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fridgemissionmaster · 1 month ago

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What They Do When They Miss You (Full Cast + OCs)

Lucifer

Like how you can't teach an old dog new tricks, he turns to old habits:

It’s rather easy to not think of you, after all his brothers and Diavolo make sure he’s always kept busy… for the most part.

But then the night rolls-in.

The quiet always unnerved him, that’s why he usually had a record playing. You never knew this though. After you arrived and changed his world, his life, he didn’t want it. Your voice was far more soothing than any melody or hymn for an ancient, weary heart.

Not always, but on occasion you’d stay up and keep him company. He didn’t care if you talked or not, if you vented your frustrations about school, or if you sat beside him only your soft breaths being heard as you organized some papers in the endless stack between you two. If he had a record playing it’d simply be annoying noise. Yet now he finds sleep eludes him without it playing. You left a mark he can only try to patch.

And on exhaustive nights where even that doesn’t help, he pulls out the bottle, roughly ripping the quark out with a loud pop or even breaking the glass’ neck by mistake, the sharp sound making him flinch and the embarrassment that a human could have such control over him even without a command, making his cheeks flush without his lips touching the blue liquid yet.

At the dead of night, he sits in your room after spending an hour at the tomb or in Lilith’s room. He’d never admit to talking to thin air, about his grievances at the last student council meeting, or his breath shuttering at the thought he truly didn’t know what you were doing, if you were safe or not, if you were happy or not… surely you weren’t, otherwise this tightening of his throat would be a silly feeling, not if you weren’t feeling it too.

Mammon

His sticky fingers get the better of him:

Oh, look at that, the gem on that necklace is your favorite color. He needs it.

That shirt, isn’t it made of that material you found really comfy? He needs it.

The vase over there, it looks rather valuable, he could buy you the newest fragrance from Majolish, The Great Mammon just knows you’ll love it. He needs it.

Geez, you’re such a clutz leaving your room in such a state. Sure, it may look clean, but he knows his human, and the place is just a mess. You’d like it if he tides it up a bit for ya. Like he’d take that picture of you and him on the nightstand, can’t let his brothers accidentally break it, and the clothes from your closet, can’t let them get musty and eaten by moths as well as your sheets and quilts, AND, and there’s also the knick-knacks on your shelves they… get dusty, surely they wouldn’t under his care. He’ll also just be taking-

And then there he was, strung up to the ceiling, for no reason! Doesn’t anyone realize he’s your First Man for a reason!? He knows you better than anyone, and he knows he’s the only one who can properly take care of your stuff! He needs to keep them in his room so he can make sure nobody else messes with em’!

All your stuff, safe in his room. His room where he can look and sort through them all day, every item reminding him of something, anything.

Surely they wouldn’t notice one of your pens was missing, right!? Only he’d notice such a detail. And once you get back you won’t either! So it’s fine! A little something you used to pour emotion into writing or work. It’s always with him, to fiddle with when his mind wanders, the clicking sound soothing.

…

Nobody would notice if he took another, right? You’d want him to look after it, and maybe some other things while he’s in your room.

Leviathan

He hides in a world only made for you:

You’d like this anime, too bad you can’t watch it in the human world. Nothing to do for it but record it. There’s also this new game, too bad they announced it after you went back to the human world, but you don’t need to worry, he’s already preordered a copy for you. There’s also the tie-in book, three for you and three for him.

There’s a lot you’d like actually. It feels like whenever you’re busy THAT’S when all the stuff you’d want comes out. Why did you have the leave him.

W-with so much to do!

Now he has to make a list of all the games he’s preordered for you. There’s also the reviews of all the anime he watched you may wanna know about. Then he needs to-

Most of his time is spent behind his monitor, writing, and writing, and writing away. He used to text you these reviews, recommendations, ect. but then his brothers, especially Lucifer made such a stink about it, about he’s ‘spamming’ you, or it was an ‘unreasonable hour’ to be messaging you. So now he’ll just have to be taking up all your time on your return, their fault really.

If you’d listen to him at least. They can’t just steal you away the moment you get back, right?

…

He dose have your favorite game. And newer games, sometimes need updates! S-so, so while those are downloading maybe he could play that.

There’s another list for you, one he made of everything he likes about the game, from the graphics, the music, there are also some reminders of things he thinks even you wouldn’t know, things to show you when you get back.

Satan

Well, if one has a problem, it’s only natural to find a solution:

He’s tried mastering teleportation, still vexes him that the skill still eludes him. Mammon made travel between the realms near impossible via that paths without Diavolo, Barbatos, or Lucifer interfering.

There MUST be a way though, something he’s yet to find.

Then he could see you any time and life would be perfect.

So what to do, what to do.

Legends could be the key perhaps. He spent the first several months of your absence pouring over the tomes in his room, you never know, perhaps now that he was looking for a method to the human world specifically he’d notice something he missed before.

Unfortunately there wasn’t much.

No matter, there were still libraries to scour through.

And if that didn’t… well…

He’ll find something, he will. He may need to turn his thinking around, quit RAD to pour his all into this search. There IS something he just knows it. He just needs to hunt that method down and take it for his own.

He will see you, he will find you, you’ll both bathe under the sunlight on earth, watch as it raises and sets, no brothers to bother the pair of you. Perhaps even surprise you, show up with a thousand flowers right outside your door. Maybe sneak off for a midnight tryst when you can’t sleep.

Sure you could summon him, but how could he surprise you then, or find you when you’re busy, or see you when he wants and needs you? He’ll find a way, don’t you worry, just wait for him, please.

Asmodeus

Mirrors and screens can only do so much, but it’s better than nothing:

Even his sighs are beautiful, but what do they mean when you’re not here to tell him so, to sooth his worries and hold him close.

Thankfully he took all those pictures of you before you left.

He has one for every occasion, ones of you at RAD when classes are being too troublesome. Ones of your smiling face for… everything really, to lift his mood, to give him motivation to just a little better everyday, when he’s board, when he’s sleepy, when he found that cute new top he just knew you’d love and knew would compliment your complexion perfectly, but double checking your references never hurt anybody.

And who is he to keep all these for himself. Of course there were some he deemed for his eyes only, but he just feels so bad for all those poor demons out there who just have nothing.

His days are mostly spent scrolling through his many, Many, MANY albums of you, searching for just the perfect one to post to Devilgram that day. The world can’t be deprived of such beauty, you must understand.

Soon a trend starts, #(insert number) of days MC has been gone. Asmo always has a new post for the tags for every day, he has enough to last for a few centuries. It’s an okay amount but really you need to get back soon so he can take more.

And don’t you worry, there’s not only pictures of you. Of course, with the tag of how many days you’ve been gone he’s taken 1(0000000000000000000) of himself for each day of your departure, he knows you’ll have missed him, so don’t you worry cuttiepatootie, he’s got you covered.

And so here you’ve left him wanting, looking in the mirror waiting for you to just appear in the empty space he leaves beside himself while he get’s himself ready for the next photo.

Beelzebub

Just as with all of his other feelings, it eats him alive:

For Beelzebub even before food, his family is at the forefront of his mind, and that, includes you. Whether it be the nightmares that plage his sleep, or the joy at hearing his brothers just chatting in the next room over, or the thought of you that’s just as haunting as it is comforting.

When he goes shopping whoever is minding him don’t point out how he doesn’t need to get your favorite snacks. There’s too much free time so he filles it by tripling his workout routine, makes it harder for the mind to wander. He knows it isn’t the safest yet on those long jogs he turns up the volume on his D.D.D., getting lost in your favorite songs. Then, when his belly is good and empty, he can focus on that pain, that gnawing more bearable. He hates seeing your spot at the table empty though.

It's… not a powerful feeling, he can go about his day to day, but it’s-

No, YOU’RE always there.

And it’s nice, in it’s own way. His family is always a part of him.

So he buys your favorite foods when it’s his turn to do the grocery shopping so that should you suddenly drop-in again he can already make the best feast for you. With his workout routine being tougher he has all the more reason to ask for your help like being the extra weight on his back for pushups or having you keep count, and these are very serious jobs so his brothers aren’t allowed to interrupt, just you and him for a time. He could also carry you on his jogs and sing along to your tunes. Finally once the day is getting late and it’s time for dinner he can stuff himself beside you, you and his brothers merrily chatting away filling him more than anything else possibly could.

The sweetest of daydreams to think of while waiting for you.

Belphegor

Miss you, why, when he can see you anytime:

Day, night, sleeping, napping, whatever the case may be, if you’re resting, he’ll be there. Life is easier if you just put effort in the things that matter and don’t bother with anything else, and thankfully that’s never any less true here.

Your dreams are easy to find, practically second nature for the demon. For a being such as he, the ethereal world of mixing, melding thoughts and emotions are almost just as real as the waking world.

So it’s just up to you, sleep, lie down on the couch and meet up with him. Want to go for a stroll on the Milky Way, or perhaps dance on the wind, it’s up to you. Why don’t you just stay, it’s not like there’s anything better to do.

Sleeping’s better than going back to the waking world. It’s filled with nothing but pain and death. It’s cozy, and warm, and safe, and kind here. Why must stupid human bodies always wake up.

And so you leave him.

All alone.

…

You’re very cruel you know, making this place so lovely only to rip it away.

No more dreaming till you come back, there’s no point.

Please come back soon. Sure he’s waiting, always waiting for your return, but if you’re not going to be here by his side to make the waking world warm and kind or the dreaming world safe and cozy then what’s the point of either?

Diavolo

There won’t be a world where he’d ever have to know of such pain again:

Funnily enough, he’s doing better than ever. Sure, life is a lot more boring with your absence, but he

Has.

Goal.

It’s perfect, simple really. With the exchange program having been a success, you’ll have to come back for another, and another, there’s no one better than you to tell the progress of the Devildom in accommodating your people, and when the Devildom dose get to that place surely you wouldn’t mind being the official human representative full time. And with you being such a high standing official and honored guest/resident it’s only natural you’d just have to stay at the royal palace with him.

He just needs to make this world.

It will be a lot of work but it will be worth it. Sure his hands may get bruised, cut, bloodied, broken, dirty, or sore but then, once everything is said and done, surely life would be perfect.

Sometimes motivation does wane and as much as he cherishes your calls and texts, it’s still not the same as having you HERE, to feel the warmth of your hands in his. Sometimes when you’re on call he’ll slink away from this desk, sneak down the halls, and slip into that little room. He tenderly pulls out the albums so you don’t hear anything and ask what he’s doing, he adores your day to day, see how humans, you, go about your life. And as you talk he’ll open one of those many albums, each practically filled to bursting with photos of you and those brothers and the shenanigans you lot would drag him or he drag you into.

Had he ever told you, just how much you mean to him? Just how much you’ve changed his life? How you’ve brought much more joy than even the chaos of his home could?

… What better place to tell you such things than a world where you’d never have to leave again, where you could stay without worry, a world where humans and demons lived hand in hand, surely the rest of his people deserved the kind of joy you’ve brought to him.

Barbatos

Indulging in memories, that’s not a form of time travel, right?:

The day to day is always busy for a butler, but especially the one of the (temporary) Demon Lord. His thoughts are always filled with the most important things, you must understand.

