#i love this fic and after god so much man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyukascampfire · 2 days ago

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OKAY FINALLY GETTING TO THIS LOVELY RB a thousand kisses for you, you are always the best! >_<

i very much wanted to personify death in this fic, both as a literal thing as yeonjun but also in general!! especially since MC struggles with it so much 🙂‍↕️

also omg i didnt know sorrel could also be a fruit??? i just looked it up and it looks so yummy. now i wanna try some….. but yes in this the intention was the leafy one :3

i also loved how he called her love and my love in this. i need him. smth abt me writing yeonjun and pet names man. he just seems like a sweet pet name kinda guy 😭 but itll it get me every time

SOOBIN 💖💖💖💖💖💖 him just always being there for her even though he knew he might die. he didn’t care, and i hardly think he holds a grudge against her for it after going :,) he knew what might happen, he still loved to be around her anyway. GOD. i think part of him coming to her was also to tell her not to feel bad that the last thing they did was argue. he still loves her very much of course. TEARS

also hehe i don’t know anything about league, but ALL THATTT FOR HER NOT TO LIKE HIM deserved if he’s weird. i didnt realize it but this plot point is very much like talk by hozier 😭😭 based off the greek tale of orpheus i thinkkk. SUCH A PRETTY STORY. but i personally love when people find personal connections in stories. it’s so cute ! >.<

also yeonjun in his smut scene had me w butterflies you get me

ALSO PLS ALL OF THE LAST SCENES JUST U CRYING and real cause omfg. i take a lil joy in that hehe i wanted at least somebody else to cry with me but now it’s all of us so i’m fulfilled. thank you so much for reading baby, you worked so hard to read and give us all such sweet reviews 💗 as always i love you!

THE TERRIBLE HALF-TRUTHS OF THE UNDEAD ҜING

⠀(🍂 ) 𝓡EVENANT in folklore, a revenant is a spirit or animated corpse that is believed to have been revived from death to haunt the living ... ( 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 )

1︎5.5k revenant!yeonjun · ƒ ! r ft. soobin ⸺ ✴︎ 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ... smut, violence, angst, death, animal death & vivid descriptions of animal death, major character death, unprotected sex, cumming inside, dry humping (because bring it back), biting, dom yeonjun sub reader, mentions of death in childbirth, reincarnation, teasing, breast worship, yj calls reader ‘my love’, def some typos

🪶 ⦂ how fun is this collab? :,) this fic was so fun to write. i personally believe that tsfawc enjoyers will love this one,, but you'll have to read it to confirm that, right? hehe. and of course, go read everybody else's if you love this one! they're all set in the same world, and everybody worked so hard on these fics. send some love their way!

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

𝒪𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝒰𝑃𝑂𝑁 𝒶 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸, in a land far, far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky and the water sparkled under the glowing sun, where mountains rose high, and long, deep caves ran through them, where the sea met shore in collisions of swirling, foamy punches, where the undead walked among the living, where the winged flew above the finned, there was a land where things beyond reason and rhyme existed perfectly true. Among those strange beings and within the veils of Aethera, there was a girl loved by death.

He sits on your shoulder, a dark, boding shadow and glared at those around you with promise in his eyes.

That’s how it seems, anyway. That’s how everybody looks at you. They dodge you, whisper about you, evade your gaze as if he might reach his claws for them next if they linger for too long.

Crows with dead eyes arrive at your doorstep like some lover’s cheeky gift, other poor creatures like fat grey mice are left to rot in the wheatfields, and yarrow stocks wilt outside the wall of your room. If Death thinks that you are flattered, he misunderstands you. You are terrified of nothing more than dying. The first time, it was a sly joke. Then it happened again, and you watched their eyes change. And it happened again and again, and your people are a suspicious type. Something can only be a coincidence so many times.

When you began to sneak into a little shack with a village boy, you thought that maybe, somehow, this would all pass. He died too. There’s really no coming back from that, is there? You don’t blame them. You’re not the freak that they all believe you to be—none of them get close enough anymore to know that, though.

The wickerbasket’s handle creaks under your fist. You usually only forage along the shallow line of the forest; you pluck from bramble bushes topped with plump berries that crawl between trees during the summer, and when the crab apple tree’s branches hang heavy with the fruit, you snatch those up too. You’re more useful to your family out here, in the woods that they deem just as cursed as you. Where you won’t be their burden.

Crisp autumn leaves crunch under your boots. You scan between them—more grey and rotted this late in the season than fresh and orangey—for the edible mushrooms and roots that you usually forage at this time of year. The basket’s already pretty heavy with a variety, black morels and sorrel and burdock, as you bend down to pull a truffle from the dirt against a tree.

You drop it down with the rest of your finds. The basket smells like earth, no doubt your hands do too. You dust your palms off on your skirts and go to rise back from your squat.

A deep, billowing horn pierces the forest’s silence. It’s both far away, wiggling between the whispers of rustling leaves, and much too close. It draws out. Long. Bone-chilling. You freeze, scanning between each tree trunk and praying that you won’t find what you fear you might.

You are much deeper into the woods than you usually are. Than you ought to be. And you know what that horn means—you know that it means something far worse than what you’d been afraid of, coming into these woods. Much more primordial than the hide-behinds you were scared you find this deep, much less avoidable than the faerie rings you stepped around.

Why would The Wild Hunt be here? A shudder runs down your spine, and you curl your fingers into your skirts and lift them as if to prepare to run, but you don’t. Your feet find root in the forest floor and all you can do is stand terribly still in catatonia. Their horn sounds again, and a procession of wicked whoops and howls follow. Wild hoofbeat rumbles under it all—the hunt and their rides. You hope that they’re just passing through, and you won’t so much as see as one of those wild riders. There were plenty of folktales that the matrons of your village would bolster to terrify you as children, but you knew even then that their stories of the riders, with their flesh falling away from them and their pale or beady eyes and their gnarled maws and frightening figures as they rode on the backs of equally terrible steeds, were not fabricated. They are not a bogeyman or a wailing banshee; they are death made in the flesh, and they are here. In your forest.

Your legs won’t work. You curl your clammy fingers tighter around your basket and lean into the tree beside you. How deep had you wandered into the forest? Hopefully not too far; when you gain the courage to run, you hope that they do not send their hounds to snap their foul breath on your heels. Maybe just standing here and blending into the trees is best. The Hunt would love a chase, and you don’t want to become their next.

The next call comes and you throw that all to the wind. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you let your basket clatter to the leaves and you take off. You fly over roots and shrubbery and between the trees, your blood roaring in your ears faster. You’d oblige if you could.

Above the loudness of your frantic mind, the harrowing whinnies and The Hunt’s ruckus dulls until it’s faraway again, and then it’s gone. Well, you don’t stop to check if they’ve really passed through the forest. You just run.

“There you are, love.”

His voice cuts through your frantic escape and stops you dead in your path. You almost go crashing down over the ground with the force that you dig your heels into it. Though the voice is non-threatening, you don’t turn to face the source.

He speaks again. You already know who it is. He, old as the earth you stand on itself, leads that band of wild riders. Is the king of the undead, collects souls for reaping.

And he’s the one who’s plagued you with his attention. Death.

“Why do you keep your back turned to me?” he says. “I frighten you. That hurts.” His voice lilts with amusement and sharpness. “I wish that you would face me.”

You’re not fond of the way that he speaks to you with a familiar fondness. But then again, you’re not fond of dying, either. Your legs are boneless beneath you. Turning, you slowly indulge him, though it takes a great amount of willpower to not run again like your jittering jaw and trembling hands ask you to.

The King of Death stands tall and utterly preternatural, leaned against a crooked tree in the woods behind you. His smile cracks across his face in a jagged way that suggests he finds you amusing, but none of that meets his eyes. They’re the color of the greyish, rotted leaves beneath you. The dark shadows beneath his eyes are the only thing belying the weight that his infinite life might have on him. That, and the hollowness that rings from him.

And though he sounded entirely playful, you are shaken by the sorrow that you find in him now that you’ve turned. Even more so, you’re not sure why you feel it echoed somewhere in the hollows of your bones. “I’m sorry,” you say. It trembles terribly. You want to say that you’re sorry you caught his attention, but it seems you’ve always had his attention. It’s more that you are petrified down to your marrow that the time’s come that you face this… strange infatuation. Here he stands: the one who leaves hollowed out husks of creatures at your doorstep. Should you run or thank him? Is Death as prideful a creature as the other kinds that inhabit Aethera? “I don’t mean to…”

He pushes off his tree, fixing his cape that cascades over only one of his shoulders. It’s tattered and falling apart like the rest of his clothing, though you think that the bronze stitching and swirling oakleaf patterns in the black say that they might have been immaculate at some point. Or maybe they weren’t, and they had started that way. He is Death, anyway. “You’re sorry?” he says. “Why are you apologizing to me? You’ve hardly done a thing to warrant it.”

Faltering, you wet your chapped lips. You’re not really sure. Holding back another apology for fear that you’ve offended him and he’ll now strike you down for it, you say, “I thought that, maybe the hunt was…” Wow, you sound stupid. You can see in the sly smile his lips form that it amuses him. That’s almost worse than angering him: intriguing him. What you really should be doing is boring him so that he’ll find you a waste of his time. Then, maybe, he’d give up haunting you.

“After you?” he finishes. Shaking his head, he says, “My hunters only answer to me.”

“Oh,” you say plainly. Part of you wants to ask why that should comfort you, especially when you’re the one that he sends little bits of death to, but rationality keeps those words in the back of your throat. You don’t really want to know. “Why are you passing by here?”

Something akin to old longing passes through those witty eyes, and then he eats up the distance between you with languid steps of his long legs until he’s nothing more than one last step in front of you. The closeness consumes the air in your lungs, leaving nothing for you but short and shallow drags. The forest has gone dead silent aside from the sound of it. His voice is even more magnetic now that he’s so close.

You recoil when he brings a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb over your cheek and then cup your jaw, as if afraid that he might snuff you out here and now. His fingers are softer than you thought they might be, and the lines of his face sharpen into what you think is hurt. Hurt that you flinched?

“We go here and there,” he says, “but it’s been a very long time since we came here.” There’s a certain thickness to his words; a certain tension coiled over them from something that you’re not privy to. And yet, there’s a farawayness, too. You bet he’s full of a lifetime of secrets. Lifetimes of secrets. “But I think I’ve found myself a reason to finally return.”

Breathy and still struggling to flatten out your breathing, you ask him, “Why?”

The Undead King’s smile turns wicked once more, and he doesn’t answer you. It’s awfully eerie.

“Do you have… business here?” you try again. It’s a roundabout way of asking, do you have someone to take away?

“I have business wherever the living go,” he says, letting your face go but not giving you any more room. You narrow your eyes. He’s quite good at non-answers. “Nothing is more certain than that I will greet every living thing eventually. I’ll come to take you, too, when the time comes.”

Your mouth dries up. The entirety of your home, all the people you’ve ever known, fear you for all the death you bring. Not one of them fears it more than you do. You’ve seen it enough to fear its frightening finality.

The drop of your face must’ve told him how much that scared you. “Dying is not such an awful thing, love. Living pales in comparison.” Searching your eyes, he adds, “But I’ve not come to take you.”

That’s easy for him to say: that death isn’t something to fear. His words don’t calm your thundering heart, but you offer him a, “Thank you…” It trails off toward the end when you realize that you don’t have his name. If he has one, anyway.

“Yeonjun.” He tilts his head, strands of sparrow hair brushing over his watching eyes. “Most don’t know it, but you’re not most people, are you?”

Your breathing had just begun evening out. It’s a shame, the way that it kicks back up at the way he looks at you. “What do you mean?” you say, but of course you know. Nobody else is given dead things like you. It’s not like you yourself are very strange; you like pretty dresses and sharing gossip with friends just as much as any other girl your age.

Giving you another one of those knowing smiles that he uses just like words, he steps back. “I’m sorry that I scare you how I do.”

You don’t answer him. What could you say to that? That he doesn’t? That would be a lie, and he would know it.

Yeonjun’s eyes flit over your face, over your cheeks made pink by the autumn cold, lingering on your lips for a few unexplainable beats, and then landing on your eyes where he searches and finds something that sends his throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “I don’t mean to be your monster. It’s only that…” He steps back again. “You remind me a terrible amount of someone I once knew.”

“Who?” Though your shoulders relax a bit with some distance between the two of you, you do your best to not let your guard down. All the stories that you recall being told, all those cautionary tales passed down through word of mouth around a fire, end with some stupid girl thinking that the monster could be changed or tricked. You’re willing to bet that the man in front of you, no matter how human he looks or how enchanting his words are, could be neither.

That doesn’t explain the ache in your chest when he holds your eyes for too long. But you shove that feeling way, way down. It’s nonsensical.

His voice takes on a parting tilt when he says, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Death takes us all.” Yeonjun dips his head at you. His smile wavers. You’d think that crooked smile on his mouth was indelible had you not seen it twitch down at the corners only for a moment. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed it. “You think I’ll hurt you,” he says, “well, don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, run. I apologize for your basket.”

Death takes us all. You’re not sure what that’s supposed to mean, coming from him, but it sends a cold wind up your spine and goosebumps crawling over your skin.

He watches you go. You don’t look back when you do, but his gaze sits on your back until you’re sure you’re out of his sight. When you return to your home, your mother asks where the basket full of ingredients for supper went.

You imagine what her face might look like if you told her the truth. But that was impossible, so instead you tell her some stupid story about a wolf that startled you so bad that you ran home paying no mind to where your basket was. It’s close enough to the truth.

༺ ꘏ ༻

It doesn’t matter what you do; you can’t get his face out of your head. While you cut butter into flour and then roll out dough, simmer fruits over flame and you slice cheese off blocks, you replay that meeting in the forest. The memory spins and turns over no matter how hard you try to put it away from your thoughts.

It’s not every day that somebody meets the likes of him. You can’t blame yourself; he had such captivating eyes. Dark, playful, and endless. There they are again. You sigh and dust your hands off. Maybe you are just as strange as they all think that you are. Morbid curiosity is like that, though. Taking the most normal of us and making you wonder what you absolutely should not wonder about.

And you absolutely should not wonder about him.

The sun has begun to hang high in the sky, but the breeze that crawls through the window you pulled open before you got to work is a crisp one. Autumn’s really come, now. Outside the window, a huddle of children play around in the leaves that you’d raked up. You’ll have to rake those back up, but you hardly have the heart to tell them to take their playing elsewhere. Their giggles and small voices waft in with the breeze, and an awful part of you yearns for a family that you know you’ll never have. No man would risk that fate, not after what happened to the last man who paid you any attention. You grit your teeth at the memory.

Having a face for the thing that’s made your life the way it is is strange. Seeing him in the flesh, with handsome eyes and a taunting mouth, looking something near human, you think you’ve come to resent him for it. How dare he ruin your life? He, more than anybody, should know how fleeting life is. What is in it for him to deface what little time you have? You keep going back to that thought: why did he ever even appear to you in that forest? There is not one story in which you remember Yeonjun showing his face to those he hasn’t come to claim. Death makes his visits swift and purposeful.

Moreover, why on earth would he even look your way? You wish there was a plain way to ask him why, or even to plead with him to spot. Whatever it is he’d ask of you, you think you might give him. To get back to living, you would.

A deep, familiar voice from behind you gives you pause. “Want some help with that?” Soobin says. He stands in the doorway, his head nearly brushing the top of the frame. It’s made too small for him. Most things in your tiny village were made too small for Soobin. There had been a time where you’d been taller than him, that had hardly lasted long enough.

“As if,” you dismiss and gesture at his dirty hands. He’d no doubt been out working his family’s field, his tunic sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Cow shit isn’t an ingredient.”

Anybody else might’ve scoffed or taken offense, but he just laughs and invites himself in anyway. It never fazes Soobin. He doesn’t let you push him away.

It’d be better if he did. How long before he ends up dead, too? Alive one moment, and then a husk without a soul next. You don’t think you could handle seeing cold, dead eyes where the annoying, warm shine should be. Of course it would be better if he stayed away, if he had half the mind to. Even most of the children have heard enough from their mothers to stay a healthy distance. He’s not too much better than a child, though.

“Isn’t it?” he says. His cheek is smudged with whatever sort of dirt he’s got on his hands and under his nails. “I’m done with work for the day. Want to go out to the field?”

You two have always ran off and avoided your life in between willowy, flaxen wheat stocks. They were just tall enough at this time of year to hide you away. But, for some reason, your stomach does a quick flip at the thought of being outside. It’s silly; couldn’t he find you here, too? “I’m busy,” you say. You’d already kneaded this roll of dough plenty, but you dig your fingers into it and begin again.

“Busy?” he scoffs, “Since when are you too busy to get away from work?”

Gritting your teeth, you let the sounds of your kneading answer. Now, more than ever, he should keep his distance. You know one thing that you’re sure nobody else does: Death’s come to visit.

His brows shoot up in your peripherals. “I don’t get answers today?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, giving up working the over-kneaded dough only because your arms ache. “Why don’t you go talk off the ear of some other poor village girl? I’ve heard as much as I can handle today. And then when that one’s tired, you can bother the next, I’m sure.” You soften the words with a quick smile his way. No matter how many times you say something sour in hopes that it’ll send him away, as soon as you glance up at his face, you reel it in.

His company is all you’ve ever had. The least you can do for him is make sure he doesn’t end up like carrion, even if he chooses to take that risk himself. You don’t know why he does.

Voice playful, he says, “I’m glad to hear that you believe I’ve got ladies falling at my feet, but I’d rather not annoy a pretty girl, so you’re my only option.” He pokes at the sleeve of your simple cotton dress. “Should I drag you out of here? Don’t your arms hurt doing all that?”

“Oh, you are a refined man, aren’t you?” you say, shuffling out of his reach. Damn him, he makes it difficult. “Well, I am a pretty girl, so you should take yourself elsewhere.”

Soobin smiles easy. “I’m bored out of my mind. You’re just going to let me suffer?”

“That’s not my issue.”

“I’d argue that it is,” he says. “Come on. Why are you giving me a cold shoulder?” Leaning, he tries to get a look at your face. “Did I upset you? I wasn’t aware that you cared much about what I thought.” When you spare him a sharp glance, he says, “I think you are very, very beautiful. Would you stop ignoring me, now?”

You wish you could fall into the easy banter that comes with being around Soobin, but you can’t. You can’t let him be around you. “Soobin, stop it,” you say, draining your voice. You don’t look at him while you say it.

Going quiet, he seems to notice that today’s different. His gaze is heavy as he stares at you for a few long moments. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks, “What happened?”

You swallow. “Nothing. I’m just doing something.”

“Oh, alright,” he says, tone inflicting in a way that says he doesn’t believe you one bit. He pushes off the counter. “I’ve put up with you pushing me away for years. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Soobin,” you warn. If you look at him, you fear you’ll be forced to watch the only one who never cared much what a risk it was being around you leaving. So you don’t.

Your friend raises his hands in the air defensively. “Okay, then.” He makes for the doorway with languid, lingering steps. As if he doesn’t want to leave. “Tomorrow..”

That’s both a threat and a promise, knowing him. Sighing and watching the rowan tree out your window sway, you bid him a curt goodbye.

If only that jerk took offense to things. It would make things an awful lot easier for you.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Being out in the wheat fields brings you peace when you’re alone, but you find it to be terribly lonely. The earthy, sweet scent of it wraps around you, and the stalks whisper against each other in a soothing way.

When you look beside you, the patch of wheat imprinted with the shape of your bodies is empty on his side. You are quite weak; it makes you want to go knocking at his door for his company. But that would be the selfish thing to do, so you card your fingers between the golden straw instead.

A chill trickles down your spine. You feel his presence before you even see him; it’s a feeling that you used to get fleetingly, as if something far away was tugging at you. But then he became real, a living thing in front of you that can touch, and that is much different.

“Why is it that I always find you out in the wilderness?” Yeonjun says. His voice comes from behind you.

Has he been watching you? You stand and dust your bottom off, heart kicking to life. “It’s nice out here,” you say. In truth, you haven’t come outside since that day. You’ve dodged Soobin and made a million excuses as to why you won’t go anywhere past the fences of your home. “I like to… watch people go about their days. It’s interesting.” It’s true—you always watch from afar how the village folk interact. How groups of girls your age link arms and whisper to each other, how neighbors come together to fix up a shoddy fence. You watch them be a community that you are not a part of. Watching it tastes bitter sometimes, but mostly you take pleasure in imagining yourself there with them. You’re not sure why you try making small talk with him, but what else? Should you go running again? If you were to listen to your pattering heart, maybe that’s what you’d do. He’s hardly shown you any bad will, though, and he’s the one that’s come to you. Maybe it’s silly to wait until something bad happens to be cautious.

A thousand pounds in stones sit at the center of your chest, though, and his voice makes them feel lighter. Why on earth that is, you’re not sure. It’s a nice relief regardless.

He smiles. It's different from the ones he showed you before. It’s knowing; more sweet than cracking over his face like the smile you would expect from the likes of him. What use might he have in being sweet? “Could I join you?”

Blinking dumbly at him for a second, you nod. “Oh, uh… Yeah.” Settling back down into your spot, you spare him a few curious sideways glances.

The breeze billows over the gold stems, moving them like gentle waves over the ocean and blowing your hair in it too. The flattened bits rustle under his weight. He doesn’t even turn his face toward the village; instantly, his gravitational eyes are on you.

“Do you come here often?”

“I do,” you answer. Mostly when you and Soobin have too much to do and not enough will to do it. “It’s nice. The village doesn’t like me much, so it’s easier out here.” You don’t mention that mostly you don’t come here alone.

Yeonjun’s face becomes far away. It looks strikingly like somebody forced into an old, unpleasant memory. “Don’t like you?” he asks, “What reason would they have for that?”

“They fear me. Things go wrong around me, that’s all.” You pluck at the hay absentmindedly. “Things die. They’re smart to stay away.”

The hay whispers much louder for the long moment he remains quiet, digesting what you’ve said. Maybe deciding what to say, considering that it’s his fault.

“Die?” he asks, voice inflected with surprise.

Turning to him, your brow creases. Shouldn’t he know? He’s the one that’s done it to you. “Everything that gets too close ends up dead. Everything,” you say, resting your temple on your knee. “So, I guess, I just keep it all at arm’s length.” You look back at your tiny village, a collection familiar, un-familiar thatch-roof homes.

Continuing to blink at you, his eyes narrowed in a strange grimace, Yeonjun says, “Death follows me, too.”

What? A laugh of disbelief bubbles up in your chest. Of course, death follows him. You cover your mouth with a hand to obscure your laugh, but you just giggle at him harder.

A laugh twitches at the corners of his mouth, too. “I mean it,” he says. The lines of his face become distant again, eyes both trained on your face and melancholic as if the sight reminds him of something.

It ignites a question in your mind about something he said in the forest. “You said that I reminded you of somebody,” you say, testing the waters. “Who?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. He looks away, as if he can’t look at you while he says it. “I loved a girl from this village once. When I was human, no less than you.”

You falter, mouth falling open to ask all the questions that flurry through your thoughts. You settle on one. “You were human?”

“I was,” he says ruefully. “And I had everything. I had the love of my life. I think that even the most bitter of creatures on this island had envy for our love. She would braid dandelions into my hair, and then I’d braid them into hers.” He swallows thickly and pauses, as if the wound was still festering and fresh. “And then she died. She died starting our family. She died because of me, in my arms.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just look into his shining eyes as if that’ll help. You’re not very useful with people, much less comforting them.

“I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t. So I went where I shouldn’t have gone, and angered something much bigger than myself. They thought it would be a fitting punishment for me to live an eternity, the King of Death who could not bring back his dead lover.” The harrowed look that he gives you, only briefly, has your chest heavy all over again. “They have a sense of humor, the forces.”

You imagine what it would’ve been like for him to lose his lover in that way. How far he’d gone to try and have her back, but death does not give back. Where had he gone to have been turned into this? An immortal thing, forced to roam the world and scoop up the souls of the living for an eternity? To be bound in ancient bones and made to remember forever how you had lost your lover?

The grandness of what you want to say is too big, but all those words feel pitying and patronizing in a way that you don’t think will actually bring him any comfort. Rather, you doubt anything you say will be able to patch up a wound older than you could imagine. Simply, you offer him a raw, “I’m so sorry.”

Yeonjun lets a crooked smile replace the trembling at his lips. “As long as I live, so too will she,” he says, placing his palm over his heart. “Death doesn’t so much happen when we leave behind our bodies, but when we’ve left the minds of the living.” Narrowing his eyes at you, he brushes hair behind your ear with his knuckles. “I know she lives on, somewhere out there. Somewhere. I’ll find her.”

That intrigues you. “Is there some way that you could bring her back?”

The grim light in his eyes tells you his answer. “My curse is to take life,” he says, “not to give it. But the one who made me this, he is cruel in a twisted way. If I were to find her, as a human or an animal or a blade of grass in the forest, only then could I rest.”

It is cruel. “You’ve been searching, then,” you conclude. “When you find her, you’ll both be able to rest.” But how could he find her, if as he says, she could be any living thing? Where would he even begin?

Slowly, he shakes his head, throat bobbing. “Death needs a farrier.”

She would become what he is. You swallow thickly. Was it not him who caused the deaths that follow you? Or, at least, it was not on purpose?

Opening your mouth, you go to tell him that you’ll help him look. You’re sure you’ll be of no help. He’s spent an immortal lifetime searching, and he still hasn’t found his dead lover. Nobody would know better than him where to look.

The ground shakes beneath your palms with impact, and something cuts through the wheat. The noise of its bleating becomes nearer until the both of you scramble up to find out what’s in such distress.

A deer stumbles around wildly. It looks lame, but you don’t see anything wrong with its legs. Your throat tightens at the awful sound, piercing and sad. Frozen, you watch it try to stay upright before it finally collapses down, legs still kicking as though it still wants to run but its body has begun weakening on it. “Oh my god,” you say, stumbling back. The sounds; its sounds are awful, echoing in your bones and constricting your thoughts until they’re a pinched panic.

There’s an arrow lodged into its ribcage, deep and at a terrible angle. You already know that it’s pierced some vital organs, if not its heart. It continues to writhe on the ground, not ready to give up. You’re not sure if you should approach it—you don’t want to scare it, and you can tell by the look in its wet eyes that it already wants to be away from you.

Or, maybe it had come to you. How else had it found the two of you in the middle of this field?

Yeonjun’s already on it. He puts his knees into the dirt and dried wheat to kneel by it, running his hand over the beast's pelt in long strokes. The small buck flinches at first but relaxes once he learns that his touches are gentle, not the gnashing of hungry teeth ready to make him a meal.

Blood runs like lead through your veins. You say, “Can we help it?”

He shakes his head. “He’ll die.”

Whip-lashed, you swallow thickly. He says it so unphased, and you’re sure he is. You can hardly make yourself mirror that serenity that he exudes as he runs his hand over its flank, but you get on the ground beside him anyway.

The buck’s breaths slow to desperate drags for breath. For a few long minutes, the two of you sit in silence and stay with him until he no longer fights, until his breaths are ragged. You feel his side, still warm and alive, but you see the life going from his eyes. You sit here, talking to each other about nothing just so it hears gentle voices as it goes, for a while.

Eventually, he’s gone. Quiet and at peace, no longer hurting. This time, when you look over to Yeonjun who still smooths over the deer’s skin even as he goes, guiding him delicately into whatever greets us when we go, you see death as a gentle thing.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Though you never seek him out, Yeonjun always finds you. In hidden places, away from prying eyes, he appears behind you and makes himself known. Well, you have a feeling that he watches you for a while before saying anything. It’s hard not to feel the strange tingling of his gaze over your form. It’s akin to the sixth sense that’s supposed to keep you safe out in the dark hearts of forests, an innate feeling that tells you some beast with a rotten, pale maw watches you between the trees.

Yeonjun doesn’t feel rotten, though, preternatural and eerie as he is. As you shirk your duties and talk with him for hours, you stare into ancient eyes and watch his crooked mouth move around his words and you feel an odd comfort. As if he’s the only one who’s ever understood you, or maybe that your strangeness pales beside him and for once you’re nothing but who you are. So many nights, the sun fell on your talking until the night insects buzzed from the grasses and your eyes were heavy.

Sometimes, as you dozed off with your back to a hay bale or a hardwood wall of the abandoned home beside yours with its sagging thatched roof, you caught such festering longing in his his eyes that you’d let your lashes fall and pretend to sleep so that you could imagine what it was that he longed for. No doubt his lost lover. When you imagine him, bound in bones and coming back to haunt the living for an eternity as he mourns her infinitely, searching for her in impossible places, your chest aches with a gnawing intensity.

It’s a terrible, cursed existence. Even the nothingness of death becomes a paradise beside it.

“Is it scary?” you ask into the air, sat criss-crossed on the thick duvet of the bed. He sits across from you, looking perfectly lazy. Moonlight pools in like sterling mist through the shutters.

“What?” He watches you, sitting in your plain dress, as though you’re the only thing in the world.

You’ve begun to wonder. Wonder about those looks he gives you.

Shifting, you fix the shoulder of your soft chemise where it’s slipped down when you catch his eyes lingering on it. His throat bobs. “Dying,” you elaborate. “Is it really nothing? After we go, all of it was for nothing?”

A slow smile tugs his full lips, made a bit red in the middle where he likes to worry it. It’s such a human habit to see on something so far from human. “Hardly,” he says. “It’s like going home, right where your soul is supposed to be. Who do you think rides with me?”

Furrowing your brows, you tilt your head toward one shoulder and let your hair pool there. “The riders are dead?” You had thought they were undead in some way like Yeonjun, other sorts of revenants come back to life with their own purposes. Then, are their creepy horses dead, too? A chill goes down your arms. Sometimes, sitting here with him when his face is made soft by the orange glow of the fire he puts on, you forget what he is.

“They are.” He nods, leaned back onto his elbows, his eyes alight with a hunger that makes your insides feel funny. “It doesn’t stop once we’ve died. You don’t need to be scared, my love. So many things end, but then so many things begin. The earth no longer holds you down, the weight of being is gone. You don’t know anything like it; you don’t know leaving behind the pleasures of earth to know the ones that only the afterlife can show you.”

His eyes laced with something entirely else, he adds, “And it’s not the end. Not for everything. For some it’s only the beginning, and for others, those who have not yet fulfilled their purpose, they come back to the flesh. They return.”

You can’t tell if he means himself, or something else. The weight in his eyes, dark, endlessly swirling pools, makes you wonder again why it is that he’s lingering here: the place that he had not visited once since the death of his lover, for the fact that it still hurts too much. Why his shadow of death, his fault or not, was tangled in your soul enough to brush its fingers over the things around you.

“It’s scary,” you say, breathy. The thought of eternity.

Soft hairs brush over his eyes as he tilts his head at you. “Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“No?” he echos, pushing himself up so that he leans back onto his palms. “Isn’t that strange? Pretty little thing says she’s not afraid of death, but her heart races when I’m near. Her sweet heart jumps at just the brush of my leg. Are you sure you’re telling me the truth, love?”

Your blood roars in your veins, inflaming your cheeks and making your head dizzy. Nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. Hair prickles on your skin. “Yes,” you breathe.

Feral delight sparks in his eyes, black as pitch. His smile turns up all feline at the crooked corners. “Crawl to me, then.”

Like how fire licks up oxygen in any room it is in, his words steal the breath right from your lungs. What does he think you are? You blink at him wide-eyed and dumb for a moment.

How can he say that as though it were nothing? Moreover, how does the ravenous flare in his eyes, his head tilted back as he watches you down his nose expectantly, do that to your belly?

Your mind glazes over with something thick and heady, and you damn the nerves in your belly and begin to crawl from your end of the bed to his. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, making sure you feel every inch of the taunt in his eyes as he trains them on you. When you’ve gotten to him through the thickness in the air, you settle into his lap and bracket his waist with your thighs.

Yeonjun takes the soft fat of your hips in his fingers. “Fuck,” he says. It sounds like he’s barely holding the gates on something endlessly consuming. Something that might break loose on the two of you, and leave you changed forever with its hungry, gnashing teeth. His head hits your collarbone. “Tell me to stop. Please, tell me to go. Because I don’t know how.”

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop. I want it, Yeonjun. I want this.”

He straightens, pupils blown and eyes as tense as his set jaw. “No, you don’t understand what you’re asking for. All I’ve ever done is ruin. All I’ll ever do is ruin. I won’t ruin you; not again.”

That rings bells somewhere outside the heavy fog that’s infiltrated your mind, but they don’t sound too alarming when he looks as though he wants to drag his teeth over your heart to taste its beating. It doesn’t touch the ground, when you want him to, so badly. So badly that you taste it on your tongue and it tinges your words as you tell him, “I do know what I’m asking for. I want you. Yeonjun. Don’t you want me too?” Voice and confidence wavering, you pull back. Maybe you’ve read this all wrong. A tickling shame crawls over your skull. “Do you not want me?”

“You think I don’t want you?” he says, straightening up and meeting your gaze. His breath is hot on your mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. You are in the marrow of my bones. Fuck, I have done nothing but want you, but I am foul. I will only hurt you.”

He takes your hand and places it over his chest, where a heart should be. Beneath your palm, you do not feel the thumping of an alive thing. Yeonjun has no heart. You knit your brows and examine the strain of his features. Does he think that you’ll be disgusted? Maybe the girl you were in that forest might’ve been, but being near Yeonjun has changed you in ways you couldn’t start to put your finger on. “I’m asking you to,” you say. “Show me what you want to do to me. What you’ve wanted to do to me.”

Searing silence burns between you as he drinks that in, and then he shoves you onto your back. Supporting himself with an arm beside your head, he curls his fingers into your hip and nudges your thighs wider. He doesn’t lift the hem of your chemise like you expect him to. No—Yeonjun begins to grind himself into your cunt through all the layers of your clothes. Though your dress is bunched up and his pants lay between any real contact, Yeonjun’s hard and that friction tastes fleetingly sweet.

“I want you to beg me for it,” he says, grinning down at you with cruel intention. “Beg me, and make it so pretty.”

You let little sounds linger in that back of your throat and become hungrier each time he grinds against you. It’s so much, mind swimming and sparks spraying up your spine, and yet each time it is not near enough. Damn that foxish smile on his face; you beg for him anyway. “Yeonjun,” you breathe, curling your fingers around the wrist of that hand with which he pins your hip. “P…lease, will you help me? It feels so good; I want more, please.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and an eager grind comes right over your throbbing clit.

You know he wants more than that, but mortification already is making your voice unsteady and your cheeks burn. “Yeonjun,” you huff, hips wiggling.

The king of the undead delights fully in your shame and rewards you with more of those pointed, dry grinds. Your legs tremble; he’s giving you so little, and yet your need takes it and magnifies it into something grand.

Though he pretends he’s on some high ground, you hear his shuddering breaths each time his fucks his hips against you. He feels that roiling, liquid need in his belly just as vehemently as you do. The room fills with your breathy pants and grinding bodies. You catch your lip in your teeth and begin to meet him half-way. Your moans are low and sweet, and each one sends his jaw tighter.

You twist and grind against each other like fumbling teens until you’re coiled up so tight that he has to pull himself away. Your throbbing cunt protests, but you know he doesn’t want you cumming like this.

“You want me to show you what I’ve wanted to do to you?” he says, working at his pants. His eyes are so drunk on you, and his cheeks betray his state. “Open your legs, my love. Let me show you a little death.”

Throat gone dry, you slowly let your thighs fall open. The dull throbbing between your thighs roars to life. He slides your skirt up your leg, stopping when he frees your knee to pepper a few hot kisses into it. Once he’s got it bunched up at your ribcage, he runs his tongue over his dry lips to wet them. “Fuck. Such a pretty pussy. I want to fucking eat you up.”

“Yeonjun,” you whine. His name is all you can muster out, anticipation sharpened to a knife point.

Flashing his teeth, he purrs, “You like that, you filthy thing. I bet you’d like for me to fuck you till your brain’s gone and all that’s left is my name. Isn’t that right? Is that what you want?”

Your thoughts stall and you nod, making your mouth into a filthy pout. God, how you want that. Maybe he’s right about you being filthy. Coming from him, it sounds like a delicious thing to be.

The pretty, leaking tip of his cock brushes your clit as he slides it up and down your slit to collect the mess there. Your thighs jump to close before your mind gets the better of it. He does this a few times—up and down, letting you feel and get used to the size and length of him all the way till his cockhead kisses your clit and you squeak.

“Are you comfortable, love?” he asks, shifting your hips with strong hands. “Do you need anything from me?”

