" Azula smirked to the side when Usagi gasped in offence. It was then that Mamoru decided to walk between the two girls instead.

They made it to the park alive and sure enough spotted the pink-haired girl on the same bench they often did. As they neared, though, they noticed she was crying...and calling for her mother.

"Chibi—" Usagi barely got to call when Azula grabbed her arm to pull her back.

"What's that key she's holding?" the redhead pointed to the silver key in Chibiusa's hand.

"It looks...familiar," Mamoru remarked. He thought it looked kind of familiar...

"Mother, father, I want to go home!" Chibiusa raised the key high in the air.

Azula's eyes widened and her hand yanked Usagi back and forth. "Oh my God! It's the same key Reyna and Sailor Circe used to get back home!"

Mamoru realized she was right. That's why it seemed familiar. "Meaning she's about to go back to wherever she's from!"

Something white flashed on Chibiusa's forehead that momentarily blinded the trio. It lasted for a very short minute - perhaps half a minute - before Chibiusa fell back on the ground.

"Oh, I knew this would happen soon!" a new female voice said high and mighty.

A tall, pale woman in a baby-blue leotard and matching high-knee boots called for Chibiusa. The woman's white hair was put in a long braid that whipped side to side as she laughed. There was another braid going around her forehead, right over a black inverted crescent moon on her skin. It was the same moon that Koan had too. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you gave your location up, rabbit!"

Chibiusa was terrified of the woman but could not move away.

"Guys...good time to transform…" Azula muttered to the two friends standing beside her. "Go! Now!"

"Berthier, you know that I found her first!" Koan appeared behind her younger sister. She pointed a gloved finger at Berthier. "Now you should leave."

"Hm," Berthier tossed her braid behind her shoulder. "Might I suggest a little competition? First one to kill the rabbit is the winner?"

Koan smirked. "I'm never one to back from a challenge. Very well."

But Koan took another step, she was whacked against the head with a red umbrella. Koan fell to the ground with a loud groan.

Azula stood behind with wide blinking eyes and with her hands still clutching her umbrella in the air. She crossed gazes with Chibiusa on the ground and motioned with her head. "RUN!"

Chibiusa scrambled to get on her feet and ran in the same direction Azula had gone off in.

"Come back here!" Berthier shouted after them.

"Don't look back! Don't look back!" Azula warned Chibiusa when the two ran side-by-side. "Looking back makes you fall like in the movies!"

"Aha!" Chibiusa pushed herself so that she could run faster.

Berthier proved to be a quick runner as she glided through and up benches and chess tables. She started throwing lassos of water that snapped at each chance they got. Eventually, one of them tripped Chibiusa on her feet.

"Oh no you don't!" Azula skidded to a stop and turned right back around.

Berthier put her hands together and released a large strange force of water. Chibiusa scrunched her eyes shut and waited for the blow but it never came. She cracked open one eye and saw that Azula had jumped in front of her and was using her umbrella (which was now open) to take the blow.

"I can't believe this is working!" Azula laughed to herself.

Chibiusa managed one small smile on the ground. Suddenly, Berthier screamed. Her attack was cut off by a sharpened rose cutting her arm.

"When will you people learn that attacking innocent people and children is plain wrong?" Sailor Moon shook her head with Tuxedo Mask beside her.

"When will you quit making weird intros and just go for it?" Azula lowered her umbrella and scowled.

"It's you," Berthier growled at the two. "My sister Koan told me all about you. You're nuisances."

"And you're pale like a witch," Azula blurted and quickly regretted it when she got unamused glares from the three. She snapped her umbrella close and smiled. "I'm gonna go now…" she reached for Chibiusa's hand and turned them away, only to come face to face with Koan.

"Berthier, I think we'll have to call it a draw," Koan's lips turned into a sinister smirk.

Berthier shared the same smirk. "And I have the perfect way to break it. First one to get those two," she nodded to Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask, "wins all."

"I didn't take you to be such a dealer," Koan gazed at the 'tie breakers' with mirth. "I accept the new terms."

"I think it's time to call in for some back up," Tuxedo Mask murmured to Sailor Moon.

The blonde quickly agreed. She then gave a significant look towards Azula.

"What are you doing?" Chibiusa questioned the moment Azula flipped open her wrist watch.

"Calling for some additional help! Now stay behind me."

"But she's Sailor Moon," Chibiusa poked her head from behind Azula's legs. The two sisters had lunged on Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask.

"Yeah but there's nothing wrong in needing help from others," Azula shut her communicator after leaving the urgent message. "Now we should go." She took the girl's small hand and made a run for it.

Berthier caught the movement and fired an ice blast that converted itself into a fine ice wall preventing the girls from leaving. "And just so you don't get any ideas…" Berthier shot again and plastered Azula and Chibiusa against the ice wall, keeping them locked under ice covers.

"It's c-cold!" Chibiusa's teeth chartered to no end.

Berthier, pleased with her work, turned back to the ongoing fight.

~0~

"It was them," Meroko shut down her communicator and turned to Asteria. "The Black Moon Clan is at it again. We should—"

"Do nothing," Emica emerged from her bedroom. "It's not our problem." Her straight face indicated there was no point in arguing with her about it but that didn't stop Meroko from making her case.

"They are hurting our friends—"

"Friends?" Emica repeated, her eyebrows raising in confusion. "Are you forgetting that these 'friends' are the reason why we're in this situation in the first place?"

"Look, I get it, you're mad as hell. I was the same when I first realized who I was," Meroko tried to appeal to Emica's feelings. It was a horrible thing in the beginning when you remember your world was destroyed by third parties. "I nearly did the same thing you're trying to do right now. But separating myself from the other Scouts isn't gonna help anyone. We'll just speed up our Doomsday date."

"The Black Moon Clan is specifically after the Silver Millenniums, not us," Emica spoke purposely loud as if that would give her the authority she thought she had. "Our mission is separate. We do not meddle." Meroko's eyebrows furrowed together. Seeing that made Emica walk up to Meroko, purposely towering over her. "Stand down."

Meroko glanced at Asteria to see where her sister stood. Unfortunately, for the first time Asteria was completely indecisive. Meroko groaned. "Unbelievable!" She spat and stormed to the bedroom, making sure to slam the door as loud as possible.

~0~

Berthier and Koan had left their wicked bet up to their droids. Why should they get all dirty when the work could be done for them and they would still get the joy of taking everything in the end. Battling two foes with contrasting powers was no easy work. Thankfully, the rest of the Scouts joined in and gathered the needed numbers to destroy the droids with Sailor Moon's special power. But when they thought victory was finally within reach, a crack of thunder in the sky made them all freeze...including Berthier and Koan.

Azula noticed Chibiusa's increasing fear like she knew what was coming. She followed the young girl's gaze to the sky and saw a man with wild red hair and the same inverted black crescent moon on his forehead as the other women.

"Let's stop the playground thing, shall we?" the man designated his gaze to Berthier and Koan.

"Who the hell is that?" Sailor Jupiter was the one to command.

"One of the Black Moon family, Rubeus," the man answered with pride.

"Why are you after that girl?" Sailor Moon pointed at the frightened Chibiusa.

"We have a duty to change the future of this city. For that, we have to have this girl die."

"Haven't you heard that rewriting history is a dangerous thing?" Azula had to speak up. "You could essentially be writing yourself out of reality."

Rubeus paid no attention to her. All he saw was Chibiusa right beside her and acted. He brought up a fist that was soon engulfed with dark energy. He fired at Chibiusa but at the last moment Sailor Moon jumped in to block the attack with her own body.

"Sailor Moon!" Chibiusa cried out but the ice around her was far too strong to break through on her own.

Sailor Moon slowly picked herself up and faced Rubeus again. "She precious, and likes to play pranks, and very despicable, but, but…"

"It's the end," Rubeus laughed maniacally and went to give a second,ore fatal, attack. But, just mere seconds before he could fulfill his duty, a golden, shimmering boomerang sprang forwards and successfully hit Rubeus' hand.

Sailor Hemera stood proud and tall across the group. "I think not! The Silver Millenniums are not alone. This Sailor Scout from Shadow will stand by their side and protect that child."

Rubeus and the two sisters gasped upon hearing the familiar names. Could it be they had not only found the ancestors of the Crystal Tokyo, but also those of the Shadow race?

"Sailor Moon, do it now!" Sailor Hemera shouted at the blonde and hoped she wasn't too hurt to deliver one final attack.

She wasn't. Sailor Moon took out her Moon stick and used all her remaining energy to give a good blast of energy. "Moon princess halation!"

"Rubeus!" Koan shouted.

Rubeus had to hold himself up from the blast of stinging energy. "We have to retreat!" Without a question, the two sisters disappeared with him.

The ice wall holding Azula and Chibiusa melted into water, leaving them soaking wet on the ground. The others rushed to go see if they were okay.

"We're sure to get colds after this," Azula shivered and got up with the help of Venus.

Sailor Moon helped Chibiusa sit upright. Luckily, the girl seemed to be just fine...in what fit. "Chibiusa, please tell us the truth. You came from the future, didn't you?"

The pink haired girl's lip quivered as the questions came flying at her again.

"What's the tenth planet?"

"What's the family of the dark moon?"

"Did they do something to your mother?"

Chibiusa burst into tears. She threw her arms around Sailor Moon and asked for help. "My mother! Please help my mother! Sailor Moon! Please save my mother from those bad ones! She said that Sailor Moon and Sailor Reign would help me out!"

Poor Sailor Moon had no clue what to do with the crying child, and it seemed like the sentiment was shared among the rest.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 20: Black Suit

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Black Suit (✨)

Summary: You distract Matt from parole, and he punishes you while wearing the black suit.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), slight dom!Matt, slight predator!Matt, masked sex (Matt is masked), established relationship, breeding kink, use of "bad girl" and "good girl", safeword mentioned but not used, light BDSM, Reader has her hands held above her head (but not fully restrained), mentions of masturbation

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Matt in the Black Suit both in S1 and S3 reigns superior. I don't make the rules. I may be behind with these fics, but I certainly delivered on the smut today!

Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)

He’s towering by the window, his figure a mere shadow in the moonlight. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

You’re wearing his washed-out Columbia shirt and nothing but that. No panties to cover the intoxicating scent of your slick pussy from his sensitive nose. No bra to stop the cold air from brushing against your hard nipples. You’re wearing only what’s his, and his cock twitches painfully in his pants.