He awakes bright and early before any other creature dare. Standing before the mirror, adjusting the buttons, smoothing out the outer coat, floofing the ruffles on his shoulder as you would in a playful mood, tapping the ends of his shoes to the floor testing if they’re snug enough, and giving his warm gloves one last taught pull before making his way to the Little Ds’ rooms to assign them their duties for the day.

He ties on the apron you bought him. He still doesn’t understand why ‘Kiss the cook’ is such a prolific phrase on the garment in the human world, but who is he to comment when you always take the fabric’s advice upon seeing him in it. It had been a few days so surely the Young Master would be craving some bloody lignin berries with his pancakes. Perhaps some Griffin eggs on the side? Diavolo does have more paperwork than usual so the extra treat would give him the boost he needs to not run off as soon.

The garden also must be tended to for the day. There are the blazing spuds you planted. Still not ready yet it seems. Good, it’d be a shame if you weren’t here when they were at their peak. The Hanging Shivering Fuchsias you watered the last day you were here looked especially lovely in the morning dew. Seemed the pickles could use some extra attention though.

There was the evening shopping too, Diavolo requires the freshest ingredients. You joined him for these shopping trips often. It was always a lovely chance to teach you of some of the local delicacies. He finds to odd now to not be looking to his side and asking your thoughts, if anything caught your eye, or if anything reminded you of home.

It’s natural to be lost in thought, there’s a lot too keep track of after all. However much there is though, every night he’s always left with the same one as he takes off those gloves placing them aside. How strange and charming it was that they always felt so warm after you held them for the first time. Something to look forward too for tomorrow as he planned out the day.

Luke

Well, being a Guardian Angel has it’s perks:

Angels are not to interfere in the lives of humans ever, with two exceptions. One! Father gives the order to do so on his behalf. Something like that hadn’t happened in a very long time though… Two! When acting as a Guardian Angel. Of course there were limitations for what he could do, but it was enough to keep you safe!

One can’t work directly, but there was plenty he could do for you! Like scooching your slippers a little closer to your bed so your feet don’t end up hitting the cold floor or when you’ve lost something if he finds it, he’ll move it to a slightly more obvious place you might have over looked.

It hurts worse sometimes being able to do these little things and not being able to do a thing when the bigger, badder stuff happens. His eyes get misty when you burn your hand on the stove, or get fired, or get into some accident or The EArtH SHAKES!? IS FATHER MAD AT YOU? ARE YOU OKAY!? Then it’s even worse when you act like nothing happened at all like with the SHAKING! You just go around putting away everything that got knocked over! Is he doing a bad job!? Are you just that used to danger that you don’t care!? How can you not care!? His heart practically breaks for you.

Maybe this started before, when you joined the exchange program. He knew he should have kept a closer eye on you! But don’t worry he’s here for you!

There might not be much he can do, and he can’t always be watching over you but he can help. Every bad thing will lead to something good, he’ll make sure of it. Like your burnt hand gets you to take that break you needed, or because you were fired you’ll get an even better job, or from the shaking and cleaning you finally can find that keepsake you thought you lost.

He’d never admit it to anyone, let alone himself but something deep in him does hope you return to the Devildom soon, then you can be together again, and he can protect you, for real.

Simeon

… Is it fanfic if you write about your friend?:

Simeone heard the term from Leviathan once. Fanfiction. He’s not quite sure he’d consider himself your fan perse, yet there he was, pages, upon pages, upon pages of writing about you, about what you and he could be doing together if not for this distance, about what you could be doing.

It felt… wrong? in a way, to do this. This wasn’t one of his characters that lived in his head, facts of things he knows you’re doing. He’s just… making stuff up with you in mind.

He writes of you laying in a field, some place as close to the Celestial Realm as the Human World could get to, you at peace, and happy, watching as clouds roll by.

There’s another of you and he sitting on the beach watching the sun set. He doesn’t actually know what a sunset looks like, but there’s something so enchanting about it, something so human, so imperfect about the idea, something so… something he could only hope to see with you.

He wrote about what he’d say to you, his longing, his fears, his silly ideas, confess his selfishness of wanting to keep you all to himself just for a short while and of you returning those feelings in kind.

It almost feels bad, like he’s dictating your actions, it’s not the same as when you worked together on those plays together, and yet despite this odd growing pit in his stomach, he can’t stop. This being something that calls to him when thoughts turn back to you and they’re too much to bare without doing something.

And so when he has the time, he can’t keep himself busy, or when he tries thinking of Henry and you begin to take his place instead, it’d only be natural to write of you instead, right?

Solomon

Laugh:

Things are so much simpler when you’re in the human world where you belong. No demons, angels, or other such creatures to fight for your attention! It’s amazing!

But fate can be cruel and he finds always, ALWAYS at least one of you is in the Devildom.

Loneliness and Solomon were no strangers, the man knew that feeling all too well in fact, however, you made it hurt worse. He was used to it, the rejection, the being kept at arms distance and him doing the same to others, the fear and disgust in their eyes, yet you didn’t. You approached him, drawing him closer and closer, how could you expect to give a thirsty man water in the desert and not have him on your heels desperate for more.

Yet there are those brothers, and royalty, and angels, and even death fighting for you embrace.

It feels the worst when you’re in the same room and no matter what they consuming you whole.

You’re a human in a new and unfamiliar world, so he’ll look after you.

He can’t help but smile seeing anyone less by your side. At him successfully distracting Lucifer with the question of a pact. He loves it when that one innocuous comment from him sends the rest into a fight giving him the chance whisk you away and laugh at their foolishness. He chuckles when he doesn’t need to do a thing at all and their own follies get the better of them and they don’t even realize what they’re missing out on.

If they knew he was mad or upset they’d feed on it, it’d make them just a bit too comfortable, but an unflappable smile, that can be just as unnerving as a wicked scowl. Then when at last it’s just you and him, and he’s home at last, no longer alone, just you get to see his real smile, one of relief.

Thirteen

It’s easier to hope to not see you too soon:

That thought makes things easier, considering who she is, and what her job is. It wouldn’t be the worst thing for you to go, you could always be by her side then, but it wouldn’t be the same as you are now, alive. It’s much more fun and interesting!

And as boring as waiting can be, she much rather wait for your return to the Devildom than you meeting her scythe for the second time. She would go and visit you, but she only really can when working and it might not be the best idea to have you follow her around and others start spreading rumors of you being cursed or something. Then again… well if she were to invite you along it’d be entirely up to you if you went or not. Maybe that is something to consider for a later date.

There’s only so long one can chase around Solomon though, or go shopping, or try meeting new people, or… there’s a lot the reaper has tried in her long, long, long ‘life’ but the time with you is always the most thrilling. Perhaps not the best life for a human but you at least seem to enjoy yourself despite your… she could never land on if you either had incredibly good or bad luck but, it certainly was something to behold.

It’s easy to pass by the days tinkering, and toying, and fiddling away till her cave was filled with new traps for your perusal, but on occasion she’ll pause. Sometimes it’s to wonder what you’d think. Sometimes it’s how you’d react when she unleashes it upon your reunion. Sometimes it’s just how you’d want to paint it. Inevitability the squeaking of metal or the snapping of wood, or stupid Solomon’s voice brings her back and you’re left to rest for a time. Thoughts of you came back though, they always do. That’s at least one thing she’s certain of, aside from your long life and bright flame. She can wait, there’s plenty of time yet still to burn.

Raphael

Pain is a trial, something to be embraced:

Father is cruel as he is kind, strict and wrathful yet understanding and loving.

This… shallow hollowness, he finds the feeling hard to describe, must be something similar to Father. It took root when his siblings first fell and it never truly went away. Sure there were more important things to think on, to work on, to refine, to improve, it was something he tolerated or tried ignoring. There wasn’t much he could do about the feeling anyway so why bother?

It was different after you though. For his siblings, yes they did wrong, but perhaps, one day Father would see their actions weren’t malicious, they just loved so much and didn’t know how to express it when they were scared for one another. You however… There was no real reason why you couldn’t be together now, to share hellos and see you laters. He could text you maybe, but it wouldn’t alleviate this feeling, just make it worse the longer your time apart is.

He finds it inspiring sometimes. Sitting on a couch unable to decide what to sew or embroider next. The decision is always easy now, what would you like?

During training he’s able to put in this energy he never knew he had that just sat dormant within. His swings are faster, more power can be utilized.

You grow in strength everyday, you could easily surpass Solomon at this rate, something that should terrify him, yet he wants to stand toe to toe with you. How things were going, you’d probably save his life. That wouldn’t do, you have enough people relying on you, if someone was going to be saving the other let him save you for a change. You deserve the break.

So he’ll keep this feeling close and this new part of himself, it hasn’t been causing any trouble so far, so he didn’t see much reason to do anything about it.

Mephistopheles

How dare you, he must curse you in kind, it’s too precious of a gift:

You are no human! You are a curse, a plague! You’ve went and made yourself impossible to ever forget. Do you even realize what that means? Do you truly understand just what you’ve given him? Your short life, and you’ve chosen to give part of that to him so freely! And now he’s saddled with the responsibility of keeping that part of you alive within himself because who knows when you’ll just keel over from how fragile you are!

And now you just expect to keep him waiting. He just has to sit here in anticipation for your return so he can give you the same gift! How rude!

Never again will you be able to doze off without wishing he was beside you. He will make sure your drifting thoughts are of him, and him alone.

He’s planning every moment of your return. Demons live much longer than humans so for him to give you the equivalent of what you’ve gifted him, you won’t be having any free time for a very long time. For you, for him it’s practically nothing, but be sure it will be the most amazing moments for your entire existence! Just recompence in his opinion.

Don’t plan anything, he has date plans for you for a few months. He would have the next few years planned out by the time you see one another again, but it can’t be anything less than perfect. There’s also always something new add. His finger is on the pulse of the Devildom, from the new hole in the wall eatery few have tried but raved about, or the Three Legged Crow’s plans on investing in at home entertainment, there’s always something new to add and see if they fit into his plans.

Why did you do this, take the little free time he had and twist his arm into dedicating them to you. He could be relaxing, but no, the rarer times he’s not busy he finds your life in his mind. Surely a curse most fowl that he will give you one of his own.

Aurum

Writing so you don’t miss a moment:

The evenings in the bar are long, but the days even longer. They lay on the sofa half asleep, one thought on their mind. The nights felt shorter when you visited. He also missed the anticipation he held in his chest, locking up the front doors only for you to pop up and walk him back home. He always told you he didn’t like seeing you out so late, yet you’d just say the same back. At least they had work and you… you were just damn too sweet.

He wondered, but couldn’t just ask if you felt the same, it’d turn awkward if you didn’t and well… His feelings probably hurt you enough already.

But, by chance, if you did, surely you’d like to hear from him?

Mammon raised a brow and questioned how Aurum hadn’t gottn your number yet and practically threw his phone into the man’s face to copy your contact info upon seeing the letter and hearing Aurum’s request for him to play mail boy! The demon still immediately pocketed the letter but, this was ridiculous. Even more so when Aurum refused to copy your info!

Was he perhaps a bit too presumptuous about your relationship? Texting would be a lot more casual than a hand written letter, but they knew how creepy it could feel when someone got your contact info without you being the one to give it out. Thankfully he didn’t have to ruminate on it for long, Mammon calling, saying you had a letter for him!