It’s so at odds with his other, nastier words. Your head spins, the moonlight blurring. “I’m okay,” you tell him. “I… just want you. Want you to put it in, want to feel you.”

His cock catches on your hole, and he begins to push forward with promising pressure. But then he pulls back, smiling downturned. You whine; why can’t he save his capriciousness for later? You’d almost had it…

“I could give it to you, or I could not…” He hums. “Wouldn’t that be so cruel of me? To leave you wanting?”

You flutter around nothing. Every inch of your body buzzes. Alive. You are more alive now, at the promise of Death’s touch, than ever before. The irony might be something to wonder about if you weren’t dribbling down onto the bed sheets with crude need. “Stop it,” you say. Your voice is whiny. You’re glad you can hardly hear yourself past the pounding in your bloodstream.

That delights the King of Death. He wrinkles his nose at you, burning you alive with his eyes as he presses his palm to your belly and guides himself into you with his free hand. You wrap around each inch of him slowly. The air between you bows under the weight of your gazes; he holds your eyes the whole way, inch by inch until he’s seated fully into you with his groin flush to your body. He stretches you to fit, and yet it’s just right. You could ask for no more or no less; you might even think your body was made for him, were you not too busy circling your hips to feel him.

“Good?” he says, squeezing your hip. “Do you need a moment?”

Pursing your lips, you test out the shape of him with another wiggle. “Maybe… Maybe a second.” Truth be told, you need a moment to grapple with the sparks sprinkling over your mind more than you need a moment to adjust to his stretch. You let out a shuddering breath.

He traces circles into your belly, just beneath your navel. The pad of his thumb goes round and round, warm on your flesh. “As long as you need,” he says, but it’s more like a triumphant, playful coo. There’s that lopsided smirk. One day, you’d like to kiss it off him. Taking that hypnotizing finger, Yeonjun trails it up your stomach, over your ribcage. He hooks it beneath your dress and drags it higher, revealing the soft swells of your breasts to the air. You shudder, body so, so hot that your nipples peak and tighten against the cool air.

“Such pretty tits,” he says, brushing his knuckle up the underside of one. “Everything about you. Such a pretty, pretty body. God, I don’t know if I want to worship it or ruin it.” His breaths fan over your skin as he bends down and pops an eager nipple into his mouth, lavishing it before releasing it with a lewd pop and letting his mouth fall all over your breast. Lick here, nip there, until you’re squirming adequately and squeezing him like a virgin. Then he blows cool air over it and watches with eyes like a cat toying with its prey as you shudder harder, your chest jumping. “Fucking look at you,” he sneers.

“Junnie,” you say, lost for breath. You think you’ve walked yourself into the lion’s den.

His breathy laughs fall over your breast. Taking his teeth, he drags them over your skin, right over where your heart thunders a rhythm fully for him, and then he bites. Nothing more than a shallow mark, the shape of his teeth in your soft tit. He lingers there, admiring the sight before he straightens himself up again.

“Fine.” He pulls out of you slowly, but you know what comes after that, so you savor every second of it. “I suppose you’ve wanted after it long enough. Let me hear your sweet voice again, my love.”

Yeonjun fucks you just right. His cock nudges right up on your sweet spot as if he’s done this before. Like he knows where to find it. You gasp and whine—you’re just happy he’s finally giving you something.

“Oh, fuck,” you mewl. His shoulders wear the red crescent marks of your nails. “That’s—so good right there.”

Ever egotistical and cocky, he croons, “Yeah?” Rolling himself back, he makes it his mission to hit it ruthlessly.

A sharp, pitchy sound comes tumbling past your lips. You bring your hand up over your mouth, letting your eyelids dust your burning cheeks so that you can brave the flipping in your spine and deep in your belly. It’s nearly insufferable—the way pleasure licks up your spine, how it spreads out into your veins and takes control of you.

“No,” Yeonjun growls. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Let me see that look in your eyes when you cum.”

Your eyes are heavier than they’ve ever been, but you open them. The sight that greets you is worth the effort. Yeonjun’s lip twitches and then he throws his head back, the column of his neck on display as his Adam's apple jumps around a thick swallow.

If that sight wasn’t enough to send you teetering down into whatever depths of lust and ecstasy that he crawled out from, then the angle he hits as he pushes one of your thighs to his chest is. The world frays, deep tremors starting at one small point in your cunt and then exploding up through your stomach and down the back of your thighs. Your chest arches off the bed and you mewl helplessly, fighting and embracing your orgasm in an intoxicating death.

“Oh, fuck,” Yeonjun growls, strained with something whinier as he watches you shake beneath him. “Fuck. I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum…” His voice chokes as his hips become stuttered more than pointed, the slick sounds of your own release tangling up with his grunts and pants until he shudders and stills, cumming into your puffy, fluttering cunt.

You both catch your breaths as if there’s no air in the room left for a while. His hair’s damp on his forehead, as is yours on your neck, and his eyes droop lazily. More lazy and content than you’ve ever seen him.

Collecting you to his chest, where only your heart thumps away frantically, he presses his mouth to your ear and says, “Do you think death is so scary now?”

With your limbs nothing more than boneless and liquid pleasure floating slowly through your thoughts, you smile.

A little death can be more visceral than living, you think.

༺ ꘏ ༻

The tree stump beneath you makes your tailbone ache. You sit criss-crossed, watching Soobin work away at the soil and tend to that section of the fence that’s begun to rot and sag. Your mouth moves endlessly, filling the space that would otherwise just be made up of his grunts of hard work.

“You know, you ought to help me if you’re just going to sit and watch,” he says, straightening to swipe at his forehead, sweaty despite the cold in the air.

“Totally improper,” you say, smiling at him cheekily. “Are you saying that you can’t handle yourself, strong man?”

He glares at you with the venom only somebody made to put up with hours of chatter could muster. “What’s got you so talkative?” he says.

You know he means why you’re suddenly not glaring him away. You can’t tell him that you’ve spoken with Death himself, so instead you say, “Nothing.” Letting your legs dangle down, you smile at him.

Yeonjun hadn’t done any of it. It’s a comfort, to some degrees, to know that. It’s not your fault that they died. Being around them, being around Soobin, won’t make them turn up dead. The rest of them still don’t know that—and they wouldn’t believe it, anyway—but the black shadow hanging over your shoulders dissipates.

For the first time in so, so long, you do not feel marked by death.

“Sure.” His smile tilts. “A week ago, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you decide to give him a hard time. “Not true. You just have a way of getting on my nerves.”

“I take pride in that.”

“Take pride in what? Being insufferable?”

Crinkling his nose, he says, “Knowing how to bother you best.”

“Get back to work, stupid.” Your heart soars. It’s good to have friends. To let yourself have friends is an ever better thing. Is this how it is? To be with others and not feel like their burden, or like they’re crossing their fingers behind their back to ward off whatever bad things you might bring onto them? He’s made it his mission to hover around you no matter what, but this feels different.

Maybe, for so long, part of it has been your own gloom that’s obscured it all. Maybe if you didn’t bare your teeth to anybody who got too close, it could’ve been like this always. You hate to think that your own isolation could be some part your own fault. But how were you not to show your teeth when someone tried to reach their hand out to you?

It doesn’t matter now. You shove that all down and let yourself feel the slight warmth of the sun’s glow on your skin where it peeks through the clouds. It’s a nice day, you shouldn’t ruin it with those thoughts.

The sun’s begun making its descent when Soobin’s done. He takes a long drink of water, hissing with relief and crumpling down to the ground with his back to your stump.

“Are you making any way with that girl you were talking to me about?” you prompt.

Giving you a long look over his shoulder, he says, “Don’t.”

“What?” You laugh a little, raising your brows down at him. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You know what you’re doing,” he says, voice flat as he picks stickers out of his fingers.

Soobin’s had a thousand different crushes. There was that daughter of the shepherd, and then the wealthy merchant’s daughter and her long pretty hair, and then the neighbor… Well, you could go on. None of them ever really came to fruition for the poor guy. He thinks that it’s because he’s a poor farmer’s son, but you always tell him that it’s because he’s got an insistent mouth, and that he should be more grateful that you deal with him. Your lips turn up at the corners a little thinking about it—he’ll find the one eventually, but you like the indignant look on his face when you say it.

“I mean it!” you say, nudging him with your leg. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“You won’t even tell me what’s happening with you. Until one of us quits keeping secrets,” he says, placing accusation heavy over the words, “I’ll keep my dealings to myself. What’s it to you, anyway?”

Feeling the weight of his head as he lets it loll lazily against your thigh, you decide that it couldn’t hurt to tell him. The itch to tell somebody crawls under your skin. Especially to tell him. “You know the other day? When I was… being awful?”

His body shakes with a vindicated laugh. “If you’re nothing else, at least you’re self-aware.”

You skirt around that with your own, more awkward, laugh. It’s nice that he thinks so, but you don’t feel it. “Stop,” you huff and nudge him again. “I was foraging out where I usually go. But I guess I wandered out farther than I thought I did. You remember when they used to tell us stories, right? Like the bogeyman. That he’d come snatch us up if we didn’t listen.” Your mom especially had loved that one, back when she cared what became of you. Would she care again, if you told her that everything was fine? “Well, I don’t know if you remember the one about The Wild Hunt, but… Anyway, I was picking some stuff, and…”

Sitting up from his exhausted slouch, Soobin looks like he’s suddenly come back to life. “What?” he interrupts. His voice is strangely serious.

“What?” you say, brow creasing. “They travel here and there… but they were here. In the woods. Like, I heard them.”

Tersely, he asks, “What were you doing that deep in the woods?”

“I mean, I just kept on finding nice stuff until I just… was deeper.” You survey him. You hadn’t thought that he’d react like this. “So I ran, and then there was this guy,” you say, watching realization fall over his face. He knew those stories as much as you do—knew where you were going with this. He is as starkly superstitious as the rest of your people, you forgot. Pushing past the grimace on his face, you say, “And I knew that he was the king. The one from the stories. It was so weird; it’s like you can feel it. And I spoke to him, and then…”

Stood up now, he cuts you off once more. “Are you kidding?”

“Why are you being like that?” you say, messing with your skirts to quell the defensive bite in your tone. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t do anything? Are you trying to get killed?” He throws up his hard-working hands. “We have rules for a reason. Don’t go out into the forest, don’t make deals with faeries, don’t follow a banshee scream. And then you go and talk to the king of death? How am I not supposed to be upset about that? You know that…” Soobin blinks a few times as if second-guessing what he’s about to say, but he says it anyway. “You know that he’s the reason that they treat you how they do. You know that he’s the one who ruined your life. Why would you ever mess with that?”

You push yourself up from the ground, eyes burning. That stings like a cut. “He didn’t do it. None of it is his fault,” you say, furrowing your brows. “What are you trying to say, Soobin? Just say what you want to say. Come on.”

“He didn’t do anything?” He scoffs, letting a heavy silence hang suspended in the air for a moment before saying, “Is that what he told you? And you just believed it? Listen to yourself, does that make any sense? He’s played with your life like it’s some fucking toy, and now he’s come to rub it in your face. Think about it: do animals just fly into anybody else’s windows and die? Do the trees that they pick from just end up dead? It’s his fault that they all treat you the way you do.”

Mouth opening and closing, you don’t know what to say.

He sees the hurt in your burning eyes and tries to reel it back in. “What I’m trying to say is—”

“I know what you’re saying,” you say, grabbing up the lunch you’ve been nibbling on. “I know exactly what you’re saying. I just never thought you’d say it out loud.”

“Say what?” Soobin says, his voice raising behind you as you storm off.

That you think it’s my fault, you want to say. That they all die because I am a plague, and you are a charity worker for being my friend. Instead, you just leave and try to choke down the tightness in your throat.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You curl your arms around yourself, the night biting cold. Yeonjun had dragged you from bed, and who knows what hour of the night it is? If the heaviness beneath your eyes is to judge it by, it’s far too deep in the dead of night to be outside with your boots half-laced and nothing but your sleep chemise on.

You might’ve just stayed wrapped up in your blankets if you weren’t so lonely as you’ve been. Soobin’s been scarce. The most you see of him is in the fields from morning to afternoons. You hope that he’ll stop by your doorstep and knock so that you can groan about it but swing the door open anyway each time, but he doesn’t. He thinks that you won’t want to see him, and so he allows you your space.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s hard to be the one to come back after a conversation like that, though. You watch him from the windows and hope he understands at some point instead. It’s an awful lot easier.

Other than preparing meals and window watching, you’ve been up to nothing much at all. You hadn’t realized how much you had, but you feel him in his absence.

“It’s cold…” you say. The fog of breath that punctuates it makes your point. Whatever he’s brought you out here for, you have no doubt it’ll be something strange. The grin on his face tells you as much.

Leading the way, he heads for the Darkwood. “Only you would come rushing out without a cloak for your shoulders.”

“Well, only you would drag me from my nice, warm bed at this time of night. For what?”

“Can’t anything be a surprise with you?” he says, shooting you a cheeky glance over his shoulder. “Surprises are fun.”

“Surprises!” you say, working your legs to catch him. “Not surprises that involve you bringing me out into the woods. You know, it’s awfully suspicious. Somebody who sees this might think that I am the type to… sneak out with men.”

“Aren’t you now?”

Your lips tug down. “You know what I mean.”

He laughs in his airy way, a twig snapping under his foot. You’re well in the woods, now. Probably somewhere near where you’d first met him.

Lifting a brow, you look at him expectantly. Maybe a will-o’-the-wisp will come floating through with its light bouncing off the trees. That would be a nice surprise, you admit.

Yeonjun circles you. His presence behind you tingles in the way it always does, but true chills erupt when his breath puffs against your ear. “Close your eyes. I have something I want to show you.”

Your mind wanders back to what Soobin had gotten so twisted up about. It might be naive and reckless and against everything you ever learned, but you let your eyes fall shut to blackness. If he was going to hurt you, you imagine he’d have had that opportunity a mind-numbing amount of times before.

“Are they shut?” he asks, waiting for your nod. His voice comes from in front of you now. “I want you to keep them shut. You can’t open your eyes, or it will all go away. Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, mind full of a bounty of questions. You don’t even know where to begin to assume what he’s got going on, so you stand there shifting your antsy feet.

There’s a strange, rustling sound that catches you off guard with your eyes closed. It drags on for a long moment. Curiosity pries at your eyes; you want nothing more than to just crack an eye open to spy the source of the ruckus.

It’ll be gone if you do, anyway.

You let out a surprised squeak as something rises up beneath you, as if risen from nothing more than the dirt and roots of the forest floor, bringing you up from the earth. You wobble and send your hands out to find a perch.

A horse. It’s a horse, its mane so tangled and windswept, but matted and clumped with leaves that crunch under your palm when you find them. It reeks of mud—everything around you begins to smell of earth and decomposition.

You know that if you open your eyes, you’ll find yourself sat upon the pale white steed of the Undead King, its eyes white and its knobby knees almost as famous as the leader of The Hunt himself. It chuffs beneath you.

“Are you ready?” Yeonjun says over your shoulder. You can hear the feral grin in his voice. It’s the leader of The Hunt, a creature of folklore, that sits behind you now. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to him, securing you against the wall of his chest. “Hold on tight, my love.”

The call of the wild, that horn, bellows again like it had the first time you heard it. Rather than coming from nearby as you thought it would, it dances between trees far off just like it had that time, too. Your heart jumps up into your throat.

Taking off with a howl, the Wild Hunt follows it.

You dig your fingers into Yeonjun’s at your waist. Weight melts away, and you know you’re in the air. Your belly swoops in tandem with the howls and hoots of the riders, heart palpitating to the hoofbeats. How there’s hoofbeats as you ride through the air, you’re not sure. The ghostly fleet manifests around you in vivid imagery, though you squeeze your eyes shut. They are wild enough to imagine just what they might look like: with their clothes and flesh in tatters, with their eyes beady or pale, with their hounds piercing the air with their calls and running alongside them, they are a perfect personification of freedom.

Whip-lash sends you reeling, body going rigid. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes harder, wishing that you’ll touch ground soon and that everything would become real again.

Yeonjun feels you go stiff. Bringing his head back to your shoulder from his own delight, he says, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let it into your bones. Do you think I would let it hurt you?”

He is their leader. If it got too much, you know Yeonjun would be there to catch you. Curling your fingers into his, you release that tension and allow their drumbeat to echo through you.

And when it does, your blood begins to sing along. The wind whips your cheeks and your hair, and you begin to laugh with them. The Hunt twists and turns and dances through the air, an apparition in the night, but nothing more than that.

It comes to a slow, eventually, until the noise and even your steed crumbles back down into the dirt it appeared from. Your eyes pop open hoping to catch at least a glimpse of them, but only the dark forest and pale moonlight answer. Your legs threaten to give out on you, veins still thrumming, but, oh, do you feel alive.

You feel more alive than you ever have, more than you ever could have hoped to have known. Mind spinning, you stumble. Yeonjun catches and steadies you before you can go scraping your knees on a rock.

“Oh my fucking god,” you say.

The laugh that Yeonjun breaks into has you sending him a glare, but you break too. Everything about him is ironic; and how ironic indeed that Death himself should show you how to be alive, rather than to just live?

༺ ꘏ ༻

The air is so fresh in your lungs when you step outside that it nearly burns. You clutch your basket of warm fig tarts. Songbirds trill and fly between tree tops that slowly become more bare the deeper you fall into the season, singing their sweet songs that sound like new beginnings.

Raising your hem from the ground churned up into mud from the afternoon’s trickle, you prance into town with a lively pep in your step. You spent all last night making these—Yeonjun had kept you company, watching you how he always does as you pored over making them just right. His cruel snicker when the jam had simmered over flame for too long and became too thick bounces off your bones in a sweet melody. You’ve come to adore his wicked delight, the way his smile cracks over his face and the facetious raise of his brows, more than you fear it.

Sending small smiles to the people that you pass, you stop by a huddle of kids digging sticks into the mud. They look up at you with curious eyes, stopping to gawk.

“Hey, guys,” you say, pulling back the cloth laid over the sweets. “I’ve made some fig tarts. Do you like fig? I bet you’ll like them; they’re sweet.”

The kids stand up, eyes big as they share a look. They don’t let out so much as a peep before they scurry off home.

You blink. Well, you’re used to weird reactions, but that was… different. Picking up your deflated shoulders and hesitant limbs, you make a shoddy attempt at not letting it dampen your good morning. You were expecting wary looks, anyway.

You head down a little further toward the far side of your home village, the side that breaks off after a fenceline into a great, grassy field. There’s a bustle, mothers washing their clothes in pails and hanging them up to dry and a few others whispering at each other lowly as they go about their days.

An old woman so old her back curves and her fingers have gone knobby makes her way to wherever the day’s duty demands her to be. Your neighbor—an eccentric old lady bound in her times. You decide on her: the elderly are forgotten by the young. She might enjoy knowing that her neighbors still know she exists.

“Hello,” you say, showing her your basket with a hopeful, excited heart. “I have some treats that I was wanting to give out. I know they might not be much, but would you like one? I’m not the best baker, but I do it often enough.” A face like that, dragged down by her years on this earth and not long to death, has no doubt spent many years making meals for her family. You imagine your goods would be nothing beside hers, but it’s the gesture, no?

“Oh, girl,” she says, voice crackling as she clutches her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m afraid it’s best if you found yourself missing from this place. Hurry yourself up and spare the drama.”

The incessant cawing of a crow from a clawed tree fades into the background as you furrow your brows and lower your basket to ask, “...Huh?” Your belly goes up in knots; terrible knots done up tight and fast. You haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about. Elders always did speak a bit strange, though. It could be nothing much; she’s a stern old lady.

But her eyes are not angry and glaring in the way that a harrowed old hag might turn her nose up at the youth. They drag down with a cold pity.

“Listen to me, girl.” She points at you with one of those worn, sun-spotted hands. “You had best leave. The boy’s gone, and they are already not fond of you. Who will they point their fingers to?” the woman says. “I hardly know you, but I would hate to see it.”

The rest of her words fade into the roaring in your ears, the feral drumbeat of your heart like a wardrum in the cage of your ribs as it beats against them as if to escape from you. You don’t feel the basket in your hands, don’t feel the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, and don’t feel a single one of your thoughts like tangible things. They flit as if liquidated into a rotten, sick mush.

Nothing. You can think of nothing. Nothing real; nothing holding you to the earth.

“What?” Your voice hardly reaches your ears, but what does is weak and broken and like a plea for her to tell you that it’s not really what you think it is.

And if you could see or hear anything beyond your fraying little rift in reality, you would’ve heard the man coming up to you. You would’ve heard the words coming from his angry, sneering mouth, and would’ve done something when he picked up a pail of water, and you would’ve been shaken by the nasty ice water that runs down your frozen body and plasters your hair and clothes down as he pours it over you. But none of it cuts through your stupor.

He yells some awful, stabbing things at you, and a few others join him. They tell you that you are nothing but a plague, tell you to leave and to not come back here.

But this is your home. Where else would you go?

With your sopping wet dress clutched in your shaking fists as though that might keep you grounded, you choke down the tightening of your throat and sift through their faces, searching for his face. Those brown eyes, brown and always shining with nagging playfulness, do not come up anywhere. Jaw trembling, you search harder. Out on the field where he should be at this time of day, at your doorstep demanding that you go spend the day doing nothing with him, in someone’s yard helping them fix up a broken fence, no matter where you look, neither his broad silhouette nor his cheeky, dimpled face is there. You continue to stand stricken dumb, looking for him even though you know by the churning in your belly that it’s true, and you’re just hurting yourself trying to find him right where he should be.

Fine. Alive. Untouched by your disgusting, destructive presence.

When you can no longer fight the strangling tightness in your lungs and your dress is as heavy as your heart, you take off. The hem of your dress drags in mud and sticker bushes and catches on stray twigs, and you don’t know where you’re going, but you just run. You’ll give them what they want.

You stumble, probably like some lost, undead thing, until you find yourself at the edge of the forest. Only then do you let the wall of whittle-edged tears roll down your face. And you assume you sound like a choking, dying animal with how you choke and heave on them, but he was the one you might’ve dropped your head and cried to, so what’s the use of making it pretty? No; you let it all fall as it is.

Soobin’s dead. Soobin’s dead, and it’s nobody else’s but your own fault. You clutch your chest to staunch that old ache that’s grown teeth and tears at your heart; you have and will always be the end of everything that comes near. You are just as much the plague that you began to pretend, to believe, you weren’t. It was your stupid hope that maybe you could have something and not watch it become carrion that drove that pick. It was by your hope that he’s gone.

The hair on your arms begins to raise. You pick your head up and find Yeonjun standing in front of you.

There’s a few beats of long, dreadful quiet as he takes in the state of you. He drags his eyes down and they become liquid flame—something different from the impious delight that he is made of. He becomes the King of Death.

“What happened?” he says. The chills on your arms prickle furiously at the words, furling out distant and yet furious like the center of the fire.

You shake your head, wiping your soaked cheek.

“What the fuck happened?” he growls again, taking your face into his hand. “Who did this? Who did this to you, my love? I need you to tell me who the fuck did this to you.”

Letting the venom in your mouth out, you shove his chest and say, “Get away from me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

Yeonjun’s face twists up, looking scalded. Not surprised, though. “Don’t do this,” he says. “Let me hold you while it hurts. Don’t push me away. I can’t… I won’t lose you again.”

All the pieces that you had been putting into the corners of your mind snap together at that. As many suspicions as you had, though, it feels sour hearing it confirmed from his mouth. That you are his dead past lover, reincarnated or whatever you are. That it was his presence—because even though he stayed away for centuries, a part of him still lingered with you—that now has torn down everything you ever thought you could love. He, standing there in front of you like a kicked puppy, is the ruination of your life in the flesh. The flipping of your stomach is nauseating.

“I hate you,” you spit. “I hate you so much.” You repeat it a few more times, and you sob it into his chest as he takes you into his arms. “Is this what you wanted? You’ve been waiting for this forever, haven’t you? To find me again, so that you can die and fucking leave me here. So that you can make me exactly what you are, while you get your peace. You are a liar and a thief. All you’ve ever done is steal and take. How could you do it? Huh? Tell me…” Your voice trembles and staggers off. “Tell me how you made love to me, how you made me believe that you loved me, and all you ever wanted was to save yourself? You betrayed me.”

Pulling back, Yeonjun says, “No.”

“Yes,” you say, stumbling back away from him with a shaking, accusatory finger pointed at him. “Yes you did.”

Fingers itching to reach out to you, he holds them back by curling them into fists. “No. That’s not fair. I have spent an eternity loving you. I spent the entirety of my immortal, monstrous life searching for you, just so that I might find you in any form. I would have been glad to find you as a leaf in a tree, as long as I found you. But, then, I find you alive. Alive and back, as if… it never happened.” He steps toward you, aching to be near you. His voice wavers. “Please, don’t do this to me, love. Please, just let me have you again. I’ve waited… I’ve waited and I’ve waited, and I finally have you, and now you’re looking at me like I… Like I’d ever hurt you. Finding death—finally getting to die would be worth nothing if you weren’t there with me. It was never about that.”

“I could never love you,” you say, matching his steps forward with steps away from him. “I could never love a monster that does… Does nothing but kill. Take.” You know your words are cruel, but you need them to be. You need him to hurt, you need him to go so far away from you that never again will you cause another living thing’s death.

“You did.” Yeonjun’s mouth cracks into a pained smile, sharp at the corners. “You loved me just as much as I love you, once.”

“Just leave me. Leave me, and I wish to never see you again. If you love me, then you’ll give me that.”

He looks at you, clever eyes intense and glassy, for a long time. And then he says, “Would that make you happy? Would it make it so that you could live a happy life, and find yourself something to live for?”

What’s left for you? A small village that won’t ever embrace you? No, it wouldn’t fix your life. But you open your mouth and tell him, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, brushing his knuckles over your cheeks reverently. He swallows in your features, running over them for what he knows is the last time he’ll be seeing you—the very last time he’ll see the face of his undying love. When he finally opens his mouth again, his voice is gentle. “I’ll leave you. If my being here hurts you, then I won’t be selfish. I love you, darling.”

Don’t go, you want to tell him. Please don’t leave. Please, hold me. But your mouth is dry, and you let the radiant hurt in your chest stop you. You let him go.

༺ ꘏ ༻

There’s only one place you can think of going to. It’s the only place your vagrant feet take you.

His spot still is held sacred by the flattened, gold wheat stalks. Your best friend, still living here on Earth in at least one way even if he’s not here to listen to your stupid rambling. And he would maybe complain, but he’d always listen.

The last thing you’d done was fight with him. What an awful thing—what an awful way to repay him for being the only one who ever dared to get close.

You sit in your spot, beside his, and rest your chin on your knees. If only the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. You’d deserve it.

What’s left for you? Is there a place in the world that would keep you happily once they see what you do? No. There is not. You wish you knew what to do; you wish you had somebody to ask.

Releasing a long, tight breath, you just sit and wait for something to give you answers. A gentle breeze makes your hair dance, but it does not whisper anything to your ears. Something’s circling over head, but it doesn’t caw in the cadence of his laughter.

The day moves along without you. You’re not sure how long you sit, but it stretches somewhere between a few minutes and eternity. No matter how long you wait, there are no answers. No matter how long you mull over it.

Conceding, you begin to push yourself up from the ground. A rustle in between the foliage stops you before you stand.

A tawny hare leaps out in front of you. It sniffs around you, nose twitching. Then it stands back on its haunches. It stares straight at you, and intelligent light in its eyes that knits your brows. The wild thing stands there with a purpose that is uncharacteristic of a forest animal.

But entirely familiar in the face of your best friend. That shine in its eyes as it stands there, nose still twitching, makes your chest tighten up.

“Hey,” you say, as if it might answer you. Your eyes well up with hot tears again. Of course, it doesn’t.

Maybe you’ve gone mad, but you know that it’s him. That idiot, coming to show you that he’s okay in the afterlife—that you shouldn’t worry for him or cry for him. Look at him, full of life once again. The hare blinks its beady eyes, saying that there is still something waiting out there for us once we go. You reach out a hand. He does not flinch as you scratch behind its ear.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’m glad to know you’re alright. I know what I need to do, now.”

He blinks.

You laugh a hoarse, breathy laugh, familiar in only the way that Soobin could achieve. “You look stupid.”

Indignantly, the hare settles back down onto its forelegs and scurries off. He goes to live out this new form of life.

Maybe, like this, he’ll find that pretty lady that loves him the way he deserves. That loser.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You spend only one night in your home and you know that what you’ve chosen is right. After spending your day out in the field, you sneak under night’s cover into your husk of a room and let yourself sleep there under the covers one last time. When morning breaks through the window, you gather your weary bones up and leave.

You run into your mother on the way out. She doesn’t yell at you to leave, but her eyes have gone cold. Colder than you’re used to. You’ve killed again, in every way that counts. So you don’t bother with bidding her or any of them any grand goodbyes. You couldn’t handle the relief you might find falling over them, should you.

Plopping down to the floor, you take a few bites of the cheese and bread lathered in sweet jam that you’d swiped from the kitchen. The grass is long and willows in the wind, bending and dancing prettily. It’s so soft; you enjoy the feeling of it beneath your fingers in your quiet serenity. The scent of it, fresh over the baseness of dirt, you breathe into your lungs.

It would be the loveliest place to spend the rest of eternity.

For the first time, Yeonjun appears in front of you rather than behind you. He materializes from nothing, his elbow on his knee as casual as if he’d been sat there the whole time. The darkness beneath his eyes seems heavier, but then again you know that exact heaviness. It sits right in the very center of you.

You both are quiet for a bit. You let the tall grass whisper, instead.

“Bread?” you say and slant your lips into a smile. Bringing it up, you offer it to him.

His smile wrinkles his nose and curls at the edges. Entirely him. Yeonjun accepts the bread, ripping a bite out before throwing it away into the sea of green. Once he’s chewed, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s utterly at odds with his sharp mouth. Your lips move over each other gently, save for an indulgent nip or bite here and there.

He pushes you back into a bed of sweetgrass, never letting your lips go. Not to breathe, not to say something that’ll pale in comparison to the sweetness of your mouths on one another. He kisses you until he’s had enough to fulfill a lifetime without it, and then some more.

“My love,” he whispers into your skin, his breath hot on your collarbone. “Mine,” he says, pressing a kiss into the column of your neck, and then he says it again with a hot kiss to the place where your dress suggests your breasts. He says it a handful more times as he pushes your skirts up your thighs. “My love forever. I waited for you so long, and I would do it again.” Lowering his voice to a honeyed whisper, he adds, “I would find you no matter what.”

Laughing softly, you run your fingers through his raven hair to better see his eyes. You know he would.

Gently giving you one more of his lingering kisses that make your skin tingle, right into your bare shoulder, he presses into you. You loose a soft breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The beating in your chest slows to a content purr as he begins languid thrusts in and out of you, rolling pointedly and unhurried.

Yeonjun makes love to you in a thousand dusted kisses and sweet words, your hands holding each other’s soft edges. Yeonjun traces the lines of you, taking the pads of his thumb down your cheeks and your lips and then his hand over the swell of your breasts and down your belly and over your thighs. Clamping down on him as your belly grows tight in the way it had the first time you had done this, your thighs begin to shake.

Breathlessly, as you hurdle over the edge, all that you can say is, “I love you, ‘Junnie.”

Yeonjun smiles at you and then presses his face into your neck. He doesn’t even brace himself against the grass to chase his own peak. Neither of you want this to end; you want to hold on to this moment and let it span forever. Slowly, Yeonjun rolls up into you until his hips finally stutter and he cums into you, his cheeks pink. The weight of him above you as he shakes with your shared ecstasy, and even as you both have come down and are nothing but lazy, is the only thing in this world. He is the only thing in this world.

Once you’ve both evened your breathing out, you roll apart and face each other, still just two forms bending the grass into your shapes. Blinking slowly and digesting his features one at a time—the angle of his eyes, softened but never tamed, the line of his nose, the line of his mouth always so proud and playful, and that pretty dot below his left eye—you let them solidify fully in your mind.

“Yeonjun,” you say, finally meeting his eyes across from you. “I want to go. I’m ready.”

The gentle, knowing look that he gives you soothes over the way your heart begins to race in your chest in rebellion. “I know,” he says.

Of course he had known. Yeonjun had been called here to ferry you into the afterlife. Chewing on your lip, you will your hands to not shake as you curl toward him. You’re no longer scared of going. You know that if you’ll be with him, it will be okay. It won’t be so scary. A hot tear rolls down your temple and then drops into the rover of your hair. “Will you be with me? I won’t be there alone? I’m scared.”

He tucks some hair behind your ear reverently and then leaves his hand there. “I don’t know,” he answers. “But I won’t leave you. I’ll stay right here with you.”

You lay there for a long time. Chatting and giggling and just looking into each other's eyes, until your heart becomes slow and all you feel is the wind singing in your blood. Yeonjun presses one final kiss to your forehead.

Maybe, in some years, somebody might dig up your bones and find you immortalized like this in your love. Your bones bowing toward each other, as if even death were not enough to stop you from reaching for each other. Or maybe they’ll just find yours, and Yeonjun still curling into them how you know he will for an eternity more.

Either way, the going is still slow and gentle, as death always is.

🪶 ⦂ tears. omfg i cried writing this which could totally be me being a bitch baby but it DAMN. omfg.

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

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lostinlovingrevery · 3 days ago

Note

how much of a lovesick gentleman do we think he really is when he’s found someone he sees himself with for a long period of time

(in my mind he’s like perfect but if we’re being fr because men are men unfortunately)

Oh I think he most def is going to be the most lovesick gentleman on earth. Hes not perfect. But we just love that about him don't we?

Lets see if I can really put my thoughts out about this! I wanna be realistic here, but I also really do think logan would be the biggest sweetheart

Logans rough around the edges

but that doesn't mean he can't love!

I mean if we want to look at his history, comic-wise, when hes in love hes devoted to them.

The one lady he married after WW2, he absolutely adored her and still loved her even decades and decades after her murder. (i seen comic pages where he had a shrine to her. older comics)

Obvs he did move on when he met Jean, of course that was more unrequited

and you got the occasional timelines with Storm! They're really cute

theres a page of her asking him if he would really tear the world apart for them to be together

take a wild guess on his answer

and then theres Kayla(gag) in origins! I mean, Logans a big sweetheart with her.

Anyhoo we aren't talking about logans other timeline lovers

I truly think logan is a lover boy

I think, depending on what his history looks like since hes' got a lot of different versions (i like to pick and chose when I write my fics lol)

he would probably be a little rough around the edges at first. not in a way where he's a dick to you. I think he would just be nervous

Hes been stuck in a cycle of violence for so long

im mixed between him being scared of stepping out of that cycle, out of fear of getting you hurt, but also him being so desperate to just love

like how he liked jean so much and so quickly in the trilogy movies.

god just talking about that makes me irritated

anyhoo

I think

When Logans in love, he's still that sarcastic, anger-proned, alcoholic we all know and love. But I think he's the type to want to become better for you

he's not going to be fake but he's going to be softer around you. he wants to love you. make you happy. take care of you.

He's thinking about you all the time

so much so i think he'd get himself physically ill because he loves you so much. he just needs you :( <3

I think you'll be spared of his smart mouth (for the most part...). He won't cease it when talking to other people around you tho.