Matt is so full of adrenaline that all he can think about is sinking into you until his name is the only thing you can utter—the only thing you can scream. He heard you from across the city, your moans echoing through your shared apartment as you pleasured yourself. You should have been long asleep, but you just couldn’t wait, could you? He would never leave you unsatisfied, even after a long night patrolling Hell’s Kitchen, but you couldn’t wait for him. You had to do it yourself. 

He’s not angry, no. He’s frustrated. He could barely focus out there. 

You’ve been a bad girl, and he will show you just how bad you have been. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, and–”

He shushes you, index finger against his plump lips.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. He’s dangerous like this. You should call out ‘red’, use your safeword, and put an end to this, but you don’t want him to stop. In a way, this is exactly what you fantasized about when you thrust your fingers into your pussy tonight, hoping he would turn around and take you—hard, fast, and without remorse. 

You might just get your wish.

The room falls silent until only the rapid beating of your heart is left to be heard. Matt’s lips curl into a smirk. “Good girl,” he says, and that is when he reaches for the fabric on his head and pulls it over his eyes. Slowly. Teasingly.

Your breath gets caught in your throat. 

“Lay back and spread your legs for me.

Now.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Not that he would allow it, anyway. When he’s like this, your only choice is to obey. If you don’t, you will get punished. Sometimes, that is exactly what you want. Tonight though, you are too needy, too empty to tease him; you just need him inside you. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he rasps as he crawls over to you on the bed. Like a predator on the prowl, he takes his time. And every step he takes sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I want you to let the Devil out,” you whisper. 

He lets out an almost cruel chuckle. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I need you.”

“And why should I give you what you need when you swore you wouldn’t touch yourself until I got back?”

“You’re back, aren’t you?” The second those words come out, you regret them. You’re challenging him, arguing, even, and he does not like that. 

Matt grabs your ankle and pulls you to him, not bothering to travel the distance. You watch with a gaping mouth as he works on unbuttoning his pants. He doesn’t pull them down; he pulls out his achingly hard cock, stroking himself a few times with merely a palm full of his spit, and then he thrusts into you without another warning. 

The slick walls of your cunt clench around him. You cry out; he looks almost feral above you, masked with his teeth bared, and he snaps his hips against yours at a nearly animalistic pace. Not a second you get to adjust to his girth. He pounds into you as though your pussy was made to be claimed by him—as though your body was made to be ruined by him. 

He pins your hands above your head so you won’t dare touch him, and he pulls your face to level with his; if you don’t look at him, it might have consequences. But you can barely keep your eyes open, every drag of his cock so delicious inside you that the synapses in your brain backfire. 

You can’t see his eyes, you can’t see his body, you can only watch his lips twitch and part in groans that tighten the coil in your belly. He pushes his cock deep enough for you to feel him in every crevice of your being. Deeper, deeper, and deeper. 

His clothes rub against your burning skin. His pelvis brushes against your clit. You’re losing your mind, you think. The Devil is fucking you into the mattress, and you’re enjoying it. You might need a psych evaluation, but God, you couldn’t care less when you are this close to falling apart. Your fingers could never come close to how his cock feels. He is imprinted in your velvety walls, and they always mold to him like they were made for him. They squeeze him, and they pull him impossibly closer, brushing against that spot over and over again until galaxies are exploding before your very eyes. 

You struggle against his grip, wanting to tear that mask from his face to at least get one look into his blacked-out hazel eyes.

“Matthew,” you breathe. 

He inhales your plea with his lips on yours. Finally. 

You let out a moan, diving your tongue into his mouth to taste the copper from his cut lip. You soak it up. You drink it. The sting of pain only makes him fuck you harder. 

“Please,” you beg again. “Let me go.”

For a moment, he wonders if he’s going too far, but he would hear that in your heartbeat. You would use your safe word; he made sure of that when you first talked, so he shouldn’t give in, but the sound of your voice… Matt has no choice but to comply. 

He lets go of your hands, and you don’t hesitate pulling the mask up to his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growls. “Gonna fill that pretty pussy with my cum ‘til you’re leaking.”

You buck your hips to meet his. “Oh God!” 

“That’s what you want? Want me to breed you?” 

“Yes!” you cry out.

“I’m gonna put a baby in you. Such a–” thrust, “good,” thrust, “fucking,” thrust, “girl!”

You hear the rough baritone of his voice, but the words don’t register. The tension consuming your body reaches its breaking point, and your orgasm hits you before you have a chance to brace yourself. The explosion tears your nerves apart one by one and puts them back together again. The coil snaps, painfully so. His name resembles a scream from your cracked lips, your nails leaving a bloody trail down his toned back.

Matt curses, his lips unable to hold back the sheer animalistic sound born from the back of his throat, and he holds his hips tightly against yours as he comes, hard. 

For the longest time, you can’t move. You can’t think. You can’t even breathe. The cold metal of his belt has turned hot, all but branded into your skin. His cum trickles out of your painfully slow, but he pushes his cock deeper, forcing—fucking—it back inside you, and your legs shake violently at the overstimulation that ripples through you. It’s a tidal wave building and building again, your orgasm refusing to let up. 

“Shh,” you faintly hear him coo into your tousled hair. “Breathe.”

You don’t realize he’s stopped moving until his cold leather glove comes to rest against your hot cheek. 

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Matt commands, and your body follows blindly. “You’re okay. Take a deep breath for me. There you go. Good girl.”

Your chest opens with the oxygen you’ve been missing. He must have you under some kind of spell, surely, to make you feel this good. 

He strokes your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

Sorry? You blink. The world starts slowly coming back to you, your sanity and self-control returning to your grasp. You reach for it. You try to come back to yourself because why the hell is he apologizing? 

The guilt he’s feeling burns through your veins. When his heart hurts, so does yours. Always. 

“Why?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I didn’t ask if I could… I used you. I wasn’t in control, I–”

It is your turn to shush him now. “I’m okay.”

“No, that wasn’t… that wasn’t okay,” he says. 

“Yes, it was.”

He breathes your name, and you kiss him. There is nothing he could say that would make you believe the demons in his head. 

You wanted him to let the Devil out. You got what you wanted, and even with all his shadows, Matt has never shone in a brighter light. 

“Marry me,” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

The words take a moment to sink in. It’s the middle of the night, he’s bloody, bruised, and soaked in sweat, and his cock is still buried inside you—and he just asked you to marry him. 

He doesn’t take it back. He looks vulnerable, even, as he awaits your answer, but there is a certain conviction in his eyes. A conviction that you have only ever seen the day he told you he was head over heels in love with you. 

You find yourself reaching out to cup his face, tracing the faint bruise under his right eye. “Yes,” you answer. “I’ll marry you.”

And there is no doubt in your mind that you made the right choice. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[hisunshiine]

—eternal reign | knj |

🥀 pairing: vampire king!namjoon x concubine!namedreader 🥀 au/genre: arranged marriage au, joseon era au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst 🥀 rating: M 🥀 wc: 7,748 🥀 warnings: some Joseon Dynasty research, reader starts as a concubine, mentions of murders, minor character deaths (off screen, minimal detail), patriarchal society, this is a vampire story, so some things come with the territory, like: mentions of blood, dubious consent, blood drinking, bleeding, scars, predator/prey feelings, explicit smut: unprotected vaginal sex, blood play, marking, eating out, nipple play   🥀 an: I used some of the historical figures of the Joseon Dynasty, and while I researched a lot for accuracy of this time period to respect the culture to the best of my knowledge, some historical information has been shifted and molded as this is a fiction story. For more information on Korean Coronation Events. Dual POV of 3rd and 2nd person, but the reader is named.

special thanks to the beta readers: @moonleeai, @colormepurplex2, @downbad4yoongi, @heathfritillary-blog, and @pars-ley

🥀 summary: In the shadowed courts of the Joseon Dynasty, a new King rules—one who holds a centuries-old secret that could unravel the kingdom. Namjoon, cloaked in mystery, is forced into a political marriage with the cunning yet unknowing Taelani, who soon discovers that her husband is no mere mortal. Drawn into his dark legacy and a web of alliances that could seal their fate, Taelani faces a choice: fulfill her family’s long-hidden destiny or defy it in pursuit of a forbidden love. As whispers of blood and betrayal rise, the throne itself may be the ultimate sacrifice.

🥀 an#2:🎃This wicked treat was written for Theresa - @mrsparkjimin18 as part of the “Sweet Tricks & Wicked Treats” BWHQ Fic Gifting Event 🎃and was also written for the @bangtanwritershq’s 4th Quarter Writing Event: Monster Mash

masterlist ❁ ao3

Joseon Dynasty year 1483

🥀🥀🥀Namjoon🥀🥀🥀

Namjoon never expected to sit upon the sacred altar in Changdeokgung Palace, as the recipient of the Three Cheers from the crowd, where the people hurrahed for his longevity and for the dynasty. 

“We are meant to rule from the shadows,” the memory of his grandfather’s voice flits through his head as if he’s standing beside him. “An absolute and eternal reign relies on the eternal flame which burns with our dedication and loyalty, and which must remain out of sight from those who wish to douse our light.” 

And yet, mere hours ago, under the beating heat of the Korean sun, he participated in the Transfer of the State Seal with Queen Sindeok, listened to the Three Solemn Calls, watched as the Three Kowtows were performed, and returned it with the Four Ceremonious Bows.   

The room around him is loud, and Namjoon struggles to focus for a moment as he gazes across the crowded space. The gilded walls encapsulate the refreshments and revelry as the noble families celebrate his ascension to ruler of the country. He looks around, eyes finally landing on his family members split between being wall flowers blending in and meteor showers glittering as they shine across the night sky. 

He takes an unneeded deep breath, sighing in his discomfort. He knows it was his idea; something had to be done to maintain the balance in the realm, but he’s not used to being a figurehead for something so much larger than himself—for the very thing he sacrificed everything for to protect. 

“Ah, Yi Bang— I mean, King Namjoon, my apologies,” the greasy-haired Chief State Councillor Jeong Dojeon bows lowly in apology at using the given name of the prince and not his newly appointed royal title now that the transition to king has been completed. 

That is one upside to this position, Namjoon thinks as he stares at the man. Even if I must hide my identity, at least I am able to keep my true name. 