The patrons thankfully always provided with good stories for the man to share, and you always wrote of whatever misadventures and the brothers got up to. Sometimes Mammon would look over their shoulder, interject about the goings on, usually about you ‘exaggerating’ things he did. He also liked not telling stories, just news, or this off looking tomato he found at the market, and you’d tell him of the day to day in the Devildom, about the ingredients you thought he’d want to try experimenting with or how the library got an updated fae law book you could borrow for him if he wanted.

It was nice summoning Mammon every few days for his visit and trading your letter for theirs. It hurt, but you seemed to get that and would talk more about yourself for a time or just about Mammon. He admitted once, it felt kinda like giving each other a piece of home, these letters, and that he hoped you felt the same.

Matoi

You’re always together, there’s no need for that:

They told you before, didn’t they? The world of yokai and the world of humans are one in the same, intrinsically connected, one effects the other just as much as the past effects the future and the future effects the past. Humans and the Lantern People sewed one another, raised one another, and return to the earth hand in hand. The land may be vast, but the land is still earth, you are both earth, thus you are always connected.

But it’s okay if this hasn’t sunk into your soul and bones yet. You know, even if you don’t realize.

Knowledge doesn’t always sway the heart though.

They whittle. Not the tool carving for the village, or toys for the kids.

They hop through the forests till something catches their fancy. Could be a log, perhaps a branch but it has to be something that screams ‘you’. It’s rarer for them to have a plan for what the item will be. They chip away till the wood begins to take shape and they see what it wishes to be. They sing, ancient songs long forgotten but still they are songs of love, a song for you, one you’d never get to hear. Unless you asked but they wouldn’t on their own, their body always heats up from the embarrassment of being so focused on by one person, let alone you.

These projects, if they hadn’t made Mephistopheles’ cane, they would say each and every one was their magnum opus. Each had thoughts of you poured into them. A paperweight, a figure, some pencils, a chair, the amount of these carved gifts Matoi has given you practically every time you meet, you could not keep track of. They’ve made you furniture as if knowing the House of Lamentation needed a new one, not that was too hard of a guess with how destructive the brothers are. They’ve made you a ring that perfectly fit your ring finger. They made so many things, the only thing you could be certain was that they must spend most of their free time making these for you.

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mx-pastelwriting · 2 months ago

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DA HC - Celebrating Your Anniversary

Dragon Age x GN! Reader

Summary: How they would celebrate your anniversary.

Warnings: Established Relationship, Fluff, Anniversary, Kissing, Dates, Fancy Dinners, Camping

Characters: Solas, Varric Tethras, Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull, Thom Ranier (Blackwall), Lucanis Dellamorte, Emmrich Volkarin, Lace Harding

- Didn't proofread much. I just slammed them into three grammar checkers, so have fun!

Solas

- Solas would remember your anniversary, but even if he didn't, you wouldn't know, as he makes every day with you feel as if it were your anniversary. Being his, finally his, he makes sure you know he has only eyes for you. Making sure you feel that he is yours, you are his.

- Yearly anniversaries, but monthly anniversaries, are not off the table. Taking the yearly dates more seriously, with monthly being a day of finding little surprises in places that are common to you. Leaving your favorite things in those spots, seeing as his face is plastered with a huge smile once you bring the gifts to his attention when finding them.

- The yearly anniversaries would be him worshiping you like a god, more than usual, of course. Almost refuses to have you lift a finger as he fills the day with surprises. Waking to the room being filled with glowing magic, spelling out your name and words of love, with the afternoon being filled with scenic views with shows of ancient elven magic. Ending the day with dinner and a slow dance, holding your body close, warming more than your cheeks, before playing a few songs that he composed on the piano, inspired heavily by his love for you.

- Never will he miss your anniversary but has a chance of forgetting it. In his mind, doing things with a bit of extra love to make it up to you out of guilt does things with extra love and care. Though with enough time or love, you could get the confession of his slip of the mind, knowing he couldn't lie when it comes to you.

- Making the days of your anniversary feel like they last forever; once Solas starts, he can't bear to stop loving your smile. Swearing the smile you wear once that date comes around is different, as much as you plead for him to let you spoil him back. Even when giving in to your pleas, he always finds a way to spoil you right back just to see that smile.

Setting down a plate of Orlesian frilly cakes in front of Solas, making him look up from his notes with pointed ears twitching. Greeted lovingly by a pair of violet eyes, seeing as Solas's eyes crease from the smile that stretched across his lips.

With a swift action, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in. Body pressed against his chest, thanking you with kisses that tickled your skin, making you squirm in his hold. Stopping the attack, watching him pull something from under his notes, Solas's eyes watched closely as your face lit up at his gift. Soaking in the smile that lined your lips, hoping it would last forever.

Varric Tethras

- Most of the time he would remember it's your anniversary, joking about it in bed, cuddled up warmly if he had remembered what day it was. Dances around the answer if he had forgotten, but eventually, you'd get it out of him that he did forget with a reminder it was only morning, and he has the whole day to make you forget he ever did.

- Celebrate your yearly and monthly anniversaries, though monthly ones are more spotty in celebration. Knowing if he remembers those when finding papers around the place that tell short stories of all the times he found himself falling in love with you all over again.

- Yearly anniversaries would be Varric trying his best to be the perfect man, with halfway through the day he gives up going back to being the man you love instead of an overly romantic guy that takes you to fancy restaurants. When all you want is to just be with him drinking and have Varric chew off your ear with stories that you’ve heard millions of times, but you’d never tell him that.

- Has missed your anniversary at least once since you've been together. A day filled with apologies and his mood being a bit down, trying his best to make it up to you. Gifting you things over the day. Little things that he says remind him of you, giving you a first read of your favorite book series of his, and rare home-cooked dinners.

- Varric is always sweet on you, even after your anniversary. The tender moments don't stop, though the moments are now filled with more jokes than before he loves you just as much as he does during your anniversary, now with more jokes filling those moments.

Watching Varric adoring every smile and face scrunch he pulled while telling you a story he's told you a hundred times, never telling him that fact, though, taking it as an opportunity to just watch him.

Soaking in his mere existence, every smile, frown, and furrow of his brow. Every move makes your mind melt as you're reminded why you feel head over heels for the man. That is until he catches you staring, breaking your longing stare with a charming kiss on the cheek.

Cullen Rutherford

- Very spotty when it comes to remembering it's your anniversary, but you give him grace, as most of the time he has a lot on his plate. Reminding him gently every morning on that date it's your anniversary, with a quick curse to himself, he tries to play it off just to panic for the rest of the morning trying to think and plan something for that day.

- Cause of his busy schedule, he prefers to celebrate yearly, but if he's reminded, a gift might end up on your desk or nightstand. Even with the yearly dates, he still has to do some work but tries to plan around it days before if he remembers days before.

- Once Cullen's done with work, he asks shyly for you to dress nicely; that is unless you have something for him once he comes out of his office. Then he stays in the whole night. But if you don't, he takes you away riding on a horse with the sunset in the background, just to arrive at the most breathtaking place. Having packed wine and cheese, wanting to share the sunset with you, telling you of how it reminded him of you and the first night he held you close.

- Having missed your anniversary from being on the battlefield commanding an army or locked away in his office, stumped with letters to write. Walking into the office to find him stressed or just passed out on the desk, ink staining his face when you wake him. Dragging him to bed, letting the commander get some sleep before spoiling him as you remind him what day it is, queuing the flood of apologies.

- The celebration of your anniversary would only last a day and a half, with Cullen being busy and all; he still tries to make up for the lost time from work. Stealing kisses from you the next day, along with leaving little letters or gifts he tucked away in your pockets early in the morning, to then get all shy when you mention them.

Walking into Cullen's office, seeing as he was noise-deep into writing a letter, someone who was not you having the note he had written to you in hand.

Spooking the commander as you sat atop the desk corner, meeting his amber eyes, watch and the rush of surprise disappear before softening at the sight of you—that is until he sees that piece of paper in your hand. Cullen's cheeks flash red as he looks off to the side, laughing nervously, having written the letter in a moment of passion. Needing a few glasses of drinks to get those words out of him without him stuttering and getting all blushy.

Iron Bull

- Qunari don't have anniversaries, so he would remember, as he doesn't practice or have a deep grasp on the celebration. Only having you to learn about it and to even start celebrating it. Even after that, he tries to remember wanting to see you smile.

- Would start either monthly or yearly depending on your preference, but monthlies are a good start, letting him have practice on what to do and what not to do and say. Gets the hang of the physical part of surprising, not so much on the gift-giving, bringing you parts of a dragon or even the whole thing to display somewhere, swearing to yourself if he didn't have horns, he'd be a cat.

- For the first few anniversaries, you would be planning until one day, months before the date, he asked to plan that year. Holding out hope, it wasn't a day of fighting wild beasts he thought were cool, but he surprised you with a night filled with breathtaking views only seen at night and creatures that light up in the darkness of the night. Ending the event at his favorite place to cool off, a hidden-away spring where bugs and creatures glowed around, thriving alongside your love for the bull.

- Misses your anniversary in the start, giving the hunk of a man some grace as this is new to him, coming from a culture that they don't even know who they are related to. Gently reminding the man he would be apologetic, of course, then for the rest of the day, having asked Krem what to do, he tells Bull to make it up to you. Surprising you with flowers and some gifts, with a shower of kisses and charming compliments to resolve everything.

- Learns from you how long the celebration lasts; whether for a day or a week, he goes along with you, not minding even if you want the whole year to feel like it's your anniversary. Over time, he'll read you; every morning when you wake up with a certain smile on your face, he'd know it's another day of celebration, also knowing he'd have to get up soon to make you breakfast in bed only to eat most of it once cuddled back up with you in bed.

Smiling as you watch, Bull sticks another spoonful of breakfast that he made for you that morning into his mouth, then chews happily before continuing with his stories of the time his crew killed a beast.

Hand resting atop your hand as the hunk of a bull sat in your shared bed next to you, not minding at all as he ate from the plate that was meant for you. Loving how he enjoys the days of your anniversary, but for you, it's days of adoring him as he makes the cutest person of himself without even knowing it.

Thom Ranier (Blackwall)

- Would remember it every year. Starting from the night before, being extra gushy and lovey-dovey, holding you close in bed as you both fall asleep. When waking on the day, he pulls out all the stops, making every anniversary a memorable one.

- Celebration only yearly; as much as the man loves you, he feels like monthly anniversaries are too childish. Also, monthly anniversaries made him feel as if the relationship wouldn't last long, needing to celebrate yearly to feel that your relationship would last for the years to come.

- Lets you sleep in, cuddling you before getting up to make breakfast, then bringing it to you in bed before setting up the horses to take you both to a place only he knew. Being in a different place every anniversary, never having seen him with it through the year, filled with entries of times you took his breath away. Always surprises you with a diary he kept for that year. Never having seen him with it through the year, filled with entries of times you took his breath away. It was a hefty book.

- Never misses your anniversary, always wanting to be by your side, always finding moments to write down in his anniversary diary. Being content in his mind, there would never be a possibility for him to miss that date.

- As long as he can pull surprises out of his pocket. Having planned the days out months in advance, making sure every day had a new surprise or special moment to be made into a memory.

Thom's warm hand cupped your cheek as he gazed into your eyes, lips inches from each other yearning to meet. Minutes before, having given you his forest memories of you—how the sun rested warmly on your skin, the way your eyes glow in the ray of the light.

Being only a small exert from the diary, having to close it at his request. Wanting you to read it later, needing this memory to be real instead of written down in a book for later.