He's happier when youre around. holds his head a little taller

hes going to make perverted comments. hes going to look at your butt. hes going to squeeze your boobs. maybe even name them

hes a man in that sense

but i think hes old enough (lol) that he knows how to treat people.

people tend to act like logans super arrogant (hell i even think of him like that) but i actually think he's the most open to criticism and being wrong about things

i think he can be very wise

anyhoo, honestly I think once he gets over the complication of having feelings for you and the mortifying ordeal of being percievied, hes going to be the softest boy over you

sweet kisses just because

he'll bring you flowers, he'll write you love notes even, they may not be full of fancy love language, little things like hes misses you, loves you, in his own logan language

hes traditional in that sense. hes from the 1800s. he remembers the original ways to woo someone

I think acts of service is def one of his love languages.

get you groceries, fix the leaky pipes, fill your car up with gas, he doesn't think you should be lifting a finger

he'll tear the world apart for you

his feelings run far and deep- even if he makes it seem like that's not the case. its merely to protect himself

but believe me that barrier is gone when he finds you.

maybe it's me, im a sappy romantic (even tho i have no love life lol) but I think Logan would just adore you

hes the type to get on his knees and worship you straight UP

will defend you to the death. you could straight up being going insane and threatening to kill everyone and hes like "leave my girl alone :(" (X3 Logan im looking at you)

he'll keep pictures of you in his jacket and wallet

looks at you with those big puppy eyes UGH

BABY LOOK AT HIM

probably has told scott to shut the fuck up bc he teased him over how he turns into a lil puppy dog when you're in the room

hes going to be all about learning about you. your career/job, special interests, your quirks, your goddamn favorite soap

In the beginning, logan may try to be mr.cool guy but only bc he doesn't want to scare you off.

he likes the small touches between you both. brush of the hands, holding pinkies, playing footsie under the table

when you're alone though it is required that you are in his lap

an absolute rule

hes gonna get pissy over it

he will respect you in any way, with any boundaries I truly believe this honestly

i think if logans got a good feeling, ain't nothing going to bother him when it comes to you other than the fact that if you're not together he can't show his love for you

no relationship is perfect. You and Logan will argue, misunderstandings, such and such

but once again with logans age and experience, it makes him a very mature partner

he knows the little things aren't worth sweating, and hes smart to know when to really sit down and talk things over

i think different variant logans (which in some ways are just different stages of his life) would form different relationships based on their experience./lifestage but all of them are love boys once you get over the tough parts

just for example bc i love him, I think trilogy Logan would be so in love with you, but I think with not remembering his past at first, he may struggle to pursuing anything serious

its not that he doesn't want to, and hes not going out and flirting with other girls. its that maybe he thinks you deserve to have someone steady, someones who knows who he is, someone whos built a foundation for themselves

he prob thinks pretty low of himself. he gets cranky and sarcastic. he was cage fighting to get by. hes lonely. he probably sees you as someone amazing and hes...well, him.

but if you get over that hump, maybe when he gets his memories, or maybe you're just able to uplift him enough where he can see that you adore him for who he is, he'll be all over you'

I actually this would be fun to write about in deeper context so may make another post one day tweaking my thoughts on this but this is just what i'm thinking so far!!!

#van rambles #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #vans daydreams #logan howlett fluff #love him #i don't think hes perfect really but i think its very situational #as it is for everyone

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lynn-writes-things · 2 days ago

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a god’s obsession

aizen x reader

TW: TOXIC!!!!!!!, nsfw, possessive behavior, sacrilegious/sacrilege, god kink, fingering, penetration, cheating, slapping, choking, biting, hair pulling, a little bit of blood is mentioned?, rough sex, bruises, degradation, dirty talk, brat behavior?, slight dacryphilia, Aizen might be obsessed with you, corruption, mating press, petnames used condescendingly

WC: 2.8k

notes: I haven’t written a full length fic in like several years, please be kind and excuse any mistakes in pacing 😭

He fucks his subordinates a lot.

It’s not like he tries very hard to safeguard that little secret - that he’s screwing most of the girls who follow him behind your back. In a way, you feel pity for them, because they don’t know that he still slinks back into the bed you share after each encounter with one of the little girls that he doesn’t even deem worthy of learning their names - but you’ve been the only “woman” in his life, as he puts it, since you first met him forever ago, back when you both were subordinates to Captain Hirako in squad five.

At first, you resented him for the fact that he was a serial cheater. But, to be fair, you had known fully well what you were getting into when you agreed to marry the man, back in the Soul Society. You knew him - the real him - even back then. Because once you had made the mistake of gaining his trust, there was no going back. He told you everything, never hiding a single detail of his master plan from you. By then, it was already too late for you to even consider leaving him - he’d kill you, you knew it - and nobody would believe you about your claims of his evil deeds anyways, because once he was promoted to Captain, nothing could touch him. He knew it, and so did you, so you let him corrupt you instead. It was an easier task than you’d like to admit.

So now, after growing too tired of his adultery, you decided that you’d even the playing field, but you took it further than he had. He’d sleep around with Arrancars that he considered nothing more than canon fodder, ones who weren’t impressive in the slightest, who could never really join his ranks - but who had a pretty face. But you? Well, you fucked Grimmjow. You fucked him a lot, actually. Any time Aizen pissed you off, or you caught him reeking of another girl’s perfume, you’d seek out the Espada and drag him off somewhere to take out your frustrations.

Needless to say, it infuriated your husband when you came to bed with bite marks on your shoulder and blooming bruises on your thighs and on your hips. He gripped your chin hard enough to hurt, the look in his eyes something you had seen countless times, though never directed at you before, cold and sinister. “Who?” He demanded through clenched teeth.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You had the nerve to snark back with a smirk. The hand on your chin had wrapped around your neck before you had a chance to register it, and he had you pinned to the bed, glaring at you with a fire in his beautiful golden eyes that would’ve surely put the fear of God in anybody else, but only stoked a very different kind of fire within you.

“Yes, my dear, I would in fact very much like to know who is sleeping with my wife.” He growled, low and menacing.

“Well, considering every other woman in Los Noches is sleeping with my husband, I’d consider us even. Wouldn’t you say that’s fair, my love?”

He smirks, a cruel and evil look that only serves to further excite you. “I’ve told you, darling, those aren’t women. They’re merely insects to me, little playthings. Nothing more. You, on the other hand, are quite the woman indeed..”

“If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I believe I’ll keep my little plaything as well.” Your coy smile enrages him, his grip on your neck tightens.

“Only one?”

“For now.”

“Tell me who it is.”

“One of your Espada.” The way you say it so proudly, the sweetness in your tone like a deceptively delicious venom. “I’ll let you guess which.” He doesn’t have to. He knows.

Setting his jaw, you catch the barely perceptible twitch of his right eye as he sneers. “Grimmjow..” His voice is a low growl, you know that you’re in danger, but you like it that way.

“Ohhh, look at that - we have a winner! You know, Sosuke my dear, it’s no fun if you guess right on the first—“ His hand collides with your cheek, leaving a stinging pain in its wake from the force of the slap. Turning to face him once more, you blink at him, your expression down right incredulous, as his is simmering with rage.

“You little whore..” His voice is a warning in itself, yet so very addictive. “Fucking someone like him? I had no idea my own wife was so pathetic.”

“How very rich of you to call me a whore. Do you forget your own sins so easily?” The venom in your voice is the sweetest of poisons, Aizen wishes he could drown in it. He’d give a reply about how he has every right to anything that he wants, as his God-like status demands of him, but at this point in his life, he cannot bring himself to place you below him in such a way. If he’s God, then you are the Goddess he defaults to; you rule beside him, but he would carry out your will with all of the power he possesses - he would destroy the entire world with himself in it if you wished him to. You don’t know that Aizen is truly capable of feeling love, but you once thought Sosuke was. You aren’t entirely sure if you are either at this point - but you do believe that you are as close as he could ever get. He hates it. So do you sometimes.

Instead of speaking, he crashes his lips against yours, hungry and possessive, like he’s trying to claim you all over again. He will remind you of your place - of who you belong to - the only way that he knows how, by absolutely ruining you. He’s more civilized than to rip your clothing off of you, instead he very slowly frees you from your confines, each touch as possessive as it is teasing, like he’s branding you with nothing but his bare hands. Unlike Grimmjow, Aizen knows your body like the back of his hand - knows exactly where to touch, and how to touch, to make you fall apart over, and over, and over again. First, on his fingers, the rough pads of such deft fingers curling into your core, he knows exactly where to hit to make you cry out, and he knows that he’s hit his mark when that telltale gasp leaves your lips - breathless and eager for more, like always, and he’ll give you exactly what you want. His thumb presses lightly to your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves with pinpointed circles, varying the pressure he applies so that you can’t quite get used to how he touches you, but the way that your body responds to each touch tells him that he’s doing a good job.

“Did he touch you like this? Tell me, darling, did his fingers feel better than mine?” The man above you asks, his voice low and daring. All you can do is shake your head, a soft “No, sir,” leaving your lips, and he rewards your answer with a sinister smirk and an increase in the ministrations that you’re sure will make you lose your mind before too much longer. But he won’t keep you waiting long, not tonight - no, in fact, he wants to set a new record for how many times he can make you come undone for him tonight, he will unravel you thread by thread until you’ve completely lost yourself in his silken sheets. Then, like an expert seamster, he will put you back together again, only to thoroughly destroy you once more. Once, twice, three times he sends you over the edge with his skilled hands, until the majority of his forearm is covered in the sweet nectar that he considers sacred. All the more reason he’s enraged that you would dare to give it to another, much less someone he considers to be so far below himself.

His stamina is parallel to none, and you can’t tell if that’s a blessing or a curse right now, as each girthy inch of his cock enters you so slowly that it nearly drives you mad, the smirk on his lips is sinister and smug, his eyes just a touch feral. “Tell me, my love, did he feel as good as me?”

You’d sass him if you didn’t fear for your safety if you pissed him off any further tonight. “No, sir - nobody could ever feel as good as y-you..” Your voice hitches as he bottoms out with a low growl at the way that your warm walls engulf him so nicely. He leans over you, with your legs wrapped snugly around his toned waist, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “You flatter me, dear.. Though, none of my playthings could ever hold a candle to you, either..” It makes you question why he has such an affinity for them, then. You don’t ask - can’t ask - as his hips begin to grind against yours, slowly at first, because he knows the way his trimmed hairs grinding against your already overly-sensitive clit, coupled with his cock buried deep inside of you, drives you absolutely insane. He relishes in the way you writhe beneath him, trapped under him so you cannot get away, not like you would try anyways. He doesn’t care, he won’t take the chance. He’ll keep that pace for only a little. His discipline is usually something that he takes great pride in, but right now he only cares about proving a point, and that becomes obvious as he pulls back until only the tip is left inside, and slams back in with a force that reminds you all too well that this man is, in fact, the most powerful being in this entire realm - perhaps even in all three realms. He sets a steady pace, fast and rough but easily sustainable for him, and his hand once again wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides until your vision starts to blur, and all you can see is that evil, reverent look in his golden eyes as he sends you over the edge of bliss for a fourth time tonight. A dangerous growl reverberates in his chest from the way you try so very hard to cry out in ecstasy, but are only able to just barely squeak out his name instead.

“Such a good girl you are.. It’s easy to forget what a cheap whore you are as well,” He sneers, his pace becoming more ruthless, expression colder. “Running off and fucking one of my men? You dared to let that overgrown house cat leave such filthy marks on your perfect skin?” You’ve never heard him so angry before. It should not be this hot. His fingers find the bruises Grimmjow left behind, pressing into them harshly, glaring daggers at the bite mark left on your shoulder.

“I’m s-sorry..!” All you can do is gasp, his pace is too punishing to even consider taking a much needed deep breath of air, not with how he has your thighs pressed to your chest - he’s always had a preference for having you in a mating press.

An incredulous scoff leaves his lips, the look in his eyes growing progressively more feral as he speaks.

“You’re sorry?” He echos, laughing bitterly. “I’ll show you sorry - my precious, little, slut..” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, he slows his pace just enough for you to catch your breath, just for a minute, because he can’t have you passing out, not this time. No, you won’t learn if you pass out. Once you’ve had what he deems sufficient oxygen, he bends your thighs further back, your lower back lifting up with them, but he effortlessly holds you in place as if the weight is nothing to him (it’s not), his hips falling back into that brutal pace that’s sending you into orbit. Blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, threatening to break the skin that the man above you had only just called perfect moments before - but if Grimmjow left marks on you, then it's only fitting that your husband leaves more, right?

“Sosuke, I—“ For a second time tonight, your voice is cut off by a slap across your face, this time slightly harder. He doesn’t want to actually hurt you, he’d never dare use any more strength than this on you - you’re still his most precious treasure, after all.

“You will speak only when spoken to.” He demands, one arm wrapped around your leg to keep it over his shoulder, meanwhile the hand that had just slapped you moves to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling a bit harder than he means to, glowering down at you. You’re close again, and he knows it, he knows every sign your body gives, no matter how subtle it may be. A cruel smirk once again graces his full lips. “As a matter of fact.. Apologize to me. And I expect you to do it properly this time.”

The brutal pace of his thrusts slows to allow you to speak, though these slower ones are no less intense.

“I-I’m sorry, my love, I—“ He yanks your hair once more, the smirk dropping from his face almost immediately, eyes narrowing with a warning that you dare not ignore. “Please forgive me, my lord.. I’ve sinned, I- I’ve done something terrible, and I’m so- so very sorry..!” The words tumble out of your lips, and for just a moment, you feel like a child apologizing to a priest in a confessional booth. This might be just as cramped as one of those small booths, just as suffocating - in both instances, you’re still hoping that your words might reach the contemplative ear of a God, only yours is the beautiful man above you, and he is far more vengeful. “I’m sorry, Lord Aizen, I’m sorry!” Your words rise in pitch as you approach yet another little death. The God-like man above you smirks once more, you can tell that he’s pleased.

“Pray for your forgiveness, and I may just look past your insolence.”

“Please grant me mercy, my lord.. I’m so very sorry, please— please forgive me for my sins..!” A rich groan leaves his lips as a tear runs down your cheek, his own release nearing from hearing your desperate prayers, from feeling the way that your walls threaten to squeeze the life out of him, because you love it just as much as he does. His hand leaves your hair, his touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender, as he wipes away the tear from your cheek.

“You’re forgiven, my delightful little whore,” He practically purrs, his pace speeding up once more - although not nearly as punishing as it had been. “Now, cum for me. I want you to scream my name, make sure everyone hears you..” And you do. Oh God, you do - your hands finding purchase on his strong shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to worry the skin, but it only provokes Aizen to go even harder, only pushes him that much closer to his own release. Sounds of your desperate cries of his name echos off of the walls, and you’re certain others can hear, not that you can be bothered to care at this given moment. Aizen follows you over the edge soon after, a deep groan and a heated husk of your name leaving his lips as teeth find your neck, biting hard enough that he can taste a hint of your blood, but you don’t dare stop him, not when it feels this good.

Slowly, he stills on top of you, lets himself lean over you as he balances on his forearms, letting your legs carefully fall to your sides as his eyes take in your beautifully ruined expression. Once again, his hand comes to your cheek to brush away a few more tears that had fallen in your throes of pleasure. His eyes are softer now, his smile almost gentle, and for just the most fleeting of seconds, he looks like the man that you fell in love with again - he looks like your Sosuke. But you know that he’s not. He never really was. It doesn’t stop you from reaching up, your own trembling hand touching his cheek, thumb gingerly stroking over the peak of his cheekbone.

“You look especially beautiful like this, you know?” His voice is softer now, too. “Such a pretty little thing.. I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

“No.. Not too badly..” You answer, still a good bit out of it. But that’s okay. He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“You did well, my love. Now, let me get you cleaned up.”

#sosuke aizen #aizen x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen sosuke x reader #bleach x reader #back from the dead with brand new kinks!!#lynn writes

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shehungers · 6 hours ago

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CRACKS KNUCKLES let's get to business, Kiri

I want to say that this was SO MUCH FUCKING FUN to read! I'm not much of a superhero-loving gal, but spider-man is one of those heroes that is much more approachable and likeable than a lot of other ones. you "friendly neighborhood spider-man" after all. so, I'm glad that you chose that to go with and that you used Caleb as the hero because it just fucking fits so well!

before I dig in, just know that I haven't played LADS for a long time and certainly haven't played any of Caleb's storyline. so, I can't really make any comment on characterization besides what exists about him in the early parts of the game. if we're going based off of that, this feels very authentic and loyal to his character.

going off of my opinion of how you wrote a character like him: exquisite. you gave me the impression of a responsible older sibling or caretake with a mischievous streak. particularly in regards to the playful banter they share throughout the story, which is equal parts so bratty and caring and sweet that I love, love, love it!!!

a lot of the details you used to describe their relationship: Caleb usually does the cooking, but they dutifully split chores, eat together, consistently yapping with each other throughout the day, that worrying "stay safe" "be home before curfew" "I'll be home for dinner" stuff is just so domestic and ordinary, but something about how you used it in this fic is just so comforting to me; their normalcy is cozy and familiar and loving and lifelong and you did it SO well!!!

one thing I'll mention before I forget is when you were talking about jumping ahead/around w/o dividers or a time skip and having worries about it: don't be. I was purposefully searching for an, ah, rough division in the fic so I could maybe offer a suggestion on improvement. If you did do that, it's nothing so obvious that I noticed it at all!!! I think what "jumps" you did made sense for the narrative and were well-placed, so great work there!!!

what I will get out of the way in terms of a critique, but it's a light one: the length of some paragraphs did become a bit tedious here and there to get through. it's not always easy to figure out how to split up massive thoughts like that bc it all feels relevant to fit into one place, but it makes for more approachable readability to break them down a bit. and I'm saying this as someone who has tendencies to do exactly the same thing.

my proofreaders will tell me to dial it back or split things up sometimes bc I can get so, ah, wordy.

however, I'm also giving you credit here that your readability and flow is excellent! for the most part, I was able to keep scrolling down on my phone without experiencing any hangups, any awkwardness in phrasing or reading. so, truly, wonderful work with that bc achieving good flow can be a difficult task.

okay, that's all I can think of off the top of my head, so I'm dropping screenshots of stuff to yap about:

so fucking same oh my god. I feel this so bad and would've done exactly the same.

there is just something so particularly human and sweet about this paragraph that I just really adore. It does sort of give that childlike idolization where we mimicked people we admired, were inspired by the things they did. But, I love this in the context of mc being an adult and using it as motivation to overcome life challenges. idk idk I just love it

oh my GOD—same. thief running off with my shit? but the crosswalk has 10 more seconds 😫😫😫😫😫 so fucking real. mc is so real for this.

okay, now we're getting into the stuff that I live for when it comes to writing nuanced or small details. agitation causing sleeplessness; overstimulation by way of hyper vigilance, clothes feeling rough? these are excellent little details that can really bring depth into pieces. these are the sort of details that people can feel. the rough clothes are coarse and itch, y'know?

there wasn't much conflict in this fic, which is a-okay, but one thing that I particularly liked was mc's borderline paranoia and hang-up over the fact that he had kept secrets and lied to mc, which I think leans really well into their bond and sort of dynamic that they have. this little passage really stood out to me and was quite potent.

and, the last one:

I also like that in this fic, it was less an issue of caleb's dual-idenities vs MC and more mc vs MC, bc I feel like this entire section you wrote was basically mc internally warring with their own insecurities and fears, rather than having any true issues with Caleb. You present Caleb as surefooted—he knows what he wants, what he's doing, what he's committed to. he is unwavering, he is a solid force and doesn't budge once. that includes his dedication to mc.

MC is the one who wavers and worries and frets and withdraws because it takes them a long time to come to terms with the change and how their lives were going to be inevitably altered forever. and I REALLY love that that's the vibe I got from everything bc sometimes the war within yourself is worse than exists against others, y'know?

I think you did really well exploring all of that!

overall, kiri, I can see all of the heart and work you've put into this piece and I'm so proud of you that you saw it until the end. you have every right to be excited over this piece bc you did the concept justice and executed it beautifully!!!!!!!!

Homecoming

You’re a casual fan, you think. Spider-Man is cool, and you just really like him. That’s all... until you learn that the friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is so much closer than you think.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | superhero AU & Spider-Man Caleb | descriptions of anxiety, fluff, happy ending, mentions of blood and bruises, secrets, slice-of-life (as much as it can possibly be), some angst and hurt/comfort | ~7,6k words

A/N.⠀I really said "I'm going on a writing hiatus" and "I'm gonna lock in" with my whole chest knowing damn well I'm a liar ... anyway yeah this fic was inspired by this Spider-Man Caleb fanart... it made me go crazy.... I hope you enjoy!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

@hunters-association @theseabreezestreet

You were on the verge of a breakthrough. You just knew it.

You were absentmindedly swinging your legs back and forth as you sat at the table. Your laptop was open and displaying several windows—some were images of Spider-Man, some were news articles. Your tablet, and in turn, your notes, had gone completely forgotten. Spending time passively scrolling social media was far from productive, but compared to what you were reading, exam revision was totally dull.

Developing an interest in Spider-Man had been unintentional. You saw him mentioned in the news. Out of curiosity, you looked him up, and all of a sudden, you found yourself deep in the rabbit hole. Before long, you were up-to-date with daily news, keeping up with his movements and making friends with fellow Spider-Man fans. It was swift and unexpected, but you found it more fun than whatever you were previously doing.

He was far from the first superhero Linkon City had seen. There used to be rumours about the God of the Tides and how he ruled the seas for centuries before he found the love of his life. There was also Lumière of the N109 zone, a vigilante who suddenly stopped being active about fourteen years ago. Legends of the Abysm Sovereign and the Foreseer were passed down through generations. No one had proof they existed, only the product of their labour. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. Still, that didn’t stop your interest from getting piqued.

The difference between Spider-Man and the past legends of Linkon City was that Spider-Man was still active. A web-slinging genius with a no-kill rule, he made the streets significantly safer. Photos and surveillance footage of him were constantly shared, but no one had any luck finding his identity yet. You weren’t investigating him for malicious reasons. You were just, for the lack of a better word, nosy. You wanted to know the man behind the mask instead of the neighbourhood guardian the news always talks about.

You looked at your screen. There was a rough timeline of his appearances the past week. He was in different parts of the city, catching robbers and other criminals with his presumably handmade technology. There wasn’t a strict pattern to how he operated. It seemed that he liked to lurk before making a move. It was how he brought down the corrupted colonels of the Farspace Fleet. Fighting crime appeared to be easy for him, and he wasn’t as destructive as some were. It was impressive. Everything he did had you in awe. His dexterity and swiftness, his strength and courage—he was just what Linkon City needed, you thought.

Just as you were about to go into another deep dive, a hand pushed your laptop shut. Caleb was towering over you when you snapped your gaze to him, brows furrowed as you gave him an offended look. He lightly jabbed your forehead and only smiled in response, seemingly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re supposed to be studying.”

You sputtered. “I was studying!”

“No, you weren’t. You were looking at Spider-Man again.” He tapped his fingers on your tablet, reilluminating the screen once more. “Your exams are next week. You need to focus.”

“I can multitask,” you argued half-heartedly. “And, I’ve never let you down, have I?”

Caleb took the seat across from you with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Why do you hate Spider-Man so bad anyway?” You frowned, trying to move his hand away. He didn’t budge. “He’s keeping the city safe. That’s a good thing!”

“I don’t hate him, but you’ve been distracted. I’m trying to help you.”

“You sound jealous,” you joked. Resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Are you sad I’m not giving you enough attention?”

He pursed his lips, visibly unimpressed. “Set the table. Dinner’s ready.”

“You’re no fun!” you whined. “It’s not my fault there’s finally something interesting!”

You begrudgingly moved your items to the side and got up to make your way to the kitchen, slippers sliding against the floor. The savoury aroma swirled into the air, making your stomach growl involuntarily. Your irritation now forgotten, you made quick work of setting the table and pouring two glasses of water. With your job finished, you waited at the table, eyes drifting over to the TV on the wall. The screen displayed two reporters behind a desk beginning the evening segment. It faded into a clip of men webbed stuck to a lamppost, undoubtedly the work of Spider-Man himself. They were looking to rob an innocent passerby before the webslinger caught them red-handed.

“Huh. That’s where we live,” you spoke up after rereading the headline.

Caleb placed the plates on the table. “That’s why I always tell you to be home before curfew.”

“It’s not like I break curfew anyway,” you grumbled. “You know I hate being out when it’s dark.”

Distracted, you kept your eyes on the screen. The public had mixed opinions about Spider-Man himself. You, along with your circle of friends, thought of him as a hero, feeling safer knowing that he was out there protecting innocent people. From helping an old woman cross the street to busting evil plans, he was using his talents and intelligence for good. He worked tirelessly every day to keep the streets pristine and harmless. The police, on the other hand, weren’t as fond of him. The LCPD openly expressed their distaste for Spider-Man, citing that he was an obstacle in their investigations. Some people thought he was just another guy with a gimmick. These criticisms didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, every time someone said anything negative about him, he’d work even harder just to prove them wrong.

You knew it was far from wise to idolise a public figure, but with Spider-Man, he inspired you to do your best every day. You liked to imagine he’d be proud of you if he knew you. You worked hard and powered through no matter how many setbacks you had. As silly and childish as it sounded, he made for great motivation. He was a good guy, he was cool, and—

Caleb waved his hand in front of your face, a warning tone in his voice. “Pipsqueak.”

You jolted, snapping back to the present. “Sorry!”

“Why do you like Spider-Man so much?” he asked, poking at his food. “You got a crush on him?”

You sputtered. “What? No!”

He gave you a look that urged you to continue. Heat rose to your face as you felt a spotlight shining down upon you, giving you the floor. It was hard not to feel embarrassed about something that felt so childish. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of words to say. Knowing you were going to sound like a child regardless, you sulked, defeated, and finally gave him a response.

“It’s just… I really like superheroes,” you mumbled timidly, fiddling with your fingers. “I admire people who use their strength for good. Like you!”

The corners of his lips twitched. He seemed pleased. “So do you like me or Spider-Man more?”

“You are jealous!” you said with an accusatory tone. “Caleb, it’s not like that! It’s like… You know when you have a favourite celebrity? That’s what Spider-Man is to me.”

He made a face, though he ended up relenting. “Okay. I get it.”

“Yeah! It’s kinda like how you used to like—”

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” he interrupted, flustered. “I put all my effort into making your favourite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, unable to hold back the smile from stretching across your lips.

Spider-Man eventually faded to the back of your mind throughout dinnertime. You found yourself engrossed in conversation with Caleb, slipping into the normal banter and routine with ease. Somewhere in between, he changed the channel to natural documentaries instead. When you gave him a questioning look, he just shrugged and said that you should take a break with him. Not one to deny his requests, your laptop went forgotten as you spent the remainder of the night on the couch with him.

It was nearing midnight, and from the way that you yawned, you were nearing your limit as well. The documentary was long finished; the past few minutes were just advertisement after advertisement, regular products with unnecessarily catchy jingles. You glanced over at him, suddenly curious. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. If you were more awake, you’d notice the anxious bouncing of his leg or the worried furrow in his brow, but fatigue was catching up to you fast. With another yawn, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking the throw blanket with you.

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

He smiled at you. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fully sated and worn out, sleep came as easily as breathing. Images flickered behind your eyes, displaying dreams and vignettes in film reels. You dreamt of endless summers and sweetness, of growing up and exploring the world. When you woke up the next day, only a fragment of those memories remained. Caleb was already gone when you left your room. He left a note saying he’d left early and that breakfast was in the fridge. After treating yourself to his homemade cooking, you set off for classes and got the day started. It wasn’t very eventful. Classes weren’t particularly interesting. Lectures were about things you already knew, and a majority of your classmates were absent, leading to little to no conversation. Before long, the academic day was over, and it was time to return home.

The streets were bustling with activity as you waded through the crowd. Clamour and chatter were more than loud, people surrounded you, and the scent of car fumes mixed with savoury food bombarded all of your senses. You were starting to see now why people liked to say that Linkon City never sleeps. With everyone getting off work, the city was beyond crowded. Restaurants were fully seated, as were the cafés. Traffic went by incredibly slowly. Dogs barked to the sound of car horns and people were emerging from the train station in groups. You gripped your bag tightly, anxiety clawing at the back of your mind. News and posters about pickpockets were nearly a regular occurrence; it was better to be safe than sorry.

You managed to make it to a street where there were less people. You recognised some of the vendors out and about, offering them warm smiles as you walked past. Occasionally, you stopped by and bought a few snacks to take home. Now having your hands full, you were more than ready to go home and unwind. You hummed a catchy pop tune under your breath, leisurely walking down the path when the TV screens in the electronic stores came alive. You came to a stop, standing in front of the clear glass. It was a news segment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the screen displaying surveillance of Spider-Man was context enough.

He single-handedly stopped a burglary, moving with inhuman agility and fighting with incredible strength. It showed a group of men bound together by his webs, cursing and fruitlessly struggling to break free. It took a few seconds before the familiarity of the background sank in. The convenience store, the townhouses and the DVD store… The incident happened not too far from home. A frown overtook your features. Despite the crime rate being significantly lower thanks to Spider-Man’s efforts, the curfew was still in place, and the unrest remained. It was not any different for you.

As you made a move to continue your walk, you felt something being snatched from your grasp—your bag. The thief ran at full speed, deftly navigating through the crowd as you yelled for help and followed him, aggressive footfalls slapping against the concrete. Absentminded apologies left your lips whenever a complaint was heard from a passerby. Your chest was beginning to ache, but you needed it back. It had everything. Your phone, your wallet, your house keys with the chain Caleb bought for you. You couldn’t afford to lose it.

The traffic light turned red just as the thief crossed to the other side. You contemplated just dashing through, but anxiety kept you rooted to your spot. They were going further into the distance. You bounced on your heels nervously, eyes glaring at the timer. 40, 39, 38…

It was now or never.

Cars honked at you as you ran to the other side, the combination of noise nearly sending you jumping out of your skin. You pushed through your fatigue and kept running until you tripped over your shoelaces, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. You hopelessly reached out, watching the thief’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Tears of frustration sprang up to your eyes and you buried your face in your hands, uncaring of how you looked to other people. You weren’t fast enough. All your important things were gone, about to be left somewhere you could never find, and your information would be stolen—

“This yours?”

Your bag was dangling in front of you. Were you so distraught that you were hallucinating having someone come to your aid? You blinked and stared at it dumbly, your mind trying to grapple with the situation. The person crouched down to your level, and Spider-Man’s face came into view.

Wait…

You screamed in surprise, frantically pushing yourself away from him. “What—”

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me. I webbed him. He’ll be stuck there for another three hours,” he said casually, speaking as though he was just another regular pedestrian and not the famed vigilante of Linkon City. “I had to look at your ID card to make sure it was you, but I’m glad I got to you in time. Here, take it.”

You barely managed to catch the bag as you were still gawking at him. What felt like a thousand questions were popping up rapidly in your head. How did he know? When did he get here? What was going on? How was he so fast? Caught off guard by your stunned silence, he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, feeling awkward under your stare.

“Everything okay?” Spider-Man asked tentatively, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your reaction slightly delayed. “N-No.”

“Listen, I have to go. There’s gonna be a robbery on Ninth Street.” He helped you get on your feet, carefully making sure you had your balance. “Get home safe, okay? And don’t leave past curfew.”

“Okay,” you said, dumbfounded. It didn’t take long before you managed to snap yourself back to awareness. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for getting this back to me.”

He did a casual salute before aiming his web shooter at a building, swinging away with ease. Digging through your bag, you were relieved to find that everything was intact. Once the confusion went away, excitement came rushing in. You hastily grabbed your phone and dialled Caleb’s number, lips curling into a grin. He picked up after the first ring.

“What’s up?”

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” you said in one breath. “I just met Spider-Man.”

A loud crash was heard in the background.

You hesitated. “Are you busy? It sounds like you’re in the middle of something…”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. So, you met Spider-Man?”

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“Uh, pipsqueak?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I did! I’m walking home right now. Someone tried to steal my wallet and I couldn’t catch them, but Spider-Man did and he got it back for me. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Someone tried to rob you?” You could practically hear the frown in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You blinked. “You’re at work. What were you gonna do?”

He fell silent. It took a couple of beats before he spoke up again.

“Well, I’m glad you got your stuff back. Just make sure to be home before sundown. Tell me when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”

“It’s okay! Take your time,” you reassured him. “I’m heading home now. See you.”

You had a pep in your step for the rest of the way, feeling in high spirits after the encounter. The weight on your shoulders was lifted, leaving you feeling lighter. You didn’t realise how much you needed to breathe. Relieved would be an understatement—it was as if everything fixed itself in front of you. You didn’t generally consider yourself a lucky person, but today, you had won. The encounter with Spider-Man replayed itself in your mind, echoing his voice, reminding you of the proximity you shared.

After sending Caleb a quick text to let him know you got back safely, you began to cool down from the day. You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for your room, determined to change out of your sweaty clothes. Since he was normally the one to cook dinner, you didn’t have to do much preparation in the kitchen. You put away the clean dishes, washed the leftover ones in the sink, and decided to tidy up a little. With your tasks done, you returned to the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a groan. Though you didn’t hold high expectations for what was on TV, you turned it on for background noise anyway, half-listening to the dialogue in the show that was playing.

The clock on the wall continued to tick. Caleb would get off work soon. You ended up smiling to yourself, excited to tell him about your day. Lying comfortably on the couch, you continued to passively scroll through social media to kill time. You were beginning to hear the telltale sounds of people returning home. The sound of a car door closing, your neighbour’s doorbell ringing, eager dogs overjoyed to see their owner home. Considering the traffic you’d seen earlier, Caleb returning a little later than usual wouldn’t be that irregular.

With that in mind, your worries were eased a little. But as minutes faded into hours, nighttime came, and not a single call or message from Caleb was seen. Worried, you sent him a text, only for them to be left on delivered. Calling him led straight to voicemail. Growing increasingly agitated, you called him again and again, only to achieve the same result. He always told you if he was going to be late. He always picked up after the first ring. But your attempts to get through to him went unseen, and it was getting harder trying not to sink into your anxiety the longer his silence went.

You paced around the room, fingers clutching your phone as the call went to voicemail again. Your eagerness for dinner had long dissipated and was replaced by immense dread. Worst-case scenarios were starting to appear in your mind, fuelling your panic with its increasingly violent visions. You chewed on your nail as you paced back and forth, trying to reach Caleb to no avail. The situation was growing more dire with each passing second.

You glanced at the time. It was three in the morning. You were wide awake on pure adrenaline and distress. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel tired. It was as though all of your senses were on high alert. Everything was too loud, too much, and your clothes felt rough against your skin. Instinctively, you made your way into his room and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow and rocking back and forth. The smell of his detergent and perfume soothed you enough to have you breathing normally again. Your fingertips dug into the material, knuckles going white and shaking from how rigid your grip was.

The world started to feel less daunting when you finally calmed down. You felt exhausted, completely boneless. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and as you lay there surrounded by everything he owned, you found yourself falling slowly. The room is dim with only the city lights outside peeking in through the curtains. You felt a cold draft coming through the window, sending shivers running down your spine. Fabric rustled and you felt the mattress dip, immediately jolting you awake. A mixture of relief and fury washed over you.

“Caleb?”

His breath hitched.

You blindly patted the nightstand in search of the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” you asked groggily. “I’ve been—”

Your eyes dropped to his outfit. It was the same suit that Spider-Man wore, although more torn and worn down. Whatever tiredness was left in your system dissipated when you saw him. You sat still for a few moments, trying to contemplate whether you were imagining things or if this was real. You didn’t know where to begin. It was as if time stopped. There he was, the person you had been waiting for, standing at the foot of the bed like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared at him with your mouth agape, your mind struggling to put the pieces together despite the obviousness in front of you.

You didn’t know where to begin. Did he always sneak back home like this? What happened to him? In the end, you settled for the most urgent one in your mind—

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

He forced a smile, the gesture awkward and tense. “A couple of months.”

“Months?” you asked, voice rising in volume. “You’ve been—you—god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips. “Come here.”

He tentatively complied, sitting down in the spot next to you. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over the bruises and making him grimace slightly. He didn’t say a single word. It was as if he was also dumbfounded himself. You were still upset, but the longer you looked at him, the more the anger faded. At least he was home. Injured, but still home in one piece. It was leagues better than the thousands of scenarios your mind was conjuring up earlier.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically meek. It was unlike the Caleb you grew up with.

“But it can wait,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he held you close to him, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He held onto you with a desperation you’d never seen before. He relaxed into your touch just the slightest, reassured by feeling your warm body against his. You pressed your cheek to where his heart would be, feeling its steady rhythm remind you that he was here—that he was home.

Your voice was meek when you spoke. “I thought you left me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you decided with radio silence?” you snarked back. Something in his expression flickered, making you calm down once again. You frowned at the amount of bruises visible on his face and the dried blood on his split lip. Softening, you told him, “Go take a shower and get changed. I’ll patch you up.”

He didn’t argue. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, walking sluggishly. The sound of running water filled the stifling stillness as you took a proper glance around the room. There was an evidence board, several open books, and a well-used first aid kit on the desk. Your heart sank. Just how long had he been doing this, getting himself hurt and having to mend himself? Didn’t he trust you? Why did he keep this a secret from you? You heaved out a sigh and hid your face in your hands, frustration and sadness simmering beneath the surface.

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the right time. Right now, all you could do was be there for him.