“I wanted to present to you my family’s gift for your coronation.” His eyes, small and squirrely, gleam with a dark intent that Namjoon has always detested. As one of the government officials appointed by the previous Queen’s father, Dojeon craves ultimate power, pushing for the Councillors to make decisions for the King, instead of enacting and enforcing the King’s decisions. “This is Jeong Taelani, my eldest daughter. She is now yours, Pyeha.” 

The honorific term is not lost on Namjoon. The Chief State Councillor’s schmoozing actions are as oily as his hair, but Namjoon’s not a squeaking door, and his disdain only grows as he tracks the sweep of Dojeon’s hand towards the girl next to him, as if he needs a concubine to loosen him up. 

But Namjoon has to work hard to school his features back to stoic boredom when his eyes fall onto the—unable to believe he called her a girl—beautiful woman standing a pace behind her father. 

Red hanbok lace and silks flow over her curves. Gold threading is woven intricately at the hem, along the cuffs engulfing her delicate hands, and at the lapels that tie above the swell of her breasts, glimmering, resplendent swirls that captivate him. He doesn’t show it, though. Despite his next words, his tone is full of boredom and his eyes barely linger on her. 

“Thank you, Dojeon, she is a true beauty.”

The older man smirks, rubbing his bearded face thoughtfully. “She has been trained for, ahem, her position—assisting your every need—in the palace her whole life, and vetted through the steps to be placed here just last week. I am sure that you will find her to be up to your standards.” He bows once more, this time much lower, before backing away from the elevated seating area and disappearing back into the party. 

“Emperor,” Taelani bows deeply, her knees gracefully meeting the floor as she pays him the respect of a ruling monarch. Her voice is a deeper honey sound, more seduction than the tittering pitch of the female nobles Namjoon is used to. 

“Jeong Taelani,” Namjoon tests her name in his mouth, her jasmine fragrance invading his senses as she resumes her previous standing position. Her large eyes look away from his gaze quickly, but that’s all he needs to feel the heat of the lightning they struck him with. He can feel his pants tightening—thankfully, his gujangbok covers his crotch from the view of both Taelani and his attendees. 

He stiffens, feeling something else begin to lengthen in need, and he turns his eyes swiftly away from Taelani, looking at the palace guards nearest him. 

“Please escort Taelani to her chambers, and send for the Huwon guards. I will meet them shortly.”

🥀

Sharpened ivory glistens under the moonlight before piercing the unblemished bronze skin of the woman’s throat, his venom silencing the beginnings of a guttural shriek before it can really begin. He settles in the gazebo with a jimil nain, or lady-in-waiting, straddled across his lap. Her throaty sounds transition instead to a pleasurable moan as she attempts to grip the lapels of his ceremonial robes. 

He grasps her hands, pulling them away from him and moving them behind her back, clutching both wrists in one hand so his free hand can resume controlling her head for his monthly feeding. One that he should not have needed just yet, thanks to the retaliatory massacre last week, but he ignores that fact for now. 

The blood fills his mouth, sharp pulls draining the essence from the woman as her movements against his body slow. He’s thankful—her body is not the one he craves to be writhing above him in pleasure, despite her lovely sounds and curves. 

He has to play this role smartly. His family’s legacy is on the line. He withdraws his fangs, feeling the dull ache of thirst dissipate fully as his blood lust retreats. The woman is nearly unconscious, and the two guards who brought her approach her limp form silently.

“Thank you,” he says to his younger brothers, both adorned in the traditional wear of the Naegeumwi Royal Guards. They take the woman from him as he stands before the youngest of the two, Jungkook, takes her fully and holds her almost in a lover’s embrace. Namjoon looks at them as he steps several paces away and Taehyung, his other sibling, approaches him and straightens his robes to help him look presentable again.

“NaBi was the only one we could get on such short notice,” he explains quietly as the sounds of Jungkook feeding crescendos and subsequently drops as he heals the bites on the now sleeping woman’s neck. “She was already in Kook’s room waiting for him.”

Namjoon runs his fingers over his silks, tightening the belt at his waist. “Tell him I’m sorry I didn’t mean to mess up his feeding schedule. The hunger just took over and I…”

“He understands.” Taehyung places his hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “We’ve never taken on something like this, so we didn’t know what to prepare for. We’ll move more of the feeders into the palace in various positions, and Jimin can oversee them. Your plan was the best one, and we will find a way to make it work.”  

Jungkook cradles the woman’s body in his arms bridal style as he steps towards the door. He and Taehyung lead Namjoon out of the garden and back towards the main palace. Jungkook turns to the left down a hallway after they enter shelter as Taehyung and Namjoon continue toward the Emperor's chambers. 

“Have Jimin order more of the blood tea for the feeders. I’m not sure how often I’ll need to feed now that…” he trails off as they walk, thoughts conflicted with this strange turn of events. He stops once he reaches the doorway of his room. “And Taehyung? Discretion, please.”

Namjoon feels the tension leave his body once he is in his own space. He didn’t expect to feel the voracious pull to feed so soon—he drank more than his fill merely a week ago. Typically, he feeds once a month, so the blood lust he just quenched is strange. Could it be because of his new concubine? Her scent is oddly alluring to him, and his attraction to her is undeniable. He hasn’t ever experienced such a thing, but maybe one of the elders knows something more. 

🥀🥀🥀Taelani🥀🥀🥀

Confused. That’s how you feel as you are led away from the king, his eyes regarding you cooly before you disappear into the quiet halls of the palace. Your slippers and the silks you wear are the only sounds you hear as you are shown the pathway to your quarters, and then the low hum of the maids' voices as they help you undress and prepare for bed. 

The next week continues much the same as your first night in the castle. The other court members are seemingly always busy, leaving you bored and unsure of yourself. On the one hand, you are happy that you haven’t been called upon like you were warned would happen—like you’ve been trained for. Your womanhood remains intact, something you did not expect to happen, but it allows your time of the month to come and go without any issues. 

A part of you did fear that your menstrual cycle would agitate the new king should he come upon you that first night, but instead, he had shied away, allowing you time to spend in the royal library reading and writing letters to your sisters. At the end of the first week, you squeal with happiness when a courtier brings you a sealed parchment marked with your family’s crest. 

Dearest Taelani, 

How have you been? We are so pleased that you’ve had time to write to us. Is it nice there? I so wish we could have joined you on the trip, but Father said no. Are the rumors true? Is the king as bloodthirsty as his predecessors? Is there war on the horizon? Will you be able to throw a fancy ball so we can visit? I know you’re his only concubine right now, do you think you will become his wife? Father is not telling us much, and he’s making it seem like we shall never get to travel to see you. 

Don’t forget us!

As if you could ever forget your sisters. And a ball sounds like a lovely idea…really. You wonder if the king would allow you to do such a thing and if your father would allow your sisters to come. Maybe if the king demanded their presence. Your sister made a good point that right now, there’s no one else to compete with for his affections. If you can charm him, is there a possibility..? If only he would see you or talk to you. How else could you convince him of this one favor, or even that you’re worthy of a more legitimate role? 

It couldn’t be so easy as to show up at his bedchamber tonight and try and convince him with a well-placed massage? Could it?

Deciding to reign in all of your thoughts, you hold off on writing back so as to see first if you could plan a soiree of some sort, and turn back to the book you were reading before the courtier arrived. It was not written all that long ago, but it details some of the more recent history of the country, including the king’s grandfather. 

You had always thought it to be an urban legend, the stories whispered in the dark about when his grandfather was in power, but as you read through the history of the family, you realize with each story of the king’s grandfather that he truly was blood thirsty for power—he apparently murdered all of his older siblings for the throne. 

There is a massive family plot to the south of the palace that holds his deceased siblings, and ever since, despite the number of enemies the crown has acquired over the years, his family line has been the only one to rule. Every attempt to maim and murder the royal family has been thwarted, and the groups leading the coups are never to be seen or heard from again. Bloodthirsty isn’t even half of it. 

Closing the handwritten tome, you gather your skirts about you so that you can climb off the comfortable lounging spot. You have spent all week reading through to try and understand this family that you now reside with, but all you seem to find is death and despair. Through the window you can see the sun is setting, and now that you have a plan in mind, you decide to seek out the king instead of waiting for him to come to you. With your cycle gone, you feel confident enough to seduce King Namjoon. As his first concubine, you are sure you won’t be the last, but you want to make an impression. 

As a woman in this world, your power is lacking. The power you do hold will be in the sons you can bear for the king, and in the ability to wield your feminine wiles to seduce and keep the king wrapped around your finger. Best to start now. 

🥀

The palace corridors are well-lit as you traverse the pathway towards the king’s chambers. You made a quick stop at your own rooms, shedding the hairpins that bound your hair tightly, allowing your tresses to fall in subtle waves from the earlier styling. You also shed some of the layers you typically wear, allowing you to show off more of your curves. 

There doesn’t appear to be anyone outside the door to his room, so you slip in easily, taking a look around. The room is tidy, with barely anything on display on the walls or in cabinets to show his personality. Cold, just like he was the first time you met. A few minutes pass as you observe what you can, until voices outside the door alert you to the king’s approach. You position yourself on his bed, sitting at the edge with a leg crossed over the other and your palms behind you as you lean back slightly. 

Your loose hair is over one shoulder, and you attempt to flutter your eyes demurely as King Namjoon steps into his bedchamber. 

🥀 

Ten minutes later, you stand in your own room again, confused by what had occurred. The King, a young, virile man, sent you out after you all but threw yourself at him. If anything, he seemed in a rush to get you out of his rooms, all but promising that you had nothing to worry about when you voiced not carrying out your duties. 

“I know you worry about your standing in the palace, but you have nothing to fear. I will not be taking in any other women—you are the only one for me. You will be my Queen Consort. So please, you don’t have to stoop to these levels. You are excused.”

You definitely hadn’t prepared what to do in the event that the King said you didn’t need to seduce him and that you would be his Queen Consort. All of the stories the women told you about had prepared you for losing your virginity and other sexual acts to seduce the King and win his favor. Nothing they shared with you implied you wouldn’t have to do anything sexually with the man and he would raise your status one step, though a large one in the eyes of the nation. A wedding already in the works, unbeknownst to you. How strange this new king is. 

🥀

The royal wedding that everyone has been waiting for a month to arrive is nearly here, with you in your red gowns of silks and satin, awaiting your cue for the ceremony. As much as you’ve enjoyed not having to behave wantonly, a part of you is drawn to your betrothed, and you realize: you want to. His movements as he walks through the palace, the grace with which he moves and speaks, all of these small things seem to thrum through your body, lighting all of your nerve endings on fire. 