Lucanis Dellamorte

- Always remembering it's your anniversary, holding them close to his heart as it's the first time he gets to share that special celebration with anyone. Refusing to fuck it up in any way and also having Spite to remind him every hour as the date nears.

- Early in the relationship, he celebrates your anniversary every month; if it weren't for not wanting to come off too much, he would celebrate every week or day. Really overworks himself wanting to show you every bit of love he has for you on those days. Even if you ask him to relax, a gift would do the same good; he'd never stop going all out for your yearly.

- Taking up a lot of contracts in advance, saving up for your yearly anniversary, taking you away on vacation to anywhere you wanted to go—even if it's just only the two of you for miles, he makes it happen. Working overtime to plan what fun things to do, where to buy your favorite things, and what gifts to get you, with Spite pitching in with a yell of what he wanted to get you.

- Heart drops into his stomach if he missed your anniversary; even with your reassurance that it was okay, it's not to him. Devastated at the thought of having missed the one special day he gets to celebrate the love he had for you in full, for the first person he'd ever been in a relationship with. Finally talking him down, telling the distressed man you would be happy even if he gave you a flower from the garden outside; all you want on that day is him; nothing else matters.

- For what he has planned, he makes sure the celebration lasts for days; even when running out of ideas on the tenth day, Spite is there, giving him more. The two are a menace when putting their heads together. Starting out romantic after the date, then turning into passion, and lastly, hunger.

Heat prickles through your cheeks as Lucanis's lips soften against yours. Minutes ago, admiring the view of the city lights, then feeling a warm hand planted underneath your shin, you were gently guided right into Lucanis's lips.

Accepting the smooth action, kissing him back, feeling through the kiss as he smiled before moving once again. The same hand trailing up, cupping your cheek with lips rough with passion. Doing the same hands combing through his hair as you dive into his kiss, swearing you could hear Spite faintly.

Emmrich Volkarin

- Definitely remembers it, your anniversary, you being the dearest thing to his heart; that date means so much to him, he could never forget it. Planning months in advance, even asking Manfred his opinion from time to time on decisions, wanting every detail of the date to be to die for.

- Would be open to a monthly celebration but has a bit more taste for a yearly anniversary, being able to make everything feel more extraordinary. Worries that the monthly anniversary would dull his yearly surprises. However, if you insisted, he would agree to only having every two- to four-month anniversary, as the man can only pull so many unique date and gift ideas out of him.

- For your yearly, he would take you to see the most extraordinary places in all the world, guiding you in waking the life around the environment, watching everything light up and dance around you both. Speaking of dancing, this man would invite you to dance, head against his shoulder as you danced with the glowing creatures and magic whispering loving whispers into your ear before pulling out the dinner he packed for the picnic you were to have there.

- Rare that he would ever miss your anniversary from forgetfulness, it would be the reason cause of work. Not teaching, but if the Necropolis needed him, he would have to go with a storage promise to make it up to you when he gets back. Making it up to you with days off of teaching and other work, leaving you two just to be together.

- The planned celebration would last no more than a week; by the end of the fourth day, he would be exhausted, leaving you to have a turn to spoil him. Loving every minute of you spoiling him, being the one to now be gifted his favorite things and have surprise meals with his favorite desserts, all for him to enjoy, definitely healing his inner child.

Watching adoringly as Emmrich took a bite of the dessert you made just for him, even when he asked many times if you wanted a bite, you declined every time. Wanting him to have it all to himself, knowing he'd have the biggest smile after.

Chatting your ear off as he did so on many things, watching his lips move with a smile that gets bigger and bigger with every bite. Taking notice with one of his bites as a bit of it stuck to his lip before he could wipe it away, you took the opportunity to wipe it away with your thumb. Stunning Emmrich, watching as you lick it off your thumb. Locking eyes with him, seeing red flashes across his cheeks, before you lean over the table kissing him.

Lace Harding

- Lace can be a bit forgetful, but that's one of the things you love about her. So focused on one thing, not even time mattered—a magical experience when it's with you. Looking into your eyes, amazed every time. If it weren't for the mornings of eyegazing, adoring her amazement at your existence, she would have remembered it was your anniversary.

- Love to celebrate both monthly and yearly anniversaries, though the monthly celebrations would be more a day of never leaving the bedroom. Spending most of the day in each other's arms, soaking up each other's warmth before getting up to make dinner together, only to barely get anything done, not being able to let each other go. Ultimately ending the night at one of your comfort restaurants before getting home and back into bed in her arms.

- Yearly anniversaries would be a camping trip; even if it wasn't your thing, she'd smooth-talk you into it. Lace loves seeing you all sweaty and covered in dirt; she thinks it's hot, so this is more of a gift to herself than to you. Never tell you where she's taking you, even covering your eyes when you get halfway there. Only to show you the more breathtaking view before telling you that's your view for the next few days.

- Finally, when reminding her what the date was, watching as her face drops with a red flush spreading across her whole face. The first words out of her mouth would be a curse before the flood of apologies started. Even with all the reassurance in the world, the only thing that would stop her would be a kiss, feeling as all of her worries melt away. Breaking the kiss, the next words out of her mouth are her swearing she's still going to make it up to you.

- The camping trip would last for five days at most. Having only brought food for the first three days, knowing she'd be busy in your arms, then the last days she'd hunt and gather for the both of you. Telling you she never wants it to end, but when it does, she does love the view of you when hiking back home.

Limbs tangled with each other, lips close to raw, minutes ago, breaking the hungered kiss with the breathtaking view in the background.

The fire had died out hours ago, making you rely on Lace for warmth. Happily doing so with open arms, only to attack you with a shower of kisses. Almost sad you have to go back, away from the night sky, brought out Lace's eyes that adored you greatly.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

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Taglist: @blue124th @n0v4hertz @call-me-a-fool @hellok1ttycake

@covertleathers @doombellow @teleanna

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wonderjanga · 3 months ago

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Marvel is Kryptonian

This takes place when both of them are first starting out. Clark started first. Then, the bubble popped. Now, since this is early in Supes’ career, that means, sure, there are other heroes around, but none else in Metropolis. So, when he heard of a hero that recently popped up who was suspected by the media to be related to him, he grew curious. He was even more curious when he found out the guy had similar powers to him, not to mention they looked alike. So, when he’s at work, writing a paper, imagine his surprise when he sees many people crowding around one of the tvs in the lounge. Lo and behold Captain Marvel, the guy he’s been hearing about is on live, fighting a giant monster somewhere in Kansas— wait a darn minute, he’s right next to Smallville. Looks like this is a job for Superman.

When Supes gets there, the monster goes down with one final punch from the Captain. When Clark saw the man floating, wearing a warm smile with his cape billowing in the wind, he was struck with the idea that maybe, just maybe they could be related after all.

Marvel: *notices Supes and gives a little wave, torn between wondering if Clark is another hero, or a dude who just happens to be wearing spandex*

Superman: *Flies up to him* “Hey.” *awkward*

Marvel: “Hey?” *also awkward*

*awkward silence of two super powered dudes floating mid-air*

Superman: “Right! Uh- Kal-El.” *offers handshake*

Marvel: *wondering what a “Kal-El” is* “I’m Captain Marvel? Or Marvel? Or Cap? You can call me whatever.” *shakes hand*

Superman: *little disappointed Marvel didn’t respond with his own Kryptonian name. Then says some form of greeting in Kryptonian*

Marvel: *confused at the sudden gibberish from the other man until Solomon translated it for him. Responds back also in Kryptonian*

Superman: *face lights up brighter than the sun*

They got burgers after that. They became super good friends after that too! I mean, sure, Clark’s new friend hasn’t really told him anything about himself yet, but that was fine! Marvel’s super nice, and he’s always willing to help the Kryptonian if Clark needs it. I mean for Rao’s sake, when he got mind controlled for the first time, the Captain was the one who held him off. Then when all was set and done he took Clark to get ice cream. (Buddy doesn’t know he’s boarding the Dad Marvel bus)

The media’s picked up on their new friendship too. There are more and then a couple videos of Marvel’s 8 foot 5 self, picking up a 6 foot maybe 4 inch Superman like he’s a toddler. People think they’re brothers, or at least cousins.

Speaking of cousins, we can’t forget about Kara. When Kal said that there was another Kryptonian, she was skeptical, but then she met Marvel. She was excited when she learned he could speak Kryptonian. She also found it awesome he spoke like an old man. The man also had no problem in learning any new traditions from her. And, he also had no problem in teaching her ancient traditions that she had no clue how he knew. The man looked at to be in his mid thirties at most. (He has knowledge of really really really old Kryptonian traditions and history because a long, long time ago a previous Champion got married to a Kryptonian woman and visited the planet whenever they could. Though, it wasn’t often due to their champion duties.) He also gets her to bake with him while he told her stories about old wars and conflicts she hadn’t even heard of. Not only did she get to teach more of their culture to Clark, she got to learn more about it from Cap. (Is also unknowingly boarding the Marvel Dad bus)

Also, Ma and Pa Kent love him and he helps around the farm as much as they allow him.

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #kara zor el #kara danvers #clark kent #superman

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blondejellykitty · 27 days ago

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₊♡ ˚⊹ i know all your secrets ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ percy jackson x mortal reader ୨୧ percy's never told you what or who he really is, a hero, a demigod, the son of an olympian god. when he finds you reading a book of the history of the very family he's secretly apart of its safe to say he isn't too happy. a/n: (1.06k words) the plan i had isn't planning, i hope you see the vison i had for this 🩷

Percy had gotten an iris message from a newer satyr. One, his good friend Grover had introduced him to, asking for help on his first demigod retrieval mission he originally said no.

Not because he didn't want to help him, he actually quite liked the guy but because it was one of the few days he wasn't busy with classes at New Rome. And he was looking forward to spending that time with you, his lovely girlfriend back in New York.

But the sooner the day arrived the more Percy felt worse for not even offering to help the younger satyr. He used one of his professors' phones to call you.

Percy promised you he'd be back the following day at the latest. He'd hoped that it wouldn't take too long to get back to you, especially since the unknowing demigod was in New York already.

By the time he traveled all the way back to Camp Half-Blood, the early hours of the morning had come and gone. Meeting said satyr he was willing to help and off they went to find another godling.

Percy in all honesty lost track of time.

Sure he was paying attention to looking for a 'wild troublemaker with curly brown hair' also known as another child of Hermes. But most of his attention was in his own head thinking of all the things he wanted to do when he got back to you.

Lunch had long been and passed, so the thought of eating dinner with you made him walk a little faster.

They'd been practically up and down all of the city looking for this one half blood. Their scent being carried in the wind or hiding amongst the mortals.

Finally they were led to a big beautifully mosaic building, After staring at the bold lettering above the huge open doors for a moment longer than usual Percy read 'Historical Library'.

The inside was just as elegant as the outside. He could almost feel the dirt his shoes were bringing in with each step on the shiny marble floor. As imposing as the outside looking, the inside seemed even bigger. The pair had agreed to split up and began their search.

Walking past row after row of towering shelves stacked with books that the more he walked the finer and older the books got.

Once he'd reached the end most of the books were sitting in rows on tables encased in plastic, which needed a key to be opened. The faded books looked frail and aged with time. Only one case was open and the book inside was gone.