He emerged a handful of minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes. You scooted over and patted the space next to you, lips pressed in a taut frown. Now that the suit was off, you could see the hits he’d taken more clearly. Splashes of blue and purple were scattered across his skin, some big and some small. There were a couple of cuts and scrapes close by, both old and new. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Sit,” you urged timidly. You gingerly applied the ointment on his bruises, careful not to hurt him as he stared up at you. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile that it made you feel like your heart was going to burst out of its confines. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It was Gran,” he said. “She made a serum. I didn’t know it until a few days later. I was stronger, faster… I could hear everything. I could feel everything.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m supposed to be your hero, remember?” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, avoiding your gaze. “I had to stay strong. Figure things out, get stronger… Make sure you’d always be safe.”

Setting the first aid kit aside, you pulled him into your arms once again. He held onto you tightly, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt so tightly that his hands were trembling. You raked your fingers through his hair and brushed them back, keeping them away from the wounds on his face. For a moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. All you could hear was his quiet breathing as he latched onto you, unwilling to let go.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t rely on me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighed. “I’d go through anything for you. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t keep any secrets from me anymore.” You pulled away. He looked up at you with a pained expression, years of secrecy and isolation making themselves known in his glossy eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded weakly.

“I need words, Caleb,” you said, your voice firmer than intended. You cupped the side of his face, feeling him clasp your hand with his own, warm and calloused. “Can you promise me that?”

“I can,” he exhaled shakily. “I promise.”

The tears you were holding back brimmed at the corners of your eyes, small droplets sliding down the sides of your face. A hushed whimper broke out of you. Caleb held on to you like you were his lifeline, refusing to let go for even a split second. The gravity of his words weighed heavy, as did him baring his heart. He melted in your embrace, sinking deep into your comfort as you gently scratched his scalp, easing every worry he was holding.

“Don’t lie to me again, okay?” you murmured into his ear.

“I won’t anymore. I swear.”

—

Though months seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, the emotional turmoil stayed deep in your heart the entire time.

Life had turned completely upside down. With the new knowledge of him being Spider-Man looming over you, you were having trouble placing yourself. Some days, you felt excited and happy for him. He was more open with you when it came to his successes. He’d tell you about the petty criminals he caught or the passersby he helped while swinging through the city. He was passionate about his identity as Spider-Man, and he was committed. You wanted to support him in every step of the way. Some days, you’d feel like you were sinking. You previously didn’t worry all too much when Caleb returned home late, but since that day, fear and anxiety kept you company on lonely nights.

He didn’t always return looking completely beat up. Sometimes he was unscathed. Sometimes it was just a couple of bruises. But you hated being home alone, especially in the dark where everything seemed to get much worse. You were losing sleep because you’d stay up to wait for him to come home. You needed to see him with your own eyes, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep in peace. He tried to give you estimated times to soothe you, but it didn’t always work. You’d wait in the living room, rock yourself back and forth as you wondered if he was coming home.

Your mind wouldn’t let you forget that he lied, either. You already forgave him a long time ago, but you remembered. You’d question yourself, question him, and what would come after was an overwhelming sense of guilt. He was trying. He was more open. He was showing you an important part of himself, bringing you along with him on his journey, yet doubts still lingered in your mind. He kept his cheerful disposition, constantly reassuring you that everything was going to be fine, but your mind was filled with what-ifs. What if he was hiding more from you? What if he was lying? What if he thought of you as a burden?

It was irrational to feel this way. You knew that very well, and yet, you still felt like you were fading out of his life. You talked to Caleb normally, interacted with him like you always did, but something felt different. It was as if he was drifting further and further away from you. Your outstretched hand, desperately trying to reach him, and his fading silhouette. Everything had changed. You felt like you were losing him in real time and there was nothing you could do about it. Everything had changed, yet it was all the same. You still had breakfast together. He still picked up the phone after the first ring. He still smiled at you, looked at you like you were his whole world. You were teetering between security and uncertainty. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you were helpless. These feelings came by themselves, and the more time you spent alone, the more difficult it became to ignore them.

Your sentiments towards Spider-Man had only grown stronger with the knowledge that Caleb was him. His name was more well-known in the city, growing popular among kids and women, and he was constantly being praised by the press. You supported him. You had total faith in him, trusted in him and his strength. But sometimes you’d stay awake stressing about how safe things truly were. More fame meant more notoriety among criminals, and you’d often wonder how long it would be before something drastic happened. You wanted the best for him, you really did, but something guttural gnawed at you. The desire to keep him to yourself, the need to protect him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh, to keep him in your maw. You wanted to hide him away somewhere only you knew.

You dreamt of it sometimes—of risking your life for him just to keep him safe. You constantly wondered if things would be easier for him if you left. You knew there was much that he wasn’t sharing with you yet. You knew it would take time regardless of how much he trusted you, Still, you felt as though you were being kept in the dark. Being Spider-Man seemed to be so easy for him. It suited him, even. You couldn’t see anyone else doing the same thing that he did. But you didn’t know what you were meant to be. You felt for him very deeply, as did he, but the vagueness in the air bothered you more and more every day.

Were you only being selfish?

You thought back on one of the mornings you spent with him. A full spread of breakfast lay across the table and the news played in the background. The sun was shining bright, peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the weather was good. But there was a sense of foreboding that loomed over you, one that you couldn’t keep to yourself. You called his name softly, leading him to look away from the screen.

“Are you okay?” you asked. He blinked at you, confused by the question.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know.

“I’m good. Sorry, I just thought you looked a little distracted.”

The lie slipped out of you with ease. You felt childish. You felt burdensome for needing reassurance from him that he wasn’t going to leave you behind, but you could never bring yourself to say it. Between your pride and the overwhelming fear of rejection, the words you desperately wanted to stay would remain within the confines of your mind. He didn’t seem to be convinced by any means, but he didn’t push the matter. A part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t a fight. There was nothing wrong. Even when he returned home blood and bruised, exhausted out of his mind, you took care of him with love and care. It didn’t matter that you didn’t understand why he was risking his life. Caleb never broke his promises or broke away from the path to his goals. He wasn’t about to let you stop him. With great power comes great responsibility, he said. But was this responsibility thrust upon him, or was he doing it out of his volition?

You hated feeling helpless. You knew he didn’t need you to do anything, but you felt like you weren’t an integral part of his life anymore. You felt like a bystander, like someone he was slowly forgetting. You shouldn’t feel this way. You should feel happy that he still cared about you, that he cared about the city to give his all into protecting it, yet your mind just wouldn’t let you. Your thoughts on Caleb hadn’t changed. You still thought he was the most important person to you, but what used to be admiration and even love for Spider-Man was turning into resentment little by little.

Some days, you hated him. You felt like a little kid without her favourite toy. You felt like a lonely child in a class full of people. You knew it was useless to dwell on these things, so you tried to occupy yourself. You put all your effort into your studies. You kept yourself busy doing chores even on the days when it was his turn. You didn’t wait to eat dinner with him; you went out for food and drinks with your friends, came back a bit later than the sunset. It wasn’t as if he’d notice. He wasn’t home when you needed him to be.

His name was constantly trending on social media. Spider-Man rescues bus from hijackers. Spider-Man stops bank robbery. Spider-Man comics and merchandise releasing. His name became the talk of the town, earning the attention of the rest of the country. The newfound fame kept him even busier to the point where people were starting to dig deeper into his true identity, leading fans and investigators to wait outside your home. You kept ignoring them, but they were persistent. Your declining of their questions only made them more curious. Not only did you feel like he was slipping out of your grasp, but also like the safety of home was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him for it. But sometimes you wondered if he knew just how much this was affecting you, as self-centred as it seemed. The satisfaction you expected from uncovering the truth about Spider-Man never came. The final piece of the puzzle was right in front of you, living and breathing under the same roof as you were, and all you could harbour was disappointment.

What Caleb was doing was major. He was keeping the city safe—keeping his home safe, for you and everyone. You found yourself sinking further into guilt and bitterness, the light at the surface growing smaller as you fell deeper and deeper. It was childish of you to be throwing a tantrum over something like this. So, you decided to grin and bear it. He understood you like the back of his hand; doing the same to him was the very least you could do. You pestered him less about his missions, stopped trying to call again and again when he didn’t respond. He’d always come home, even if it took days. He never broke promises. He promised he wouldn’t.

If he noticed the change in you, he didn’t mention it. His actions, however, said otherwise. He did his best to pay more attention to you. He tried to spend as much time with you as he could despite your conflicting schedules. He listened to everything you spoke about, promised you to be careful when you asked, and continued to protect you in his own way. You didn’t know exactly what it was that seemed to switch the dynamic completely, but at a certain point, you were no longer drowning in the pool of negativity. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the flowers in full bloom, and your cheeks ached from how much you’d been smiling. The lingering sense of foreboding faded into nothingness, replaced by pure optimism and trust. The future didn’t feel so glum anymore.

You supposed all you needed was time.

Time to heal, time to process everything. Time had a way of turning wounds into scars, healing phantom pains into a comfortable stillness. The claws that had your heart in a death grip had loosened, letting go of the chains they wrapped around it. You felt lighter, happier. Some semblance of normalcy had returned—as normal as it could be considering his dual life, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so long. Even here, where you were alone in the apartment, you didn’t feel lonely. It was… normal. A relief. It didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It was quiet save for the sound of your nails tapping against the keyboard. It was a sunny afternoon. Having had a productive morning, you aimed to finish the rest of the day in the same way. You were focused and determined to finish the essay quickly so you had more free time. But as the hours went by, that determination waned, and you found yourself at a dead end. You blankly stared at the blinking cursor on the word document. It almost felt like the thing was mocking you. Fatigue and boredom were catching up to you increasingly quickly. You knew the material by heart. You knew what you wanted to talk about. Yet no words came to mind—you were drawing a blank, and the thoughts in your mind were already drifting off elsewhere.

The counter was littered with snacks, surely something Caleb would chide you for. Your tumbler was long empty, left with nothing but melted ice cubes at the bottom. The dishes awaited cleaning in the sink and the TV remained turned on, playing a rerun of some generic soap opera. Defeated, you closed the word document, eyes drifting to the window beside you.

Outside, the skyline was painted in hues of orange and blue. Birds flew over the horizon, ready to migrate elsewhere for the upcoming spring. Your chest rose and fell with your exhale as you let your mind wander. You used up your creativity for the day, you thought. You haven’t made significant progress on the essay since you started it a few hours ago. Before you could beat yourself up about it, three loud knocks were heard from the window. Caleb’s masked face peeked over the wall as he gave you a gentle wave. Giddy, you got off your chair and skipped over, fingers deftly undoing the lock on its doors. You slid it open, allowing him to crawl in.

“I thought you were busy fighting crime,” you teased, watching as he took the mask off. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. “Are you slacking off?”

He huffed, amused. “I can multitask.”

He unhid his hand from his back and handed you a large bouquet of sunflowers, the gesture immediately making you melt. Flowers weren’t that out of the ordinary. Caleb liked bringing you gifts and trinkets he thinks you’d like. You got an equally large bouquet during your high school graduation and another one when you were accepted into university. You took it with a smile, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ and curiously looking at him. He bounced on the heels of his feet, seemingly nervous about something. His brows knitted together.

“You okay?”

He met your gaze. “Do you still think Spider-Man is better than me?”

You blinked a few times, confused. From the way he said it, it appeared that it wasn’t the first time he thought of something like this. You chuckled and crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to the other leg.

“Getting jealous of yourself, Caleb?” It was your turn to be amused. “I never said he was my number one hero.”

“You never said I was your number one hero either.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Why is this important? You’re the same person.”

“I just wanna know,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“First of all, that happened once,” you corrected, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Second of all, I love you. Spider-Man or not.”

His lips curled into a smile. “You love me?”

Warmth blossomed across your chest, rising all the way up to your cheeks as your lips parted in surprise, sputtering incoherent syllables. You awkwardly turned your head away, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Love had never been discussed, not really. It just felt like an unspoken commitment since you were children. He was the most important person to you, and you were the most important person to him. You never really thought about labelling your relationship.

Your eyes widened when you remembered you always referred to him as your partner whenever you spoke of him to your friends. You already gave it a label without realising it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply. You could feel his gaze on you, hear the satisfaction and mischief in his words. Clearing your throat, you tried to compose yourself and decided to follow through. You couldn’t take it back anyway, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I do,” you said, feigning indifference. “I thought you knew that.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from expanding into a grin. A breathless chuckle left him. His cheeks seemed to be getting even pinker as he fidgeted in his spot. He scratched the back of his head with flustered giddiness, struggling to keep eye contact with you. You didn’t think you ever saw him this shy. He was always your brave hero Caleb, the same boy who held you when you had nightmares, the same boy who held your hand when the thunderstorms got too loud. He was the same boy who defended you from bullies and got into trouble for getting into a fight with them. He was the same man who held nothing but affection in his words for you, the same man who would fall into playful banter with you.

You sighed softly, the corners of your lips twitching up. “You’re not gonna say it back?”

Though he didn’t need to, there was still a hint of insecurity in your tone. You looked at him expectantly, still watching as he tried to maintain composure. You weren’t used to seeing him this way, but you thought you could learn to do it. It made for a rather nice sight.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” he finally said.

You beamed at him, placing the bouquet on the counter before leaping into his arms, delightfully laughing when he caught you effortlessly. You looped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, your body supported by his arms around your waist. He held you as if you were as light as a feather. He nuzzled into your hair, letting out a content sigh. The air felt so light, so carefree. The remnants of your worries disappeared into the air, replaced by pure joy and unbridled affection.

“So… What’s the plan? Are you done with the day?”

“I’m going back to work. They need me,” he replied. With a jovial tone, he continued. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“You mean it this time?” You pulled away, searching into his eyes for honesty. You were still prone to worrying. His vigilante lifestyle was full of unpredictable moments, so it consistently kept you on your toes, leaving you unaware of what to expect. You were desperate for his words to be true. You felt as though you’ve been away from him for way too long. You craved his presence, his warmth—you craved him.

He gave you a boyish smile. “Yeah. I do.”

And that was a promise.

#.02 #.recs #.reviews

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1800-fight-me · 22 hours ago

Text

Begin Again

Rick Grimes x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature- As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst, canon level violence, cursing, yearning

Word count: Almost 4k

Synopsis: You have feelings for Rick that you're convinced are unrequited and it's made you irritable with your group. But what if you were wrong?

Author’s note: This is set sometime after the jail but sometime before Alexandria, but I took liberties with the timeline as well. I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

“I need five minutes away from you and your incessant talkin’,” you grumbled as you sheathed your hatchet and walked away from Eugene.

Of course it was your luck you got paired with the rambling coward in the group’s efforts to clear out the building for a safe place to sleep for the night.

“Wait! But I-”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” you snapped as you walked away. You’d already cleared out your designated area and the others would finish soon, you weren’t leaving Eugene in any danger. You just needed some air.

It wasn’t his fault you were so irritable. It was your own fault for developing unrequited feelings for the leader of your group and then getting your feelings hurt every time he showed zero interest towards you.

You walked out the back of the abandoned warehouse and sat on the steps right outside the door. You took deep breaths as you looked up at the stars.

It was ridiculous and embarrassing, you knew that. There were far more important things to worry about, to get worked up over- like surviving each day. Killing walkers and any who threatened your group- that was essential, not your stupid crush.

And Rick, he had so many responsibilities on him- two children (one of whom is a baby), the safety and wellbeing of the entire group (which had been particularly difficult lately), and constant pressure to make life or death decisions (you had admit, he was pretty good at that). You couldn’t, and shouldn’t expect him to notice you or care about your emotions beyond the others in the group.

But, God - you wish he would. You wish he wanted to be around you. You wished he trusted your capabilities more. But no, he never wanted you right by his side in dangerous situations. That honor was always given to Daryl, or Glen, or Michonne. People he had more trust in.

You’d been there since the beginning- since the quarry camp and you’d come a long way in terms of fighting, just like so many others. But it seemed like all Rick saw was the scared young woman he’d first met.

He always grouped you with others in the group he also didn’t trust as much- like Eugene or Gabriel. It was infuriating.

You also knew that Rick was a man of few words, but you couldn't help but notice that he had even less to say to you than others he was closer with. Despite the fact that you volunteered to help take care of Judith more than anyone else in the group.

Your feelings for Rick- of affection, of love, of lust, were turning sour and rotten inside of you and twisting into something closer to jealousy and resentment.

Getting worked up was pointless, Rick would never look at you the way you look at him you realized as you wiped the tears from your eyes and took deep breaths.

But maybe a few extra minutes alone wouldn't hurt.

You leaned against the handrail on the side of the stairs and tried to think about anything but Rick. The gorgeous curls of his grey streaked hair, his beard that looked way too good even when coated in blood, his intense blue eyes, the low timbre of his voice, his protectiveness for those he cares about…

You hadn’t even realized you drifted off to sleep until the sound of growling and snarling woke you. The hatchet was in your hand immediately as you jumped up and took a defensive stance. Four walkers were close, one of which nearly grabbed you, but you side stepped it and buried your hatchet in its forehead.

Its dead weight pitched forward, it was a man twice your size, and landed on top of you.

“Shit!” you yelled as your head hit the concrete and your vision went momentarily fuzzy. You held tight to your hatchet and swung it with a groan as another walker launched itself and landed on top of the dead one on top of you.

You heard a deep voice yell your name.

“Here!” you gasped out as blood sprayed in your face as the second walker died- its dead weight crushed the air out of your lungs. Two more were reaching for you but they couldn’t quite reach you and you couldn’t quite reach them.

You heard the disgusting sound of a blade slicing into the brains of the walkers before the bodies of the others were hauled off you.

“Thanks.”

You took gasping breaths as you sat up and your eyes met Rick’s blazing blue gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked- concern evident in his voice and in the tension of his body as he knelt beside you.

He placed his large hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him in surprise.

“Just peachy,” you replied, “not a bite or a scratch on me, I promise.”

He hung his head in relief as he let out a deep breath and his fingers tightened slightly on your shoulder.

“What the hell were you thinkin’ bein’ out here alone?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

You sighed deeply.

“I didn’t mean to doze off. You stuck me with Eugene again and I needed some alone time,” you grumbled.

He let out a huff of what might’ve been a laugh as he placed a finger on your chin and tilted it upwards so you would meet his eyes again.

“I thought you liked Eugene, you’re always laughin’ at him.”

You blinked in surprise and your mouth opened slightly.

“Like him? He’s an idiot… that’s why I laugh,” you said with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Hm. Well I also pair you with him and Gabriel since you’re one of our best fighters and teachers and I was hopin’ they’d learn somethin’,” he hummed as he turned your face back and forth just to double check that you were unharmed.

“Wait, what? That’s what you think of me?” you blurted out.

He raised a brow at you and a small smile played on his lips.

“Of course, what did ya think?”

You shrugged and looked down as your face flushed with heat. “Thought you stuck me with ‘em cause you thought I was the same as them.”

This time he did truly chuckle.

“Wow. I thought you’d think better of my leadership. It wouldn’t make much sense to put the weakest links together, they’d die. Ya wanna put the strongest with the weakest so they learn to be stronger,” he explained while nodding his head.

“Oh. Yeah. That does make more sense,” you muttered.

He smirked at you and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Promise me you won’t go sleepin’ outside on your own again and I’ll give you a break from Eugene,” Rick said fervently.

“Deal,” you agreed all too quickly which caused a rough chuckle to slip past his lips again.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s go back inside with the others- you can nap in there where it’s safer,” he encouraged as he stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart fluttered at the affectionate nickname. You slid your hand into his much larger calloused hand and you had to actively stop your mind from wandering down a path of wondering how those hands would feel on the rest of your body.

You followed him back into the warehouse and then into the big open room everyone had begun to make camp in. He placed a hand on your back as he led you to sit next to him.

“You hungry?” he asked as he pulled granola bars out of a backpack and started to pass them out to everybody.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled and his fingers brushed against yours for far longer than necessary as you took the snack that would count as everyone’s meal for the night from him. It was better than the group’s dinner last night of absolutely nothing.

Today’s scavenging was more successful, thank God. Your group still needed to find a more permanent living situation, and this warehouse did not seem like the solution. But you weren’t in the habit of borrowing tomorrow’s worries. No, you were just glad you made it through another day alive and without losing anyone you cared about.

Maggie handed Judith to Rick and he placed a kiss on her forehead before settling her on his lap. She giggled at you as you made silly faces at her.

Your name was called in a very nervous voice and you looked over as Eugene approached you.

“I would be remiss if-”

“I’m sorry Eugene,” you cut him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was an ass.”

“While I do appreciate that, I also understand that I have a tendency to over-articulate in a way that can be grating on the nerves at times. So, I do apologize for becoming a pain in your rear end lately,” he said with a nod of his head that shook his ridiculous mullet.

You let out a soft laugh. “It’s fine, dude. We’re good,” you reassured him.

He nodded again then went back to his spot near Abraham and Rosita.

You looked over and realized Rick was watching you with raised brows.

“What?” you asked.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you be that nice before,” he said in a teasing tone and a playfulness in his light blue eyes.

You opened your mouth to reply but he said, “To anyone but the kids at least.”

“I’m plenty nice,” you snapped, “to everyone but you.”

He laughed and you muttered, “Shut up” as you began to adjust your backpack so you could lay your head on it.

You quickly turned your body away from him as you laid down so he couldn’t see the smile that adorned your lips.

You woke the next morning after nearly a full night’s sleep, which was a miracle in the post-apocalyptic world you lived in, to a jacket with a woollen collar laid atop you. You weren’t quite as successful at hiding your smile this time.

You yawned as you sat up and stretched and the jacket slid to your lap. It was clear you were one of the last to wake as most everyone was quietly moving around as they prepared for the day.

“You’re up! Finally! Dad said I had to let you sleep, but Judith has been wanting you,” Carl said from across the room.

You smiled, “I’ll take the little princess.” You reached your hands out and Carl crossed the room and placed Judith in your waiting arms. She giggled at your teasing as you spoke to her in a high voice and tickled her.

You noticed the granola bar carefully left next to your backpack and your heart warmed before you tore into it and devoured it in a few bites.

A few minutes later everyone seemed almost packed up and ready to go, you included. You’d gotten good at multitasking- holding and caring for Judith while taking care of other tasks (including sometimes killing walkers) had become a breeze for you. Rick came back inside the building as he holstered his gun and surveyed everyone’s progress.

“Let’s move out in five. We’ve got a lotta ground to cover today,” he ordered and everyone either nodded or made sounds of agreement.

He crossed the room as he came towards you and knelt down next to where you sat. He gently held Judith’s hand and the fondness in his gaze as he greeted her made your heart clench. As did the fact that he still had a soft look in his eyes when he looked up from where Judith sat in your arms and said, “Mornin’”.

“Hey,” you replied with a small smile. “Thanks for letting me sleep in. I feel much less grumpy.”

“Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he said with a wink before he stood up and offered you his hand. You allowed him to help you stand and struggled to hide how flustered he made you, especially when he squeezed your hand before letting go. You handed him his jacket back, which he took and promptly put on.

“It’ll also help the overall morale of the group if you’re not snappin’ at everybody,” he teased.

You scoffed and shoved your shoulder into his as you walked past him, but once again couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. You glared at Maggie when she wiggled her eyebrows at you which only caused her to laugh.

The day continued on with your group once again hiking under the hot sun in an attempt to find more supplies and better shelter. The routine had become somewhat monotonous, but the constant life threatening situations made it feel a bit less so.

Today, the group stumbled upon an abandoned superstore. Rick ordered everyone to split up in pairs to explore and scavenge.

He asked Carl to stay outside with Judith and for Carol to protect them both.

When he called your name, you expected as usual to be grouped with one of the less combat inclined of your traveling companions but couldn’t stop your expression of surprise as he said, “You’re with me. Alright everyone, be quick and quiet and grab anything that could be potentially useful. Let’s go.”

The group split into their designated pairs and began to enter the store. Enough scouting had already been done that it seemed abandoned by walkers as well, but still it was always important to be cautious.

You followed Rick as he made his way to the back of the store to explore your assigned area. Hatchets in hand, you both made your way through the aisles without speaking in order to ensure you didn’t draw any of the dead in case they were hidden out of sight.

Finally, when everything seemed all clear Rick pulled off his backpack and you helped him to fill it with supplies.

You quietly searched the shelves and shoved aside anything useless. You tossed a bottle of ibuprofen at Rick- which he caught and dropped in his pack before he turned to search the shelf across from you.

Your gasp caused him to whip back around towards you with his hatchet raised.

“Look what I found!” you said excitedly, still cautious enough to keep your voice low.

Rick sighed deeply as he returned his hatchet to his belt and gave you an annoyed look as he glanced between your face and the unopened bag of mini chocolate donuts. They were most likely still good considering they’re chock full of preservatives.

You didn’t even know how long it had been since you had chocolate and your mouth was already watering at the thought.

“What?” you asked. “Y’don’t want any?”

He rolled his eyes and went back to searching for supplies.

“Fine, suit yourself. I was willin’ to share with you, but I’m not sharin’ with anybody else,” you grumbled as you shoved the donuts into your own backpack.

You heard him laugh softly and you smirked triumphantly. Your ability to dissuade the grumpiness and bring amusement to one another filled your heart with a light you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“We should check that back storage room in case there’s extra stuff back there that they never had the chance to put out on the floor,” you whispered after the two of you had cleared several aisles having only found a couple of necessities.

“Good idea,” he replied and led the way.

You followed his lead as you kept your hand on your hatchet.

There didn’t seem to be any walkers in the back, but it was dark. You held a flashlight while Rick ripped open boxes. You looked around the dark room, searching for any kind of movement in the dark as a sinking feeling plagued you.

He looked back at you with a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye as he held up a protein bar.

“I think you might be a genius, this whole box is full of ‘em,” he said as he gestured to the large cardboard box before him.

Your eyes widened in a look of horror. His brow furrowed but before he could even open his mouth to ask, you threw a knife at him.

It flew so close to his head that his curls rustled in the wind it created before it buried itself in the forehead of the walker whose teeth were inches away from Rick’s shoulder.

A look of shock overtook his expression as he looked between you and the walker, but you weren’t done. You yanked out your hatchet and stalked past him and took out the two walkers who were rounding the corner and heading towards the two of you.

Rick came up behind you with his hatchet in hand as well, but all seemed to be clear.

You took heaving breaths to calm the adrenaline that ran through your body.

You both holstered your weapons, including yanking the knife out of the walker’s forehead and wiping it clean, and Rick's hand encircled your wrist as he pulled you to turn to face him.

His eyes were still wide with surprise.

“Thanks.”

You shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, I’m gonna. You just saved my ass,” he said fervently as he stepped closer to you.

It was like he’d just had this realization that you always supported him, always helped him, always had his back.

“Isn’t that what we do for each other? We’ve got each other's backs. That’s why our group works,” you replied.

He nodded but continued to look at you with such intensity that it made you take a step backwards and your back bumped into the wall behind you.

“Do you look at Daryl like this when he saves your ass?”

He shook his head and in a low gravelly tone said, “No.”

He looked ready to devour you as he took another step closer. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Rick?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath.

He practically lunged forward, one hand landed on the wall next to your head and the other spanned the side of your face to the back of your neck as he tilted your head up. His body pressed against yours, effectively trapping you between his heat and the wall.

Before you could even breathe, his lips were on yours. The brush of his beard was harsh against your skin as his lips firmly pressed against yours.

Your hands reached up to grip the curls at the base of his head, threading your fingers through the surprisingly soft hair. He took that as encouragement and deepened the kiss.

With a groan his lips pried yours open and his tongue pillaged your mouth with an intensity that left you whimpering. The heat of him, the taste of him, the fierceness of him was overwhelming and you kissed him back with all the passion he gave you.

It could’ve gone on for minutes, or maybe hours, you didn’t know but you never wanted it to end. You were ready to give him everything he wanted and more, but the sound of footsteps behind Rick had him yanking back from you. He whipped around, his gun already raised and cocked as he held a hand behind him to protect you and keep you safe behind his back.

Your lips still tingled from his affection, and as you peered around his shoulder you huffed in annoyance.

“S-sorry. I was elected to determine the whereabouts of both of you but as I have observed with my own two eyes, your safety is not currently in question. Therefore, I will take my leave, but you should know should this rendezvous continue on that the whole group is ready to move on out and is waiting on your approval and presence to do so. Yours truly will take leave now and report to the others that the waiting will continue for a little while longer,” Eugene rambled.

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he lowered his weapon. He still didn’t move an inch so you continued to be stuck between him and the wall. It honestly wasn’t a bad place to be, you weren’t complaining.

“Jesus, Eugene, it’s fine, just tell everyone to come help us carry these supplies,” Rick ordered.

“Yes sir,” Eugene replied quickly and turned around and left just as quickly.

You laughed quietly and Rick turned back around- still not giving you an inch of space- and placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head and leaned down so his face was incredibly close to yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmured before he kissed you again. This kiss was slow, gentle, and full of warmth. The kind of kiss that might’ve been your first kiss if you weren’t living in a time of death and desperation for survival.

His lips lingered on yours long enough that you worried others would stumble upon the two of you again. You weren’t keen on having an audience, particularly not Eugene- you’d heard a rumor that he was into voyeurism of his friends which you certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with.

“Then what took you so long?” you asked in a teasing voice as Rick’s lips finally separated from yours and he took a step back as he ran a hand though his grey streaked curls.

“Well at first I thought you had a thing for Eugene, not me,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes. “Thought you were smart,” you muttered.

He grabbed your shirt and yanked you into his body. “Don’t be a smartass,” he reprimanded, but his lips found yours again in a brief kiss that negated all the harshness in his tone.

“I worried, I worried about too many things. But yesterday almost losin’ you and today with you saving me… I realized all those worries were ridiculous when none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. I couldn’t even think about losing you, especially not without you knowin’ how I feel about you,” he said with such fervency.

His confession left you breathless.

“I- I worried too much too. Worried that you’d never feel the same way I did. Worried that if I ever told you I’d lose you,” you said, your voice so quiet it was practically a whisper.

All of the reasons you’d both withheld yourselves seemed frivolous now as light filtered through the murky window on the other side of the room and bathed Rick in the brightness of new opportunity and fresh start. A chance for new love despite the horrors of the world.

So you kissed him once more, this kiss but a brief touch of lips, a taste of something more that was to come, a sweetness only utter devotion could bring.

All too soon, he stepped back far enough that as many in your group came through the swinging doors it would not appear that anything had changed between the two of you.

To everyone else, finding the stock of food in the back of that abandoned grocery store was the only life altering thing that had occurred. But when you met Rick’s ocean blue eyes you realized you could drown in the affection you found in his gaze.

All the former awkwardness and miscommunication between the two of you was completely forgotten as you smiled at him and he smiled back- eyes crinkling- and the whole world felt anew with possibility.

#rick grimes #twd #the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes angst #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes twd #twd rick #twd fanfiction #rick grimes x fem!reader

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resident-idiot-simp · 16 hours ago

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Based off of a comic that I swear to God I can't find. Soapghost where I think it is Ghost that slips a ring onto Soap tags and doesn't tell him. Only when someone pointed out to see freak out and ask what kind of proposal was that.

Anyways that but deadclaws courtesy of @shy-canadian-snowflake for starting off this version of the idea and @orcadork4ever for helping

When the tags get thrown to the ground when Logan quits he pauses as he sees the ring. He stares wide eyed before taking the ring off and putting it on. He knows who did it but he's not here right now.

He leaves and when Wade finds the tags he sees the ring gone and smiles.

THEN THEN THEN AFTER EVERYTHING he put the ring on his new tags and where is it. But after the memory wipe half of what he is trying to learn about what happened to him is also about learning with a ring is from.

The idea of rogue when she's in the car looking at his tags and seeing the ring 😭😭😭

Does Jean still try to make moves despite it? What happens what do people think?

"Does it count as cheating if you don't even know who the ring belongs to?" Then Logan getting pissed because he might not know where it belongs. But he sure as hell knows the feeling of love he gets when he looks at it.

What about the other people whispering about how someone could ever marry someone like him

Logan has no idea where the ring came from but somewhere in the recesses of his mind he feels so much love for whoever the ring is from.

He knows whoever gave it to him means the word to his past self so he wouldn't dare taint it

I also imagine this is a similar universe to the other fic where Wade is in the X-Men movies.

So Wade but not origins just ends up our normal Wade. He's probably searching for Logan too

Rogue being so curious about the ring and asking incessantly. In Logan not so secretly hopes it will jog something in his memory.

Out of everything Rogue pities Logan for the ring is the worst one. How horrible it is that something so special to him is lost from his memory. How dare the world take away this obvious source of happiness.

Imagine her finding Logan outside one night crying silently as he clutches at the ring and muttering curses at the world for taking away the love of his life 😭

Rogue demanding Xavier to figure it out because Logan doesn't fucking deserve to be dragged along with the carrot on the stick being his happiness

Od-

Xavier tries to use the essence from the ring but can’t find him because he’s mutated by now and shows up different he tells Logan he can’t find him and they take that to mean he’s dead

He just lives in a haze. Going through day to day. He knows by now that he can’t kill himself anyways, even though he wants to. He’s lived this long in misery before, he can keep doing it.

He hears about Deadpool and goes along with Colossus and NSTW to make sure this guy isn’t a total fuckhead.

Seeing him fight… there’s something so familiar about it. A dancer’s grace, the lethality and deliberateness of his movements.

He watches as Colossus warns him about not taking the life of the man who tortured him. Already knowing it’s a lost cause even not knowing the backstory. Whatever this fucker did, he deserves it.

Snorts to himself when Deadpool just shoots the guy in the head. A snicker cutting off short at the harsh call of “Wade!”

“Wade…?”

This close he can hear him. Hear the constant stream of innuendos and puns. And it comes flooding back. All of it. Nights spent pressed together on a too small cot in the too hot jungle heat. Slipping off to swim in the river. Promises breathed against parted lips of a future and forever.

Dropping to all fours he gallops at Deadpo- at Wade. His Wade, knocking him over and sending the two of them tumbling.

“Whoa! What the fuck?!”

Sobs ripping out of the yellow mass gripping him, a ragged and familiar “Wade!” making him freeze. “L-Lo? Is it really…!”

Logan ripping off his gloves and cowl with tears streaming down his face. “They made me forget. I forgot. I didn’t know who it came from but I still Knew”

Wade watched him in awe, his mask growing wet with his own tears as he reached to hold Logan’s hand with the ring. “You kept it…~”

“Of fucking course I kept it. You gave it to me.”

Me: Logan's face just buried into Wade's scare neck as he sobs and clutches at his back. Wade isn't much better off as he claws at Logan's back in a vain attempt to crawl inside the other man

Wade hesitantly stopping Logan when he goes to take his mask off. “It’s not what you remember, Peanut.”

“Good thing I don’t remember. It’s just you”

Me: the others watch on is stunned silence because this is the most emotion they had seen either man exhibit ever

Vanessa watching from the side and just crying in joy for her friend. She’s his best friend. They fuck around, but they’re friends first. He’s spent many a-night whispering to her about his Logie Bear

Me:

She then devoted herself to trying to help him find Logan but got caught in the crossfire

Logan couldn't be fucking happier. He won't let Wade out of his grasp and doesn't plan to for a long while.

The X-Men can't comprehend it. This was Logan the man who hated people just existing. Why is he now sobbing into a mercenaries neck?

Od:

Colossus being the one Adult insisting that Vanessa come to the mansion to be checked out and make sure she’s okay.

Logan and Wade settled into each other in the back seat of Dopinder’s car with Ness in the front

Me:

"lo lo fuck." Wade mutters as he pulls back to cup Logan's face. Logan just melts into Wade's grapes and he purrs fucking purrs. LOGAN DIDN'T KNOW HE COULD DO THAT!!

"There is the good kitty I have missed so much."

Od: They’re just in each other’s laps, completely tangled together

Logan just purrs harder to the point he coughs and Wade just laughs delightedly and pepper kisses across Logan's face.

Logan's claws sneak out when Wade pulls back slightly and Wade gasps as he grabbed at Logan's hand. "What??? Metal?! What happened baby??"

Logan just blinks stupidly up at him. "I don't remember." Wade frowns and pulls Logan close

Od: “It’ll be okay. We’re okay. Were together. You’re here. Fuck, I missed you so much. There’s so much I have to tell you.”

"it doesn't matter what happened right now. What matters is your here. We can figure out everything else later."

Od: “Exactly. Fuck, Lo. Can I kiss y-“ just getting cut off by Logan pouncing and kissing him senseless, the two of them laying down in the backseat

Rogue is beyond extatic when Logan comes in with wide wonder filled eyes dragging a man behind him. She knew then this was who the ring was tied to and she wasted no time launching herself at him in excitement.