Why he denies himself the access he has to your body, you aren’t sure, but you hope that this wedding means that will come to an end. Maybe he’s just been waiting for tonight to consummate the marriage, instead of behaving how you were warned all men with power behave. 

Everything is a blur as the hours pass, the sun crossing the sky until it descends below the horizon, allowing the moon to rise into its rightful place. With all of the revelers now sated in thirst or hunger or desire, they’re all sequestered away in the places that allow them to unwind. Most of the palace is now quiet, and you tiptoe with feather-light steps across the bedchamber towards your newly betrothed. 

The King sits at an ornamental desk, metallic paints wrapping around the curves of the furniture as he leans over and writes, the scratches of the quill on the parchment revealing the short strokes he writes in Hangul. He’s shirtless, wide shoulders unblemished and you want nothing more than to mar the skin with signs of pleasure.  

Your fingers lift to lightly trace along his right shoulder, but before you can touch him, his left hand grasps your fingers as he half turns to face you. You let out a small gasp in surprise—you didn’t think he would have heard you sneak up on him.

“Perhaps you should head to bed, Taelani, it was a long day.”

He barely looks at you as he speaks, and you feel yourself wilting. It’s fascinating, but deeply disturbing to you that it seems like he’s attracted to you but keeps turning you away. Everything you’ve been told about men is wrong. You want him to have his way with you, and he can’t be bothered to even stop drafting a letter to look at you for more than a second. 

You feel yourself pouting, and it seems to work for a moment. Namjoon’s eyes soften, and he tugs you closer when you attempt to pull your hand out of his. 

“I know this is not the most normal of situations, but I won’t stop you from seeking out your needs. You can take up with anyone as long as it is discreet, and any children you should bear will all be raised as if they are my own.” You freeze as he releases his hold on you and turns away, back to his missive.

You step away from him, trekking backward until the backs of your thighs touch the silk sheets on the bed. Embarrassment heats your neck and cheeks, because you do not understand why your husband turns away from you. It makes you feel…unwanted. Sitting down, you can only blink as you attempt to understand the man before you. But nothing thus far has made any sense.   

🥀

The movement of the bed slowly wakes you, and you stretch your limbs out as your eyes blearily try to take in the low lighting in the room. 

“...need the Huwon guards as soon as possible, I will meet them there.”

You stay still when you hear his voice, your brain instantly becoming more alert as you try to hear more of his request, but it only grows quiet again as the door shuts. You can barely hear his footfalls as he flits about the room, and you sneak a peek through cracked eyes as you keep your breathing level. He’s grabbing his upper garments and re-dressing, and in only a few more moments, he’s slipping out of the door.

You get up, immediately grabbing for your robes as you slip from the satin sheets to follow your new husband.

You stay as far back as you can, drifting between shadows as you make your way towards what you now know is the Huwon Secret Garden. While the garden grounds themselves take up a large expanse of the palace area, there is a beautiful and intimate pagoda of sorts that lies in the rear after crossing a small bridge with a tiny waterfall. You lose sight of Namjoon, but you know he must be headed there, so you continue on your way, avoiding the minimal guard presence. 

Approaching the enclosed garden pergola, a gasping moan sounds and you quicken your steps, evermore the curious. Peering through one of the open slats of the enclosure, you see your king—your husband—with his arms wrapped around another woman. His mouth is to her neck as she straddles him, and though her face is hidden between the shadows and behind his bulky build, you know you heard the pleasure she felt. When he pulls back from her, you watch, entranced, as he laves his tongue along the skin he’s just marked. A burning jealousy shoots through your veins until a cloud moves out of the moonlight and a beam shines straight through. 

Your eyes widen as they take in the elongated fangs, the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, and the way the woman now lay limply in his arms. Spinning on your heel, you flee back to your room, praying that your pounding heart calms enough before he returns.

🥀🥀🥀Namjoon🥀🥀🥀

It’s almost debilitating to Namjoon having his new wife around him. It’s been only a week—one mere week of his eternal life—and you have made him into a ravenous, salacious blood fiend. This lust for the iron-smelling essence that runs through mortal veins, and one in particular more so than the others, means that he hasn’t been handling all of the new changes to his life well. 

Going from the shadows and becoming the face of the nation he loves so much, that his whole family has given their lives for, is not exactly what he expected. He is much more used to using violence with his bare hands—and teeth—for their gain. Having to navigate politics with his wife’s father, Chief State Councillor Jeong Dojeon, is a whole new experience for him.

Not to mention that he’s insatiably drawn to his titillating wife, but knowing that her father is actively working against the reigning family has Namjoon’s guard up. The way she keeps trying to throw herself at him… Admittedly, he knows he’s spied on her letters and conversations, and she seems none the wiser to what her father is doing, but too much is at stake for him to risk it without knowing where she stands for sure.

Namjoon stretches his arms above his shirtless torso, then sets down the quill to mull over the letter he needs to finish and send to the front lines of their war efforts against the rival faction. They’ve quieted down some, ever since their attack on the true prince which led to an almost absolute destruction of said rival faction, but money will unite anyone against a common enemy if paid enough. 

His ears perk up as he takes in the thrumming melody of your heartbeat as you move around the adjacent bathing room to your communal bedchamber. It’s late, much later than a person would typically bathe, and without the aid of maids, but he’s in no hurry to overwhelm his senses with you. He focuses on the sounds; of the water draining from the side of the palace, of the soft garments sliding along your skin as you dress, and he tenses—readying himself for your scent to overtake him as he turns and stands to face your re-entrance into the room.

Beautiful. Your large eyes are bright, warm even, and the way your body gracefully moves in that—he forcefully exhales as you approach him in an ornately sewn, semi-transparent lace robe. The vision of your full breasts with lace flowing over the peaks stuns him momentarily, and he allows himself a moment to drink you in. He’s so focused on trailing his eyes along the cupid’s bow of your full top lip that he doesn’t realize you’ve spoken to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“Oh,” you look down demurely, taking him by surprise. “My king, please. I would like just a moment of your time.”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies, but hesitates as he sits back down, unsure of what could have triggered such a formal conversation. Though, to be fair, he knows he hasn’t been the best conversationalist with his own wife.

He watches as you pull a small, stuffed stool closer to him and sit on it regally. The robe parts with the movement and he’s able to see that only a thin sliver of fabric covers your mound. Everything else is revealed to him. Your navel, your thighs, so much skin… 

“I know that you’ve given me permission to seek out other men, but I—I don’t want that.” 

Namjoon is still as he reigns in his impure thoughts and focuses all of his attention on you. “What is it that you want?”

“I want my husband. I–don’t you also feel—I just…” you sigh, and the weight of your next words would bring Namjoon to his knees had he not been sitting. “I know who you are. And I don’t care. I—”

Namjoon stands to his full height, eyes slightly narrowed at your small frame. 

“You know who I am?” he questions with disdain. Of course, you were too good to be true and exactly what he expected of your father. 

“Yes, you may be the king, but more than that, you’re my husband.” 

Namjoon pauses, listening on, but can see how tense you remain to continue speaking. “And what exactly don’t you care about?” He questions.

“I don’t care that you’re a—a vampire,” you rush out and continue speaking. “So please, don’t hold yourself back from me, I don’t want you to seek out your pleasure from others in the castle when I’m right here.”

His brain reels with an overwhelming amount of thoughts as you look up at him from where you sit, shoulders tight and lifted towards your ears as your chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath you take as you wait for him to speak.

You know he’s a vampire. How, he isn’t sure, because he knows that your father is not aware of that fact. No, he only assumed that your father had figured out that he was not the true prince, and instead a cousin filling in for the role, and shared this information with you. Nope, you meant you knew that he was immortal and knew of his late-night proclivities. He slowly lowers himself into the chair he vacated, wholly unprepared when you throw yourself forward onto your knees before him.

“Please, I’m right here. I only want you to touch me. No one else.”

Unable to resist, Namjoon does touch you, reaching beneath your arms to lift you to him. Even while standing, your eyes are only a few inches above him as he sits, and you step between his parted legs when he gently tugs you further into his space.

“I didn’t realize that my words made you feel unwanted.” Namjoon speaks slowly as he gathers his thoughts to organize his words. “I’m unsure how you came about this information, but I.. th-there’s some things we should clear up.”    

Your eyes appear to study him intently, brows inching closer as your face wrinkles with apprehension. The flooding of your veins as your heart rate increases leads Namjoon to pause and hold his breath before speaking.

“There is a reason that I have been so distant, and yet have only sought out to take one wife and no others. It came to my attention that your father has been one of the main financial supporters of a rival political party that supports more control from Chief Councilors and less from me. This money helped supply weapons and mercenaries, and there was an…attempt on my life recently. It was nearly successful at bringing down this clan’s reign and ending our family line.”

You gasp as he reveals this partial truth, and say, “I swear to you, my king, I knew not of such plans, I know my father has ambitions and a dislike for the lack of his power due to the crown, but not that he would steep to such levels for gain.” Namjoon can feel the way your pulse reacts as he holds your wrists in his large hands. You truly were not aware, and this knowledge helps quell any lingering doubts he has about sharing more information with you. 

“I believe that you had no knowledge of his plans or his financial support. But, because of that event, it is what led me to say yes to you as my concubine. You see, I felt that by having his daughter in the palace and by my side, that he would pull back his support of any rivals, and even decide to stop pushing for less control, especially since any heir would be his own grandchild to be on the throne.” Namjoon knows this last part is a lie, since he could not provide you with any children and the plan that is in place would not allow any child of yours to be on the throne, but he can’t tell you that. 

You nod, eyes rapt with attention as they pour over his face, gleaning any additional information you can. 

“My king, I do not support my father in his ventures. I promise you, I…he has never been much of a father to me. More like a tyrant or like…like he believes that my life does not matter more than what I am able to provide for him. You have saved me from him in so many ways, and I just want to show you my gratitude. I want you to feel my appreciation.” 

Your tone holds not an ounce of seductive undertones as you continue, “I care not that you are a vampire, I—” he allows you to pull free from his hold, turning your hands so that your palms lay on the outsides of his and you guide them carefully through the opening of your robes to your bare bosom, cupping his hands around your full chest. “I ache for you, Namjoon. I have never felt such a desire before, have never sought out the affections of a man. In truth, I’m terrified, but not because of what you are, but because I have never crossed this line before.” 