Behind the long bookcases was a small area to sit at, with tidy seats and clean desks. There in a far corner was no doubt the fragile book. Along with notebooks and paper scattered on the small table.

A small stack of books were stacked next to the desk to save space. But more importantly sat there delicately flipping a page, was you.

Percy knew you lived in New York obviously that was how he met you, but not in this area. As he made his way over, all thoughts of the reason he was here left him.

He could read what you were reading, he could read it perfectly because it was greek. Why were you in a historical library reading an ancient looking book about Greek mythology he had no idea, he was about to find out though.

"Beauty?" He had to remember to whisper.

Your head whipped up from leaning down to read looking at his wide eyed making you look like a deer in headlights.

"Percy! What're you doing here?" Your nervous laugh rang through his head as you tried to place some blank papers in order to cover the book you were reading.

Why didn't you want him to know. Was it because you'd started to pick up on the Greek names he'd accidentally dropped in conversation or was it that deep down you knew he wasn't normal? Either way it left a whirlwind of nausea in his stomach.

"I'm here because uh- actually never mind. Why are you here?" He couldn't even lie to you, he'd tried much earlier into your relationship, when he had to go back to camp. He ended up saying he had an apprenticeship at his dads fishing company...

"It's nothing really just uh, learning?" You couldn't even meet his eye. You were still picking at the edges of the paper in front of you as he sat down on the old wooden chair next to you.

"Please tell me?" Percy was glad you both were in such a quiet place because he was sure his voice was quieter than a whisper.

You huffed and unwillingly leaned towards him. You bore an angry glare which in any other circumstance he would have thought was cute but right now made his heart sink with fear.

"You know I can't lie to you. All I'll tell you is that it's a surprise. Okay?" Your eyes seemed to shine with worry as you looked up at him from your hunched frame.

"A- a surprise?" Percy had never been more confused in his life.

So you hadn't figured out about him? Or maybe you had and you just didn't care. No, no that couldn't be it. You just had very odd luck that you'd picked a Greek mythology book and not something else.

"Yes, for your birthday. Now go back to whatever you were doing and forget all about this hm?" You spoke with a soft smirk.

For a moment Percy truly wondered if it were possible you were a child of Aphrodite and had used your charmspeak on him, he did always feel completely compelled to do whatever you'd ask of him.

A loud thud echoed through the large room and a curly haired boy dressed in yellow went running through the middle of the room.

Chasing after him was none other than the young satyr who seemed to have forgotten both his hat and his boots in the chase.

Percy glanced back at you, although startled by the sudden noise you made no note of the half goat boy who'd made a quick appearance.

Leaning down to kiss your soft cheek he uttered a quick goodbye and went running off to catch up with the chaos unfolding down the hall.

#jellydreams #blondejellykitty #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson #heroes of olympus x reader #book percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #perseus jackson #riordanverse #pjo x you #percy jackson x you #perseus jackson x reader

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inmyheaddd · 3 months ago

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✦ love story, (scribbled version) - percy jackson x reader

summary: percy’s handwriting is more difficult to decipher than ancient greek code - but with the sleepy sea eyed boy laying next to you, you end up asking him to translate almost every word in his blue birthday letter. warnings: nothing really, mentions of kissing, v fluffy and silly overall wc: 700

you sat on your bed, still in the outfit from your birthday party, a small plastic tiara your friend gave you perched on your head. percy was lying next to you, sprawled out across your pillows, one arm slung over his eyes.

he looked half-asleep already, his hair a little messy from the day’s chaos, and from you constantly running your fingers through it when you would kiss.

you glanced down at the letter in your hands, biting back a smile. it was his birthday letter to you—sweet, definitely, but completely illegible.

"perce?" you asked, your voice quiet, tapping his shoulder.

he groaned softly, shifting but not removing the arm over his face. “hmm?”

"what does this word say?" you asked, tilting the letter towards him so he could see it.

he peeked out from behind his arm, blinking lazily. “uh… ‘best.’”

you raised an eyebrow. "you sure about that? ‘cause it kinda looks like ‘beast.’"

“well, it’s not,” he mumbled, pulling his arm back over his eyes. “you’re the best.”

“aw,” you fake cooed at him, and you could practically hear the eye roll he would do to hide his flush. “thanks.” you smiled, trying to keep reading, but almost immediately got stuck again.

“…okay, wait. what about this one?”

he sighed, rolling onto his side to face you, his hair falling into his eyes. “it says ‘beautiful.’”

"oh," you said, glancing back at the letter. "right. obviously." you nodded, the scribbled mix of print and cursive still looked like a mystery to you, but you didn’t want to bug him too much.

you tried to keep reading, but less than two sentences later, you hit another roadblock. “percy…”

this time, he didn’t even open his eyes. “seriously?”

you held the letter infront of his face, pointing to something that looked like ‘federal’.

“what does this one say say?”

he cracked a single eye open, looking embarrassed now. “uh... ‘forever.’ it says ‘forever.’”

his face was flushing slightly, his usual confidence diminishing as he realized just how many times you had to ask.

as he lay back with both his arms over his eyes, you continued reading.

okay, now you were going on a streak. that was two whole sentences you understood without having to ask percy!

“okay, i’m sorry, but—”

“again?” percy groaned as he sat up, rubbing his face with his cheeks going pink. “how bad is it?”

he glanced at your face, glanced at the scribble on blue paper, and then sighed. “that says ‘cute.’” he said, “i was calling you cute.”

he let himself fall back on the bed with a huff, propping himself up with one elbow and resting his head on one hand as he looked at you.

you held back a laugh, placing the letter down in your lap. “perce, you know i love you so much, right?”

“…yeah?” his voice was cautious, clearly not trusting where this was going.

“and you know that even though you may be…” you trailed off, “less academically inclined than others, i still love you more than anything?”

he groaned once again, rolling onto his back and covering his face with both hands now. “okay, that’s not a compliment.” he said, “and does not make me feel better in the slightest.”

you laughed, sitting back against the pillows. “no, i promise, it’s cute!” you doubt calling it cute helped, but you said it anyway.

“i’m just saying, next time you could, i don’t know, type it? maybe make it a little easier on the birthday girl?”

he dragged his hands down his face, peeking at you from beneath them. “you’re killing me,” he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at his lips. “i’m never writing you a letter again.”

you grinned, adjusting the little crown on your head. “oh, come on. don’t be like that,” you teased, “it’s sweet. messy, but sweet.”

“yeah, well, now i feel like an idiot,” he said, cheeks pink as he sat up a little.

you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “you’re not an idiot, percy. seriously.” you said, and you weren’t lying. he was way smarter than what people gave him credit for.

“it’s the thought that counts. but maybe... practice your handwriting?”

he hummed a groan again, this time pulling you down onto the bed with him. “on your next birthday, my handwriting will look like times new roman. just you wait.”

“i’m holding you to that.” you teased, resting your head on his chest as you got comfortable.

he reached over and took off your tiara, placing it carefully somewhere on the bed side table before running his fingers through your hair lazily.

he then picked up the letter off the bed, having a read of it himself. you couldn’t see, but he was struggling to read it even more than you were with his brows knitted together to the extreme.

he tsked in frutstation when he couldn’t get past the 2nd paragraph, shaking his head as he put the blue card on the bedside table, alongside the tiara.

“less academically inclined, huh?” he mumbled, running his fingers through your hair again. “is that what you said?”

you giggled, already feeling tiredness wash over you, tilting your head to look up at him. “yep.”

he attempted a half-hearted glare, but his grin broke through far too quick as he looked at you, “alright, yeah, i can’t even argue with that.”

taglist: @lovethornes @littlemissmentallyunstable @midiosaamor @maybxlle @imaseabear

@sheisntyou @off-to-the-r4ces @anintellectualintellectual @wish-i-were-heather

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #percy series #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #pjo fanfic #❦ jude writes

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hederasgarden · 4 months ago

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Under the Influence - Part 1

Summary: While investigating a suspicious pharmaceutical company, you and Clark find yourselves exposed to a drug that forces you to grapple with its unforeseen consequences. Pairing: Clark Kent x F!Reader Word Count: 3.9K Warning: 18+ only, explicit sexual content. Dubious consent (reader and Clark are exposed to sex pollen), unprotected PIV, size kink, biting, angst and other untagged themes. A/N: Thank you @ryebecca @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for holding my hand through this and Becca for beta’ing!

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Henry Cavill Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and the glittering skyline of Metropolis stretches out beyond the windows of the Daily Planet. The usual hum of activity in the bullpen is absent tonight – it’s just you, Clark, and an intimidating stack of boxes that seem to multiply with every passing minute. You may have indulged in a daydream or two about Clark just like this, but none of them ever involved so much paperwork.

You stifle a yawn, reaching for your coffee, only to nearly choke when you realize it’s gone cold. Grimacing, you set the offending mug aside and try to wash away the stale taste with water. The sound catches Clark’s attention and pulls him from his work. He offers you a wiry smile that you return, struck once again by just how handsome he looks. He makes it all too easy to have a crush on him, even though you know it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” he offers, stretching as he stands.

Despite shedding his suit jacket earlier, and the way his tie is slightly askew, he still manages to look annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. You lean back to pass him your mug, your stiff muscles protesting. They ache from hours of sitting and sorting.

“Back in a jiffy,” he promises, disappearing down the hall.

By now, the two of you have been hunched over documents for nearly ten hours. Half of them are so technical they might as well be gibberish, but you’ve found a few leads in the financial papers. Unfortunately, your current stack of documents is so heavily redacted that they’re practically useless. You groan in frustration, resting your forehead on your arms until Clark returns, bringing the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee with him.

You accept the mug with a smile but quickly set it on the table when the warmth that seeps through the ceramic nearly burns your fingers. Not for the first time, you wonder how Clark managed to get the ancient coffee machine to percolate so quickly. For everyone else, it typically spewed out lukewarm sludge.

“Bet you're regretting volunteering for this assignment now,” Clark says.

“Not for a moment,” you reply. “You’re still sharing that byline with me, right?” You question, squinting up at him.

“I always keep my promises,” he says with such earnestness that you’re reminded once again why Perry liked to call him a Boy Scout.

“I’ll hold you to it because this story’s turned into a beast.”

Clark sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys the cluttered table strewn with file boxes and paper. “It really has,” he agrees.

When Perry called for a volunteer from the pool of junior editors to help with an expose on Salvation Pharmaceuticals, you jumped at the opportunity and not just because Clark was the writer assigned to the story. Most of your days were spent copyediting stories and arguing about AP style. You were just itching for some hands-on research experience, although neither of you expected the thread Clark pulled to unravel so quickly or so thoroughly.

What started as an investigation into government kickbacks and dubious congressional dealings rapidly evolved into something far more unsettling. Salvation Pharmaceuticals’ R&D department was embroiled in deeply questionable research, from a gas capable of erasing memories to a potent drug they called a truth serum. All of their drugs had horrible side effects, particularly the latter which worked by lowering inhibitions but also triggered something they called sexual psychosis.

Clark’s freedom of information request resulted in your current predicament. Based on the sheer number of boxes they sent it was clear the company hoped to overwhelm you with an avalanche of data and make it difficult to find what you needed. Unfortunately for them, Clark Kent was one of the most determined reporters you’d ever met. If anyone was going to get to the bottom of the story it was him.

“Well…once more unto the breach,” you quote, holding up a fresh box of files.