"YOU DID IT YOU DID IT!! LOGAN YOU FOUND YOUR OTHER HALF!"

Logan just hold her close as he cries silently into her hair before yes he did.

Od: “Omg Lo-Lo! You have a kiddo?! I knew you were Daddy material, both ways~ I’m Wade~”

Rogue is definitely surprised by Wade. She must admit she hadn't expected someone like him to be who Logan had tied himself to. However the way they looked at one another and interacted was undeniable

Jean and Scott are LIVID and discussed because really this? THIS?! Was who Logan had chosen all those years ago??

Od: Wade: Wow. Jealous, judgmental, AND prejudiced. Yall are the whole fucking package ain’t ya.

Rouge does not take kindly to them. She had quickly become super protective of Wade. She had quite a few times tore into them for daring mess with what she had worked for for years

Od: Rogue: He wasn’t yours even then. You do not get to shit all over his happiness!

Rouge: have you ever seen him smile like that??? Have you ever heard him purr??? No? I didn't think so. So why are you plotting against him?

(You might get more later but that's it for now)

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ifishouldvanish · 2 days ago

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For Love (Pt. 4/5)

SHIPS | Mizrak/Olrox, Past Alucard/Olrox, Alucard/Mizrak/Olrox RATING | M (will definitely become E next chapter...) WORDS | 2,656 FIC SUMMARY | After the hard-won battle, Alucard can't help checking in on how Olrox and Mizrak are doing. When he finds them hiding in an abandoned Parisian apartment, he's furious to learn his old companion has turned the valiant warrior monk into a vampire. And yet... his heart won't let him leave. [Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] [Read on AO3]

Olrox smiled up at the canopy of the bed, his heart aglow with warmth and satisfaction. Mizrak was curled against his side, still lazily dragging his lips along his shoulder and pressing wet kisses into his skin.

In ten years, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like, almost given up hope he would ever experience it again: Being loved back.

How much more satisfying it was, how much more beautiful.

For the past three days he'd insisted Mizrak devour him, tear him apart, consume him—because he loved him, yes—but perhaps also because he'd so grown to hate himself.

Perhaps, that was what had drawn him to Mizrak; made those first couplings in that inn feel so fated, so inevitable: seeing his own shame and self-loathing reflected back at him as Mizrak succumbed to his desires. The sense that he could only ever truly be needed—some thing reached for out of necessity and desperation—but never wanted.

But there’d been no shame or guilt in Mizrak's eyes this time. Not in the way he'd touched him, kissed him, fucked him. No, this time, there'd been only love.

Olrox turned his head to look at him, curling a hand around his neck and brushing his fingers over the stubbled, cropped hair there. Mizrak stopped mouthing at his shoulder and looked up at him, his red eyes still brimming with it: that love.

“I see you're in control of your hunger now,” Olrox murmured, unable to keep the pleased smile from tugging at his lips. “This is good.”

Mizrak looked away as a flush tinted his cheeks. “Alucard has been… helping me,” he mumbled.

Olrox huffed a little laugh through his nose. “Of course,” he said, cupping his cheek and guiding him back to him. “But that's not all that's changed, now is it? You've… embraced yourself. Who and what you are—and always have been.”

Mizrak's red eyes did a pass over him, and he wet his lips. “I have accepted… the way you make me feel.”

Olrox shifted on his side to face him better. “And what brought about this epiphany, if I may ask?” he teased, trailing a finger along his jawline.

Mizrak looked away uneasily again. “Alucard has helped me to realize that… even creatures like us can love as selflessly as God does. As God is supposed to do.”

Olrox scoffed and let his hand wander down to Mizrak's chest, combing his fingers through the thatch of dark curls there. “Are you trying to tell me whets your appetite too, darling?”

The color in his cheeks darkened, and he swallowed.

“It's alright, my love,” Olrox tutted, leaning in to peck his lips, and then his jaw. He slid his hand up and around Mizrak's neck, taking his earlobe and beginning to roll it between his fingers. “Your desire is a natural, beautiful thing.”

Mizrak closed his eyes and shuddered at the touch, but stopped short of leaning into it. When Olrox frowned, he swallowed and said, “You say you can see inside my heart.”

Olrox pulled his hand back, furrowing his brows. “Always, my love.”

“What about *his?” *Mizrak asked, nodding toward the door. “Can you see what is inside his heart, too? Or do you just ignore it?”

All the warmth in Olrox’s chest dropped into his stomach like a stone. So that was the reason for his reticence. Withdrawing his hand, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “…I'm not sure I understand what you mean.”

Mizrak shot him an exasperated look. “That man loves you,” he said. “As you have loved me.”

At this, Olrox sat up. “Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș falls in love with anyone willing to tolerate his company for longer than a week. His love is a cheap, worthless thing.”

Mizrak laughed, but it was a sound warm with fondness and endearment. “As opposed to you and your impossibly high standards? Falling in love with me, while I called you soulless? A demon? Animal?”

Olrox pursed his lips, struggling to come up with a rebuttal.

“He didn't come here to save me, Olrox. He came here to give you his condolences, and stayed here to save *you. *He gave me his blood because he saw you had none left to give. That my hunger could kill you and how willing you were to let it.”

“Yes. Adrian Țepeș, ever the sacrificial lamb,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Mizrak took his hand—slowly and hesitantly, the gesture a new and foreign thing to him. “You gave your blood to him once,” he said, beginning to circle his thumb over his wrist. “I could taste you in him.”

Olrox glanced away, ignoring the maelstrom of emotions the observation kicked up in his chest. Denial, frustration, nostalgia. Shame and a possessive sense of pride in equal measure. “…I didn't want him to* die,”* he muttered more petulantly than he'd have liked.

Mizrak arched a brow, and Olrox knew he'd only proven his point.

“What was he to you, if not a lover?”

Olrox looked down at their hands, following the path of Mizrak's thumb. After all the vitriol he'd endured from him, Mizrak was finally pushing himself and growing into the man Olrox knew he could be, always had been deep down inside: kind, open, gentle, loving.

It was only fair that he try to do the same.

“A brother in arms,” Olrox answered quietly. “A trusted friend. A warm body through cold desert nights… and an unnecessary distraction from the work I had set out to do.”

“So you did love him, once.”

Olrox drew a deep breath and sighed. “In another place or time, perhaps I could have.”

Masks ’s red eyes swept down to his bruised chest. “I recognize you in him,” he said, tracing his finger from one puncture wound to the other, connecting the constellation of them. “The way he gives his love to you despite getting so little in return. But I also see myself *in *you. Refusing to accept the love you were giving me, because I was not ready to face it.”

Olrox tilted his head at him, his chest tightening as the feeling of being cornered set in. His pulse was becoming a panicked, flighty thing, and no, no—he could be open about any number of things, but not this. “What does it matter?” he deflected, sliding his hand over Mizrak’s and pulling it away from his heart. “We have each other now.”

“You call his love worthless, but it's the reason we're able to be here now, like this. That I haven't drained you to death. That you haven't had to put me down like a mad dog. Does that not make his love a blessing to us both?”

Olrox looked away, as if that might shield him from his shame.

He knew Adrian's love wasn't worthless. Had realized it the moment they'd parted ways. That first night of lying on a bed roll under the stars without him to talk to. That first morning of waking up and not seeing him there, preparing a breakfast or scribbling into a journal. That first afternoon of trekking through those vast plains without him asking to stop every half hour so he could document some new plant or another. That first evening of muttering his frustrations under his breath and getting no response, no melodic little chuckle or playful admonishment in reply.

That empty feeling he’d thought could be filled with the satisfaction of perfectly exacted revenge.

Nights later, when his body and soul had been burning, it was the memory of pale skin, golden eyes, and his name being called in velvet-soft moans that had brought him relief—however fleeting.

No, there'd been no place in his heart for love. Not until he'd lost it.

At least he'd learned his lesson. A hundred years later, when it was an equally kind, equally idealistic man from a little town in Massachusetts, he'd known better than to throw that love away. To squander and spit on it.

Olrox shook the thought away as Mizrak reached out and cupped his cheek. Such a gentle gesture, one he didn't deserve.

“This feeling, Olrox,” he began again. “Having it for you—a man, a vampire—I thought it was a perverse, unclean thing. But now I think… I realize… all love is a gift.”

Olrox smiled weakly, if for no other reason than to ensure Mizrak wouldn't ask what was wrong.

“I understand that he… he had multiple lovers, once,” Mizrak continued. “Richter’s grandfather, too.”

“Yes,” Olrox acknowledged plaintively. “I'm aware.”

“Well. I had thought that was sinful, too,” Mizrak admitted. “But now I think… how can it be anything other than beautiful, to share love so freely?”

Olrox furrowed his brows at him, and Mizrak lowered his head.

“I think about everything you've told me. About your home, your people,” he mumbled, drying his palms in the crumpled sheets they sat on. “You have lost so much, Olrox. That I wonder if perhaps… perhaps you deserve more love than I can give.”

Olrox couldn't help admire him. The way he was pushing through the vulnerability he was clearly feeling. He was a good man. So much braver than he had ever been.

“I hear the conversations you have,” Mizrak began again. “The way the two of you are together.” He swallowed and gave Olrox's hand a squeeze, taking a deep breath and looking him in his eyes again. “If any part of you loves him, Olrox… you should tell him. Not hide from it, as I did.”

“I kicked him away like a dog,” Olrox muttered, turning away and wrapping his arms around himself.

The was a beat of silence before Mizrak reached a hand out to him again, combing back the curtain of hair Olrox had been hiding behind and tucking it nearly behind his ear.

“He’s able to control himself now,” Olrox said, wiping the last of the blood from his lips. The words felt clumsy and graceless in the absence of his usual confidence, and he hoped Adrian was too occupied with dragging the drained corpse back outside to notice.

“…And yet he came back,” Mizrak said, “and is currently stalking the streets of Paris to find some blue-blooded bastard for you to suck dry. You always came back to me, and now that I've let you in… I want the same for you, Olrox. To let love in. As much of it as God—or the universe—wants to give you.”

- - -

Olrox waited as he disappeared behind the door. When he returned, Adrian's features were pinched with unease.

“…That's good,” he said tentatively.

At least he wasn't the only one feeling out of his depth, Olrox thought. He needed to say something, needed to *tell him, *but instead he could only stare.

Gods, it was so much easier to tease him. To argue and bicker and fire cheap shots from the safety of the walls he’d built up over the last three hundred years.

They looked away from each other, and silently walked back up the hall, up the steps, and into the apartment that passed for home for the time being. Because something about closing the door behind them, of being back in there, made the air feel a little bit easier to breathe.

“Thank you, Adrian,” Olrox said at last. “Truly.”

“Of course.” Adrian put on a tight-lipped smile that didn't meet his eyes. “Well. I suppose I'll… leave you two to enjoy eternity together, then,” he said, lowering his head and stepping past him. “I'll just say goodbye to—”

*“I want to apologize,” *Olrox blurted.

Adrian paused. “Whatever for?”

Olrox took a deep breath. “For the way things ended between us.”

His pale face was impassive. “Can’t force a feeling that isn't there,” he said lightly. “You have something new and good and precious with him, Olrox,” he added, nodding toward the bedroom. “…Try not to fuck it up.”

Olrox scoffed. Leave it to Adrian to know he needed the sharp point of so much sincerity dulled by the rough edges of sarcasm.

“Let me at least ask you this—” he said. “Why give your blood to him? Why not just give it to me, if I was the one who was weak from having given him too much?”

Adrian's face hardened, and the look in his eyes was a painful one. “You made it quite clear that night that you didn't want any of my blood.”

Olrox looked away, as if that might make it sting any less. He'd seen the look in those starved and sunken golden eyes as Adrian had fed from him—so desperate and hungry and vulnerable. It had been intoxicating, to give life to another, to chase away death. But he'd also seen the look in Adrian's eyes the following night: when their bodies were joined, moving in such perfect synchrony; when he'd taken one clawed finger and cut into his scarred chest, asking him without a word to be desperate and hungry and vulnerable too.

“…Would you believe me if I told you I regret it?” Olrox asked. “Pushing you away?”

Adrian closed his eyes and sighed. “Olrox—”

“I never understood how you could have three lovers at once,” he cut him off. “I thought, surely someone willing to spread their love across so many people, can only offer a shallow, fickle love. But I understand it now. I love him. But I also… you're a part of me, Adrian. The love I am able to give Mizrak. The love I was able to give that man in the colonies… you planted the seeds of it in me, all those years ago.”

He looked away, off to some space on the wall. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”

Olrox swallowed. “Because Mizrak helped me realize that I don't want you to go. Not again.”

Adrian rolled his eyes. “You have yourself a good, honorable man there, Olrox. And now you come barking up my—” he cut himself off, chuckling and shaking his head. “I swear you have an addiction to creating unnecessary conflict in your life.”

“I wouldn't have come to you with this without his blessing.”

Adrian let out a scoff of disbelief. “Wouldn't you, now?”

Olrox pursed his lips. He supposed he deserved that, too. He braced himself for one Adrian's lectures, but when it didn't come, he took the opportunity to change the subject. “…He said he could taste me in you.”

Adrian blinked, his lips parting slightly on a silent gasp.

“And it drives some part of me mad,” Olrox confessed. “That he’s tasted you before I have. Because—because you're *mine. *Because we belong to each to each other. Don't we? This half-consummated bond we share?”

Adrian wet his lips and swallowed. “What are you saying, Olrox?”

He took a step closer, and when Adrian didn't draw back, he brought his lips to his ear. “I'm saying that if you were to offer your blood to me again… I would drink you so greedily, Adrian. Every drop of your blood, until you had none left and I or Mizrak had to bring you back from the brink of death again.”

Adrian pressed his lips together, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wet his lips again, seeming to consider it, before this fingers clenched into fists. “…I'm saying goodbye to Mizrak,” he repeated, turning his back to him and storming down the hall.

Olrox sighed and let him go, feeling his heart fill with that profound emptiness again. He had no one to blame but himself, didn't he? He should've known that wasn't the answer Adrian wanted. Should have had the courage to say the one that he did. Should have had the courage to say the truth.

What are you saying, Olrox?

I'm saying that I love you, Adrian.

#castlevania nocturne #olrox #mizrak #mizrox #alucard #alurox #alumizrox #castlevania

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xylatox · 1 day ago

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Fires of Fate | jww !!

I have finally made it to Izzy's fic, I've been thinning about it non-stop and I'm just so excited I get to read it :)! Unto my thoughts!!

Does the world burn because of people, or is it people who burn because of the world they live in? — the start is already so beautiful, it sets the tone for the entire fic.

I already adore Wonwoo's relationship with Misoon and the parent - child type relationship they have :(, like — “Your father will summon you in a few minutes, Sir,” she informs him, taking a few steps closer. “Don’t call me that,” he frowns at the sudden address. “You’ve changed my diapers before, I think it’s only fair to call me by my name.” — this moment is adorable. And seeing his thoughts on the matter shows too thet the distance she has to put (in terms of the formalities) clearly affects him as he seems to despise the reminder that they aren't blood-related.

A part of him wanted to turn around and run away when he listened to the real reason why he was going but he knew he couldn’t. “You’ll become a true man after that and will be able to find a wife for yourself. It was about time, after all.” — ...at least he's able to choose his own wife?? the vibe of the dad is so intense wow, fit for a demon king.

Chan cameo😭 why is he so cute omg— There is a sigh that leaves his lips when he notices the blond in a headlock, laughing with another two boys he can’t remember the names of at the moment. Seokmin looks confused upon that for a second until he looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, a smile appearing on his lips as he realizes the exhale is nothing but wishful. — and Seokmin!! this makes me so happy.

The developed friendship with Chan is so cute omg 😭 and the fact the Seokmin calls hum by his name at the pub?? I'm soft. I love how caring Misoon is :((( I love her so much.

Jeonghan omg!!!!😭😭😭 I DIDNT EXPECT HIM TO BE HERE IM SO EXCITED (I miss him badly), and he's a fallen angel no less, I love that and how his personality shines. The king is so suspicious, like I'm concerned.

“You’re not…” the shock on his face is obvious when his eyes set on a woman, one he doesn’t recognize. “Hands up.” He obeys, carefully examining the person in front of him. He blinks a few times as he takes the image of you in his eyes, trying to figure out what you were doing. — reader introduction!!!! I already love her idc. SHE HAS A FIANCÉ????? girl I'm shocked. but the fact thet reader hesitated at his mentioned makes me intrigued.

You sigh when he doesn’t give up, stopping in the middle of the road. “How about you shut up, follow me, and then ask questions. If you don’t piss people off, maybe they’ll give you answers.” — her personality is absolutely lovely. The ice prince is the fiancé of a fire fairy, huh, that's interesting. IZZY ?!?!?!? IGASPED THE ICE PRINCE IN MINGHAO???????????? AHHHHHHH NKOOIIOOO

Oh, the story behind their relationship and what they expect of reader is so depressing, I feel so bad for her :(

“You should keep fighting,” he comments, grabbing your book again. He stares at the title, brushing off the dirt on it before handing it to you through the bars. “You have free will, do what you want to do.” — this is so sweet I can't handle it. I'm so glad they're getting to know eachother :( I'm suspicious about the monster attacks but I just love their bonding moment and the way reader gives Won a nickname so easily.

Yet, you can’t help but steal glances at the boy beside you. You question what you’re doing here again. There is a handsome man waiting for you in your shared bed, so why do you keep sitting outside with this demon? — :( oh my goodness

You gaze into his eyes, trying to figure out what is going on in his mind, but before you can read him fully, he leans down to you, his lips brushing against yours slightly. It’s not a full kiss but your breath shakes nonetheless, sending shivers down his spine. — what if I scream oh my god. The way he teases her as they try to run away?? I'm so glad reader's is taking control of her life though:(

I was so glad reader finally met Chan and Seokmin then I fucking gasped at the death if Misoon??? like ik there was a character death warning but still!! oh my god.

He wanted to obey you, do whatever you tell him to and be good for you. — this made me giggle, I love when men are so downbad and submissive

Has he found someone who was going to help him take over the throne? Did you manage to run away from your fiancé who was holding you back on your every step just to fall into the same thing all over again, this time, with a demon? You hated just the thought of that. The suffocating feeling of having to deal with that—the limitation, all over again made you sick. — baby :((((( but the fact that she can't run away because she's so onto him :(

THE SCENE WHERE WON EXPLORES HIS POWERS??? THE WAY READER HELPS HIM????? me when honestly, that was so attractive.

“We’ll take it at our own pace,” he proclaims eventually. “Well, considering you guys slept together after only knowing each other for like, what, two days, I think we can expect the wedding next week,” Chan laughs and Wonwoo rolls his eyes. — I love their friendship, I just love everything about this.

Mingyu being the human friend I'm going to sob omg I cannot handle this, I love this fic so much omfg.

“No need to attack me,” Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I take no interest in your lady, you have my word,” he assures the demon, glancing at you to see your reaction to the situation. There is a blush on your face, one that can’t pass by unnoticed, and your lips are curled up in a smile, your eyes set on the black-haired demon. — I love jealous Won, I'm so giggly about it.

When you explain it, his eyes soften. Oh god, was he being jealous of Mingyu’s mom? He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. Of course it was a nickname his mom gave you. Misoon probably would have done the same if she met you. She would have loved you. — Misoon :((((((

“I don’t, I don’t!” He tries to argue but it’s already too late, and before he can think of a way out of the situation, he is cornered with questions from all of you, asking who she is and how long they’ve been together. For a second, Mingyu regrets taking you in yesterday. — I love their friendship so much ahh.

“Fratricide,” he admits with a sigh. “The current king was never supposed to rule the kingdom. But I have to give him something, he did well with covering everything up. He married your mother before people found out she was pregnant, so it was easy to say you were his child.” — OH MY GOD.....????

You rest your head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, nodding as you listen. He smiles, pressing a kiss on the top of your head before he focuses on Chan’s old story about how he and Jisoo met again. When he finishes, Wonwoo can’t help but tell the story of how the two of you met, calling it the best day of his life. — oh my god. I love the moment they approached Won's uncle to him becoming King and then the timeskip where we see their children :(

Izzy there is truly no amount of words that expressed how much I enjoyed your writing. This will be my first piece of many from you and I'm so so glad. The way you tell a story is absolutely amazing and the way you've kept me so surprised was remarkable, I loved every moment♡

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎

You can’t put out fire with fire. But you can combine them, and watch the place burn down in front of your eyes. The demon king realized that when he watched his son dethrone him. He should have never sent him on the mission in the first place. If he hadn’t, he could have kept his son’s fire under control.

IN WHICH Wonwoo spends most of his time in his room, watching the world around from the comfort of his window. He likes it that way. It wasn’t like the outer world would be something he’d like to see any other way anyway. However, when his dad—the demon king—decides it’s time for him to go out, he can’t say anything in protest.

As Wonwoo wanders through the mountains to reach the Angel’s territory, the little flame you leave behind yourself catches his attention, and you know you found someone interesting when even the flame you fire into his face doesn’t make him turn around and get to where he came from.

── .✦

genre– Fluff, Smut

warnings/contains– fire fairy!reader, demon prince!wonwoo, side character death, Wonwoo has horns, tail and wings, some sexual jokes, Wonwoo is compared to a horny teen, drinking, mythical creatures, demons and angels rivalry, love at first sight, forced proximity, lots of plot (especially regarding the demons), arranged marriage (unsuccessful), dom!reader mostly, sub!wonwoo mostly, handjob, unprotected sex, kinda horn play/sensitivity play, they do it once with their friends sleeping on the other side of the cave they are in, oral (f!receiving), face sitting I might have forgotten some

word count– 29.2k

playlist

↪ izzy adds... okay this was so fun. I really enjoyed the world building and playing around the powers and backstory of the demons. I'm so happy to be a part of this collab with my friends and so so so thankful to them. I also want to say a special thank you to @beomiracles because she was the one who organized most of it and helped us all unite. You did so well with it serene <33 This story is barely proofread, so sorry for any mistakes you might come across

Does the world burn because of people, or is it people who burn because of the world they live in?

Wonwoo thinks about this question daily as he stares out of his window, watching the demons outside scorch the ground beneath their feet. But he knows they aren’t the only ones causing all the mess—the world above, teeming with other creatures, is far worse.

He couldn’t say he has met many of them—he wasn’t even sure if he could say he met any of them (he refused to count the brief eye contact exchange he made with one of the vampires years ago when he was a child)—but those are the things he’s been taught. “We aren’t bad like everyone portrays us,” he recalls his nanny saying, the pause in her words still etched in his memory. “Some of us, at least.”

A sharp knock on the door pulls Wonwoo from his thoughts. He turns away from the children outside, who are tossing little flames at each other. “Come in!” He calls, and it takes barely a second before the door opens and he meets eyes with the same lady that raised him. “Misoon,” he smiles, standing up. She exchanges a smile with him, hesitantly closing the door behind herself.

Misoon has served the demon king for as long as Wonwoo can remember. Her face is lined with wrinkles, yet he has never thought of her as old. She is wise, having lived more lifetimes than he could imagine. She has always been there—teaching him how to read, speak, and harness the basics of his powers—everything his parents never cared to be part of. A part of him hates that he sees her as a mother figure, especially since his own mother is long gone, but he has learned to accept it. So, he’s learnt to read her, and he knew that frown on her face—full of worry, wouldn’t bring anything good.

“Your father will summon you in a few minutes, Sir,” she informs him, taking a few steps closer. “Don’t call me that,” he frowns at the sudden address. “You’ve changed my diapers before, I think it’s only fair to call me by my name.”

“I already promised to drop the Royal Highness, but I can’t afford speaking so casually to you, Prince.”

It’s like a reminder to him that she isn’t actually his close family member, but one of his father’s workers, who only happens to care for him. Wonwoo sighs and nods. “Alright then. So, what was it about my father calling for me?” He asks, and the hesitation he catches in Misoon’s eyes makes him worried. “I’m not exactly sure what happened—but I overheard a conversation His Majesty had with one of the knights. They want you to go out with them.”

“Out?” There is a mixture of feelings in Wonwoo’s eyes as he glances out of his window again. “To do what exactly? From what I know, there isn’t anything happening in the kingdom that would need the knights involved.”

“Outside the kingdom, Prince. We are talking about the real Aethera.” Suddenly, her worries made sense. The world above was a mystery to him, and he isn’t sure it’s one he wants to unravel. The demon king never mentioned anything about wanting him to help out, prove himself, or even take any responsibilities on, so it was more than confusing to him. It always seemed like he didn’t care, like he’d be happier not having a son rather than having to deal with Wonwoo, so why start caring now?

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she nods, and he notices her small horns have shrunk. He bites the inside of his cheek, nodding in return.

“Then I guess I’ll have to see it out.”

“No, Prince, I actually think you shouldn’t–”

A loud knock on the door echoes through the room.

“Come in!” Wonwoo yells, turning his attention to the door. The sigh Misoon lets out goes by unnoticed.

Just as she said, minutes later, Wonwoo is kneeling in the grand hall before his father, listening to him speak.

“There is time for everyone,” the king starts, clearing his throat. Wonwoo’s eyes flicker up to him for a brief second before he glances back down, almost staring a hole into the floor beneath him. Thanks to Misoon he knew what the conversation was going to be about, but he hadn’t expected a lesson with it as well. “You’re 27 now. It’s way past yours.” Wonwoo stiffens at the veiled insult but holds his tongue. “So, as a way to get back on track and prove yourself worth it—this throne for example—I want you to co-lead a mission.”

Prove his worth? Did he need to do that? Did he have to take over the kingdom at some point and rule the demons like his father has? He knew it had to come once, but a part of him always thought that the later, the better. He loved the freedom he had now—the ability to exist without the weight of others’ expectations.

“Of course,” Wonwoo mumbles through gritted teeth, realizing that maybe Misoon’s worries weren’t so out of place. “Perfect,” his father’s voice comes out strong, and before Wonwoo can look up, there are already two knights on each of his sides, waiting for him to get up so they could escort him out.

The sudden change is something Wonwoo wasn’t fond of.

Just last week, his days looked simple. Eat, study, eat, stay in his room, eat, sleep. But now, for some reason, everyone needed to keep an eye on him. He could barely find a free minute to run off to his room and relax before another one of the knights or teachers showed up, insisting on having to teach him something.

Now, his day looked something more like this; Workout, fight, study, eat, fight, workout, fight, snack, sleep.

“You’re holding it wrong,” the knight grumbles, walking over to fix Wonwoo’s grip. “Your Highness, it’s important that you learn as much as you can before we leave. When we reach the mountains, it’ll be too late. We can’t keep an eye on the angels and you on top of that.”

It felt humbling to say the least. Wonwoo was an adult, he should have learnt how to hold a sword a long time ago, not to mention his power control.

“Noted,” it comes out more raspy than he’d want to, catching the older male off guard. He doesn’t say anything, though, and a part of Wonwoo feels relieved.

Later that day, when Wonwoo sits alone in the large dining room and his eyes land on the clock that marks already 3pm, he is surprised to see another person walk in, a portion of the same lunch he has in his hands. He feels even more conflicted when the blond boy sits down opposite him. Didn’t he find himself impolite for not bothering with saying at least a greeting to his prince before invading his space?

Wonwoo clears his throat, loud enough to catch the boy’s attention. Their eyes meet, but all he gets is a smile in return before the blond continues eating. The prince wasn’t sure what was going on through the boy’s head, but he wasn’t one to mention anything, so he simply returned to his lunch.

It wasn’t for another 3 days before he saw him again. His blond locks cover his eyes, and he looks kind of funny looking up at the other men in armor, but Wonwoo can’t doubt his skills, not after he saw him fight.

“Oh! It’s you again!” His eyes land on Wonwoo, causing the taller male to widen his eyes. “From the dining room? We had a late lunch together!” He sounds offended when Wonwoo doesn’t automatically act like they’ve been friends for years. He opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, one of the knights nudges the blond’s shoulder, informing him this isn’t how he should speak to his prince.

And he’s right. Had Wonwoo been anything like his father, the young boy wouldn’t have a tongue by now.

“Don’t mind him, Your Highness. Chan just wants to get along with everyone.” Wonwoo turns his head to the side upon hearing the voice, slightly nodding when he notices another knight. If his memory recalls correctly he introduced himself as Seokmin before. “He means no harm, though.”

There is a sigh that leaves his lips when he notices the blond in a headlock, laughing with another two boys he can’t remember the names of at the moment. Seokmin looks confused upon that for a second until he looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, a smile appearing on his lips as he realizes the exhale is nothing but wishful.

Spending weeks with a group of men who either think with their dicks or swords was something Wonwoo never imagined doing. Yet, he noticed some of their traits growing onto him as well.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.

A lot of people told him he’s gotten more talkative and louder in the past few days, and it always sounded like a compliment, but the feeling of turning into a person he didn’t even know always made his smile fade away. He’d much rather have people avoiding him because they find him weird than them praising him for being someone he isn’t.

“Hey, prince!” Chan’s laugh fills Wonwoo’s ears, making him turn around. “Are you coming with us? We want to grab some drinks since it’s the last day before the mission,” he informs him, and Wonwoo thinks about it for a bit. Seokmin told him about it earlier, and he said he won’t go but now that he saw how excited Chan was for it, he didn’t want to miss it.

“Alright.”

There’s a quiet “Yes!” that leaves Chan’s lips and it makes Wonwoo chuckle.

“You can go first. I still need to take care of some things but I’ll come,” he assured him, watching him walk away before he turned on his heel, walking through the castle to get to the library for his last lesson with the king’s advisor.

He had mixed feelings about the situation, honestly. He was glad he wouldn’t need to have his head buried in the pile of books while listening to older men talk his ears off about topics he had no interest in anymore but a part of him knew he’ll miss it in the future nonetheless. Once he’d come back with the knights, his whole world will be changed and he’ll probably want to come back to the somehow-easy times where all he had to care about was making sure he wouldn’t fall asleep while listening to these lessons.

So, for the first and last time, he walked to his lesson with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, ready for anything else he still had to learn.

It’s safe to say Chan is drunk when Wonwoo finally arrives into the pub right outside the castle and joins the table full of knights. He tries his best to ignore the pairs of eyes on him and orders a beer for himself immediately, which follows a loud chant from the others.

“I thought you weren’t going to join us, Your Highness,” Seokmin comments with a teasing smirk on his face. Wonwoo rolls his eyes at that but a smile creeps up his face. “Wonwoo is fine,” he proclaims, and it catches the younger man off guard. “I don’t think I can–”

“It’s fine. I promise,” Wonwoo assures him before he can finish, looking around the table. “You are the only one who still calls me by my title. Everyone else dropped it a long time ago, so you should too.” He smiles, nodding. “Okay, then, Wonwoo.”

A round of drinks goes by only to be met with a new one, and soon enough, the group supposed to protect all of the demons and their empire is drunk in a local pub, singing loudly and yelling over each other. It’s a funny sight for sure.

“You!” Chan points at the prince, making him blink confusedly. “How come you don’t have a wife yet?” Another one of the knights—Jisung—joins in and everyone’s eyes land on the tall male. “Uhm,” he starts, trying to think of any valid reason. “We keep waiting for you to find someone so you can take over the throne but it feels like you don’t take any initiative to do so!”

“I haven’t found the right person,” Wonwoo lies. He’s never cared about finding a wife for himself, nor taking over the throne for the matter. Deep down he knew it was something he should think about every second of his day, he took lectures on how to rule a kingdom for reasons after all, but for now, it seemed like something so far beyond his capabilities he’d rather not bother himself with it.

“I call bullshit,” Seokmin says, nudging the prince’s shoulder. “Surely you hadn’t been single this whole time. That’d just be a disgrace to your little royal–” The owner interrupts him before he can finish his sentence, placing another round of drinks on their table. Wonwoo feels relieved. He’d rather not discuss his (barely existent) sexual journey with them.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Wonwoo laughs it off, finding an escape route. “We still need some sleep before tomorrow. Last round.” There are a few complaints from the others at first, but in the end Wonwoo is the one with the last word, calling it a night when everyone finishes their drink.

There is a weird feeling that creeps up Wonwoo’s shoulders as he walks through the castle hallways to reach his room, but he tries to pay it little to no attention. Surely it’s all the alcohol he had tonight and nothing else. That’s what he thinks until he senses the presence of another human being. But before he can do anything about it, figure out who it is or why they’ve been following him, two arms wrap around him, dragging him aside into one of the rooms.

“For fucks sake, you scared the shit out of me, Misoon!” Wonwoo yells when he finally sets his eyes on the person, and she immediately covers his mouth to quiet him down. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach him, but she is willing to do that if it means getting him to shut up. His words are muffled against her palm but she makes out the words to be something like “What’s going on?”

She sighs, letting her hand fall back to her side. Wonwoo notices the worry in her eyes first and then the few new wrinkles on her face. He wouldn’t dare to point it out, but she didn’t look the best.

“Why are we here?” He asks when she doesn’t answer his first question, looking around. It is her room, he realizes. It’s been so long since he’s last been here that he almost didn’t recognize it. “So I know we are alone,” she proclaims, walking past him to sit in her chair. His eyes follow her, but his feet stay glued to the floor, not moving an inch.

“There have been…weird things happening,” she explains when she sees the confused look on Wonwoo’s face. “Your father is full of secrets, Prince, and I’m not only scared for myself, but mainly for you.” Now he laughs. “Scared? For me?” However, the expression on her face shows she doesn’t find it as funny as he does. He swallows hard, trying to read her and somehow make sense of what is happening. He shakes his head before he takes a seat on her bed. It’s small, the whole room is, and it makes him feel bad. After everything she’s done for his family this is how the king repays her?

“There are things you don’t know about. Stuff His Majesty decided to bury so deep only he knows about them.”

“Look, Misoon, I know my father has his issues but no one is perfect. We’ve actually…gotten closer since he decided to put me on this mission. I don’t want to ruin that based on nothing.”

She closes her mouth again when he says that, trying to think of something, anything, that could convince him. It seemed impossible though when she had no evidence she could hold onto. “Just promise me you’ll be careful? I’m not sure why he decided to send you on this mission, but I know it can’t be anything good.”

Wonwoo smiles but doesn’t say anything else. He stands up again, walking over to the door. With one last look at her, the words “Good night” leave his lips before he exists, falling asleep as soon as his back hits the comfort of his bed.

Drinking the night before was a bad idea. They all realized it as they walked through the Darkwood forest, the birds chipping around them making their heads dizzy. How were they supposed to fight anyone like this?

“Alright, let’s settle down for some time,” Seokmin commands, turning around to face the knights. “I hate saying this but we are not ready right now,” he sighs and without any complaints, the group of men gets comfortable in the middle of the forest. Thankfully, this wasn’t a battle they could win in a single day anyway. Only the walk to the mountains would take almost the whole day, not to mention the stairway to heaven. Climbing up was going to take some time. No one would mind the few extra hours they had to spend outside.

“My head hurts,” Chan complains, resting his back against one of the trees. “Because you drank twice as much as everyone else,” Jisung comments, slightly kicking Chan’s leg as he walks past him. Wonwoo laughs as the blond raises his hand as if to fight but Jisung isn’t paying him any attention by then. “Here, have this,” he offers him his water bottle. “The sooner you sober up, the sooner we can go.”

“You and your stupid royal blood,” Chan mumbles, taking the bottle from him. “Why are you not drunk? Is it some super ability you royals have? Not feeling the alcohol in your blood the next day?” The prince laughs at his questions again, shaking his head as he takes a seat beside him. “I’m just lucky I guess.”

“I don’t get why we can’t just fly over there, it would be way quicker.” The complaint catches Wonwoo’s attention, making him look up to see Seokmin talking with one of the younger knights. “Is that a real question?” Seokmin raises an eyebrow confusedly, giving him another chance to prove he isn’t stupid. “Yes, it is.”

“Oh god,” Chan sighs. “Do you think he’ll slap him?” Now it’s Wonwoo who is confused. “Why would he do that?” Chan shrugs. “Min slaps me when I have stupid questions. But the more I think about it, the more I’m realizing it might just be because he doesn’t like me,” he mumbles the last part, hoping he is wrong once again. “That’s not it,” Wonwoo assures him. “I actually think it’s because he does like you. He cares, otherwise he wouldn’t get so worked up. Look,” he points at the two guys, watching as Seokmin only gives a brief answer before walking away from him, deciding he isn’t going to deal with him.