And Namjoon, still a man with carnal desires despite his blood lust, wants to be the one you cross that line with. He can feel the weight of your breasts as you move closer, stepping in such a way so that you can straddle him—which you do moments later. He feels his hands tighten around your chest without your fingers leading the motion, and the tiny, breathy moan that you release brushes against his lips from your proximity. 

He’s hardening, lengthening; his cock pressing against your clothed heat and his fangs inching from his parted lips, both aching to open you up for him. And just as the circling press of your pert nipples to the pads of his thumbs begins, you cover his mouth with yours, moaning for his ears only as you lean into his touch at all junctions where your body touches his.

It’s intoxicating; your scent wraps around him and the feel of your blood thrumming within your body as you tremble from the pure lust that seems to ooze from your pores as you, you! devour his lips with no care of his fangs. Your tongue is tentative, but curious—seeking to glide along his and taste all of him. 

When you pull back, he presumes to breathe since he need not this human action, his fang nicks your tongue on retreat. That one drop makes his muscles spasm—you pull back from him faster as his touch turns painful for a moment and then you are flying, landing on the bed in a frenzy and in a blink Namjoon is pressed to the wall farthest from you, his fists clenched tightly as he holds himself back from you. 

“There is…still much you need…to know and understand.” Namjoon strains to get the words out, actively fighting his thirst for his wife—for you—whose blood has never been tasted by another, and whose tight cunt has never been taken by another. “Please, walk slowly to the door and get the Huwon guards…”

“No, please, Namjoon, I want—”

“Now!” he roars, watching fear filter into your eyes as you spring from the bed and rush towards the door. With a speed rivaling light, he is in front of you before you can make it three steps from the bed. His predator instinct couldn’t allow you to leave the room now. Grasping you under your thighs, he lifts you effortlessly, drawing his nose along your neckline.

Instantly, your fear melts away from your body, leaving you boneless as he deposits you forcefully to the bed you just vacated.

“You will take me, and I will drink from you, and then, I will tell you everything, but I can’t…can’t let you go. I must have you.”   

🥀🥀🥀Taelani🥀🥀🥀

The gentle husband whom you had straddled mere moments before, who had kissed you with a softness that you have never known, was no longer the man above you. Instead, a predator climbs onto the covers as you scramble backwards, but his hand grips your wrist and slides you along the silk sheets back underneath his body.

His hands box in your head, with his knees bracing either side of your hips. Your heart is pounding, and you freeze beneath him, finally understanding why he said to walk slowly. 

~~

“Grandfather, what do I do if I encounter a bear or something of the like in the forest?” Five-year-old Taelani asks as she walks along her family grounds with her maternal grandpa. 

“My dear Taelani, you must never run if you encounter a large animal. Predators are wired to chase after prey. Be steadfast, like a deer or a hare. Freeze and watch first. They may not mean you any harm, but if you should run, they cannot stop themselves.” 

~~

Going stockstill seems to work, just as you remembered learning about as a child. Namjoon mimics this, freezing his own body and his dilated eyes close as he leans closer into you and…inhales. 

“I’m sorry, but I—I need to feed.” His voice is tense, a quiet murmur that fills the silence.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you say, proffering your own neck. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“This is not—I wanted this to be different, I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve—”

“—a husband who will make love to me, and feed from only me. Because I am yours, and you are mine.”

His eyes open with a blazing, hungry stare and before you can do anything else, he descends on your lips with a fierceness. His hands move from the sheets to your robe, ripping it open to expose your dusky nipples to the chilled air. He grips the hem of the clothing preventing you from full nudity and all but destroys it as he pulls it from your body in a feral show of strength.

“Mine.” His words are a low growl before his mouth is once again on yours, this time his hands now free to roam your body without clothing to hinder him. His deft hands move in symmetry to cup your breasts, giving them a supple squeeze before drifting down your hips and he moves his body lower along yours so he can hook his arms around the backs of your thighs. 

The silks beneath you allow him to easily slip between your skin and the satin, giving him the right angle to push your legs up and bare all to him. You shiver in anticipation, feeling how wet you are by the air now meeting the heat between your thighs. You want him. The throbbing of your clit makes you want to clench your thighs together for some relief, but the way he’s holding you won’t allow it. 

His kisses trail lower, mouth hovering over your nipple until his lengthened teeth graze the sensitive skin. Arching your back, he takes this as a sign to suck the peak into his mouth, tongue swirling as you moan. He switches sides, treating them equally before continuing lower, tongue dancing across your navel. The caress of the wet muscle has your body jumping with desire. 

“Oh!” You can hardly keep quiet when his tongue tastes you, laving flat across your open warmth before making short, quick passes along your clit. Your hands grip the sheets in desperation—for him to stop, for him to continue—the pleasure is overwhelming. 

“You taste…divine,” his voice rumbles, and you try to keep your eyes on him but squeeze them shut when his mouth returns to devour you. Sensual, plump lips kissing you, sucking you, tongue fucking you—you writhe beneath him. His hands press you wider, keeping you open as your muscles fight against the pleasure and threaten to close around his head.

And he doesn’t stop. Not until you're dripping, and the lower half of his face is glistening with you. You barely register his movements, can barely tell that he’s naked and climbing above you until he’s suddenly in your eyeline. Floating…that’s what this feeling is, like floating on a cloud, carefree. And when the blunted tip of his cock nudges at your still quivering heat, you widen your legs and welcome him, urging him to fill you. 

And, oh! You don’t expect the pressure to build as he thrusts within you, and you cry out in pain, in pleasure, in ecstasy at the fullness he brings as your walls quiver around him. 

Your hands tighten on his shoulders as he begins to move with more gusto, continuing to keen at the feeling—all of the feelings—and slowly the pain lessens and he glides with less stilted motion, bottoming out again and again and again.

A rhythmic chanting sounds, and it takes a few moments for you to recognize your own voice, so laced with desire and lust, pleading for him. “Please, gods, don’t stop, please!” along with a guttural reply, “I won’t,” filling the bed chamber that surely the others in the palace must be awake and able to hear. Namjoon appeases your request and his hips continue to piston fluidly, his strong thighs creating a cacophony of sounds as they meet the backs of yours. 

An inhale, sharp and stilting—a grunt, with hips stuttering—his fangs piercing the tender skin at the crook of your neck as you feel the blood weeping from your vein as he drinks deeply of you. And you shatter from the ecstasy, like a fallen vase of porcelain, pieces scattering like twinkling stars across the galaxy in a vibrant bursting of flames. 

🥀

“I am…older than I look.” You lay with your head upon Namjoon’s chest, fingers dancing along the smooth, glistening skin of his chest. His voice reverberates in your head as his low timbre continues. “And I am not truly the Queen Mother’s son, but her relative.”

You tilt your head to look up at him.

“I died a little over 50 years ago. Many of my family within these walls are like me. Forever frozen in time. When my father was just a boy in 1390, his uncles and aunts all fell ill of the fever. One by one, they passed away, and his father, fearing death, sought out the answer to life. When all was said and done, the only one to survive the fever was my grandfather’s youngest brother. In order to secure his place on the throne, stories spread that the youngest son killed all of his older siblings for power. In reality, my grandfather helped spread this and protected him all the while from assassination attempts.”

Looking with wide eyes at him, you almost can’t believe that what he says is true. Almost.

“This became our family’s mission. To protect the youngest sibling's line. For all of the children born to the older siblings who did not pass from the fever, upon approaching their 30th year and after having a family if they so wished, would endure the change and live forever. We have grown in our numbers and have always worked to protect the one line that history can know about. The Queen Mother’s great-grandfather is that youngest sibling. Merely days before I took the throne, her son, the true heir, was murdered.”

With a gasp, you sit up, clutching the satin sheets to your naked breasts.

“In order to hide that this attempt was successful, I stepped into his place and took the throne. And the Queen Mother will have another child, one who we will raise as our own and be the next successor, rightfully restoring the line to power once more.”

 “I have so many questions, I can’t even begin to list them!” you pout, stifling a yawn at the late hour. You understand that you will have to raise the Queen Mother’s son as your own child so that the correct lineage remains on the throne, but what of your own children? 

“We have plenty of time for your questions, my love. Maybe I shall answer some of them as I tell you more?”

As Namjoon continues to regale you with his tale, spelling out exactly how your lives will be, you settle back into his body and listen intently to his deep tenor rumbling against your cheek, curling your naked body around his own, until you fall asleep. 

🥀🥀🥀

Epilogue

Eighteen years have passed since Taelani first entered the palace as Namjoon’s concubine. 

Eighteen years since you learned the truth about your husband and his family, and full of questions and curious for more information, had kept him up the following nights with all of your thoughts until he lay you down and forced you quiet with his lips on yours and his hands seeking other truths between your legs. 

Now, you are a mother to twins—at least, as far as the kingdom was concerned. Your daughter, Seojin, is truly yours and Namjoon’s, a miracle that even Namjoon’s family had not anticipated. Due to most everyone else in his family waiting until they had chosen a mate and had kids to turn, this was an unprecedented event. And Seojin’s twin brother, Jiho—though not truly siblings—but instead cousins, is the answer to keeping the family line on the throne. 

Queen Mother Sindeok had hidden away, where she bore a son and then quietly returned to the palace with you and Namjoon, cradling a secret that only your family knew. A secret that she bundled tightly for the trip back and handed into your arms a mere day before your Seojin was born.  

By royal decree, the news of the double royal birth spread across the lands, and in short, the Queen Mother’s pregnancy had never happened. Instead, Taelani, beloved Queen Consort to King Namjoon, had given birth to twins—a boy and a girl, heirs to a prosperous future. Together, the twins' birth was celebrated by the populace and secured the power that Namjoon’s grandfather had cultivated over the years, maintaining their hold of the throne their line refused to give up.

The birth of your twins also made sure that your father no longer tried to challenge the current rulers for power over the people. The Chief Councilor must have immediately withdrawn his money and support of the rival factions, as their attacks and their false propaganda dwindled to almost nonexistence. 

With the belief that his grandson would take the throne, as the twin who was born minutes before his sister, your father seemed to think better of his past alliances, and instead made to be a better grandfather to them than he was a father to you, in the hopes that his name would be next to theirs in historical records as a formative familial link to the throne. 

You still watched over his actions, even now, knowing that he may no longer hunger for the death of the emperor, but that his gusto for power and manipulation was never far from the surface. You and Namjoon had raised your children well though, teaching them to think for themselves and avoid manipulation tactics from even the most persuasive of grandparents. 