As you lift the lid, Clark offers you a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. For a moment, you’re too distracted by him to notice the cloud of yellow dust rising from the box. It quickly expands, swirling into a thick mist that engulfs you both. Immediately, your lungs begin to burn, and you gasp for air. You push your chair back and struggle to stand as your vision blurs.

A strong arm around your middle hauls you back, dragging your feet on the carpet. Clark pulls you to the edge of the room, and you lean into him, desperately trying to clear your lungs. Behind you, he grunts, his fingers twitching and spasming against your hip. It takes several moments for the air to clear, but when it does, you watch in horror as the yellow dust seems to melt into your skin.

“What was that?” You ask, voice hoarse.

Clark is silent and looks grim when you turn to face him. “I think that was the truth serum. The reports described it as yellow dust.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “Why would the dust be in there?”

“I don’t know. But I can guess.”

You rub your chest and take a hesitant step back. “I don’t feel any different. Do you?”

“No.” He presses his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. “Do you feel anything?”

You exhale slowly, taking stock of your body. “Maybe?” Your response is more of a question than a definitive answer. You feel oddly warm, but it could just be the adrenaline from the situation.

“You’re sweating,” he observes, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. The warmth of his touch makes you shudder and you can’t help but notice how good he smells. “Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, momentarily lost in his gaze. “You’re hot, too,” you blurt out, mortified when the words leave your mouth.

“I feel fine,” Clark replies, either misunderstanding what you meant or choosing not to acknowledge the slip.

You step away from him, feeling your body buzz with embarrassment. Sweat dots your brow, and you’re halfway out of your thin cardigan before you even realize it. As you pace the room, you realize Clark might be right — the powder could be affecting you. You try to shake off the disorienting feeling that lingers, while Clark tracks your progress with sharp blue eyes.

“Should we call someone? Isn’t there a protocol for dealing with mysterious powders?” It’s difficult to think straight when your body feels like a furnace. “Clark?” You question.

His nostrils flare but otherwise, he doesn’t respond until you say his name again. “Yeah. There’s uh, an anthrax protocol. Perry’s got it in his office.”

Time seems to progress in strange lurches and lulls as you wait for Clark to return. You’re not sure how long he’s gone, each minute dragging as the heat within intensifies and your thoughts become increasingly muddled. There’s a growing pressure in your stomach too, something that radiates down. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s persistently irritating — a prickling feeling that needs to be soothed.

“I made the call,” Clark announces, reappearing. “They said it’ll be 30 minutes until they get here with everything they need. We just have to sit tight.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. If it really was the truth serum, and you’re starting to believe Clark might be right, there’s no telling what might come out of your mouth. Even now, as you pace back and forth, you feel a pressure under your tongue, as though the words are lurking just beneath the surface, eager to spring out. The last thing you want to do is reveal your stupid little crush on him.

“God, it’s hot,” you muttered, staring at the window. You press your palms to the glass. It’s cool to the touch and you lay your forehead against it, almost moaning in relief. You wish you could strip off your dress and melt into the floor.

“Here.” Clark’s voice is closer than you expect.

You flinch at the feel of his hand on your lower back but let him turn you around to face him. He presses a glass of cool water to your lips, and you grasp his thick wrist as he urges you to drink it all, your gaze never leaving his. The moment you finish your mouth feels dry and your throat itches.

“You have the bluest eyes,” you whisper. “You shouldn’t hide them behind your glasses.” You reach for them, but Clark stops you with a gentle hand on yours. Embarrassment rushes under your skin, and you draw back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s the drug.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” You question. “You seem fine.”

“My biology is different from yours,” he says almost absently only to freeze a second later. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. For the first time since you met him, Clark looks genuinely unsettled. “The reports said it affected women quicker,” he adds before stepping back.

Your hand falls limply to your side as you watch him. Clark tugs at his already loosened tie, stretching his neck with an audible crack. A dark red flush creeps up his cheeks, making the skin around his eyes glow faintly. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Maybe I should wait in the other room,” he grits out.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Clark barely takes a step towards the door before a sharp, unexpected wave of searing pain rips through your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees. The impact jolts your entire body, but that discomfort is overshadowed by a deep gnawing ache between your legs. You pitch forward onto all fours, struggling as your cunt flutters around nothing.

“Oh,” you whimper, terrified as your mind recalls the adverse event report for the truth serum with perfect clarity.

Following an increase in basal body temperature, patients exposed to the drug exhibit symptoms of full-blown sexual psychosis. This condition necessitates achieving climax to alleviate symptoms. Patients who are unable to reach climax experience a marked increase in heart rate and blood pressure, which in some cases progresses to cardiac arrest.

Every muscle in your body tenses, as a fierce, relentless pressure builds. Then, like the tide, it recedes, leaving you curled into a ball on the floor. Through half-closed eyes, you meet Clark’s gaze. He kneels in front of you and his expression mirrors your anguish.

“Clark….”

“I know,” he says quietly. His hands hover at your shoulder for a moment before he finally helps turn you on your back.

None of this feels real; it’s like a twisted wish gone wrong.

“Help me, please,” you cry, the words escaping in broken sobs. You’re too hysterical to feel ashamed about what you’re asking him to do. Details from the report keep replaying in your mind, fueling your terror. You don’t want to die.

Clark looms over you, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You stare up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain in your core pulses and builds. The ache in the body is all-consuming, overriding everything else. Worse is the feeling of emptiness that you know he could fill.

“Please.” Your voice fizzles out as a strong wave of pain slams into you. It leaves you reeling and disoriented. You claw at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin.

“I’m going to help you.” He says, his gaze lingering on you as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “If-if you want me to,” he adds, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up inside you. Of course you do, you’ve dreamed of him since the day you met him in the breakroom. You just never imagined this.

When another cramp leaves you panting and desperate you grit out a pained, “Yes.”

His large hand encircles your calf, gently but firmly pulling your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The cool air makes you groan and you try to curl in on yourself again, but Clark pins you to the floor easily. With shaky hands, he drags your dress up to expose your simple black underwear. The sight seems to transfix him and you watch his chest rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths that mimic your own.

“I have to ah, I have to…” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he shakes his head his glasses fall down his nose. “I need to get you ready.”

“I don’t care,” you sob. “Fuck me, please.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the part that's still you, is horrified by your words. You’ve never spoken to anyone like that, let alone a colleague or the man you have a crush on. But you know with a terrifying certainty that if he doesn’t fuck you, you’ll both die.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, the calm tenor of his voice betrayed by the way his hand trembles against your thigh. He tears off your underwear with an ease that would give you pause if you were in your right mind.

Shame is a thing of the past as you spread your legs even further, allowing his hungry gaze to drink its fill. He parts your folds and draws two fingers through the wetness gathered there, starting with light, teasing strokes that quickly build to more. When his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, he rubs slow, soothing circles until the pain in your stomach eases a fraction.

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, sounding breathless. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

You moan his name and he shifts closer, bent forward to watch himself work. Soon one kind of pressure recedes and another begins. You gasp, throwing your head back as Clark continues his slow assault, building in its intensity. When your legs thrash his other hand settles on your hip, holding you still as he works a thick finger inside. Your cunt clenches in response to the intrusion. Above you, he groans and his thumb moves faster.

“More, oh god I need more,” you beg, keening when Clark pushes a second finger inside.

The stretch of them both burns but that’s eclipsed by the pleasure you feel. You rock forward, trying to take more of him but he doesn’t let you, controlling the pace. You can hear yourself babbling, nonsensical words streaming from your mouth as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm until, all at once, it overwhelms you completely. Your orgasm is almost painful and your hands curl into fists, your body contorting in response. The room blurs around you, and every fiber of your being is consumed by the relief you feel.

When it passes you’re left trembling on the floor, avoiding Clark’s gaze. He hovers over you, his arousal hard to miss with the way it tents the front of his gray slacks.

“Clark.” You touch his chest, inhaling when his dark blue eyes snap up to meet yours. “Do you…”

You can’t even force yourself to say it now that you’re back in your right mind. Clark shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers. You wince, and he looks pained.

“We should —” he starts, but whatever he is about to say is abruptly cut off as he grunts and hunches forward, a visible shudder running through him.

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his face. When your fingers brush over the curve of his cheek he moans and surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He forces his tongue inside and the heat of him is almost unbearable. You push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. His hands travel up and down your sides and you feel that familiar pressure return to your core. It builds slowly, like the spark of an ember that will soon flare into a blazing fire.

You shift under Clark, drawing your legs up as he swallows down your needy whine. By the time he pulls away, you’re feeling dizzy and gasping for breath.

“We need to,” you begin, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembles.

“I know,” Clark replies.

He fumbles with his pants and you look up at the ceiling as he pulls himself free. It feels like a violation to look, but without your permission, you find your gaze drifting down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, just as big and thick as the rest of him. It’s red and weeping. Your cunt aches, and you toss your head side to side, trying to dispel the pain.

Clark plants a hand near your head while he lines himself up between your thighs. He pushes inside slowly. It hurts, god, it hurts, but you need more of him, and you need it now. Wrapping his tie around your hand, you pull hard, urging him closer. He snaps his hip forward with enough force to jar your bones, and you wail in response. For one blissful moment, everything is quiet. Your buzzing mind and aching body are finally filled in a way they’ve been craving.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from Clark’s lips and brings you back to the moment. “You feel so good. You feel…” he trails off, his words bleed into one long, low moan that has you clenching around him.

Above you, his handsome face contorts, his lips pressed tightly together. Tension lines the muscles of his jaw and his dark brows furrow in an expression that teeters between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure skitters along your nerves as he drives into you over and over again to reach some unknown place hidden deep inside. Your second orgasm rises to the surface just as swiftly as your first and Clark is relentless as he fucks you through it.

There isn’t even time to catch your breath before his hands encircle your hips and he leans back, drawing you with him. The backs of your thighs drag over the fabric of his slack as he moves your body to meet his thrusts. As one orgasm fades you feel another spring to life, hastened by the feel of his calloused thumb on your clit. The need inside you burns even brighter, and a litany of desperate pleas spills from your lips.

“You feel,” he pants, “just like I imagined.”

When you gasp his name he curls his body over yours, the new angle allowing him to move even deeper. You hold onto his biceps and listen to the desperate little noises that escape his chest with each thrust. His lips find the soft skin of your throat as his fingers dig into the neckline of your dress. He pulls hard and buttons scatter, giving him access to your shoulder. Teeth scrap over tender flesh and your back arches as another orgasm blooms in your stomach.

Waves of pleasure ebb through your body and your fingers tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark doesn’t falter even when you fall still beneath him. Your muscles ache, and your body feels tense and exhausted, but that frenzied need that’s driven you since the dust melted into your system slakes away until you’re left feeling everything. Guilt and horror fill your body like sand, weighing you down.

Clark groans and you realize he’s still in the throes of the drug's effects. The ceaseless rhythm of his hips has turned painful and your insides feel raw. You push at his shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice, hitching your leg over his waist to push himself deeper.

He shudders, gasping, “like that, just like that.” Then his teeth sink into your neck and he finally stills.

Tears leak from the corner of your eyes as your breath comes in short little sobs, your heart fluttering in your chest. After a few moments, Clark stiffens and you know he’s come back to himself. He shifts, slipping out of you with a quiet exhale. You can’t stifle your whimper of pain and his gaze jumps to you. For a moment you stare at each other and the silence is deafening. Then he passes a trembling hand over his lips and rocks back, moving to his feet in a fluid motion. He turns from you to tuck himself away and runs a hand through his curls.