“Did he not listen at all when we planned this whole thing?” Seokmin asks, frustrated as he joins the two guys next to the tree. “You probably tired him so much he slept through it,” Chan jokes, ignoring the dead stare Min sends his way. “Even if he did sleep through it all, isn’t it basic knowledge? If we were to fly up to them, they’d notice us and we’d lose our only advantage.”

“No need to explain that to us, you made sure we wouldn’t sleep when everything was explained,” Wonwoo laughs, again. It’s weird how many times he’s done that around them. After he reached his teenage years and was forced to learn about the world and all the rules of the demon kingdom, there wasn’t really much to laugh about. It was a nice change. And he appreciated his new friends for it.

Seokmin rolls his eyes, taking out an old wrist watch from his pocket to see the time. “We should get going again soon. Find water and then get out of here so we are out of the forest before night comes.” Wonwoo nods, standing up and clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, enough lazing around! We need to find a water source and then we’ll get back on track. Now!” He insists when no one moves at first and everyone listens. It’s not like they’d have a different choice when their prince tells them to do something.

Chan whines, Wonwoo’s words ringing in his head. He was never going to drink again.

Except for when they get back victorious.

“Why did I sign up for this again?” Seokmin sighs when he gets back to others. It took forever to find the water source and the sun was already setting down when they all met again. Their plan couldn’t be more off. At least he knew all his knights were sobered up now.

“Because you love action?” Wonwoo suggests. “And you’re way too loyal to the kingdom.” He can’t disagree, so he simply hums, ordering everyone to start moving. They only get to take a few steps before Wonwoo stops, holding onto Seokmin’s arm to make him halt too. There’s a questioning look on his face, but he doesn’t explain anything, simply looking around the forest, trying to find something.

“Someone’s out there,” he finally says and within seconds, Seokmin has his sword out. “What’s going on?” The whispers coming from their men don’t make it any easier for them to locate the sounds but that doesn’t stop them.

“Whose territory is this, Jisung?” Seokmin asks, getting a response immediately. “Werewolves mostly, sir.” The prince and him share a look before looking back at their men. “We don’t want to mess up our relationship with them, everyone understands?!” When they all agree, he continues. “Our time is ticking, so let’s get out of here as fast as we can! No one, and I repeat, no one, will do anything to piss them off! Let’s avoid them,” he glances at the taller man next to him again and Wonwoo nods. “That’s right! Let’s go!” He joins, encouraging them to get going again.

When they get out of the Darkwood forest, it’s the middle of the night.

Wonwoo isn’t sure if he’s ever experienced a sunrise before. Down, back at the kingdom, there wasn’t a place he could watch them from, so he only heard about them from stories. He’s never got the hype about them. However, as he walked beside his friends now, watching the clear sky gain colors and the sun come up, he understood it all. It was truly beautiful. He regretted not being outside sooner. Who knew what else he was missing out on.

“Okay, guys, we trained for this,” Seokmin turns to all of the guys, his feet covered in snow as he stands on the bottom of the stairway to heaven. The stairs are visibly old, and Wonwoo wonders how long it’s been since anyone stepped on them when he sees the dust and rats running around. “Whoever is up there waiting for us—if there is anyone, they won’t see it coming.”

It goes as planned, every step of their way is peaceful, almost too perfect. Wonwoo follows last, guarding the men from behind while Seokmin and Chan lead the way. He knew the stairs weren’t used by angels but still, something was fishy about how easily it all seemed.

It’s only when they reach the top that Wonwoo finally senses the presence of another creature. “Wait, guys,” he tries to warn them, stop everyone and tell them to prepare their swords, but instead, he watches a light flash in front of his eyes, slicing through the air. It takes less than a second, just one move and before anyone can react, a light sword cuts through a demon’s flesh.

Wonwoo’s eyes widen and his whole body freezes. Hadn’t it been for Seokmin, yelling at everyone to focus while he fires towards the light, who knows how it’d all end up. Who knows if Wonwoo would be able to react at all.

Thankfully, he manages to shake himself off, ignoring Jisung’s body falling to the ground and lighting up a fire with his hand, trying to calculate the speed in which the light—likely an angel—moves in order to fire at the perfect time. He watches the men in the front take out their swords, looking around themselves, waiting for it to strike again while the guys in the back create a fire in their hands just like Wonwoo.

Wonwoo’s eyes quickly follow all the movements around him, making sure not to hit anyone else as he shoots right in front of Seokmin’s face. Gasps are heard from the guys around but it doesn’t change the fact he hits the right spot, causing the light to turn back into an angel. A wave of relief washes over Wonwoo when the angel falls to the ground but to his luck, the battle has only started. And the war they started by this attack is near.

Soon enough, before the demons get to collect themselves or mourn their lost knight, there is another light flashing in front of their eyes.

“I believe we haven’t met yet.” The soft voice catches Wonwoo’s attention. There are three men standing in front of his men and who knows how many are hiding in the back, waiting for the best time to attack. “No, we certainly haven’t,” Wonwoo settles for the safe choice—talk. Whatever gives him time to think of a way out of this mess. “Yoon Jeonghan,” the angel in the front introduces himself, politely reaching his hand towards the demons. Wonwoo doesn’t shake his hand though, and neither does Seokmin.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” the prince decides to introduce himself, creating a smile on Jeonghan’s face. “Your Highness,” he bows slightly but it’s obviously a sign of mockery. “What brings you here today?” — “I hope…” a chuckle leaves his lips, as if he was finding amusement in the whole situation. “You didn’t come here to fight us, did you?”

Wonwoo hesitates, briefly exchanging a glance with Seokmin. “No,” he answers through gritted teeth. “But you attacked one of ours.” Jeonghan’s eyes wander to the lifeless body under him. “I believe we are even,” he shrugs and Wonwoo notices how he didn’t pay the tiniest of attention to the fallen angel yet. “Even though…” he starts again with a smirk on his face. “I don’t like being even.”

Before Wonwoo can figure out what those words mean, another light flashes in front of him and the next thing he hears is a gasp from one of his men. He quickly realizes fighting someone who moves at the speed of light is nearly impossible. Bodies fall to the ground right beside him and it feels like he is unable to move again. Unable to help, save his friends.

“Prince, careful!” It’s Chan’s voice that brings him out of the trance, making him take a step back, which almost causes him to fall down the stairs. “Behind you, Chan!” Wonwoo yells right back as he takes out his sword, creating a fire in his empty hand. “Prince, I need you to listen to me!” He briefly glances at Seokmin as he swings his sword towards one of the angels that appeared in front of him. “Focus on your powers, search deep in your core!”

“Now isn’t the best time to give me extra lessons!” Wonwoo yells back as he listens to the comical instructions. “It’s exactly the time!” Min disagrees, trying to help out one of the younger demons. “Do as I say!” He wants to question it, argue with him at least, but he decides to do as he is told, taking a deep breath as he follows. “Imagine lighting your sword on fire!” Any angel nearby could see in his expression that Wonwoo wasn’t confident in what he was doing, and with powers, the key factor was confidence. Believing you could do whatever you wished for.

But there have been weirder orders he received before, some he questioned more.

So, even though Wonwoo doesn’t have the greatest faith in himself, he believes in Seokmin.

“Woah,” he breathes out in shock, his eyes tracing as the sword ignites in flames. He smirks, gazing into his opponents eyes before he steps forward, cutting through the angel’s body in one swift motion. “How did you–”

“Now is not the time for that!” Seokmin interrupts him, glancing over at Chan to see how he is holding up. “We need to get out of here immediately!”

Wonwoo’s eyes never worked so much, so fast as they do now. He scans his surroundings, noticing Jeonghan on the top just watching the scene under him with pleasure. It annoys him how above-everyone he thinks he is. But he needs to focus on something else right now, so he counts the heads. There are eight demons still standing strong against who knows how many angels. He sees fifteen for now, but it’d be foolish to think more couldn’t show up any second.

“Okay, everyone, I’ll keep them busy but you need to leave, now!” Seokmin tries to argue with Wonwoo’s command but it barely reaches the prince’s ears as he practically pushes them down, refusing to hear it out. He swings his sword again when one of the angels gets too close, glaring at the others so they know he means it.

It takes no time for the angels to surround him, but it takes even less time for Wonwoo to push his wings out and take them down with one swift sweep. If Jeonghan wanted a show, Wonwoo was going to end it before the plot twist.

“Is he–” Chan starts, glancing back to see the situation as he runs down the stairs with the others, trying to get as far away as possible before they’d resolve to flying away. “Don’t look back,” Seokmin orders, trying not to do so himself. “He’ll manage. He has to.”

It’s obvious that they are both worried but there is nothing they can do. Now, it’s up to Wonwoo if he finally understands his powers.

Jeonghan scoffs, taking a step forward to get closer. Wonwoo doesn’t let him, swinging his right wing right in front of him to stop him before he returns it to its original position in order to keep the other angels glued to the ground. “Don’t take another step or else–”

“Or else what?” He isn’t scared, not a bit. If anything, Han feels intrigued, looking forward to what the prince might show him. “I’ve lived much longer than you did, prince. Fought many more battles.” Wonwoo swallows, carefully observing the situation he is in. He needs a solution, and he needs it now.

Then it hits him. Imagine lighting your sword on fire! What if he did that with something else?

He focuses again, giving all his attention into his wings.

“I see,” Jeonghan mumbles, unable to take his eyes off the demon in front of him as his wings slowly turn from black to a deep, warm red and his eyes catch the same color. “You take a lot after your father.”

The comment goes unnoticed by Wonwoo but it doesn’t matter. At the moment, he wouldn’t be able to make sense out of it anyway.

“You can run after your little friends,” Jeonghan encourages him with a slight movement of his head. “If you can get out of this state, that is.”

Wonwoo isn’t sure how long it takes for him to push his wings back in, but he certainly doesn’t like how much the angel seems to know about him. It felt as if he knew exactly what Wonwoo was capable of before he even did. It made him wonder just how much he didn’t know himself or his powers.

“You what?!” Wonwoo closes his eyes, tired of all the yelling that has been happening for the past half hour. Sure, they weren’t able to fulfill their mission, but was it that important? Was it all worth the lives it took? Honestly, he didn’t think so.

“We weren’t prepared well enough,” Seokmin mutters through gritted teeth as he glances at the king, lowering his head immediately again when their eyes meet. “I underestimated the situation. I should have taken on more knights. Maybe then…”

“Fighting on their territory couldn’t go well for us no matter what,” Chan steps in, ignoring his elders’ warning looks and whispers. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, we lost that battle before we even took out our swords.”

“Get them out of here,” the king commands, and before his personal guards can move to escort the knights out of the area, Seokmin and Chan are already on their feet, leaving as soon as they can. They have done their best.

“Why are you still here?” The king questions with a frown when his eyes land on his son, who hasn’t moved a bit since he came. Wonwoo looks up, taking a deep breath before he stands up, rethinking his words. “That order wasn’t for me.”

“You think that?”

“I know.”

The king nods just so slightly, glancing at his guards to let them know they can come back to their spots. “You need to go back.” This time, it is an order for him, one he can’t argue with. “They’ve made more mess than what’s worth a few heads you managed to cut this time. We need them to suffer.” We? Wonwoo frowns. It’s more than obvious this whole plan comes from the king’s head, no one else’s, so why is he pretending now that it’d be beneficial for more people?

“Is that all?” Wonwoo asks after a second thought, unbothered with how impudent he sounds. He catches the shock on the king’s face even though he shakes it off shortly after, sending his son away with one move of his hand.

“So?” Chan asks immediately when the door closes behind the prince, catching him off guard. He chuckles, glancing at the closed door before he walks away with his two friends by his side. He tells them the absurd order he received and watches as the smiles disappear off their faces. Honestly, it isn’t looking good for Wonwoo, or any of the knights that will be forced to go on the mission with him.

But, the king’s order is slightly different than what they thought. It isn’t the trained knights that should take on the mission and fight for their king, it’s only the prince who is allowed to go. Everyone knows it’s fishy, and that the king definitely has some ulterior motives, but there is nothing they can do about it.

And so, after a few days, Wonwoo sets off alone this time, tracing through the dark forest with no hope of returning back home.

The snow on the side of the mountain still feels the same, and Wonwoo can’t focus on anything but how he wishes to have the same snow down at the kingdom. He is sure the kids would love it just as much.

But for now, before figuring out how to transfer snow from here to the kingdom, he needs to perfect his powers. He had spoken to Seokmin about what happened before, asked him about how he knew he was capable of something like that, and if he knew what happened when he tried to light his wings on fire.

“Power strength comes from beliefs. If you believe you can do it, it will happen,” Seokmin explained, drawing something on the board while Wonwoo and Chan sat at the nearest table, listening to everything he had to say. “Then, of course, status also has its values.” — “The moment you explained to me before, when your vision darkened and you felt physical pain on your wings when you tried to apply your powers on them, is something I wouldn’t be able to do. I haven’t seen the king do anything similar, either,” he stopped for a second and turned around to face his two friends. “Honestly, I’m not sure what it was or what you did at that moment, but it might be useful in the future.”

“I’ll go to the castle library later and see if I can find anything similar,” Wonwoo proclaimed and Seokmin nodded. “No matter if you find anything or not, I believe the best you can do now is try it again. Try as many times as you need until you achieve it again and can see what you’re capable of.”

Wonwoo wasn’t able to find anything during his search party in the library but it didn’t discourage him from following Seokmin’s advice. If he needed to repeat what he did a thousand times just to get the answers he craved, he would.

He ends up settling near the stairway to heaven. He knows it’s risky, any of the angels could walk down any minute and he wouldn’t stand a chance, but the truth is, it’s dark under the lamp.

It feels weird, like something has changed when he watches his wings. They look longer, wider and even though their color has turned back to black, for some reason they don’t feel like they are. But before he can ponder upon it more, his thoughts get interrupted by a little flame fired in his face.

Wonwoo quickly blinks in shock, waving his hand in front of his face to blow away the smoke. “What the–” Another flame. This time, fired at his right wing. “Chan, if you followed me here–” His left wing receives the next hit. Before he can take another hit, he hides his wings again, annoyed as he narrows his eyes to see, expecting to meet his younger friend.

“Who are you?” You ask, aiming at his left leg this time in case he would want to move. “As far as I know, demons aren’t exactly welcomed here.” You take a step forward, watching as his eyes move from one side to another, probably trying to find an escape route. “Who are you?” You question again, this time harsher.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately, you fire at his face again. “Hey!” He complains, but your fire doesn’t leave any bruises. You doubt if he even feels any pain from it. “Wonwoo! My name is Jeon Wonwoo!” He admits when he notices another flame appearing in your hand.

You scoff, “Of course you are.”

Before he can ask what that’s supposed to mean, you come closer to him, grabbing his right horn and pulling him to the ground. “Your little game is over. You’re coming with me.”

Wonwoo hisses when you touch his horn, his eyes closing on instinct. The fire before was annoying, that’s for sure, but this hurt like hell, so much that without having to apply much force, you brought him to his knees. “Wait, you–” You tug on his horn, making him look up at you and he shuts up again. “Stay quiet and I might be gentle,” you smile innocently and he gulps, trying to stay as calm as possible as he gazes into your eyes, a part of him finding pleasure in the way you touch him. This wasn’t going to end well.

You feel his stares on you the whole way back to your village, debating if you should slap him out of it or ignore him. Eventually, you decide on the latter, just hoping the fire ropes you created to tie him up would be enough to hold him.

“What is that?” You turn around when you hear one of the guards’ voices behind you, tugging Wonwoo with yourself. “A demon I found in the mountains,” you explain, glancing up at him. You love how even though you have to look up at him, it feels like you have the upper hand now. “Go on, introduce yourself,” you encourage him proudly.

When Wonwoo’s name leaves his lips, the guard’s expression changes. His eyes widen before narrowing again as he looks the demon up and down, stopping at the fire ropes you made. “How long will those last?”

“A few hours, I don’t have enough power to keep it alive for longer.” He nods, calling over another guard. Wonwoo watches everything with caution, trying to remember the village layout as best as he can. “Take him to the cage in the back. We’ll inform your fiancé.” You hesitate for a second before nodding and turning around, refusing to give them enough time to examine your face.

“Who was–”

“It’s better you don’t ask many questions,” you interrupt him, not sparing him a glance. You notice a few people looking out of their window to see what’s going on but you don’t look at them either. Involving as little people as possible is the key right now.

“Is everyone here a fire fairy?” He turns his head towards you, watching the people around. You don’t answer him but he figures out the answer is no when he catches a glimpse of a little boy showing off to his friends by creating a snowflake in his hand. “Where are you taking me?” No answer again. “Why do you know who I am? And why did those guards know who I am?”

“What people?” You glare at him and he closes his mouth again. He doesn’t say anything afterwards and you learn to appreciate the silence. You wouldn’t have guessed the demon prince known for his closed-off attitude could get on your nerves so much, but sometimes, we can’t see into the future.

That’s something Wonwoo proves to you a lot in the upcoming days.

Wonwoo grunts when you practically push him inside one of the cages, locking the door behind him before he can turn around. He sighs and steps closer, grabbing the metal bars and leaning forward to prove how tired he is. You scoff at his action, taking a step back. “Care to give me my answers now?”

You stay quiet, smirking which creates a grin on his face. “So this is how you want to play?”

“I don’t need to play anything,” you shake your head with a smile. “As far as I know, you’re the one locked up.”

There is a hint of amusement behind his smile as he watches you, unable to take his eyes off you. “Who are you?” He questions. You stay still for a second, trying to read him the best you can before you decide to share your name with him, figuring out there is nothing he can do with that information. “And this fiancé of yours?” He continues his questionnaire, making you roll your eyes at the hint of mockery in his voice, almost as if he didn’t believe you could have a partner. “Wait and see,” you shrug, unbothered.

He continues asking you one question after another, and you eventually give up, sharing with him whatever he asks for. You explain how the angels approached you before and asked for a small help with keeping their territory safe, how Jeonghan himself explained to the selected group of people what happened that morning in heaven, but you leave out the fact you know about his new found powers—the ones he still doesn’t know how to get under control yet.

“How many people know about me?” You open your mouth to brush him off and tell him you won’t disclose that information but before you can do so, another fairy interrupts you. “I think that’s enough bonding for now, don’t you?” You turn your head towards the voice, your lips curling up into a smile when you land your eyes on the ice prince. “Your highness,” you bow slightly and it makes him chuckle as he comes up to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands and making you look up. “Hi, love,” he smiles, pressing his lips on yours.

Wonwoo coughs to interrupt you and you scoff. “Prince Wonwoo himself,” you introduce your prisoner and the proud grin on your fiancé’s face makes you smile. “Great job, darling,” he praises you, quickly glancing at the two guards following him to dismiss them. “For sure, darling,” Wonwoo mocks, barely sparing the prince a glance. You don’t react to his comment, ignoring him and letting the fairy prince speak instead.

“My name is Minghao,” he introduces himself with a slight bow. Wonwoo hesitates for a second before bowing too, deciding to declare respect to the prince even though he is currently keeping him imprisoned. “I hope she didn’t cause you too much discomfort while bringing you here, that would be very unfortunate,” he quickly glances your way at the mention of you before returning his full attention to the demon.

Wonwoo frowns at how painfully fake Minghao sounds but he doesn’t say anything. He knows if the situation was turned around he wouldn’t behave much differently.

“She took great care of me,” he grins, slowly looking down at the bars he is still holding onto for the effect before speaking again. “But ever since I came to the village my experience wasn’t the greatest,” he tries to shake with the bars to prove his point but it only makes the fairy prince chuckle.

“I’m sorry about that, but there is nothing more I can do for you. I fear this is how you’ll have to stay for a while. At least until Jeonghan—or any other angel—comes to take over.”

“So you plan on giving me up to the angels? I see.”

Minghao hums, and it tools like he is thinking about something. “I mean, there isn’t much more to do with you, is there?” When he looks at Wonwoo again there is a hint of amusement in his eyes and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew he has already won. It pisses Wonwoo off.

“I guess not,” he mumbles through gritted teeth.

“Love, will you look after him for now? I’ll talk to Jun and ask him to visit the angels as soon as possible. The less people know about him the better.” You nod even though you can’t say you’d look forward to spending more time with the demon. It’s not exactly like you have a choice anyway. If a prince orders you something, you listen without complaining. Even if it’s your own future husband. “I’ll see you later at dinner,” he says, kissing your forehead before leaving again.

Wonwoo notices he doesn’t look at you while doing so, though. He is looking at him.

Wonwoo sits on the ground, his back pressed against the iron fence while you sit on a chair near the cage, a book in your hands.

“What is it about?” He wonders, his arms resting on his knees as he turns his head towards you. “Stuff,” you respond, flipping to another page. “Like?” He prompts. “Whatever you want to think it’s about,” you say, not paying much attention to him as your eyes scan the words on the page. “Hm,” he hums and when you finally think you might get a break from him, he speaks up again. “So you’re reading about a fairy being fucked by a demon.”

“What?!” You turn your head his way immediately, slamming the book shut in embarrassment. However, the smirk you see on his face turns your flusteredness into frustration. You close your eyes, tilting your head slightly as you try to calm yourself down. He chuckles at your reaction, a part of him glad he is locked behind the bars when he sees you close your fist. He knows if he was outside with you at the moment, you would have punched him.

“You said you’re reading whatever I think you’re reading,” he shrugs, trying to make it seem like he doesn’t fear you a bit. You sigh, shaking your head at him.

“So is it not about that?” He asks, laughing when you glare at him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he raises his hands in defence, unable to constrain his laugh.

“Who would have thought a prince could be such an idiot?” It’s you giving him a question this time, and even though it’s supposed to offend him, he smiles. “Who would have thought fairies—who I’ve been taught are these innocent creatures—would have the soul to lock up an actually innocent demon?”

“You attacked the angels for no reason,” you remind him. “And you went there again, this time alone for some reason, to do what exactly?” Wonwoo doesn’t answer, knowing he can’t argue with that. “I was simply following orders.”

“Alone?” You ask, raising your eyebrow at him. “A bit weird, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But you don’t question the king.” You hum, the silence that follows louder than you’d like.

“You know that was a suicide mission, right?” You finally speak again. He nods. “I’m not as stupid as you want me to be.” — “I’m also not as weak as you want me to be, though. Don’t underestimate me.” He brings a smile back to your face and it causes his lips to curl up too.

“If you had just slightly over average mana, those fire ropes I made wouldn’t have stopped you from breaking away.”

“Maybe I just didn’t want to run away.”

You sigh, the smile still on your lips as you shake your head at him. You get up from your chair, throwing the book to him. “I’ll be back later. Use up your time and learn something so the angels don’t crush you immediately.” You catch his grin as he looks down at the book and when he raises his head to say something, you walk away with a slight wave of your hand.

Wonwoo picks up the book you left him, his fingers tracing the cover as he reads the title. Fire guide and everything that comes with responsibility, advanced learners. He chuckles. “A story about a fairy and demon would have been more interesting,” he mumbles but still opens the book to see what’s inside.

You stare at your plate, frowning at the ham and rice. The same thing you’ve been eating the whole week. “How is he doing?” You look up upon hearing your fiancé’s voice and place your fork aside again. “As well as a prisoner can, I assume.” Minghao nods, looking at you from across the table. “Jun promised to set off after dinner, Jeonghan should be here the first thing in the morning,” he informs you, a heavy sigh following right after. “When all of this is done, we can finally resume the wedding plans. Everyone is pushing me to have a descendant as soon as possible.”

“Yes, of course,” you mumble with a nod. “Whatever the people need.” He calls out your name, a hint of pity in eyes as he looks at you. “I know this isn’t exactly what you wanted but I’m trying.”

“I know,” you assure him, forcing a smile. “I was never meant to be out in the world anyway.”

“I promise we’ll figure it out,” he tries to make you feel better, you know he is doing his best, but you can’t help but hate it. The only dream you ever had was to fight. Be useful and prove yourself to the other fairies, prove that just because you were a woman you didn’t need to revolve your life around a family. However, all your dreams came crashing down when you learnt what everyone planned for your life without asking you.

You were barely five when you met Minghao for the first time. You were confused as to why the prince came down to the training room but didn’t ask many questions, not wanting to be rude. It was your dad who encouraged you to talk to the prince in the first place, but you’re sure it was all the king’s plan from the beginning. It made sense, the royal possessing ice powers and the daughter of the king’s personal knight who showed signs of great control over her powers since she was little. It was a great deal for both parties.

At least until you showed interest in wanting to lead your life yourself and follow in your dad’s footsteps, offering to be the prince’s personal knight. It sounded foolish to everyone. Minghao never thought so, though. He was the only one cheering you on in your plans, convincing everyone you would do great if they just gave you the chance, even coming to the king to tell him how it would make the two of you closer and make your relationship easier. Eventually, thanks to his help, you managed to get what you always wanted.

But ever since you became an adult, the public became more and more demanding about what your relationship with the prince should look like and everyone started doubting you again. They wanted you closed inside the fairies’ palace, away from the world outside to do nothing but raise the prince’s children.

Minghao tried to be supportive as much as he could but once the pressure came down on his back too, he always chose to listen to the king’s orders, following what the people wanted. It was a miracle that you still got to keep your position as the royal knight, honestly. You knew how fragile your place was. One misstep and the next thing you’d know, you’d be locked in between those very four walls you were occupying right now.

“I’m full,” you proclaim, not waiting for the maid to come pick up your plate or your fiancé to say anything before you stand up. You glance at him, feeling bad when you see the apologetic look he gives you. You want to be by his side, support him on his way to become the fairy king, but you can’t put him before yourself. “I’m going to train and stay outside for a while. No need to wait for me, you can go to bed before I come back.”

You watch him open his mouth as he wants to argue with you, maybe even ask you to stay inside, but he closes his mouth again when he realizes what he was about to do. He knows he can’t do that to you. Not after everyone else already asked you to do that.

“Be careful,” is what he settles for at the end and you nod to him. “Good night,” you smile, leaving the dining room and going straight to the outer gym.

Swinging your sword around and attacking the wooden enemies was surprisingly more helpful than you thought. At first you just wanted to get out of the room for some fresh air, but when you picked up the weapon, you felt a lot more at ease than when you left the palace. This was your true calling, what you were meant to do. You couldn’t let anyone take it from you.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you left the area, wandering through the village. You were jealous of everyone sleeping peacefully in the houses you passed. But you also felt a different emotion towards them—one just as strong. Anger. They were the cause of your problems in the first place. Hadn’t it been for their opinions on your and the prince’s situation, you might have been in the greatest relationship ever.

You sigh as you reach the last house, looking up at the stars. You wondered what they thought of you, what they had planned for you. A part of you hoped that it was different from what the villagers intended.

“Am I being dramatic?” You ask quietly, biting your bottom lip as you look for the answer in the night sky. You kick one of the rocks under your feet and look down again, taking one more lap around.

“What are you doing?” You ask carefully, tilting your head to see better. You’re unsure why you decided to come here. You were already on your way back to the palace when you looked back, and as if he was pulling you towards him on purpose, you ended up going to check on your prisoner.

“Is that the book?” You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing things right, chuckling when you comprehend the situation happening in front of you. Wonwoo used his powers to create a small fire lamp once it has gotten dark and has been reading your book.

He flinches, the fire going off as he loses focus. “Fuck, you scared me,” he mumbles when he turns his head to you. He lights up the fire lamp again and presses his back against the metal bars, closing the book to focus his full attention on you. “Why are you awake, and here?”

“‘Cause,” you mumble, walking closer to him casually. “Let me guess, troubles in paradise?” He laughs, making you roll your eyes. “He can’t be any good for you.”

“Because you know me and him so well, right,” you scoff at his comment, debating why you decided to come here again. You already regretted it. “I don’t need to know you or him. I have eyes.” You don’t say anything and he takes it as his cue to continue talking. “This is all I’ve been doing my whole life. Watching people. I might not know the reason, but you don’t have the spark in your eyes when you look at him.”

“I do,” you argue but your voice sounds broken, as if he had hit a weak spot. “You want to,” he corrects. “You don’t.”

“You don’t know me,” you remind him but he only chuckles. “Fine, then let me get to know you.”

“Why?” You frown, trying to read his face. It didn’t make sense. His attentiveness, attempts to get closer to you, and neither did his calmness. He was locked up, knowing you were going to bring him to the angels the next day, so why did he look so unbothered by it? You couldn’t quite figure out what was going on through his head.

“We have the whole night ahead of us,” he shrugs. “And it doesn’t look like you’d want to go to sleep anytime soon.” You stay quiet, trying to think about what to do. He is right, you don’t want to go back to the palace and fall asleep on the bed next to your fiancé, but was staying here and spending the night talking to the person you captured just mare hours ago a good idea?

“Fine,” you agree, prompting him to start. “If you don’t bore me to death with your talking then I might stay and tell you something about myself too.”

You soon get reminded the world isn’t just black and white. Wonwoo tells you about why they allegedly went to attack the angels in the first place, about the monster attacks that have been happening in the past months. You recall those. You had looked into them with a few of the other knights and after talking to a few people, you came to the conclusion that it was demons behind those attacks.

Turns out, you were wrong all along. According to him, it was the angels who caused all those troubles, framing the demons out of spite and nothing more. That was the first step to starting a war, and the demon king didn’t let the change pass by him, immediately planning their next move with his knights.

“It wasn’t for nothing.”

“I see,” you nod even though you’re not certain starting a fight like this has been the best idea.

“I don’t think fighting was necessary, no battles ever are really, but I couldn’t just disobey the king’s orders. None of the guys could,” he mumbles, sighing when he remembers all the bodies the mission caused them to leave behind.

“You’re right,” you smile slightly. “I get that more than you’d think, actually.” Wonwoo hums, questioning what you mean with his eyes.

And just like that, it ends up being you talking his ears off next. You tell him about your fiancé, how your parents set you two up when you were little and about how even though you adore Minghao, you have been questioning everything lately.

“That’s the thing, I don’t have the option to just do what I want,” you argue. “I thought I did, that I could satisfy everyone and still do what feels right, but they exclude each other. I can’t be a mother to the kids everyone wants me to have and fight in the front lines at the same time.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not what the people believe in.”

“Then change their beliefs.” He says it so casually, as if it was easy to do. But it’s far from that.

“As you see, I’m a prince and yet, I’m being the only one in the front line at the same time.” You’re not sure if it was his attempt to make a joke out of his situation, but it makes you chuckle anyway. “I should take you as my role model then.”

“Oh, for sure,” his laugh fills your ears and you watch him with a smile on your face. For some reason, sitting here with him in the middle of the night, talking about things you never even mentioned to your fiancé feels…right. It’s casual, neither of you expecting anything else from the other one. It’s a nice chance for once.

As you continue chatting about nothing and everything, you feel your heart sinking the more time passes. The more time you spend with him, the worse you feel about what’s supposed to happen when the sun rises again. You begin to think you don’t want to let go of him.

“I honestly didn’t think I could get so close to them,” Wonwoo says, a smile spread across his lips as he talks about his friends. “I guess it’s true that the right people always come into your life when you least expect it.” It sounds cliché and it makes you roll your eyes when you see the look he gives you, but deep down you’re thinking the same thing. A part of you always hoped for someone like that, and now that you were slowly giving up on them, Wonwoo showed up, with his stupid dark eyes that seemed to read you perfectly.

“I’m sorry, Won,” you whisper when you avert your gaze from him and gaze at the night sky. He hums confusedly, scanning you with his eyes before he shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he answers, the back of his head resting against the metal bars behind him as he looks at the stars with you. “It’s not your fault. You’re only following orders.”

You bite your bottom lip until it starts to bleed to get your mind to focus on the pain instead of what was going to happen, but when you glanced at the man beside you, the guilt overtakes you again. For the first time in your life, you doubt the orders you received and question yourself. You should have never agreed to talk to him. You never should have come here and let your guard down. Hadn’t you done that, you’d have no problems taking him to the angels.

“You’re bleeding,” he comments softly, raising his hand up to your face. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a second, he makes you forget about everything. You gaze into his eyes and he quickly pulls his hand back to his side, realizing what he’s done. “Sorry,” he mumbles but you barely register his words.

There is a moment of silence that follows, the tension building up as you gaze into each other’s eyes, both of you forgetting about the world around you as you wait for the other person to make the first move.

Eventually, it’s Wonwoo who moves first, turning his body to face you and casually moving closer. The iron fence around him hasn’t pissed him off as much as it did now since you locked him there.

You try to breathe but it feels like the air gets stuck in your throat as you grab onto the metal bars and he places his hands on top of yours. He looks up at you, still sitting on the cold ground while you stay in your place on your chair. So close yet so far.

You hear something rustle near you and immediately pull your hands away, finally able to breathe as you bring your mind back to reality. You have a fiancé you love, you remind yourself. Yet, you can’t help but steal glances at the boy beside you. You question what you’re doing here again. There is a handsome man waiting for you in your shared bed, so why do you keep sitting outside with this demon?

“I should– I should go,” you proclaim, quickly standing up. A wave of guilt runs through you when the whole situation comes crashing down to you and you try to avoid his disappointed look as you walk past him to get back to the palace.

Still, you can’t help it and glance back once more.

You try to sleep, you really do. You do your best but no matter how much you try, you only keep turning around, unable to turn off your head. You groan, getting up again and staying as quiet as possible so you wouldn’t wake up your fiancé. He seemed to have no trouble sleeping.

You walk to the nearest window in the room, opening it so the cold air could hit your face. The sun is slowly rising up and as you watch the sky gain more colors, your mind becomes even more of a mess. “For fucks sake,” you curse under your breath, closing the window again and looking around the room to find your clothes.

“You’re stupid, annoying, bothersome and absolutely screaming trouble,” you babble, your feet rushing towards the cage faster than they ever did. Wonwoo looks confused as he watches you, frowning as he accidentally kicks into the iron fence while stretching his legs. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” you respond, unlocking the cage. You really don’t. You’re not sure what has gotten into you but you don’t have the time to question it. “Get up,” you command and it takes him a second to process what is happening. He quickly stands up, a part of him hoping he isn’t reading you completely wrong and you aren’t planning on taking him to the angels yourself.

“You–”

“Be quiet and follow me,” you order, looking around to make sure there isn’t anyone nearby. “Before I regret it,” you add, finally meeting his eyes. You grab his arm, pulling him with yourself as you try to rush to the forest behind the village. He stops you. “Wait, you can’t.” You try to make him move again but he is too heavy for you. You groan, letting go of his arm. “Can’t you just listen to me for a second? I need to get you out of here before Hao wakes up. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

He gazes into your eyes, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He wants to go, live, but his head can’t win a fight with his heart. He can’t let you do this. Your name leaves his lips and your heart feels heavy. “Lock me back up. Go to bed and live your life.”

You hesitate, unable to look away from him. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” you say, grabbing his hand again with pleading eyes. “So, please. Come with me.”

Wonwoo’s heart skips a beat when your words reach his ears and all his initial worries and plans to make you come back to your fiancé disappear. He tugs on your hand, pulling you closer with ease. Your body presses against his due to the movement and you try your best not to freak out at the sudden intimacy.

He isn’t sure what has come over him but his hand moves up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over it softly. You gaze into his eyes, trying to figure out what is going on in his mind, but before you can read him fully, he leans down to you, his lips brushing against yours slightly. It’s not a full kiss but your breath shakes nonetheless, sending shivers down his spine.

You never imagine there would be a time in your life where you’d be kissing someone other than Minghao, yet, here you are, pushing your lips against Wonwoo’s urgently, your right hand moving up to the back of his neck where you tug at his hair slightly, causing a light moan to escape his lips.

“W-wait,” you pull away, your left hand squeezing his biceps as he holds you close to himself by your waist. “I– I have a fiancé,” you say but do nothing to get away from him. Wonwoo smirks, squeezing your waist tighter. “Oh, yeah?” He coos, watching as your cheeks turn red. “Then why are you here?” Because you make me feel seen and alive. You stay quiet, and his smirk grows wider.

You try to open your mouth and say something, anything to brush that smirk off his face, but when the muffled voices reach your ears, you know there is no time for that. He nods to you, turning around to try and see how much time left you had. “Wait, I need to do one more thing,” he proclaims, running back to the cage. He picks up your book and throws it your way before flaming at the lock, making sure his escape would look like an accident.

“Come on, we need to run,” you hurry him, grabbing his hand as soon as he is close enough. You’re not sure yet if this is something you’ll regret later but you don’t care. This might have been exactly what you needed in your life all along.

The warmth of Wonwoo’s hand keeps you calm as you run through the forest, each of your steps ringing in your ear as a reminder of what you were doing.