At eighteen, Seojin showed no outward signs of her father’s affliction, but for a glint in her eyes that she could do more, hear more, see more, smell more—than her human counterparts. Her brother Jiho was smart, empathetic, and set to be a great ruler, carrying on the legacy his forefathers set before him.

It may have been a little over a decade since you joined your husband in an everlasting life, but you have never regretted that decision, not even for a moment. Standing next to him as he pens his speech for Jiho’s coronation, you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair as you stare out at the full moon, large against the backdrop of the stars and dark clouds. 

“My love, come to bed,” you suggest, wanting to lay with him, to embrace him, to love him.

“One more line and I’ll join you,” he promises with a smirk. He still looks the same, jovial eyes crescenting as his lips quirk up at you. “Strip, and I’ll make sure to keep you warm.”

His lustful gaze watches as you step backwards towards the bed, eyes staying on his face.

A few moments later, he replaces his quill and caps the ink, fingers tugging at his pants to loosen them from his waist. Your giggles carry with the evening breeze as it whistles quietly through the slats in the window, rustling the parchment Namjoon was writing on and drying the last lines he had written. 

“And for our country, with Yi Jiho as emperor, this nation will finally have all we have fought for: strength, power, and a promising future.”

And for you and Namjoon, your sacrifices eighteen years ago continue the legacy of a kingdom destined to be ruled by a lineage of

eternal reign.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2024. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Part Two

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Part One

Synopsis: When your family is caught up in treasonous scandal, the Prince Regent makes an offer that is impossible to refuse. To avoid what certainly would have been death by his sword, your family promises you to a man who is followed by whispers of violence and sin.

Warnings: mdni 18+ ONLY! Aemond is conflicted, bad language, some religious guilt if you really squint, some fingering wooop, tension, orgasm denial, inconsistent writing my bad, Aemond's response and defence mechanisms are to fake hatred, this man hates feelings, allusions to sex, allusions to death and killing, again Aemond is angry handsy, a bitch gets slapped bc sometimes violence IS the answer. unedited (shock).

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: look, I know y'all were hoping for an update on Dark Cherry instead but hey, this one happened along first! I have been swamped with work at my new job (LOVE) and an exam that's in two days sooooo this is my apology for the delay in updates for both fics! Lmk your thoughts & ideas - inbox is always open to chat my loves

xoxo kisses!! <3

Masterlist

Weeks had passed and Aemond had been acting as if you were nonexistent. He had ignored your attempts at talking to him, pretended he couldn’t hear the constant questions that you asked about what you were you doing here and why are you here if no formal arrangements to be wed have been made as was promised?

Truth be told, Aemond was having second thoughts. He had acted irrationally in making the deal. Jericho may have been someone he loved as a confidant and a friend but truly, he could have simply had him hanged without blinking an eye. Treason is treason and Aemond certainly would not stand for it but here you were, waiting outside of his own chambers with a fierceness in your eyes that managed to catch him by surprise. 

Without saying a word, Aemond stood in front of you and waited for you to speak. 

“I was supposed to become your wife last week,” You avoided letting your anger at being strung along seep into your tone. “Instead, you have imprisoned me within the walls of the Keep and avoid me like I am some sort of disease.” Stepping towards him, you shook off the nerves that had your stomach in knots. “I tried to visit the town yesterday. Your kingsguard stopped me from leaving. Said you told them that I am not to exit the grounds.”

Aemond was calm. “That is exactly what I told them.”

“You said I could visit home when I please.”

A shrug that had his pin-straight hair dancing softly. “I lied.”

“Well,” you glared at him, staring him down with as much contempt as you could muster. “You best start telling the truth-”

“Do not,” Aemond’s spat, a departure from his usual slow and commanding drawl. You wondered whether he resented you such that he wouldn’t be able to reign back the worst of himself around you. “speak to me like that. I have warned you that I will not tolerate disrespect. Not from the likes of you-”

Your hand met his cheek before you realised what was happening. It wasn’t hard and Aemond barely flinched more than the slight turn of his head but your hand burned hot at the satisfying mistake that had just been made. Pushing down the fear that bubbled in your gut, you squared your shoulders and spoke firmly. “You have me brought here as a bargaining tool for my family’s lives. To force me into wedding you. And now that I am here and we are betrothed, you refuse to do so. Is there honour to your word or are we all to face execution instead?”

You had caught the side of his bad eye and a dull ache pulsed behind his eyepatch. He all but growled, grasping your wrists tightly in his hands and hunching over you, casting a dark shadow across your face. 

Aemond was red with frustration and you were half aware that angering him would not turn out well. But you were not going to cower and fold to the power that he held over you - over everyone. He may be the current ruler of Westeros to its citizens but the two of you had spent some moments of your childhood together and you knew what kind of man he was past the charade of coldness and stoicism. Arrogant, greedy, entitled and selfish. 

He knew that he shouldn’t take your behaviour lightly - that were it anyone else, he’d have dished it right back. But admittedly or not, you had caught Aemond off guard. He wasn’t expecting you to have the gall to hit him. 

Part of him–he would never, ever entertain the fact that it was actually most of him–enjoyed it. Your inability to control yourself and your emotions around him was entirely satisfying. And Aemond loved to watch how you cowered in fear at the realisation of your actions and that he was at all liberty to decide on their consequences. 

All the while, and you couldn’t help but think he looked terrifyingly handsome in his anger, though the right corner of his lips upturned gently. “You should appreciate the generosity I have shown you. I hardly understand how you are making a problem out of this.”

“Generosity?” You scoffed. “You’re keeping me prisoner.”

Aemond’s expression was blank, the strands of hair that had come loose at the swipe of your hand on his cheek casting shadows of his face as he let out a snarl. The leather of his meticulously tailored tunic brushed against your hand and before you knew it, he guided you into his chambers with a strong push that had you stumbling inside.

“Since you’re so ungrateful, I will show you what it means to be a prisoner in my home,” Aemond spoke with a slow, rumbling tone. “You are not to leave without my permission. Try to run away and I will have you punished.”

And with that, he left you to yourself, slamming the door harshly behind him. The click of the lock was barely drowned out by your protests, palms smacking against the wood of the door. 

How dare he? 

Tears welled in your eyes but even in your own company, you refused to let them fall. The ache in your chest for the freedom to visit home, to walk the gardens and to see your friends was overwhelming. You hadn’t been here long and you knew that the Red Keep was a luxury far beyond what you were used to but the feeling of confinement ate you alive. 

This was not fair. You had done him no wrong. In fact, his hatred towards you was entirely unwarranted and everything seemed so, so unfair. His problem wasn’t with you - it was with Jericho and your father. So why did Aemond have so much rage for you? 

If this was to be your prison cell then you were fortunate, you thought. At least he didn’t send you down to the dungeons or to whatever place was made for those who crossed the Prince Regent.   

-

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew Jericho and your father had been lying to you. It made no sense - in fact, it was a ridiculous excuse that they had given you. You weren’t stupid - there was no marriage that could possibly fulfil the extent of Jericho’s debt nor to save your family’s already tarnished reputation.  

So why were you here? You had your own doubts. Not only had you spent the last weeks with little more to do than think but hours had passed alone in this cage since your confrontation with Aemond.

Jericho had said you were only a part of whatever bargain he had struck. You figured that Aemond had use for Jericho and here you were, a token of control over your family. So long as he had you here, Jericho would have to do whatever it was that Aemond needed him to do free of question. 

The sound of the door lock clicking pulled you out of your thoughts. Merylle, the maid who had been assigned to you much to your surprise, didn’t bother knocking before stepping inside with her arms full of–gowns?

“The Prince Regent wishes for me to get you ready,” she said. “You’ll be attending the feast we are hosting tonight.” 

A feast? While we were all at war? 

A message. 

You eyed the gown that Merylle laid down on your bed before rushing towards your wardrobe to put away the others that she held. From what you could see of the gown, it was unlike any dress you’d ever had the chance to wear.

“I am truly to wear this?”

The look she gave was answer enough. “I will run you a bath first. And then I shall help you into the dress.”

You quickly washed up, half tempted to take your time but Merylle was waiting for you and you didn’t intend for her to fall victim to your antics. There was a matching night dress that had been laid out with the dress - if you could call it that - and you scoffed at the idea of wearing it. 

Did all the other women at court have negligee to match their day clothes? 

Clutching the towel to your chest, you ignored the smallclothes that were also laid out. You were already sweating from stress. Before Merylle could turn around, you shrugged on a robe and turned to do your own hair. 

Merylle pottered about, seemingly displeased with your insistence on doing your minimal hair and makeup yourself.  She helped you step into your dress, adjusting the fabric wherever it needed. “Perfect, my Lady.”

“Please, you do not need to address me formally,” you corrected. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Fuck. 

The gown was a perfect fit. It was a deep emerald green silk gown which cinched at your waist before falling loosely yet gracefully from your hips. The bust was stiff and covered your cleavage just enough so that it could accentuate the swell of your breasts perfectly, a square neckline that left your collarbones and neck bare. It made you feel sultry in an entirely new way - it seemed as if it were seamless, flowing down and clinging to your skin at specific places to highlight each curve and dip of your body.

This was a powerful dress and you wondered if Aemond had intended it to be. Merylle fastened a jewelled chain around your neck. You asked her the question that had been lingering at the back of your mind, “Why does he want me there?”

And where the hell was he?

“I am merely a housekeeper,” Merylle spoke, her voice stern. She reminded you of a teacher. “I wouldn’t know.”

It almost made you laugh at the thought that he had effectively banished himself to some other part of the Keep in his stubbornness. 

“Oh,” you murmured. 

“I’ll leave you for now. The prince will escort you downstairs when he is ready for you.” 

And just like that, you were locked alone once more.

Aemond was making you wait. He knew that your mind would be racing with questions - questions he knew you would assault him with as soon as you had the chance. If he wanted to, he was more than ready to pick you up from his chambers and show you to the banquet hall. But there was something so satisfying in knowing the infuriating, heated effect he had on you. 

He could picture the scowl on your face and the way you’d be wallowing in your impatience.

Forty-minutes had felt like two hours before Aemond was standing in your doorway, dressed impeccably in matching emerald silk that was tailored to every curve of his body. He was like the embodiment of Adonis, the way he radiated with beauty, strength and temptation. 