You sit up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest while you hold the fabric of your dress together in an attempt to give yourself some dignity. It’s almost laughable after what just happened. Clark says your name and you stare at his outstretched hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. When he drops his jacket over your shoulders you feel a swell of gratitude. You let him guide you to a chair, wincing when you sit. Everything feels raw and tender.

He clears his throat. “The response team is downstairs.”

“Okay,” you say numbly.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You want to tell him it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, but the words catch in your throat. All you get out is his name. Nothing about this is okay. How could it be?

You wait together, Clark standing half a step ahead of you while you stare at his broad shoulders, lost in thought. He’s the one to greet the men and women in hazmat suits. You don’t catch everything he says, but his eyes drift back to you as he speaks. Before long, you’re separated, and the last image you hold onto is his hair tousled from your fingers and his wrinkled, untucked shirt.

From there, everything becomes a blur; moments merge into a disjointed sequence — being herded into a decontamination shower, the uncomfortable scratch of paper scrubs against your sensitive skin, a distressing medical exam, and then the questions. Endless questions bring back the haze of disjointed memories you’re struggling to process.

By the time you’re allowed to leave, the first rays of light filter through the windows of the bullpen. You watch the soft golden glow and listen to the faint chirping of birds. The city is waking up, bustling to life as it always does, but you feel disconnected from it all until you step into the elevator and turn to find Clark standing there.

He halts the doors from closing, his sad, mournful eyes meeting yours. A powerful wave of emotion rises in your throat as the weight of his guilt and your embarrassment settles inside you like a stone. There’s so much you want to say, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overshadowed by a deep ache in your chest. You feel so lost and unsure, terrified about what lies ahead that tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked.

Clark exhales softly and steps back, but just before the doors close, he whispers your name. In that moment, everything else fades away — it’s just you, him, and all the unspoken words that linger between you.

Then, he’s gone and you’re left utterly alone.

♡

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#clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent #henry cavill #superman x you #superman x reader #superman #man of steel

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lostfracturess · 1 month ago

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remedies and reasons | ch. 04

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 11.8 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, angst, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

previously — as suguru struggles with his conflicting feelings, you have your own battles to face. between the hectic internship and these stupid feelings for your doctor, you could really use a break. good thing there's that party this weekend—though knowing your luck, something's bound to go wrong.

author's note — i know it's been a while (sorry !!) but this one is a little bit spicy to make up for it and maybe we even meet other people we know from certain stories. thank you all for being so patient with me and for all the sweet messages checking in. you guys are the best !! hope you enjoy and as always, your comments and reactions mean everything to me <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

"In consideration thereof, the Parties hereby agree that upon completion of the Merger..."

You started the sentence for the sixth time, highlighter poised over the page. But the words refused to make sense, like they were written in some strange legal cipher your brain had forgotten how to decode.

"In consideration thereof, the Parties hereby..."

Your mind drifted once more. Dark eyes. Gentle hands. The warmth of his palm against your back at the gallery. Damn it. Focus.

"In consideration..."

How his fingers felt inside of y—

"IN CONSIDERATION—"

The highlighter slipped, leaving a bright yellow streak across your index finger instead of the page. Perfect. You stared at your now neon fingertip and let out a long breath.

At least it matched the other evidence of your scattered mental state today — the coffee stain on your sleeve, the backwards sticky note on your computer monitor, the fact that you'd put your access card in the vending machine instead of your wallet this morning.

You dragged your attention back to the merger agreement, determined to actually comprehend at least one full sentence. Something about contractual obligations and breach of fiduciary duty. The words might as well have been written in ancient Greek for all you were absorbing them.

Instead, your thoughts wandered to the way he'd looked that night — slightly rumpled dress shirt, hair windswept from rushing straight from surgery, that tiny spot of blood on his sleeve he'd tried so desperately to hide.

As if that somehow mattered more than the fact he'd just spent hours saving someone's life before coming to see you.

The way he'd actually listened when you rambled about brushstrokes and composition, those pretty eyes fixed on you like you were sharing the secrets of the universe instead of just babbling about art. How someone who spent his days peering into people's brains could seem so genuinely interested in something as far removed from his world as contemporary art.

And the way he'd looked at you when you talked about your paintings. Your stomach did that stupid little flutter again at the memory, the same sensation you'd felt under his gaze that night.

No. Stop it. Case files. Merger acquisitions. Important legal stuff that actually mattered.

"In consideration thereof..." you tried one more time, but it was hopeless.

You slammed the case file shut, earning a few startled glances from nearby cubicles. A few papers fluttered to the floor, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care. This was ridiculous. You were supposed to be a professional, not some lovesick teenager mooning over your doctor.

Maybe it was just curiosity. It had to be curiosity. Nothing else made sense. You weren't lovesick. Definitely not. That would be ridiculous and completely inappropriate. He is your doctor. There are boundaries. Professional lines. You know this.

But your treacherous mind kept circling back to that moment when the phone call came. How quickly his expression had changed, walls sliding into place. You shouldn't have wondered about what — or who — had put that look on his face. It wasn't your business.

And yet you couldn't help but think it was her.

Dr. Gojo's girlfriend, the one Suguru had feelings for. You remembered how he'd sounded in the hospital that day, talking about two people made for each other, the pain in his voice when he'd admitted to watching his best friend fall in love.

Something tightened in your chest at the thought, a strange heaviness you didn't quite understand. It wasn't your place to feel—whatever this was. You barely knew him, had no right to care about his complicated feelings for someone else.

Besides, it was actually kind of tragic when you thought about it — harboring feelings for your best friend's girlfriend. Like something out of a drama. You should have felt sympathy, maybe even pity. Not this odd feeling that made you want to look away whenever he got that faraway look in his eyes.

You dropped your head into your hands with a groan. What was wrong with you? Since when did you start caring about the personal life of a man who you barely knew?

"Working hard or hardly working?"

Chad's voice cut through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. Great. Because this day wasn't complicated enough already.

You looked up to find him perched on the edge of Higurama's desk in his usual way — like he was posing for some imaginary corporate photoshoot. With his stupid suit, all perfectly tailored lines and subtle pinstripes that screamed 'i'm rich'.

"Don't you have your own work to do?" You didn't bother hiding your annoyance.

"Actually, I just finished reviewing the Yamamoto case files." He picked up one of your carefully arranged documents, examining it with that insufferable air of superiority. "You know, the ones you were supposed to handle? Higurama seemed pretty impressed with my analysis."

You snatched the paper from his hands. "Those were my notes."

"Were they?" He tilted his head, his perfectly styled hair not moving an inch. You'd never seen it move, not even in the wind. "Must have gotten mixed up in the filing system. Easy mistake to make."

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to throw your coffee mug in his self-satisfied face. Your entire weekend's work, and he'd just—what? Slapped his name on it and presented it as his own?

"What do you want, Chad?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Yeah, whatever. What do you want?" you repeated, turning back to your work, hoping he'd take the hint.

Instead, he leaned closer, his cologne disgustingly close to your nose. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about the Nakamura case. The international trade dispute?"

You stiffened. That was another case you'd spent countless hours on, poring over documents until your eyes burned. Of course he was after that one too. "What about it?"

"Well," he drawled, picking up your pen and twirling it between his fingers, "I'm having trouble with some of the documentation requirements. Thought maybe you could walk me through it?"

"You work here too," you pointed out, snatching your pen back before he could add it to his collection of stolen things. "These are basic procedures. Maybe check the manual?"

He laughed, that practiced, hollow sound that probably took years of private school to perfect. "Come on, help a friend out. We're all on the same team here, right?"

"Friends? Is that what we are?"

"Well, colleagues then." He shifted closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot with the Yamamoto thing, but I'm trying here. Besides, it's good to have friends in high places. Never know when you might need a favor."

The implied threat wasn't subtle. Neither was the reminder of his position — daddy's little prince, untouchable in his tailored suit and borrowed authority.

"I'm busy," you said flatly, gathering your papers into a hasty pile. "Try Google."

"Google?" Chad's perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up like this was the most outrageous suggestion he'd ever heard. "Come on, don't be like that. I just need—"

Then the door opened and Higurama walked in, his usual stack of files tucked under his arm. His eyes flickered between you and Chad, taking in the scene — you half-standing, clearly trying to escape, Chad still perched on his desk like he owned the place.

"Ah, Mr. Kusakabe," Higurama said dryly. "I wasn't aware my office had become the new break room."

Chad slid off the desk, his corporate smile switching on like a well-oiled machine. "Mr. Higurama, I was just discussing the Nakamura case with—"

"I'm sure you were." Higurama set his files down with a pointed thud that made Chad flinch. "Don't you have that meeting with your father in ten minutes?"

You had to bite back a smile at how quickly Chad's perfectly composed expression crumbled. "Of course, you're right. I should get going." He straightened his already straight tie and headed for the door, but not before throwing you one last look that promised this wasn't over. Like a spoiled child who'd had his favorite toy taken away.

After he left, Higurama settled into his chair with a weary sigh that seemed to age him ten years. "Giving you trouble again?"

"It's fine," you said, straightening the papers Chad had disturbed. "Same as always."

"You know," Higurama began, studying you over his reading glasses with that paternal concern that always made you feel grateful and guilty at the same time, "you can tell me if he's making things difficult. His father may be a partner, but that doesn't give him the right to—"

"Really, it's okay." You managed what you hoped was a convincing smile. "I can handle Chad—I mean, Kusakabe."

Higurama's lips twitched slightly at your slip, the closest thing to a smile you'd seen from him all week. "I'm sure you can. Still." He pulled his reading glasses off and polished them with his handkerchief. "My door is always open. Well, except when it's closed. Or when I'm in court. Or meeting with clients. Or—"

"I get it," you laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. Sometimes it was easy to forget that underneath all his gruffness, Higurama actually cared. "Thank you."

He nodded, then let out a heavy sigh and sank lower in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight.

"What's wrong?" you asked, settling into the chair opposite his desk. You'd seen that look before — it usually preceded either a massive case breakthrough or an equally massive headache.

"These idiots are giving me grey hair," Higurama muttered, shuffling through a stack of papers.

You bit back the urge to point out that his hair was already pretty grey — had been since you'd started your internship. Some truths were better left unsaid, especially when your mentor looked like he was one case file away from a breakdown.

"Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto?" The names slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately wished you could take them back when Higurama looked up.

"Funny how you immediately knew who I was referring to." His lips twitched slightly. "Though I suppose they have quite the reputation around here."

"Well, they are our biggest clients from the hospital, right?" You fought back a blush, suddenly very interested in organizing the papers on the desk. "Are they in trouble?"

"Let's just say medical ethics and hospital politics don't always play nice together." He set down his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. "And certain people seem determined to make my job as difficult as possible."

You fiddled with the corner of a document, fighting the urge to ask more direct questions. Like whether Suguru was okay. Whether this had anything to do with that phone call at the gallery, or the tension you'd sensed between him and Dr. Gojo lately.

"Is it serious?" you asked anyway.

Higurama gave you a long look over his desk. "Well, let's just say I'd rather defend a yakuza boss than deal with hospital board politics. At least with yakuza, you know where you stand." He paused, then added, "But that's not something you need to worry about."