“Can’t we slow down now?” He asks but it feels like talking to a wall. He sighs, squeezing your hand tighter with a slight pull to stop you. You stumble on your feet, sending a glare his way. He laughs quietly, stopping completely. “Come here,” he mumbles and you watch him hesitantly. You step closer to him after a bit of thinking, biting the inside of your cheek as he smiles at you.

Wonwoo looks down at you, finding himself falling into your eyes as you look up at him. He wishes he could engrave the image into his head and be able to look at it at any time. “We can’t slow down now,” you break the silence carefully. He shakes his head, “We can.”

“I need a break,” he proclaims and you raise an eyebrow at that. Were his physical abilities that bad? “Something that would take my mind off things,” he adds, the look in his eyes suggestive as he closes the space you left out between the two of you, brushing off a few hair strands off your face with his fingers to see you better. You gulp as you realize what he has in mind, anticipation slowly building up in you.

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out his name, creating a smile on his lips. “Yeah?” He coos softly, staying in place which somehow drives you more crazy than if he had closed the space between you completely. “You’re terrible,” you curse at him, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling him down so you could reach him.

Your lips crash onto each other within seconds, the kiss full of need and lust neither of you are able to explain with words. His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his fingers digging into your flesh as he searches for more, anything that could provide him some extra pleasure.

“We really–” The rest of your sentence gets swallowed as he kisses you again, unable to let go. He smirks against your lips when you leave out a moan, the grip you have on his shirt tightening. You pull away, ignoring his disagreeing whine and pushing him away with all the power you have. “We need to keep moving,” you state, refusing to play this game of his. “Let’s go.”

Wonwoo mumbles some quiet curses under his breath but obeys, letting you lead the way as you wander through the forest, trying to find the quickest but also most discreet way back to the demon kingdom.

“Are you sure that is where you want to go?” He asks, hesitant. The king’s orders were clear: don’t come back unless you’ve made a mess with the angels. “Where else would we go? The angels? I don’t think so,” you respond, only looking forward as you follow the road under your feet. He sighs, rethinking his opinions. “We could just stay out here, somewhere. Go to the beach, or maybe blend in somewhere near the humans,” he offers and you stop again, turning around to face him. “Are you serious right now?”

You sigh, looking around and running your hand through your hair as you try to think. “Look, I know the king sent you on this unreasonable mission but we need to get you back to where you’re safe. The angels might not be actively looking for you, but I’m sure Minghao is. He’ll realize we are together sooner or later.”

He knows you’re right, that you can’t just stay out here, but the thought of sneaking back into the kingdom scares him more than he’d want to admit. “You’re right,” he nods after a second of silence. “Let’s continue and figure things out as we go.”

You smile at him, giving him a reassuring nod before you hold his hand again, resuming your plan.

Wonwoo stops when he hears muffled voices coming from somewhere on his left. You share a glance with him confusedly but he doesn’t explain anything as he tries to make sense of what he hears. “Surely not…” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes and trying to capture the movements nearby. He scoffs, finding it unbelievable as he sets his eyes on two male figures.

“What is it?” You ask, looking the same way he is. When you spot two men in the distance you quickly create a fireball in your hand, the same one you attacked Wonwoo with when you first met. “Wait, no need,” he stops you before you can fire their way. “These two aren’t dangerous,” he laughs quietly, watching them with a smile on his face.

“Finally!” The shorter one yells excitedly, running towards the two of you, his friend right behind him. “We thought you were dead!”

You watch them cautiously while Wonwoo greets them as if they were old friends and then it finally clicks. You redirect your attention to the blond one, tilting your head slightly. “Lee Chan?” You question and he looks your way, nodding. “And that is Seokmin?” You guess and this time it’s Wonwoo that nods, his grin growing wider at the thought of you actually listening to what he was talking about before.

“And you are…?” Seokmin asks carefully when he reaches you, sending a knowing look towards Wonwoo before you can even answer. You introduce yourself shortly, also explaining how you found yourself here with the demon prince when they ask you. “I see,” Seokmin nods, chuckling a bit when he looks at his friend again. “Looks like you’ve had fun while we were searching for you.”

“If your view of fun is being locked up in a cage then of course.”

“You didn’t seem to complain much before,” you tease him, finding amusement in the way Wonwoo can’t hide his smile when he looks at you, memories of the previous night vivid in his head. “How could I when I had this pretty fairy next to me?” He teases you right back, watching your cheeks turn red.

Chan clears his throat to remind you they were still there and you avert your eyes from the prince, embarrassed. “Uhm…” Chan starts when he has your attention again, quickly exchanging a glance with Seokmin. The switch in the atmosphere is immediate, and your smile disappears off your face even quicker when you notice the pitiful look in the blond’s eyes. Whatever he wanted to say next was going to hit.

“There is something you should know about,” Seokmin proclaims and Wonwoo’s eyes quickly flick between his two friends, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “The king…” he hesitates, trying to find the right words for the message he was bearing. “Shortly after you left yesterday, he ordered for Misoon to be killed,” he admits, the words barely above a whisper. Yet, Wonwoo hears them better than anything else before. She was– She– He froze, starting to feel dizzy as the words ring in his ears. Everything around him becomes blurry, the voices of his friends muffled as he tries to regain his composure.

“We were all shocked, some of the guys asked too many questions and he–” Seokmin pauses, the pity in his eyes changing to worry as he catches the switch in Wonwoo, debating on if he should continue or not. “He dismissed all of us, said the knights won’t be needed for a while now. He told the public our latest mission was successful and there was nothing to worry about now. And as far as we know, Monsoon’s death was…masked as an accident,” he continues even though he isn’t sure Wonwoo is still listening.

You catch the change in the demon’s eyes as well, carefully squeezing his hand in yours, trying to find the right words to say. Wonwoo turns his head towards you slowly, blinking as he tries to make sense of the situation, figure out what was the reasoning behind all of this. “I’m…I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head slightly as if it could help him shake off all the information too.

“It’s okay not to be fine,” you assure him, your thumb moving in slow circles on the top of his. You watch him bite the inside of his cheek as he holds himself back, his eyes flickering to his two friends next to him and then back to you. You nod, somehow understanding the small movement. You know it’d be a lot easier to comfort him if they weren’t around, if you could just pull him into a hug, but you know Wonwoo doesn’t want that. Not now with them watching the two of you. You understand, and don’t push him.

“It’s been a mess,” Chan mumbles carefully, staring at the ground beneath his feet. “And we thought it’d be better to let you know that before we get back.” The demon prince nods, the grip he has on your hand becoming tighter as if he searched for your support through it all anyway. “Thanks,” he whispers, doing his best to hold up. Not only in front of them, but also you.

The thought rushes through him so fast he barely gets a chance to catch it, but when he does, it’s like a reminder of what he is doing at the moment. Why were you here again? No matter how strongly drawn to you he fell, he didn’t know you. You didn’t know him and yet, here you were, holding his hand and trying to help him accept everything his friends just told him. He glances your way, the sincerity piercing through your eyes as you exchange eye contact with him before turning to the two knights beside him, saying you should get moving again.

They both hesitate, as if they weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do. “She is right,” Wonwoo speaks up quietly, remembering what he was hiding from. “There is an annoyed fairy prince somewhere behind us that wants to give me to the angels and watch me die,” a chuckle leaves his lips as he finishes but he isn’t sure why. There is nothing funny about it, he knows that. Yet, he can’t control it.

Seokmin and Wonwoo share a brief glance, telling each other everything they need with their eyes before the younger man wraps his arm around Chan’s shoulder, forcing him to walk first with him in order to give you and the prince space.

You stay silent at first, not sure what you should say. You didn’t know who Misoon was, or why it mattered so much to him that she was dead now, but you didn’t have the heart to ask either. You didn’t know how to comfort him, tell him everything would be okay again without sounding off. It felt like it wasn’t your place to do so.

Wonwoo seems to catch the hesitance you feel as he walks with you, following right behind his friends. You seem tense no matter how he looks at it. A sigh leaves his lips, causing you to look up at him. “She…raised me,” he whispers softly as if he was reading your mind. “Misoon was like a mother to me, especially after my biological passed away,” he admits and your eyes widen, suddenly feeling worse about the situation.

“I’m sorry, Won,” you whisper, giving his hand a firm squeeze. A smile tugs in the corner of his lips as he watches you. He doesn’t question why you’re there anymore. He might not know you fully yet, but he knows he’d be a fool to let you get away.

“I just wish there would be a way for you to make me feel better…” he leans down to you, his hot breath landing softly on your ear and sending shivers down your spine. He glances at his two friends again and then back at you. “Something that would really take my mind off things.”

It’s more than obvious what he’s suggesting and you have to bite your bottom lip in order not to give him the reaction he wants. As much as you’d love to help him out, you’re not sure if it’d be a good idea. Not only because of the guys accompanying you, but also the current state of his. You couldn’t just give him your body as a tissue.

“Wonwoo…” His name leaves your lips and you turn to him, examining his face. You stop after a moment of hesitation, sighing. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” He asks, the smile still on his lips. Yet, it feels forced the more you look at it.

“Turning off. That’s what you’re doing right now.” He blinks a few times, trying to make sense of your words. “You’re turning off your head, your emotions just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the pain.”

“I’m not doing that,” he disagrees and you exhale again. “Yeah? Then explain why you’re behaving like this? It’s okay to be sad, to be emotional over this,” you remind him and he frowns. “You can’t just act like nothing happened and fuck your emotions into me.”

He hears you, he really does. He knows you’re right and can see where you’re coming from, but the moment you finish, he can’t help it and imagine how good that’d feel. With you bent over one of the large stones on the side of the road, your pants with your gear on the ground as he slams his hips against yours, his mind on you and you only. He imagines the pretty sounds you’d make under him, screaming his name while he bites your shoulders from behind, leaving love bites all over your body.

His dick twitches at the mare thought of it and he is sure to lose his mind soon.

“Are you serious?” You ask, your eyes falling to the growing bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry,” he groans, averting your eyes as he looks for his friends to make sure they aren’t looking your way. “But it really isn’t about my head turning off, or avoiding things,” he proclaims, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I want you so bad, and I’d want you no matter the situation.”

The words mean nothing but horny blabs as he searches for some pleasure, you know that, and yet, they make you feel some sort of way. He looks somehow sincere as he gazes into your eyes, the words feeling like a confession when they leave his lips.

You shake your head slightly, trying to think of a solution. You just can’t let him walk around the forest with a boner, can you? “Stay quiet,” you warn him, pointing to the side of the road to signal for him to go there. He tries to find answers in your eyes, anything that would help him figure out if you were going to fulfil his fantasies or let him suffer by himself, but he sees nothing. Still, he nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

As if he knew something was off, Seokmin turns around to talk to Wonwoo to get his mind off things, but when he doesn’t see him or you behind them, he stops. He looks around, closing his eyes in realization when he notices you running off to the forest, somewhere where he or Chan couldn’t bother you and play the third wheel.

“What is it?” The blond turns around as well, confusedly looking at his friend when he doesn’t see you or his prince anywhere. “We better wait for them, this might take a moment,” Min sighs, exchanging a look with Chan before he points to a fallen tree on the other side of the road where they could wait.

You don’t say anything as you push Wonwoo on one of the trees, pressing your lips on his before he can complain, his arms wrapping around you in an instance, the bulge in his pants pressing against you as he pulls you closer. His hands wander under your shirt, quickly squeezing your breast as if you were to disappear any second.

You whine into the kiss, unbuttoning his pants to give him what he was craving so much. He tries to do the same, his hands moving to pull down your pants but you quickly press your palm on his chest, stopping him. “You’re not getting everything,” you proclaim and something in his eyes switches. “Don’t be too greedy and just let me take care of it, alright?” He nods, too lost in the moment to be able to argue with you.

He imagined this differently—he thought it’d be him taking the lead, guiding you through everything as he had no hope for your fiancé to be anyone who’d know how to show you any pleasure—but he couldn’t say he’d mind how things turned out. Honestly, he’d let you take the lead anytime if that was what you wanted.

You tease him through the fabric of his underwear, proudly smiling as you listen to his moans while squeezing his cock softly, his pre-cum starting to leak through the thin layer that was still covering him. “You look a bit broken,” you mumble, smirking as you watch him throw his head back, trying to keep the sounds leaving his mouth as quiet as possible. “Your—fuck—your fault,” he manages to say between broken moans.

“Oh yeah?” You tease him, finally pulling down his underwear and letting his hard-on breathe. “My fault? Weren’t you the one basically begging me to let you fuck me?” He asks, palming his length slowly. Too slow. He quickly catches your wrist in his hand, leaning down and resting his forehead on your shoulder. You chuckle, your free hand running through his hair. “‘S okay,” you coo, resuming your movements when he slowly lets go of your hand.

It’s that moment when he realizes he was so incredibly wrong. About you, your experience, but also about himself. Because now that he has you so close, gliding your hand up and down his cock, he admits to himself something he thought he’d never do—he didn’t want to take the lead. He wanted to obey you, do whatever you tell him to and be good for you.

Oh god. He closes his eyes as he slowly thrusts his hips towards your hand, chasing for more. He was in so much trouble.

As you walk back to meet with Seokmin and Chan, you feel a bit awkward. You’re not sure how long you’ve been there but you know it changed your whole view on Wonwoo. Somehow, you wanted him even more than before now. Something about him, the way he clung to you, whined at your touch and now followed you as if he was your puppy, made your head spin in a way you didn’t know you could feel.

Wonwoo clears his throat, avoiding making any eye contact with the guys. “Sorry we– We thought we heard something so we went to check it out, turns out it was just a wild animal.”

“Oh yeah?” Seokmin starts, not letting him brush it off so easily. “What animal?” Wonwoo hesitates, trying to remember what animals lived in this region of Aethera. “Don’t worry,” he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think I know what animal has gotten wild,” he jokes and the way both of you turn red is embarrassing.

Chan laughs at the sight, shaking his head as he stands up. “Let’s keep going, we need to get as far as possible before the sun sets.” You nod slightly, swallowing a lump in your throat as you quickly glance at Wonwoo before averting your gaze again, focusing on the task at hand.

As the sun sets down and you reach an empty cave, you all agree to settle down for the night. “Min, can you help me out?” Wonwoo asks as he stops at the entrance. It’s not a question towards you but you still feel curious, your eyes flicking from one boy to the other as they leave the cage together, not bothered enough with explaining themselves.

Chan seems to catch your glances because as he helps you make a fire that will keep you guys warm through the night, he speaks up. “Don’t worry about them, whatever it is that they are doing I don’t think it’s anything to be scared of.” You hum with a nod, brushing your hands together as you stand up again once you’re done.

You hesitate as you watch the blond, biting the inside of your cheek and wondering if the question you’re about to ask isn’t too insulting. “Uhm…” you start and he immediately looks up at you, his eyebrows raised in question. “What is it?” He wonders, his voice soft. “The demon king…” you furrow your eyebrows as you try to find the right words. “Don’t you think he’s a bit, well, unreasonable? Cruel? I mean, why would he send his own son on an impossible mission? Alone on top of that.”

Chan’s eyes soften when you finally ask what’s been bothering you, his eyes trailing off to the ground again as he thought about his answer. “I can’t disagree with that,” he mumbles, raising his head again. “Honestly, he is probably worse than what you think, but we need a king no matter what. And since Wonwoo hasn’t shown any interest in taking over…we never had a choice. It is what it is, I guess,” he shrugs, standing up slowly.

“I’m not sure what goes through His Majesty’s head, no one does, I think, but I’d like to look at it from the brighter side. Now that Wonwoo found someone, it’ll be much easier for him to become our king when we come back,” he smiles, so genuinely you don’t even register his words at first.

But then it hits you. Now that Wonwoo found someone. Your eyes widen when the words ring in your ears but before you can say anything, Chan is on his way out to find the other two.

You looked around the cave, debating if this wasn’t your sign. Everyone was gone, no one would notice if you just left. Maybe you should, maybe you’d be much happier if you ran away again, somewhere where no one knows you and you could do whatever you want.

The thought crossed your mind, staying there until you shook your head and took a deep breath in an attempt to make it go away. Because as much as you know you’d love the freedom it would get you, you can’t. You don’t have the courage to just leave without a single word. Wonwoo had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing, and for some reason, you didn’t even mind.

“Hey,” Seokmin’s voice makes you turn around. You raise your eyebrows confusedly, “Hi?” You watch him hesitate and glance behind himself before he speaks again and it makes you even more curious about what he and Wonwoo were doing. “I think we might need your help, he can’t focus,” he says simply, waiting for you to leave with him without saying anything else.

You follow him out, your eyes widening immediately when you see Wonwoo’s full form, his wings out with his tail slowly swinging in the back. You’ve seen a few demons before but there was something different about him. His wings touched the ground and his horns were suddenly longer than before. Yet, it wasn’t the first thing you noticed. The biggest difference was in his eyes—they had turned dark red. You furrow your eyebrows as you try to see through them, only being met with the same hunger he’s been looking at you with since earlier.

“What’s–” You barely get to blink before Wonwoo interrupts you with a sigh, saying he can’t clear his head well enough. “Okay but…what are you doing?”

“Exploring his powers,” Seokmin answers instead, walking around you to grab one of the small rocks on the ground. “Chan,” he says softly, and as if on cue, the blond fires at the stone, breaking it apart with ease. “This is something most of—if not all—demons can do but Wonwoo…” he trails off, picking a bigger rock this time and throwing it at the demon prince. He catches it, lighting it up on fire with ease. The rock doesn’t break in his hands, it just keeps flaming. “This is nothing compared to what he is fully capable of, but it’s still better than a lot of demons can do.”

“And you acted so immersed when you read through my book,” you scoff slightly, watching as his lips curl up into a smile right after. “It showed me what you were capable of,” he shrugs simply and you shake your head at him.

“So, let me guess,” you start, walking closer to the demon prince to fix his shirt. “You guys are attempting to do what he did when he was fighting the angels before? That weird state?” Seokmin and Wonwoo blink a few times, confusedly exchanging a look together. “How do you…”

“Jeonghan,” you explain, softly smiling at the boy in front of you before you take a step back again. “He told me and three other fairies when he came to ask us for protection from the demons. I was curious what it looked like.”

Chan steps back while Seokmin gets closer to the prince, carefully touching one of Wonwoo’s wings. “They grew a lot after it happened,” he says, pushing his own wings out of his body. “They were as big as mine before we left the kingdom.” Your eyes widen at the difference and you confusedly shoot a glance towards Chan. “That’s not…they’re twice as big now!”

“And his eyes,” he points, continuing. “You noticed the chance, right?” You nod, carefully examining his body as you look for any other changes. Your eyes stop at his crotch, your cheeks slowly heating up as you begin to wonder if he had grown in other places as well.

“You’re blushing,” Wonwoo points out and you immediately curse him out in your head. “No, I’m not,” you argue, clearing your throat as you look at the guys before you. “Okay, let’s see then,” you change the conversation immediately before he can have any more comments. “Show me this state you were in and maybe we’ll be able to figure it out together.”

Wonwoo smiles at you, his heart skipping a beat as you lean your back against the tree behind you, carefully observing him, actually wanting to help out.

He closes his eyes for a second, his wings twitching as he tries to light them up on fire, just like he tried back then when he fought the angels. You notice his tail swing with full force into the ground, almost as if it was protesting against it. You hum, trying to think of a solution.

“Guys, can you leave me and Wonwoo alone for a bit?” You ask, causing them all to look your way. You feel all six eyes on you but don’t take your eyes off the prince, barely registering the two guys leaving. “They are gone,” Wonwoo says quietly and you hum again. “What was that for?”

“I think you need to fire yourself up before you try to fire up something as large as,” your eyes flicker between the end of one of his wings to the other, “that.”

“I’m doing that, though, no?” He questions and you take a step forward. “Just stay quiet and use your senses, okay?” He frowns but nods nonetheless, his eyes following your every movement as you walk closer to him. “Hearing,” you start, motioning for him to lean down so you could reach him. “Remember my hand on your cock,” you whisper, your breath landing just above his ear. He quickly turns his head to face you, almost embarrassed. “Trust me.”

Wonwoo can’t quite understand what you’re trying to do or how it’s supposed to help him but he listens, closing his eyes again as his memory travels back to a few hours ago. He can still feel your fingertips on the tip of his cock as you teased him, the coos you whispered into his ear slowly coming back. No matter what you wanted to achieve with this, he couldn’t complain about your methods.

He groans quietly, opening his eyes again when his dick twitches in his pants. “I’m getting hard again,” he mumbles, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes land on your half naked figure, your breast on full display for him. He swallows, hard. “What are you…”

“Sight,” you whisper softly, smirking. “Oh, yeah?” There’s a smirk on his face now as well as he slowly realizes what you’re doing and he cups your cheek, leaning down again to place a kiss on your lips. “And what about touch?” He asks and you immediately guide his hands to your breast, letting him squeeze them however he wants. The groan that leaves his lips makes you feel hotter than it should, and you almost lose your mind when he mumbles into your kiss again, “and taste?”

You pull away from him, hesitating for a second before you slowly trace your fingers under your pants, a moan escaping your lips as you push two of your fingers into your cunt, collecting your wetness on them as you finger yourself, watching his mouth fall open, unable to take his eyes off you.

“Taste,” you say, bringing your fingers to his mouth. He doesn’t waste a second before his lips wrap around your finger, moaning as he gets the taste of you. You will be the death of him at some point, he was sure of that. “So fucking good,” he mumbles, his saliva dripping on your fingers as you pull them out.

“You smelled my fingers too, right?” You blink at him innocently and his head spins as he nods, his clothed dick begging for release. “Now, then, close your eyes again.” He listens immediately and for a second you think about how easy it would be to play with him. He trusted you, maybe more than he should after knowing you for so little.

Your eyes fell down to the bulge in his pants, certain that his body was on fire by now. “Try again. Focus on your wings, on what you want them to do,” you guide him softly, pulling your shirt back on as you start feeling the cold air hit your skin.

He stands still, it might have been a few seconds, minutes, or even an hour. He wasn’t sure, honestly. But when he opened his eyes again, noticing Seokmin watching him with his eyes widened, he knew he had accomplished what he wanted to. He looks around, almost swinging his wing into you by accident. Thankfully, you manage to dodge it and laugh, your smile proud as he watches his wings—now flaming—in awe.

“How did you know?” Chan turns his head to you and you shrug. “Jeonghan said senses–” you pause, tilting your head and closing your eyes as you realize what your next move needs to be. You turn to the small lamp hanging on the tree branch that lights up the place for you all to be able to see and then back at Wonwoo. “I know this might seem a bit insane, but I think we should go see Jeonghan in the morning.”

The guys try to argue with you, telling you how badly that would go, but you brush them off with one shake of your head. “For some reason, he knows about Wonwoo and his powers more than any of us. If we want to figure this out…we need to.” They exchange a glance, knowing you are right. When no one says anything, Wonwoo extinguishes the fire again and hides his wings, his tail following right away with a sigh. “Let’s do it,” he agrees, nodding slightly. “Even if things go left, we have an addition to our team now,” he smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He doesn’t wait for his friends’ opinion, simply leading you back inside the cave.

The night is cold to say the least, so it’s no surprise you find yourself cuddled up in Wonwoo’s arms while his two friends lay on the other side of the cave. You were confused why at first, but when Wonwoo sent them one glare that explained everything, you didn’t ask anymore.

“This is…weird,” you mumble into his chest, his breath landing on the top of your head as his fingers make small circles on your back. You couldn’t remember the last time you laid like this with your fiancé, barely remembering what his touch felt like. It’s been weeks since you had the time for each other—he always blamed it on being either too busy or tired—and even though it felt like the spark between the two of you was disappearing, a part of you felt bad for lying like this with a different man now.

“Hm?” Wonwoo hummed. “What is?”

You raise your head slowly to look at him, your eyes softening when you gazed into his. Despite all that, the moment you see his face you can’t help but feel like it’s right. Like you’re exactly where you belong—in his arms.

“Us,” you whisper, biting the inside of your cheek. “Don’t you think so?” He groans in response, watching you through his eyelashes. “No?” He waits a second, his eyes wandering all over your face, and you blink confusedly, trying to see what he is thinking. “This feels good, actually.”

“Or do you really think otherwise?” He questions and for a second you think you might see a sign of vulnerability in his eyes. It takes you a second to think about it, but you shake your head in the end. “You know,” he clears his throat, pulling his hands away from you and resting them behind his head as he lays on his back, staring into the darkness. “Chan told me what you talked about before.”

You don’t answer, so he continues. “I’d like to think I found someone,” he mumbles softly and Chan’s words ring in your ears again. “I don’t know what we are doing here or what it is between us, but it does feel good.” — “But that’s just how I see it,” he looks your way again, swallowing hard as his eyes drop to your lips. “That’s how I felt since you dragged me by my horn to the ground.”

“That felt good?” You tease him, taking the chance to ease the atmosphere a bit. You aren’t sure if you want to hear what he says next, too scared to go through the same thing you did with Minghao again. “So fucking good,” he admits. You raise your hand to his head, your fingers softly running through his hair and then making their way back to the horn on his head. You wrap your hand around it, your breath shaking when you hear the groan that leaves his lips.

He rolls over so he is on top of you, a smirk tugging in the corner of his lips. “The guys are just over there,” you say, the words barely above a whisper. “They are asleep,” he shrugs. “Wonwoo.” It’s meant to make him hesitate, realize that you shouldn’t, but instead, he leans down to your ear. “If you want me to stop so much, why are you still pulling at my horn?”

He smirks when you don’t say anything, your cheeks gaining the color pink. “Maybe I don’t want to,” you mumble, watching as his eyebrows twitch every time you squeeze. It looks like he is trying to hold himself back, biting his bottom lip so no sounds would leave his mouth. “Good, because I don’t want to either,” he says, and before you can add anything else, his lips brush against yours.

You pull him close, returning his kiss without hesitation. Your legs wrap around his waist, the space between you disappearing. “Can you stay quiet, though?” He asks and you smirk, giving his horn a tight squeeze again. “Can you, baby?”

The nickname alone sends shivers down Wonwoo’s spine, not to mention the way you begin to pull his clothes off, your eyes needy. He really wants to be in charge, prove himself to you, but he already knows there isn’t a big chance at that when you switch your positions, sitting on top of him instead.

“You’re quite desperate, don’t you think?” You tease, leaning down to his ear so he can know what it feels like. “First you get a boner just at me mentioning you fucking me and now you’re trying for it again? One might think you’re just a horny teenager.”

“Or is it the demon genes?” You ask, kissing his neck and slowly moving down to his collarbone. “Do all demons have a high sex drive? Maybe just the royal ones?”

He moans at your touch, quickly closing his mouth again in an attempt to keep it down. He can’t risk the guys waking up in the middle of this. Not only did he know he’d get teased about it for the rest of his life, but he also wouldn’t let them see you. Your naked body, wrapped with his, was for his eyes only.

“Doesn’t matter, you won’t get to explore any other demons,” he says, making you chuckle. No matter how hot he is, you find him cute. You grind your hips on top of him, your hands resting on his chest. His eyes follow your every movement, his cock growing harder under you. You smile to yourself as his fingers tug at your shirt, begging for you to get it off.

He moves quickly, getting rid of all your clothes as soon as possible so he could feel you fully on himself. “Please,” he whispers. You lean down again, catching his lips in yours as your hand wraps around his base, aligning him at your hole. As you slowly sit down on him, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself quiet, his hands find your waist, helping you get comfortable.

Soon after you start moving again, your hands on his chest again for better control. You went slow, wanting to see his reaction. It was painfully obvious what he thought of that when you looked him in the eyes, his whole fighting with himself not to thrust his hips up against you. However, when you don’t speed up even after a while, he squeezes the flesh on your ass and thrusts you down onto him, harsh and fast. You gasp, your mouth falling open as he controls the speed, hitting the right spot.

“You don’t–ngh–have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says suddenly in between groans, causing you to look down at him. It was a weird thing to say while you bounced on his cock. “What?” Your arms give up at the same moment and you fall onto his chest, glad he took over earlier. “We don’t have to–” he swallows the rest of his sentence as your nails dig into his shoulders, a whine escaping his lips. “Do the whole king and queen thing,” he continues, mumbling quiet curses in between. “I want you to do what you like, fight, sword-train, anything.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s talking about. He is coming back to your previous conversation. Your breath shakes as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, letting him talk. You’re so glad this is the position you’re in right now. You wouldn’t want him to see how watery your eyes get all of a sudden when he shows you he cares.

“I just want you to be there with me. Us, together,” he thrusts his hips up after each word, sending you over the edge. You clench around him, another moan leaving his lips as he gets closer to his climax. “Al–Alright,” you agree, gasping when his cum fills you up and collapsing fully onto him afterwards.

He rests his hands on your back, turning around so you’d both lay on your sides. “Alright?” He coos and you nod. He closes the gap between you again, pressing his lips on yours again while also forcing his wings up, covering your bodies with just one of his wings. He’ll worry about the clothes in the morning again.

You snuggle closer to him, resting your head on his arm when he offers and closing your eyes. You can’t wait to find a river in the morning and wash yourself.

You ignore the teasing glances from Chan and Seokmin as you leave the cave, Wonwoo right behind you. You have clothes on now, finally, but you can’t say it would have been the same when the two woke up and walked to you and Wonwoo to wake you up as well. Thank god Wonwoo covered you with his wing last night.

“Wonwoo, are you coming with us?” Chan questions. Wonwoo immediately glances between his friends and you, trying to see what you thought. Going on a hunt for food with his friends or finding a river with you and then watching you shower? He had his preference clear, there was no questioning that.

“Actually, I think I’m–”

“Go with them,” you encourage him, chuckling when you see the hurt look on his face. You step closer to him, making him lean down as you go to whisper into his ear. “I know we established that you have a high sex drive last night, but I need to shower alone now to have enough energy for you later.” His breath hitches. You bite back your smile when he quickly turns his head to face you, sending him off with the guys.

Seokmin wraps his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder, saying something about going to take him under his wing. You’re not sure if he means it metaphorically or literally, but you chuckle anyway. You wave them off quickly, telling them to catch something delicious before turning around, setting off into the forest.

“So,” Chan starts, a smirk on his face. Wonwoo frowns, already worried about what he would say next. “What’s up with you two? I mean, I knew there was something but that much?”

He sighs, raising an eyebrow at his younger friend, as if to see if he was being serious with his question. “Why don’t you care about yourself more, hm?” Chan rolls his eyes, chanting, “Boring!!” with a laugh. Seokmin chuckles, shaking his head at him. “It’s your fault,” he comments and Wonwoo shifts his attention to him. “How so?”

“If we didn’t see your buttcheek on full display this morning, he probably wouldn’t have brought it up at all,” Min explains, watching Wonwoo avert his eyes in embarrassment. “I don’t know why on earth you thought it was a good idea to come wake us up anyway,” he mumbles, looking at them again. Seokmin shrugs, unable to give a clear answer to that.

“No, but seriously,” Chan pipes up again. “Should we be looking forward to, I don’t know, seeing her with you a lot when we get to the kingdom? Are you guys going to…you know, do what we’ve been all waiting for?”

Wonwoo sighs. The thought of ruling the demons isn’t something he’d call exciting but he knows he has to. He can’t hide for much longer, stay in his room and pretend the throne doesn’t exist. Especially not when everyone seems to be counting on him so much. And, if you’re by his side during all that, maybe it won’t be that bad after all.

“And he’s smiling,” Seokmin laughs, patting Wonwoo’s back. “If just the mention of being with her makes you this happy, you shouldn’t hesitate.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that, refusing to respond to his friends’ teases and questions about how the night with you was. The fact it was the best night of his life is something they don’t need to know.

“How exactly do you want us to get there without running into any fairies or different angels?” Chan questions, leaning forward on the stone in front of him. “Well,” you start and Seokmin takes out his map of Aethera, telling his younger friend to move away so he can set it down. Chan groans but obeys, taking a step back. “You see the Little village? While I was on a mission last month, I stumbled in and that was where I saw Jeonghan for the first time. I’ve heard he’s got a lady there.”

“So we’re just assuming he’ll be there? What if someone reports us? This isn’t only about us as demons attacking the angels, they probably couldn’t care less if we go visit the Little village or not, but you ran away with Wonwoo,” Chan points out. “For all we know, the fairies might think he kidnapped their future queen and are on a hunt for his head now.”

“I’ve got a friend there, he’ll let us crash at his house and I’ll ask him to let us know when Jeonghan comes around,” you assure them, looking around to see if they are all still up for it. “Alright then,” Wonwoo nods, leaning on the stone, not caring about covering half of the map with his body. “We have a plan, so let’s not delay any longer.”

And so, the four of you set off again, cutting the road through the forest to get to your destination as soon as possible. You walk in the back with Wonwoo again, carefully holding onto him every time the road ahead looks just a bit tricky. You didn’t think it was needed at first, but after you almost tripped over a tree root, he insisted.

“So, this human friend of yours?” He starts and you raise an eyebrow at him confusedly, the twigs on the ground cracking under your feet. “What about him?” You blink and Wonwoo has to fight the urge not to kiss you immediately again. You’re too beautiful for your own good. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “how do you know him? Who…Who is he?”

You chuckle as you watch Wonwoo nervously awaiting your answer. He is kind of cute when he looks at you like that, with a mixture of jealousy and genuine worry.

“I met him when we were teens. I tagged along to one of my father’s missions and we ended up needing a place to stay, so his parents offered. He yelled at a bug because he was scared, and when I set the bug on fire, he cried and said he owes me his life,” you laugh at the memory. “It was my first interaction with humans as well and his whole family made me feel really welcome. They never cared about us being fairies, and if they did, they hid it damn well.”

Wonwoo hums as he listens to you, somehow feeling relieved. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t make it obvious to everyone that you’re not available.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take that long and shortly after four—as Seokmin informed you—you find yourself in the back of the village, listening to the muffled voices nearby. You point to the left, going first as you lead them. It’s been a while but you still remember the exact place of the house. It wasn’t the first time you sneaked in like this.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to just–” Before Seokmin can finish his sentence, you throw a small rock at the back door of the house, catching everyone off guard. “I take it back, it might have been better to just come in like you wanted to at first.” You roll your eyes at his comment and turn around to explain your action, but before you get the chance to do so, you hear footsteps coming closer and immediately turn on your heel again.

“Firefly?” You smile as you hear the familiar voice behind the door before he can even open them, pointing it’s way. “That’s why I threw that rock,” you explain. “We used to do that when we were younger whenever I needed to escape from, well, life.” The door opens and your eyes land on the tall man. You feel like he might be even bigger than you remember him.

“What’s with that nickname?” Wonwoo whispers quietly with a frown, making Seokmin laugh as they watch you come closer to the human, pulling him into a hug. “Alright, man, good luck with not setting his face on fire,” Min pats his back, walking towards you to introduce himself.

Wonwoo quickly catches up, and just as Seokmin offers his hand to say hello, he holds the human’s hand instead. “I’m Wonwoo, nice to meet you,” he says through gritted teeth, barely registering Chan laughing behind him. “Mingyu,” the taller man smiles, quickly glancing at you before shaking his hand. “What are you guys, uhm, doing here?”

“Min, I need your help,” you practically push Wonwoo out of the way, which only causes another way of laughter from his friends. “Anything,” Mingyu encourages you and Wonwoo immediately frowns. “Can we talk about it inside?” You suggest and he doesn’t hesitate, stepping aside so you and your group could walk through the door.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mingyu starts, his eyes flickering between all of the guys before setting on you again. “You finally ran away from Minghao,” he says as if it was a praise, and it makes you wonder if your relationship has been that bad all along and you just didn’t realize. “After you realized you might like a demon that you imprisoned the day before?” This time, there is a hint of irony in his voice, almost as if he was judging you. You frown, “That’s not important.”

“Alright, I’m just making sure I got everything,” he raises his hands to prove his innocence and you roll your eyes. “Well, anyway, and now you’re here to, what, track down an angel and force him to help you uncover the prince’s powers?”

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds bad,” Chan comments, his words catching in his throat when he sees all of you turn your heads towards him. “We know it’s risky,” Seokmin proclaims, making you all turn to him instead. “But it’s the only option we have, really. And we know it’s a lot to ask, but we’d appreciate it if you could help us.”

Mingyu smiles, nodding without a moment of hesitation. “I’m in,” he agrees, looking at Wonwoo. “Hopefully, it also means getting the future demon king on my side.”

Wonwoo glances at you and then back at him, agreeing. “I don’t see a reason not to.”

“In that case,” Mingyu stands up, opening his arms with a smile. “Make yourself at home.”