Aemond’s gaze made your breath catch in your throat. It was hot and you swore you could feel it scorching your skin as he studied you from head to toe. He slowly dragged his violet eye up and down your body twice, swallowing and clenching his jaw as he turned away. “Let’s go.”

Gods. Aemond was raised a man of piety and honour but you were a tempting little thing and the urge to ravish you in that dress he had chosen for you–the dress which only seemed to multiply your beauty tenfold–was impossible to ignore. He was no prude but he felt that he deserved penance for the sinful thoughts of you that plagued his mind. 

And as you gazed up at him, innocently and unaware of all the ways he longed to defile you and unaware of his hardness straining against the fabric of his breeches, Aemond cursed himself for his doubts about marrying you. 

Aemond cursed himself to damnation for being too weak to admit that he yearned for you. Cursed himself because he wished to be yours and for you to be his but he would never be strong enough to live up to being good for you.  

He would forever fear the disappointment in a woman’s gaze–as his mother had always looked at him, the perception that he was unworthy of reverence and the truth that he will never be enough. Because all that Aemond ever seems to do is let people down when he is trying his best and being in love with the daughter of a treasonous lord was a vile predicament. 

The Dowager Queen had already told him so. She knew that the smallfolk and lords and ladies alike thought of her second son as a vicious man. But she had only agreed to the betrothal as a means to show the people that her family will always land on top. That you will be living out the rest of your life in the bed of such a man whose House and name your blood has betrayed. In the palm of the Crown. 

To show them that they have control over everyone somehow. That they were to be respected lest such traitors wanted to subject their loved ones to their reparations. 

Aemond stiffened at his thoughts. He couldn’t be in love with you. He had hardly known you truly. Above all, Aemond was sure that he would never be capable of giving nor receiving something so unattainable as love. 

Did he not resent you so? He rolled his eye. One nice dress was all it took for him to fall victim to such idiocies. Perhaps he was no different to the other men of these halls. 

“Am I-Am I to accompany you as your betrothed?” You still didn’t understand. 

“You said you wanted to see your family. Your parents will be here tonight.”

You took a moment to think about his words. 

I have your daughter. She’s safe and sound so long as you behave. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if it meant that you’d get to see your parents. A sense of urgency overwhelmed you and you rushed towards Aemond. “Let us go then.”

Goosebumps arose on your skin the second that Aemond’s hand brushed against the dip of your back. It was a gentle graze, feather light and barely there but he drew his hand back and took a breath before you could even blink. 

“Follow me.”

Aemond had left your side before entering. The main hall was alive with people, many of whom you recognised from your limited days in court as a young girl. They all looked at you scornfully and you knew that they were all thinking of you as a traitor to the Crown. You were not but you had the same blood as one. 

The music was pleasant and some people danced while others were busy drinking and conversing. You searched the crowd for your parents, hoping that you didn’t look as crazed as you felt. There were so many eyes on you, so much judgment that it made you suck in a breath and keep your eyes anywhere but on the guests. 

Your mother was toward the entrance, a champagne flute held delicately between her fingers as she talked with your father. 

It was a miracle they had been invited after everything but you knew that they were only here because Aemond had a message for them. A message that was loud and clear just through your attendance. A message that told them that you were sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, that he could use your entire family for whatever he pleased. 

“Ma,” you reached for her, willing yourself not to cry in a room filled with people. She gasped, arms wrapping around your shoulders as she mumbled incoherently. “Are you okay? And Jericho?”

“We’re all fine,” she smiled sweetly. “How is it? Over here? Are they treating you badly-”

Your father cleared his throat loudly. “Ears everywhere, my dear. I see that Prince Aemond has been generous.”

Generous. That word was like a parasite, stuck to you and making you sick to your stomach. 

“Yes. I suppose I have been alright.”

You stayed with them for the entirety of the night, slowly making your way through one cup of wine and a couple plates of the food that was set out for the guests. 

Slipping your cup onto a tray that one of the servants were carrying, you smiled at Floris Baratheon who spared a glance at you from where she stood. She was talking to Aemond and another man whom you could not name, a hand on his arm as she gazed at him through her eyelashes. 

She was only embarrassing herself, you thought. Aemond had put an end to that so that he could play out this game. Yet she still tried. Not that you cared, right? 

You glanced towards the corridor. Aemond seemed distracted enough by the conversation. Maybe you could blend in with the guests, make your way out as part of a group and nobody would be any the wiser. 

A few steps at a time, you made your way towards the exit. Every now and then someone would try and make idle conversation, bumping into you and forcing a hesitant greeting. But it would only last a few minutes. 

By the time you were at the doors, Aemond was nowhere to be seen. Fine, as long as he was far away from you. The hallway was grand and there were groups of people saying their goodbyes. It was the perfect getaway opportunity. 

You could disguise yourself within the guests, make your way to where your parents would pass and stay with them. It would work and you’d at least be out beyond this wing of the keep until you inevitably returned. Or you could see Jericho, and then you could convince them and disappear somehow. Jericho might even help you if you explained things to him–if you asked him. 

The thought that you were making a mistake began to cross your mind but just as you were at the foot of the door, an arm wrapped itself around your waist roughly, fingers digging into your hip as you were pulled away. Aemond smiled at the people who turned to look at you, their eyes trailing to where his hand burned its mark into the side of his betrothed. 

You could hear your blood rushing and heart racing, your palms growing clammy. You considered struggling, maybe putting up a fight. But it would be useless. Aemond was both skilled and strong and how far would you even get before he or a kingsguard caught up to you? Your plan was a desperate, confused mess. 

Of all the things happening in that moment, your mind was clouded by Aemond’s leathery, musky scent and the roughness with which he held you. The tick in his jaw and the slight purse of his lips gave away the anger he was suppressing as he dragged you through the crowd, opening the closest door he could find and pulling you in with him. 

Shit. 

Aemond pulled you so that you were facing him, holding your arms firmly in his hands. He all but growled, “I recall telling you not to run away, little mouse.” 

Your cheeks burned and your chest felt as if it were about to explode. Aemond had brought you into a closet which was actually the size of your chambers back home but you were flush against him, chest to chest and eye to eye. 

“And what? Will you have me whipped for it?” Taunting him was not a good idea but it came so naturally that you barely realised what you were doing. 

Aemond turned you and pushed you into a shelf, pressed against the surface and your back flush against his chest. “I do not like disobedience. My things are to stay where I leave them.”

You struggled against him. But it was for nothing. You barely stood a chance against the man who held you, his breath tickling your ear as you spoke. “I am not something you own, Aemond. I don’t have to heed you.”

“Oh but you do,” his knee lodged between your thighs, holding you down. “Where were you going to go, hmm? There’s not a single place in this Realm where I could not hunt you down myself and you would be back here within a moon.” Aemond could feel your rapid breathing, feel the way you squirmed against him but moulded so perfectly into his body. He hummed in mock thoughtfulness. “Maybe I should have let you go. I do enjoy a chase.”

There was a seductive venom that coated his tongue. It was so unlike the boy Aemond Targaryen you had known all those years ago, who may have been riddled with arrogance and dishonesty but he was never wicked. 

“What did I ever do to you, My Prince?” You gasped as he pressed himself further into you in an attempt to put an end to your struggling. Tears threatened to well in your eyes.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

Aemond stilled. He thought of the words to say, the words to describe the way that a small part of him now hates that he is making you cry but years ago, the entirety of him would have despised himself for it. As far as you were concerned, all he was to you was Jericho’s acquaintance who had no patience for you. Jericho’s acquaintance who never had the perfect family that you had, never had the love that he deserved, never had what he desired the most. 

He never had you. 

And Aemond might have hated you for it. 

“You were so blind,” he said. “So unaware. So selfish. All I had ever wanted from you was your devotion and all you gave me was resentment.”

Whether it was the gravity of his confession, or the way his body felt against yours, it took your breath away. What he was saying didn’t make sense. “I did not know. You were so cruel to me, My Prince, whatever little time we were together.”

Your chest was heavy with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, shock, anger and desire. 

“You want to know why I am doing this to you?” Aemond brought his lips so close to your ear that they brushed against your skin and sent a shudder through your body. “Because I hate your brother for what he did. Because I hate your family. Because I hate you.”

A lie. But you need not know. You swallowed deeply and were he not touching you in such a way, you would have recognised the pit of dejection in your gut. But you could only think of his hands. 

His hands, his hands. 

They were everywhere, dragging all over your body and leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He slid his fingertips down the sides of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of the words to say as the ache between your legs grew for him. It wasn’t right - Aemond was all but kind to you but your body yearned for him. 

He bit your ear. “I hate you but I fucking burn for you.”

Another gasp and you arched into him. Aemond’s words burrowed deep into your core and made your head spin with unfettered lust. After it all, you would have given him everything right then and there. The desire you had for each other was infernal, it was wrong and it was perfect. 

The air was thick and Aemond thought he’d choke on the concoction of lust, heat, anger and fear that was heavy in his chest. Your skin was soft like the satin of the dress he had picked out for you and it drove him crazy to think of all the ways he could indulge himself in your flawless body. 

“So tempting all the time,” he touched you with so much determination you wanted to let yourself melt into him, to become one with his heart and body. “Would you let me fuck you like this? How I should have done sooner and make your bewitching body mine?”

You let out a wanton moan as his soft lips found your neck, sucking roughly along the ridges of your skin. “I do not know-”

“Of course you do not know.” Aemond let his hand slip to the inside of your thigh, roughly digging his nails into your flesh and dragging them up to the most intimate part of your body that was bare under his touch. He sucked in a sharp breath at your lack of clothing under the dress–what an enticing, oblivious girl you were–and placed his hand flat against your sensitive flesh.  “I’m sure you would let me. Look at how responsive you are to my touch, such a needy little Lady. Tell me.”

The feeling of his hand against your sex and his body pressed against yours sent currents through you, right down to the tips of your toes. With heavy breaths you reached for his arm, desperately scratching his skin because you needed more, more, more. 

You were blind with need for Aemond’s body, for him to make good on his words and show you all the filthy things you knew he’d do to you. The voice of reason at the back of your head told you to slow down, that it would ruin you and you would never be able to undo it. 

If you gave Aemond your maidenhead here, and you managed to break free of this damned situation, you would be impure and left with no prospects of security. But all of that would be lost anyway. 

And you couldn’t stop yourself from burning in the heat of his body against yours, the hardened silhouette of Aemond’s cock against your back and the feeling of his palm cupping your womanhood ridding you of your ability to think. 

“Just this once,” you were breathless as you spoke, chest heaving against the hard surface of the shelf. 

Aemond tensed against you in surprise, his hips pressing further against the swell of your bum. He was hard, so hard for you. “If I am going to have you have you, ñuha dāria, it will be in the comforts of our marriage. Where I can take you in every way I have spent hours dreaming about.”

You had never met a more confusing, conflicted man than Prince Aemond Targaryen. Against your better judgment, you drawled, “You said you hate me-”

“I do hate you,” Aemond growled again, swiping the pad of his forefinger over your clit in one swift movement that had you writhing in an instant. “Does not mean that I do not want to fuck you.”

You were so wet for him, so prepared for him to push his cock into you right then and it made him throb under the restriction of his breeches. But Aemond was a man of great self control and he refused to give in so soon. 

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the purposeful movements of his fingers rubbing circles over your clit sending thrums of pleasure through your body. Your hips rutted against his hands, incoherent words tumbling from your lips. 

Aemond was not a wildly experienced lover. And he didn’t usually take pleasure in someone else’s pleasure. But the way you trembled against him, the way that every inch of you called for his touch and the way you sounded so desperate and so filthy for him satisfied him in an entirely foreign way. It made his cock twitch and set a fire in his blood.

“Please, My Prince–I am so close,” you whined at the build up of your orgasm, recognising the intensified version of the white hot throb and the sensitivity which you felt whenever you touched yourself alone in your bed. He chuckled darkly before pulling his hand away from you.

There were people looking for him, Aemond could hear them through the door. He couldn’t care less.  “That is enough for now. It seems that they are looking for me.”

You turned yourself around, still squashed between Aemond and the shelf, just to gape at him. A smug smile graced his face, his pupil blown out with lust that you could feel pressed against your thigh.

You resisted the urge to smack him again. “You jest, surely.”

Aemond stepped away from you, taking a moment to look at the mess he had made of you while slipping his fingers between his lips. Your dress was caught at your hip and hitched up at your thigh, your hair was tangled and your knees wobbled gently. But your eyes, wide and full of innocent, unburdened desire for him had him questioning his decision to stop. 

How he longed to corrupt you. 

“Collect yourself. I shall send Merylle to get you to our chambers,” Aemond was at the door by now, fixing his belt to alleviate the discomfort of his arousal as his fervent gaze was focused on you. Our chambers. It was a slip of his tongue. “If you ever try such a stupid thing again, I will not be so lenient.”

With that, he was gone and you were once again left alone with a mind full of wild, distressed thoughts. 

--

tags; @toodlesxcuddles @tredegarwitch @blackravena

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hi, I've just discovered your page, and I love all your stories, Especially the Alastor x Readers. So, I was just wondering if you could do an Alastor x Fem Reader, like how would he react to his doe announcing being pregnant/ How would he be as a dad? Also the same for Lucifer? if it's not too much?

Family Man

Alastor x GN!Reader, Lucifer x GN! Reader

A/N: Hihi! Thank you so much for requesting friend! I made this more into a headcanon/fic thing! Thank you for your kind words, friend!

TW:Pregnancy, anxiety that comes with that topic, Alastor being Alastor

Alastor:

-🦌 First off when you told him, he was silent for a very very long time. I’m talking full on deer in headlights moment, he stayed like that for an hour. Your poor husband was confused and his brain had to reboot.

-🦌 Once he gets out of his funk, he’s going to ask you if your okay with that and if having a family is what you want. Don’t get me wrong, he’s excited but he’s also extremely nervous. He never thought of himself as a family man.

-🦌 It’s not that he hates kids or children in general he just never saw the interest in them. Little tiny humans running around just didn’t appeal to him, he also didn’t have time when he was alive. Ya know between killing and running his radio show.

-🦌 But once he makes sure it’s what you wanted? He’s going all out, I’m talking about getting everything from a bigger room in the hotel to little baby clothes (he acts like he’s uninterested but by Lucifer you catch his eyes lingering a little too long with a certain softness). 

-🦌 Won’t let you lift a finger at all (not like he didn’t before). 100% more overprotective than anything. You want to go out on a walk? He’s with you immediately, arm wrapped around your waist. He can’t go with you? His shadows are following you. 

Alastor was in the middle of a conversation disagreement with Husk before his focus was pulled away seeing you put on your coat, “Darling, where are you off to on this fine Hellish afternoon?” He asked, appearing behind you with his arm wrapped around your waist as he bent down to gently kiss your cheek. “Going on walk,” You hummed as he sent a gaze down towards your growing belly. “Perfect!~ Maybe if you're up for it we can stop by Cannibal Town to speak with Rosie~” He hummed, forgetting all about the conversation from before his focus mainly on you.

-🦌 Speaking of Rosie, once she knows about your pregnancy she’d be over the moon and makes it her mission to watch over you if Alastor has “business” murder to attend to as well as makes herself an Auntie. You didn’t mind at all.

-🦌 Once you go into labor? He is right beside you wiping your forehead and allowing you to squeeze his hand as much as you want. As well as making death threats to whoever was helping you deliver the baby whether that be a doctor or someone from the Hotel. He has very creative ways of explaining how he would skin someone from head to toe.  If you weren’t in so much pain (and delirious from the medication) you would’ve told him to chill.

-🦌 Now once the baby is in your arms and he’s calmed down significantly, he’s going to be pampering you and his child. He doesn’t care for what the gender of his child is, he just wants you and his child to be happy.

-🦌 Now, this might go without saying but Alastor is a Mama’s boy through and through so if he does end up having a daughter there is a chance he might name her after his mother in someway. If it’s a boy, he’ll allow you to have full reign on the naming process while giving his input as well.

-🦌 Now, I see Alastor as a laid back but strict parent. He’ll allow his kid(s) to have full reign and learn what hurts them or not. But will step in if they are truly in danger or about to get seriously hurt. Will give out amazing advice when needed. But most likely will stay back. 

-🦌 No matter the gender of his kid(s), they will sit with him in his radio tower as he shows them what does what. He does this mostly when they are babies or toddlers when they get older he actually teaches them on what does what and how to successfully run a radio show. You have caught him doing this multiple times and he has yet to apologize cause they need to know how important radio is.

You were making your way up to your husband’s tower as you had a sneaking suspicion that he had once again taken your child up there. As you entered through the hatch you watched the display of your husband holding the sleeping toddler in his arms as he rocked back and forth. “These dials right here help you change the frequency and volume of your show..” he softly whispered out his ears, flickering noting your sudden appearance. You walked over as quietly as you could watching as the small tail on your toddler wagged in their sleep. You didn’t dare disrupt him now as he had a way of getting them to bed easily.

-🦌 Overall, he would be great in some aspects. Once again very laid back but still very much present and active in everything involving both you and your child together. He has some flaws in his parenting but honestly who doesn’t. 7/10 in my books. 

-🦌 Oh also- Dad jokes all day, every day. He once again will not apologize, good luck.

Lucifer:

-🍎 Oh boy our favorite short King in the house. He’s done this rodeo for Charlie all those years ago, he knows what to do.

-🍎 But once you tell him in the form of rubber duckies (idk that seems so cute to me) he looks up at you confused before he starts bawling. Don’t worry it’s because he is super excited and he’s an emotional guy, please give him hugs and kisses.

-🍎 Once he is done crying, he picks you up and spins you around before the anxiety sets in. Do you want to be a parent? What if he isn’t a good father? What he fucks up again?

-🍎 Please reassure him and give him more kisses, tell him you do want to be a parent with him and he’ll be a great father and if he fucks up, you’ll be there 100% of the way to help him back on the right track. He appreciates you so much.

-🍎 He is super nervous to tell Charlie cause what if she doesn’t approve? What if she gets upset? She doesn’t, Charlie is super super excited to have another sibling and when she hears the news she cries much like her father. So now you have your husband and stepdaughter sobbing in each other’s arms.

-🍎 Charlie convinces you both to do a baby shower/gender reveal party at the hotel. Vaggie makes sure to keep the troublemakers Angel and Alastor at bay. Lucifer the whole time is making sure you're alright and comfortable while also crying at the tiny baby booties.

You smiled at your husband who was walking back with a glass of water for you, “Are you okay? Do you need anything else, Darling?” He whispered out sitting next to you, making you smile and shake your head. “I’m fine, Luci..go enjoy the baby shower Charlie set up for us..” You whispered out watching as he pouted at the thought of leaving you his very pregnant spouse.

-🍎 Idk why but my brain just wants Lucifer to have twins so bam- he’s gonna have twins now. Poor man had to let his brain reset for a hot minute cause now he’s gonna have double the babies. He will cry so please hug him close again.

-🍎 Oh boy oh boy when you go into labor? He is the best person to go to, he’ll let you scream and curse at him while he comforts you and gives you little kisses between praises. Wiping the sweat and tears from your face while allowing you to squeeze his hand.

-🍎 When he holds the twins? He cries most definitely and promises to do everything he can to make his babies happy.

-🍎 Another man who doesn’t care what the gender of his babies are, if they are healthy and happy he is happy. The possibilities here for names are endless. The babies most definitely get his blonde hair and rosy red cheeks.

-🍎 Now having twins gives him the opportunity to be like, “Not only do I have one cute baby, I have TWO” and proceeds to turn around to show the other baby happily sleeping in a baby sling. You always laugh cause why is your husband so cute?

-🍎 You both need a break or want to go out on a date and can’t get a babysitter? Not to worry Big Sis Charlie is to the rescue with Vaggie and the rest of the crew!

“Are you sure Charlie? We can find someone else if you're too busy.” You asked, feeling horrible but Charlie happily waved off your concern, “Nonsense! I’d love nothing more than to look after my siblings as you and dad go take some well needed rest!” She hummed, glancing over at Vaggie who was happily holding one of the sleeping twins and Lucifer glaring at Alastor who was watching from afar. “Okay, if you're sure..If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” You replied watching as your other baby happily chomped on your husband’s finger with the amount of confidence only babies seem to have.

-🍎 Overall, Lucifer’s parenting style is great! He’s a little anxious but who isn’t when dealing with babies, he’ll mess up sure but once again lead him in the right direction and he’ll be fine. I’d give him a 9/10 here. Minus one point because of the dad jokes mixing with the duck jokes (but that’s what we love about him no? It’s mostly the dad jokes.)