You lay on the couch in the living room later that night, your legs resting on Wonwoo’s lap while Mingyu sits on a chair near Wonwoo. Seokmin and Chan had fallen asleep on the old mattresses Mingyu prepared for them earlier after getting out of the shower, so it was just the three of you now.

“I’ll talk to Haewon tomorrow and ask how things are going between her and Jeonghan, maybe she’ll know when he’ll be here again.” You hum with a nod, smiling gratefully at your friend. “Thank you again, for everything.”

“No need,” Mingyu shakes his head, his smile warm, comforting. Wonwoo doesn’t buy it just yet. “I told you you can turn to me whenever you need help,” he assures you before glancing at Wonwoo, chuckling when he sees the warning look. “So, Your Highness,” he mocks, finding pleasure in teasing him. Wonwoo exhales sharply. “You’re the second prince our little firefly took an interest in. I should probably take your title as a red flag after the first one, but something tells me to give you a chance.”

“Mingyu,” you try to interrupt him, trying to stop him from some unreasonable questionnaire or an argument he might start. It doesn’t move with him the slightest bit though and you sigh.

“Maybe I should be the one worrying about you instead, though,” Wonwoo hisses. “I mean, why exactly are you calling my lady your little firefly?” Mingyu seems caught off guard when Wonwoo fires back against him, but his smile doesn’t disappear. You, on the other hand, can’t keep your expression when the tone of Wonwoo’s voice reaches your ears. He is jealous. He’s questioning your friend because he is jealous.

“I think I’ll leave you two up to it then,” he gets up, still smiling. “Good night.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second before Wonwoo turns his body to face you, staying on the opposite side of the couch. For now, at least. “You’re jealous,” you whisper, grinning. He frowns, shaking his head in disagreement. “Me? Jealous? Over some human boy?”

“His name is Mingyu.”

“I know,” he answers through gritted teeth and your grin grows wider as he practically confirms your accusation.

“It’s fine, Won. It’s hot, actually.” You watch something in his eyes switch, but he still doesn’t admit to his behaviour, telling you he isn’t being jealous. “Yeah? Then what was that? You worry about firefly? It’s a nickname his mom gave me when we were kids.”

When the thought runs through his head, something in him breaks. He isn’t sure what it is, but he is certain it’s noticeable because the next thing he knows, you are pulling him into a hug and wrapping your arms around him tightly.

You don’t ask, you don’t have to. You just give him what you think he might need the most at the moment. “It’s okay,” you assure him, placing a kiss on his cheek. You move to sit on his lap, still holding him as he buries his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist as well. “She would have loved you,” he whispers and you sigh, drawing circles on his back with your fingers. “She would have created some stupid nickname for you too.”

“I’m sure she was an amazing woman,” you whisper, feeling him nod against your neck. “And she raised an awesome boy too,” you proclaim, leaning back to make him look at you. When he does, you cup his cheeks. “You are allowed to miss her and feel sad,” you assure him, pressing your lips on his. The kiss is soft, calming. “Let’s hope Jeonghan comes by tomorrow so we can get this over with as soon as possible and then get you back to the kingdom so you can say your goodbyes in person, yeah?” He nods and kisses you again, holding you close to himself, almost as if he was scared you’ll disappear as well.

Wonwoo lays you two down on the couch, his arms never leaving you as he rests his head on yours and you snuggle closer to him, falling asleep in his arms shortly after. He holds on for a while longer, listening to the rhythm of your breath and closing his eyes, slowly drifting off.

The room is loud when you open your eyes again, your friends’ voices mixing in together as they argue over how to have their eggs, and if they should make some for you and Wonwoo as well when they are at it or let you prepare your breakfast on your own. You groan, burying your head in Wonwoo’s chest again in protest. You don’t want to wake up just yet.

He shifts slightly under you, carefully sitting up and looking around the room. You take a deep breath and sit up as well, trying to get your eyes to focus as you stare at your friends, their eyes on you already. “Good morning,” Chan chuckles, holding up two eggs in his hands. “You guys want some?”

“Sure,” Wonwoo nods, his morning voice sending shivers down your spine. “Yeah, I’ll take some too,” you answer and the blond turns around again, handing the eggs to Mingyu who is cooking.

“Did you even get any sleep on that couch?” Seokmin chats, joining you. You hum, “better than the cold ground yesterday.” He smiles, nodding. “Surely it doesn’t have anything on the royal beds the both of you have been sleeping on your entire lives,” he jokes and you frown. Wonwoo seems to catch it because he leans closer to you, his voice low. “I can assure you our beds are better. Probably make less sounds too.”

You glance at him, biting back your smile. The idea of sleeping with him in his bed doesn’t seem bad at all.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Mingyu interrupts your conversation after a while, handing you and Wonwoo your breakfasts. “I’m going to go out in a bit. I’m not sure when I’ll be back but I’ll definitely talk to Haewon today,” he assures you. “Where are you going?” You wonder, taking a bite of your eggs—they agreed on scrambled in the end.

“Uhm, just so,” he mumbles, turning around to plate the rest. You raise an eyebrow at the lack of answer he gives you, exchanging a glance with Chan. “Oh? Does this going out include a lady by any chance?” He teases, watching Mingyu’s ears turn red. Your eyes widen, weakly hitting Wonwoo’s knee in excitement. “What? Since when do you have a girl?” You yell immediately.

“There has been a slight change in the plan,” Mingyu announces as soon as he walks through the door, making all of you look his way. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry,” he shakes his head, walking straight to his kitchen corner. “I think I might have made it easier for you to approach Jeonghan actually.”

“Do tell,” Wonwoo encourages him. “Did you find out when he’ll be here again?”

“Yes,” he nods, looking at the clock on his wall. “In fact, he’ll be here in like…thirty five minutes,” he proclaims and you blink a few times, as if to find out if it’s just a dream you’re having. “What? How–”

“Long story short, I ended up inviting them over for dinner because I thought it would be easier than you guys busting into Haewon’s kitchen to ambush him but then I got caught up and lost track of time, so I need your help making this dinner as quickly as possible. Now. That was your cue to get up,” he says impatiently, opening his fridge and taking out a few things.

It takes you a second to comprehend what is happening but when you do, you jump up from your place on the couch, the three guys beside you following shortly after. “What do we need to do?”

“Come here, I’ll give everyone a job.”

You’re not sure how it even works, four grown guys in the kitchen somehow not standing in each other’s way. They move quickly, listening to every word Mingyu says so the food is ready for when the pair arrives.

As the loud knock on the front door reaches your ears, you flinch. “That’s our sign. Let’s go,” you quickly say, going into Mingyu’s room with the guys to hide. Mingyu needs to set the scene first before Jeonghan sees you.

“Alright,” Mingyu takes a deep breath, opening the door with a smile. “Hi,” he greets them warmly, pulling Haewon into a hug before shaking the angel’s hand, trying to search for any evil in his eyes. “Come in, I just finished cooking,” he steps aside and the two walk inside, looking around the house.

“It’s similar to mine,” Haewon comments with a slight nod, smiling. “They weren’t very original while designing these I guess,” Jeonghan says, narrowing his eyes when his eyes set on the number of plates in the sink. “You live alone?”

“I do,” Mingyu nods. “I mean, technically I do. But you know how it goes, Haewon also technically lives alone,” he jokes, leading them to the table. “Speaking of which, a lot of people are wondering what’s going to happen to you? I mean, should we expect to have an angel in our village full-time?”

Haewon nervously glances Jeonghan’s way as she sits down, but he only shrugs. “That’s nothing they need to worry about. We are fine as we are.” Mingyu hums but he isn’t sure what to think about it. It’s been years since he first started showing up in the village, wasn’t it about time they tried to figure out something stable?

“That’s all that matters,” he nods, setting the plates. “What about your lady, though, Gyu?” She asks with a grin. Mingyu chuckles as he sits down, rubbing the back of his neck. “It hasn’t been that long since we started going out but we are doing great,” he says, a hint of a blush on his face.

As the dinner goes by and the conversation flows more naturally, Mingyu finally finds the courage to ask what he needs. He clears his throat, making both of his guests look up from their plates. “So, I know this might be a little sudden or inappropriate, but to be honest, I invited you here tonight because I need help,” he admits and Haewon tilts her head confusedly.

Jeonghan scoffs, putting his fork down and giving his full attention to the man opposite him. “Just because I’m an angel, it doesn’t mean I can magically give you whatever you need.”

“I know that,” Mingyu shakes his head. “But you do have some knowledge, don’t you?” Before the angel can open his mouth again and ask what it is that he wants to ask him, you come out of the room, your footsteps catching their attention immediately. Jeonghan smiles. “We haven’t seen each other in a bit,” he greets you and you return his smile, stepping forward.

“Do you know your fiancé is looking for you?” You nod. His eyes soften, you think. It might have been a figment of your imagination, but you could swear you saw a slight change in his eyes. “My king was excited when he heard you had captured the demon prince, but also very disappointed when he found out he escaped.”

“I understand.”

Jeonghan shakes his head, stopping you before you can continue. “He wants his head now. A way to get back at the demon king. Your finacé has taken on the mission, he is leading his men as they look for him.” You swallow hard. Getting out of here might be harder than you had expected.

“But I never agreed on anything like that,” he assures you all of a sudden. “So your new boyfriend can come out of the room and ask me what has been bothering him himself, I don’t see any reason to hand him over to my king.”

You hesitate for a second, trying to figure out what his deal is, if he is being sincere. But before you can, the three demons are standing behind you, staring at the angel. “Okay,” you breathe out, stepping aside so Wonwoo can get closer. He takes a seat next to Mingyu at the table while you and the guys stay aside, carefully observing the situation. Haewon, unlike Jeonghan, seems to have no idea what’s going on.

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate as he gazes into the angel’s eyes, resting his hands on the table. “How do you know so much about me? About how my powers work?”

“I don’t,” he shakes his head in disagreement. “I don’t know how your powers work, not really. But I guess you could say I know more than you.”

“How?”

Jeonghan chuckles at his impatience, turning to his girlfriend. She sighs, understanding what he wants to say after a simple eye contact. “Don’t be too long, I’ll be waiting.” He nods with a smile, leaning closer to kiss her. “I’ll try to be back as soon as possible,” he assures her and without a moment of hesitation, she says her goodbyes to all of you, saying how she wishes you good luck with whatever you need to deal with before leaving.

“I used to know your father,” he explains, making Wonwoo frown. “Seokmin said he has never seen my father do anything like this. I mean, lighting my wings on fire? I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do that.”

The angel examines Wonwoo’s expression before humming, as if he had figured it all out. “Has your mom ever got the chance to tell you about her first love?” He asks suddenly, making Wonwoo blink confusedly. “No?”

He hums, glancing at Seokmin and Chan. “You are all too young to know, but there used to be a demon knight that caused a lot of troubles to us angels. He possessed the same powers you do, and we never really figured out how to fight against him.” You frown when he starts his story, cringing at how cliché it sounds. As if there was supposed to appear an animated story in front of your eyes about this mysterious knight that would explain everything.

“Even though we were on opposite sides, we became friends for a while,” he continues, something in his eyes changing as he remembers the man. “And he told me about the girl he was supposed to marry—the demon princess.”

“Wait,” Mingyu interrupts him, the picture Jeonghan was painting with his words disappearing as you blink to look his way. “This must have been decades ago, how old are you for fucks sake?” The angel laughs, and you realize Gyu is onto something. There was no way this twenty-something looking angel could have lived through that.

“I’m twenty eight,” he shrugs casually. “Will be for the rest of my life.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your eyebrows. Jeonghan leans back in his chair, looking around the room before answering. “I’ve had an…encounter with a witch once and let’s say it didn’t go that well,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips again. “But it did gain me immortality, even though I’m not sure if it’s a curse or a blessing.”

“That’s the worst curse of all,” Wonwoo comments, his words barely above a whisper as he carefully glances into the angel’s eyes. He shrugs again, brushing it off.

“So, this knight?” Chan asks cautiously. “What happened to him? I don’t– I don’t think I’ve heard of a king like that before.”

“That’s because he never became the king. He never married the girl he loved,” Jeonghan explains, his eyes trailing off to the plate in front of him. “He died before he could, and she had to continue living without him while his descendant grew in her belly.” You catch the small change in the tone of his voice before he can put a smile back on again, sharing his all-knowing glance with you again.

You know it isn’t that easy for him, though. One dies, the other has to out-live them. Wonwoo was right, immortality is the worst curse of them all. Because no matter how unbothered Jeonghan wants to look, you know the thought of everyone around him dying scares him. There is no way it doesn’t.

“Okay, what are you implying?” Wonwoo finally asks, the vulnerability in his eyes noticeable from far away. He hesitates, the words catching in his mouth. He glances at you for a brief second, taking a deep breath before turning his attention back to the angel opposite him. “Who…was this baby?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer, too scared of what it could all mean.

Jeonghan stays silent, gazing into the prince’s eyes. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, so he doesn’t. Wonwoo’s breath shakes as he slowly takes the story in. You see his leg bouncing under the table and come closer to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “How did he die?” You ask quietly, squeezing his shoulder tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo pushes his chair back, barely looking at any of you as he quickly storms out to the backyard, needing some time off. You sigh as you watch his back, glancing at Jeonghan. “Thank you.”

“I’m not sure if you should,” he shakes his head, his eyes wandering to the back door. “I can’t help you with his powers and I doubt there is anyone who could. He’ll have to figure it out on his own.” You hum, thanking him once more anyway. “One more thing,” Jeonghan starts as he gets up. “Even though I don’t exactly know how his powers work, I know his mother was what helped his father the most. So, just stay by his side and I’m sure he’ll do big things.”

“And if we are lucky enough, with him in the lead of the demons, the unnecessary rivalry between our kind can be solved,” he smiles one more time, briefly thanking Mingyu for dinner before he leaves the house without another word.

“Should we…” Chan hesitates, glancing at the back door. Before he can ask his question, you are already shutting the door behind yourself, though. He sighs, looking at the two guys still in the room with him. “We should just clean up then, I guess.” Seokmin nods, helping Mingyu take all the plates and offering to wash the dishes.

“What is the next plan after this?” Mingyu asks as he hands Seokmin one of the plates. He hesitates, watching the water fill up the sink. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “Do you mind if we stay one more night?” Mingyu smiles and gives him a reassuring nod, saying they are free to stay for as long as they need. “Wonwoo needs some time, but I’m sure once he processes everything, he’ll want to go back to the kingdom more than before.”

“Are you sure?” Chan asks, doubting him a bit. Wouldn’t it make more sense to avoid the place from now on?

“Yeah,” he nods. “Now that he knows the truth, he’ll want to dethrone the king more than ever. Take back what belongs to his family.” Chan hums, understanding what he means.

“Wonwoo,” you call out after him, sighing when you see him sitting on the porch. You carefully sit down next to him, wrapping your hand around his waist as you hold him close. You don’t say anything and neither does he, relaxing in the warm silence. He rests his head down on your shoulder, closing his eyes with a deep exhale.

“My dad is dead, and I never actually got to know him,” he whispers, his voice breaking in the middle. “I don’t…I don’t remember my mom much, but I don’t have a single memory of her alongside my fath– the demon king,” he corrects himself, almost spitting those words out. You rest your head on his, just listening. “It makes sense now why they were never together.”

“There was no way you could have known. You heard Jeonghan, he did a great job masking it. Who knows if there is even a single person who knows he isn’t supposed to be on the throne.” Wonwoo hums in response, the sound so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Misoon probably found something. It would explain his…his order to kill her.” Your eyes soften. You don’t think you could understand the pain he’s feeling even if you tried to.

“And now I know as well, and it’s pissing me off.”

“Then let’s do what we can do to take it from him,” you proclaim, squeezing his bicep. You slowly raise your head and he follows right after, glancing at you. He leans closer, cupping your cheek as he presses his lips on yours firmly. “Together,” he whispers. You nod, capturing his lips on yours once more. “Together.”

This time, you spend the night on an actual mattress. After you and Wonwoo came back inside and told everyone your plan, Mingyu offered to lend you his bed, saying something about how you need to sleep well before you set off in the morning. You didn’t argue and ended up wrapped in Wonwoo’s arms in the bed, Seokmin and Chan on the floor beside you.

And you have to say, Mingyu was right. When you wake up the next morning, you feel a lot more energized. You’re not sure how everything will turn out today, but at least you have enough power to try to fight whatever the demon king throws your way.

You say your goodbyes to Gyu shortly after breakfast and he promises to introduce you to his new girlfriend the next time you come to visit, not forgetting to mention he hopes that by then, you’ll be the demon queen. You chuckle, squeezing Wonwoo’s hand in yours. You don’t promise him anything, but a part of you hopes for the same thing.

“How exactly do you want to do this? They are going to notice us if we just walk in,” Chan questions, a step behind everyone else. Seokmin slows down slightly to join him in the back so he wouldn’t have to walk alone, awaiting for Wonwoo’s answer. It’s something he has been trying to figure out as well.

“Who’s going to notice?” You hum back, a smile on your face. “Didn’t you say the king dismissed the knights, saying they won’t be needed?” Seokmin scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head. The king has made it so much easier for them without even knowing what was coming.

“Okay, we get in, what’s next?”

You turn on your heel with a smile, making all of them stop in the middle of the road. “Chan, I’ll need you to find the other guys, anyone you can in the shortest amount of time possible,” Wonwoo orders and the blond immediately nods. The demon prince then turns to Seokmin. “Even though the knights got dismissed, I’m sure he still has his personal guards with him so we’ll need to figure out a way to get through them, make sure not even a cleaning lady notices us walking in the hallways.”

“We don’t have to walk, remember?” Seokmin grins, pushing out his wings. “It’s about time we stop walking all the time,” he says, encouraging them to do the same. Wonwoo chuckles, nodding.

The next thing you know, Wonwoo holds you tightly around the waist, keeping your body pressed against his as he flies through the sky, his friends right behind him. You fight the urge to scream your lungs out as you look under you, your eyes widening when you realize just how high you are at the moment.

They are lucky it’s actually faster when you fly because otherwise, you’d beat them up for almost causing you a heart attack with their way of transportation.

When you step into the underworld, shivers run down your spine. It doesn’t feel like Aethera down here anymore, and you question if you can really live here for the rest of your life. However, when Wonwoo takes your hand in his and leads you through the alley, you know it’ll be okay.

You look around as you go, your eyes falling on every one of the holes or smudges on the houses caused by fire. You’re not sure if those places caught on fire because of the location or demons but you don’t ask either. You figure there’ll be enough time for that later.

Chan leaves the three of you alone shortly after reaching the town, running off to the local pub. He wasn’t sure where they were now, but he knows that when they were leaving, most of the knights settled down there to drink off the disappointment that came after the king’s announcement. If he was lucky enough, most of them were there again tonight.

“Ready?” Wonwoo asks when you reach the back of the castle. You hesitate at first but end up nodding nonetheless. You came here, there was no backing down now. “Ready,” you agree and his hands wrap around you once again. He shares a glance with Seokmin before they both jump off the ground, a yelp leaving your lips as you tightly hold onto the demon prince.

The window breaks immediately when Wonwoo slams one of his wings against it, quietly groaning when the shattering glass ends up in the same wing. He tries not to pay it any attention, though, focusing on the task at hand. “This way,” he says when his feet hit the ground again, dragging you through the hallway to get to the main hall.

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate as he pushes the door of the main hall open, his eyes immediately landing on the king, eating fruits from a plate one of the maids is holding up. You watch the king’s eyes widen as looks at the three of you, quickly glancing at his guards, a sign for them to get ready.

Before they can take a step forwards, Wonwoo swings his wings forward, causing everyone in front of him to close their eyes as the strong wind combined with the dust from the room hits their faces. “No one moves from now on,” he orders and your eyes soften as you watch the maid tramble in shock.

“You, right there,” you call out to her, making Wonwoo glance at you confusedly. He quickly turns his attention back to the king, though, trusting your judgement. “Come here.” She looks at the king, her head falling down when she notices the dead stare he gives her. She shakes her head slightly, obviously scared. You’re not sure if it’s of you or the king himself. “It’s okay,” you assure her, and after a moment of hesitation, she finally walks over to you. You give her a reassuring nod before you create one of your fire ropes, tying her up. “I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly. “But it’ll be safer on this side, I just can’t leave you free.” She nods, still shaking.

You come back to the two demons, tilting your head as you take in the scene in front of you. You’re in advantage right now, you think, but you’d still feel a lot better if Chan and the knights were here as well.

“What is going on here?” The king questions, waiting, observing before his next move. Wonwoo tilts his head, smiling. “Ambush, attack, an argument, call it whatever you want, dad,” the word feels poisonous on his lips, something he wasn’t supposed to eat but did anyway. “Or wait,” his smile falls, the disgust in his voice obvious. “Actually, I should call you uncle, shouldn’t I?”

His eyes widen but he doesn’t move. Not yet. “What are you talking about?”

You scoff at the sudden lack of confidence in his voice, your eyes landing on one of the guards who has been staring at you. You frown. “Can we move quicker?”

“Alright,” Wonwoo clears his throat. “This can go either one way or another. We know you killed my father, who also happens to be your older brother, so there is no need to pretend otherwise. Don’t worry, the rest of the demons you led in a lie this whole time will know soon as well,” he assures him and you can see the way the king’s jaw tenses. “What do you want?” He asks through gritted teeth.

The prince smiles, chuckling. “What you hoped I’d never ask for. The throne.” When he doesn’t answer immediately, Wonwoo continues. “I’m the sole legal heir and I even have my queen alongside me now, there is no reason for me not to take over. So, either we’ll do this nicely, you’ll leave without a word and I will never hear of you again or…” he trails off for dramatic effect, and as if on cue, the door swings open again.

“Or we will join your little party,” Chan’s voice echoes through the room, creating a grin on your face. You glance behind you, exchanging a proud glance with Chan when you see all the knights behind him, ready to fight. A few of them look unstable, almost drunk you’d say, but that’s not important right now. You just need the numbers.

The king grits his teeth and his eyebrows furrow as he thinks everything through, trying to figure out what to do next. “And if I fight back?” He signs for his guards to move, but before they can take a step forward, Wonwoo swings his wings once more. You hold his hand tightly, giving him the strength he needs so he can ignite them again. The king’s eyes widen when he sees what the prince can do, swallowing nervously.

“If you want to fight back, we can do that,” Wonwoo proclaims calmly, stepping forward. “But we both know why my father was in the front lines while they never let you into a battle. Good thing it seems like I take a lot after him.”

“You take after him too much,” the king mutters, his fingers digging into his palm as he hits the armrest. “You’re not suited for ruling the kingdom, neither was your father! I only ever did what was the best for the demons.”

The grip Wonwoo has on your hand tightens. You squeeze back, assuring him it will all work out. “That will be for the people to decide, not you. Your time here is done. I’m taking the throne back.”

“You can’t force me–” Before he can finish his sentence, you fire his way, the smoke in his face occupying him enough for Wonwoo to create a fire rope, a stronger one than you could ever achieve. You smile at him proudly, sending another flame at the king so the prince would have enough time to tie him up. “You can’t just force me out!” He argues, trying to fight against the ropes around him. He fails badly.

“I gave you the opportunity to disappear. Now, though,” Wonwoo trails off with a sigh, as if he actually cared about what was going to happen to the king. “You give me no choice. I need to live in order to take care of the demons, and the angels want a head thanks to your actions.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Seokmin says, patting Wonwoo’s back slightly and taking the king from him with a reassuring nod. “You’ve done enough and have a lot of work to do here.” The prince smiles at his friend, mumbling a quiet thank you before he turns to face you. “You can untie the poor lady, I think we are done here.” You nod without any questions, squeezing his hand again. “Am I right, guys?” He turns to the king’s guards and they agree without a moment of hesitation, their Adam’s apples bobbing as they swallow. “Yes, yes, of course, sir. We are at your service.”

“Great,” he smiles. “Gather all the demons then, I need to have a speech.”

Chan and Seokmin laugh as they pat their friend’s back, congratulating on his change of title. You shake your head at them but can’t hide your proud smile.

“Your Majesty, you were quite impressive up there,” you tease when you are finally alone, following him as he leads you through the castle hallways, showing you around. “So were you, my queen,” Wonwoo smiles back, leaning closer to capture your lips in his. It’s gentle, soothing. There’s nothing more than you could want at the moment.

Well, maybe except for one thing.

You kiss him back, pressing your lips against his harsher, with more need. His eyes widen in surprise but he quickly closes them again and cups your cheek, bringing you closer. “How about you show me those beds you were speaking so highly of before?” You suggest and he doesn’t hesitate, holding onto your hand tightly as he pulls you forward, finding his bedroom in the mix of the doors.

Just as the door closes behind you, before you can get the chance to look around, he pushes your body onto the door, his kiss hungry. You smile into the kiss, hooking your arms around his neck. His hand slides up and down on your thigh, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as his kisses move lower, down to your collarbone.

“Your Majesty,” you breathe out, sending shivers down his spine. You place your hand on his chest and push him away with ease, the grin on his face never disappearing as he backs to his bed until his legs hit the frame. He sits down, his eyes wandering from your face to your body. “You should celebrate your first day as the king.”

“Oh, believe me, I have plans,” he holds your hand, pulling you closer. He positions you between his legs, tightly holding onto your waist as he looks up at you. You scoff at the sight, running your fingers through his hair. He looks almost desperate. Yeah, you could imagine looking at him like this for the rest of your life.

“Mhm?” You hum with a smile as he presses a kiss on your lower belly. “Are you sure? Because I have my own plans.”

“Yeah?” He questions, his kisses going lower. He doesn’t look at you again, entirely focused on your thigh now. “Tell me about them.” You smirk, your hands wrapping around both of his horns and pulling on them, causing him to raise his head as he whines. “They involve this pretty demon and his really nice cock.”

He swallows, his breath hitching as he gazes into your eyes. “You’re going to drive me insane,” he mumbles, twitching slightly under your touch. “How about I ride you insane instead?” You suggest and you can see his mind short circuit under you. You chuckle, pushing him down onto his back. He moves up on the bed so his legs aren’t hanging out of the frame while you sit on his lap, leaning closer to him again. “All of you, in your real form,” you whisper, the hot breath on his ear making him shake.

“You want to…”

“Everything,” you nod, your hands sliding under him. He prompts himself up on his elbows, watching you curiously. You roam his back until your fingers find the scars from his wings. “Are you sure?” He asks quietly, his words barely above a whisper. “So sure,” you assure him, sitting back up again. His eyes wander all over your figure, trying to see what you wanted to achieve with this.

Still, he listens, pushing out both his wings and his tail. He shifts uncomfortably at first but gets used to it soon after when you kiss him again. He wraps his hands around your waist, holding you. When you pull away, there’s a smirk on your face. He narrows his eyes as if to see through you, trying to figure out if he should be excited or scared.

“I want to try something,” you say and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t worry, it’ll feel good,” you smile, your hand softly brushing over his clothed boner. He groans, his hips instinctively thrusting up. “What do you think?” You coo, kissing his cheek. “Do you want to taste me?”

There’s nothing he could protest about. You, on top of him, asking him if he wants to taste you? He’d be a fool to refuse something like that. And so, he lets you do whatever you want, not saying anything as you make a pair of your fire ropes and use it to tie his hands to the bed. He stays silent even when you take off your clothes, his eyes glued to your body. He wasn’t in hell anymore. No matter how he looked at it, this was heaven.

“Come here,” he whines impatiently, making you chuckle. You move up, carefully positioning yourself on top of his face, sitting down when he gives you a nod. Your eyes roll back almost immediately, his tongue sliding between your folds and sucking on your clit as if his life depended on it. You grab onto the bed frame at first, grinding your hips on top of him. However, as his whines reach your ears, you get a better idea.

You look down at him, moaning just at the sight. You let go of the bed and hold onto his horns instead, the loud moan that leaves his lips after a pure pleasure to your ears. You continue riding his face while occasionally squeezing or pulling at his horns, driving him just a bit more crazy each time.

“Fuck–shit, Wonwoo,” your movements slow down as you get closer to your climax. He has to fight everything in him not to break the stupid ropes apart and force you onto his face harsher so he could drive you over the edge when he notices how you shake, resisting the urge by chasing after your clit instead. “So good,” he praises, moaning as his cock twitches in his pants. “Taste so fucking good, baby.”

Your breath grows heavier as you finish on his tongue, moving back to sit on his chest instead as you try to catch your breath. When your eyes fall to his face, he is smirking. You feel your heart skip a beat as he licks his lips, shaking his hands impatiently. “Come on, baby, untie me now.” You chuckle, shaking your head at him. “I don’t think so,” you whisper into his ear, pulling on his horns again, enjoying the way his brows twitch and he closes his eyes. He moves his hands again, with more force this time. Still, he doesn’t actually try to get out of the ropes.

Wonwoo groans as he watches you, throwing his head back as soon as you collect yourself and start exploring his body. It starts with his horns, watching to see his reaction every time you touch them, then you slowly move across his face to his chest, tracing his bare skin under his shirt. His eyes widen again when you move to touch his wings, the feeling of your cold fingertips sending shivers through his body.

You pull down his pants next, scoffing at how messy his underwear is by now, his precum leaking through the fabric. You grab his tail, gently moving your hand over it until you get to the end and pull, making him gasp. “You’re so sensitive,” you tease him, watching his dick twitch. “What are we going to do about this?” You coo softly, brushing your hand over his crotch.

“Baby, please,” he whines, thrusting his hips up against the air. You shake your head, pulling down his underwear with ease. He breathes out in relief when you free his cock, watching as you wrap your hand around the base. “I said I’ll ride you insane, didn’t I?” You ask innocently, aligning yourself above his cock as you slowly sit down, a whine escaping your lips.

Wonwoo watches you move on his cock, your mouth wide open as he thrusts his hips into you as fast as he can, almost as if it was revenge for teasing him before. You try to slow down, pull out or anything, but every time you’re only met with a harsher trust, full of need. “Wa-Wait, let me,” you say in between moans, his lips turning up into a smirk. “After you untie me,” he says, thrusting into you after each word.

You gasp, shaking your head in protest. “N-No,” you disagree, quickly finding his tail and pulling on it to get the upper hand again. He groans, grabbing the ropes around his hands and pulling on them fiercely. You grin again when his thrusts turn sloppy and he glances at you. “Please,” he begs and your head goes blank for a second. “Want to touch you, feel you.”

Your eyes roll back at his words, bouncing on his cock slowly again. You sigh as you gaze into his eyes, leaning down and pressing your lips on his. “Okay,” you whisper, and without another second of hesitation, he tears the rope apart, freeing his hands on his own. He holds your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he helps you move up and down, his lips never leaving yours.

The room is shortly after filled with the mixture of your and his moans, the smell of your sweaty bodies filling the air. You don’t care at all, ignoring the sweat on your forehead as his cock slides in and out of you. You kiss his collarbone, muffling your whines against his skin as you leave love bites all over his neck, marking him yours.

“I’m gonna–” he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence as you speed your movements, driving him over the edge. Your mouth falls open as he fills you up, slipping his cock out after a few more trusts. You fall right beside him on the bed, trying to catch your breath as you feel his cum running down your body. He prompts himself up on his elbows quickly, pushing his wings back into his body so there is enough space. He turns to you, cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another kiss.

You smile, kissing him back without hesitation. He gazes into your eyes, giving you one of his grins. The same grin you’re slowly falling in love with. He presses his forehead on yours, breathing heavily. “This was great,” he mumbles and you hum in response with a smile. “Can’t wait to repeat it,” you chuckle, kissing him again.

Just as he turns you so you would be under him and places wet kisses on your neck, a sharp knock on the door interrupts him. “Your Majesty, are you in there?” He closes his eyes in protest, acting as if staying silent could help him avoid whoever was outside the door. “We need to discuss a few things regarding your duties. We should also talk about what we’re going to do with the knights, sir.”

Wonwoo groans when the voice doesn’t leave, plopping back down on the bed beside you. You laugh at him, encouraging him to get up. He tries to argue, but the man behind the door only insists more and he is left with no other choice. He’ll just have to enjoy you again later.

10 years later

The laughter of your husband mixed with your daughter’s fills your ears and you watch them run around the forest while you walk behind. You know you could have taken the carriage or fly, but there was something nostalgic about walking through here.

“She has him wrapped around her little finger,” Chan beside you laughs, watching the scene ahead. You chuckle, glancing at him and his wife. “If your son didn’t have a lesson with Seokmin today, you would be out there running with them, “ you point out and he rolls his eyes. He doesn’t argue, though.

“Mom! Are we almost there?” Your daughter runs to you, leaving Wonwoo forgotten. He scoffs in disbelief as he watches the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest. You shake your head at him, picking up the little devil. Literally.

“You see those houses ahead?” You point and her eyes follow your finger. “It’s right there,” you smile. She nods, resting her head on your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you to dad so he can carry you, yeah?” She shakes her head in disagreement, making you chuckle. “How about uncle Chan then?” You suggest, watching as she raises her head to look at the blond beside you. She thinks for a second and then nods.

“Alright, come here, princess,” he takes her from you and you walk to Wonwoo, wrapping your arm around his. “She can’t honestly prefer him over me, right?” He asks, hurt. You laugh at him, shaking your head. “She’s a kid. You’re going to bore her from time to time. Let her play with Chan and Jisoo for now, it’s no big deal.”

And so, for the rest of the walk, your daughter stays with the two while you lead the way to the Little Village, a smile spreading across your face immediately when you get closer. It’s been years since you’ve been here.

“Ara! Be careful!” Wonwoo calls after your daughter as she jumps off Chan’s arms and runs around the moment you reach the center, examining every corner she can. He sighs and you shake your head slightly. “I’ll go find Mingyu and you look after her,” you proclaim, kissing your husband’s cheek. However, before you can turn around and do as you said, a strong voice interrupts you. “There’ll be no need for that, firefly.”

Your smile grows wider as you land your eyes on the tall man, pulling him into a hug immediately. It’s only when you pull away that you notice the little human hiding behind his leg, crouching down to be at the same height. “And who might this be?”

“You have a son?” Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he comes closer to greet the man as well. “For six years now,” Mingyu nods with a small laugh, looking down at him. “Siwoo, it’s okay. Those are my friends.” He carefully steps forward, watching you and Wonwoo. “What are you doing here?” He asks, glancing back at Wonwoo.

“We came to visit,” you shrug, calling after Ara to come join you. “You still have to show me the mother of your son, remember?”

Mingyu chuckles, nodding. “Come join us for lunch then,” he offers and without a second thought, you agree.

His house is still the same it was years ago, except for a few new toys lying around and his son’s clothes everywhere on the couch. You have to smile. “I’ve heard a lot about all of you,” Mingyu’s wife introduces herself, tugging her brown hair behind her ears. You shake her hand immediately, saying how lovely it is to finally meet her. Who would have thought it’d take you ten whole years to come back here?

After Mingyu quickly cleans up all of the mess in the living room, you all gather on the couch, leaving your kids to play on their own in Siwoo’s room. Ara was quick to befriend him, showing off her powers to him. He was scared at first, hiding behind the table, but when she made a fire snowflake in her hand, he peaked out again, curious.

“So, the demon queen,” Mingyu starts, leaning back in his chair as he watches you proudly. “And a famous knight,” he adds, creating a smile on your face. “You heard?”

“Jeonghan seems to know a lot of things,” he shrugs casually. His eyes flicker from Wonwoo back to you, smiling warmly. “I’m glad you got to be everything at once like you wanted.”

You feel your eyes water at his words, the memories of the past ten years running through your mind. You did do everything you wanted. You managed to balance people’s expectations with what you always dreamed of and made the best of it. It couldn’t have been any better.

“Hadn’t it been for her, the kingdom would be a mess,” Jisoo nods. You groan, closing your eyes in embarrassment as praises start to leave your friends’ lips, extolling you as if you were some sort of goddess. “It’s nothing like that,” you quickly shake your head. “Oh, no, she’s right, it’s not,” Wonwoo agrees, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “It’s so much better.”

And so, you chat throughout the whole afternoon with your old friends, talking about everything that comes to mind at the moment. You mention how much Ara takes after her father, and Wonwoo adds that she has your eyes. Chan talks about his son as well, ranting about how he and Seokmin’s son never leave each other’s side, bothering all of you with their crazy ideas.

Mingyu also tells you about his son, daydreaming about his wife while she sits right beside him, and you have to smile. You know he’s found a great woman just when you look at them. You also find out Jeonghan had finally moved into the village as well, even though he often leaves to visit heaven still, staying civil with the rest of the angels.

It feels good to know everyone is doing well.

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