You hesitated, then asked the question that had been nagging at you for weeks. "Why do you even handle their cases? I mean, not to sound rude, but medical law isn't even your specialty."

Higurama was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming absently on his desk. Then he leaned back, a distant look crossing his face. "Did I ever tell you about my brain aneurysm?"

"Your what?"

"Eight years ago. Was sitting right here, actually, working on some antitrust lawsuit." He tapped the spot on his desk where Chad had been perched earlier. "Started getting the worst headache of my life. Next thing I know, I'm in the ER, and this arrogant young neurosurgeon is telling me he's going to crack open my skull."

Your eyes widened. "Dr. Gojo?"

"Mmhm." A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Every other surgeon took one look at my scans and basically started writing my obituary. But this kid?" He scoffed, but there was something almost fond in the sound. "Struts in like he owns the place, probably fresh out of whatever dumpster he got his medical license from, and said he's going to save my life. Had Geto with him too, back when they were both still residents and marginally less of a pain in my ass."

You tried not to smile at the image. "And he saved your life?"

"Unfortunately." Higurama's expression was sour. "Would've been easier if he'd just let me die. Instead, I'm stuck here, playing babysitter to two overgrown children."

He tapped his pen against the files on his desk, the sound sharp in the quiet office. "And somehow they just wouldn't go away. Keep showing up with their problems and their drama and their 'just one more favor.'" He mimicked Gojo's voice with startling accuracy. "And now I'm stuck cleaning up after two idiots who think hospital rules are more like friendly suggestions."

He glared at the pen in his hand. Then, almost grudgingly, he added, "But I suppose they've grown on me." His eyes snapped up to yours. "Don't you dare tell them I said that."

You couldn't help but smile at his grumbling. There was something oddly wholesome about it — this grouchy corporate lawyer secretly looking out for two chaotic surgeons.

"Stop grinning like that," Higurama snapped, but without real heat. Then his expression shifted, turning serious. "But listen, keep your distance from them outside of work. They're nothing but trouble in private."

Your smile froze, heart skipping a beat. Did he know about the bar? The art gallery? The way Suguru's finger's had felt inside of you? "Of course," you managed, voice carefully neutral despite the sudden tightness in your throat. "Why would I—"

"Good." He cut you off, already reaching for another file as if he hadn't just made your world tilt sideways. "Now, about the Matsuda case, I need you to look into their import documentation from 2018 to 2020. Something's not adding up with their customs declarations."

"Right, the trade dispute." God, you needed to get it together. "I actually noticed some discrepancies in their shipping lists—"

But even as you dove into the familiar world of legal documents and corporate regulations, you couldn't quite shake the pointed look in Higurama's eyes. Nothing but trouble in private, he'd said.

Yeah. With every flutter of your heart when you thought of Suguru, you were starting to figure that out.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

The apartment of your parents sat squeezed into a worn building at Tokyo's edges, where the city's gleam began to fade. But as soon as you stepped inside, your mom's baking enveloped you in familiar warmth, making even the tiny space feel like home.

At the kitchen table that doubled as his desk, your dad hunched over a stack of bills, squinting through reading glasses he stubbornly refused to admit needing. The table wobbled on its uneven leg, your mom's latest fix—a stack of paper towels—proving no more effective than her dozen previous attempts.

"What's all this nonsense?" you heard your dad say.

"Here, let me look at those," you said, dropping your work bag and settling into the chair beside him. The wood creaked in that old familiar way, bringing back memories of homework sessions at this very spot — your dad's calloused fingers pointing out math problems while your mom hummed by the stove.

Your dad slid the forms your way. "Tell me what all this government gibberish means."

"Just pension forms, Dad. Nothing major." You'd barely started explaining when your mom appeared, wielding a plate of cake that effectively derailed any serious discussion.

"Are you eating good?" she asked, setting down a slice big enough for three. "You're not working too hard, are you?"

"I eat plenty, Mom. Don't worry."

She brushed your cheek. "Convenience store food don't count. These fancy law firms are working you to death."

"It's just a busy period," you assured her, failing to suppress a yawn.

"With you, it's always a busy period." Your dad set aside his papers, fixing you with that penetrating look that still made you feel twelve years old. "You're young. You should be out living life, not buried in work like us."

Even at 26, your parents still fussed over you like you were a child. Some things never change, you suppose.

"Actually, I'm heading to a party tonight with friends."

Your mom's face lit up like you'd announced world peace. "A party! Oh, that's wonderful!" Her expression quickly shifted to concern. "But the lights there won't be too flashy, will they? You know how they can trigger—"

"Mom," you cut in gently, all too familiar with that worried look from years of school trips and sleepovers. "The medication Dr. Gojo prescribed works really well. I'm fine now."

"Just take care of yourself," your dad said softly.

"The medication's been great," you assured them. "Really. No seizures in months. Plus Megumi will be there, he knows exactly what to do if anything happens."

Your mom's face still held that familiar uncertainty, years of midnight hospital runs and frightened vigils etched in her expression. You crossed to her, wrapping her in a quick hug. "I'll be careful, I promise. No strobe lights, no excessive drinking, no late nights."

"Alright, alright," she conceded, but couldn't resist adding, "You know, there might be some nice young men there—"

"Mom!"

"What? I'm only asking! Mrs. Kenji from the convenience store was just telling me her son's studying medicine—"

"Please stop." You stuffed a generous forkful of cake into your mouth, the same recipe she'd used for every birthday since you could remember.

"Leave her be," your dad chuckled, then paused. "Though a doctor wouldn't be such a bad match."

You nearly choked on your cake. "Doctors are the absolute worst," you blurted, words tumbling out before you can think twice. "They're completely married to their work, walking around like they're god's gift to medicine with their fancy degrees and perfect hair—"

Your parents exchanged looks as you continued your unexpected rant.

"—acting all mysterious and professional one minute, then totally unprofessional the next. Sure, they show up late because of emergencies, which okay, fine, lives are at stake, but still—"

Your mom set down her coffee cup slowly. "Sweetie—"

"—and don't even get me started on their god complexes. Strutting around in those white coats like they own the place, being all tall and handsome and brooding—"

"Handsome and brooding?" your dad cut in, eyebrows rising toward his hairline.

Heat flooded your cheeks. "I meant hypothetically. You know, doctors in general. Not anyone specific."

"Right." Your dad set his papers aside completely, barely suppressing a grin. "Well then, how about a nice accountant instead?"

"Oh, an accountant would be perfect," your mom jumped in, eyes twinkling. "Nice stable hours. No emergencies. Definitely no god complexes."

"And absolutely no perfect hair," your dad added.

You buried your face in the stack of pension forms. "I hate you both."

"No you don't," your mom sang, already cutting another generous slice of cake. "But somebody certainly has strong feelings about doctors. In a very theoretical way, of course."

"Can we please just focus on the pension paperwork?"

"Oh, speaking of work," your mom settled into her chair with that expression that meant you weren't getting away easily, "how's the law firm treating you? Is Mr. Higurama still taking good care of you?"

A familiar heaviness settled in your chest — the same one that appeared whenever they asked about the firm. You pulled on your well-practiced smile. "It's going well. Busy, but I'm learning lots."

Your dad's face lit up with pride, and something twisted inside you. How could you tell them that each morning, you walked into that gleaming tower feeling like an imposter? That your days were spent drowning in work you couldn't bring yourself to care about, surrounded by people like Chad who seemed born for this world in a way you'd never be?

"Our daughter at Nishimura and Asahi," your mom repeated, the same way she'd probably told everyone at the market, the same way she'd mentioned it to Mrs. Tanaka at the convenience store countless times. Their daughter, the lawyer. Their golden ticket to a better life.

You thought about the half-finished paintings hidden under your bed in the dormitory, the art supplies you only dared touch in the dead of night. The way your heart had raced at the gallery with Suguru, feeling truly alive for the first time in months.

How strange that you could feel both so seen and so invisible at the same time.

"Yeah." You took another bite of cake, which now tasted like sawdust in your mouth. "It's... great. Really great."

They'd sacrificed everything. Dad's double shifts, Mom's weekend cleaning jobs, their dreams abandoned so you could chase what they thought was yours.

How could you tell them their vision of success was slowly suffocating you? That those gleaming office towers felt more like prison walls with each passing day? That this path you'd convinced yourself to follow was turning into a nightmare? That you'd been wrong?

"Should we look at those pension forms now?" you asked, desperate to escape before the guilt could completely overwhelm you.

Sometimes love could be its own kind of cage, you realized. Your parents' dedication, their unwavering support. It was both a blessing and a burden. They'd given up so much to give you a better life, never realizing they might be pushing you toward a life that wasn't better at all, just different. More prestigious. More stable. More suffocating.

The most painful part was knowing they'd done everything right. They'd loved you, supported you, sacrificed for you — all the things good parents were supposed to do. There was no one to blame, no villain in this story. Just well-meaning parents who wanted the best for their child, never realizing that their dreams for you might not align with your own.

It was a special kind of heartbreak, being unable to disappoint people who had never disappointed you.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

"If you poke my eye out, I swear—" You squirmed in the backseat, trying to escape as Nobara wielded the mascara wand right in front of your nose.

"Stop squirming then!" She grabbed your chin, fingers surprisingly gentle despite her commanding tone.

"Kind of hard when you're coming at me with that thing!"

From the driver's seat, Megumi let out a long sigh. "Could we maybe not cause an accident? I'd rather not explain that to the police."

"Oh please," Nobara scoffed, never taking her eyes off her work. "I know what I'm doing."

"Since when?" you challenged.

"Since forever. Now shut up and close your eyes."

You complied, though not without a dramatic eye roll first. The car hit a pothole, making Nobara curse as the mascara wand nearly went up your nose.

"Megumi!" She smacked the back of his seat. "A little warning next time?"

"Sure thing," he deadpanned. "Would you like me to narrate every bump in the road? Maybe add some mood music while I'm at it?"

In the passenger seat, Yuji twisted around to watch, grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd seen all week. "Can I try too?"

"Less commentary, more navigation," Megumi cut in. "Where exactly is this place?"

"Right, um..." Yuji squinted at his phone. "Take the next right. Should be the big house at the end—can't miss it."

"I still can't believe we're going to a med student party," you muttered, trying to keep still as Nobara started on your other eye. "Seriously, they'll probably spend all night talking about cadavers."

"Which is exactly why—" Nobara leaned back to examine her work, "—we need to make sure you look absolutely killer."

"I don't need to look killer," you protested. "I'm not trying to impress anyone."

Nobara lowered the mascara wand, fixing you with a long look. "Right. And I'm just going for the thrilling discussions about gross anatomy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I think you know." She reached into her makeup bag, emerging with a tube of lip gloss. "Especially since a certain someone might be there."

Your stomach did an unwelcome flip. "Who told you that?"

"Aha!" Nobara's eyes lit up like she'd just won the lottery. "So there is someone! I knew it. Spill. Now."

"There's nothing to spill," you said, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. "And I definitely don't need lip gloss."

"Too late!" She was already uncapping the tube. "Open up!"

"Nobara, I swear to god—"

The car swerved suddenly, sending Nobara's carefully aimed lip gloss streaking across your cheek.

"Megumi!" she screeched.

"My bad," he said, his tone suggesting it was anything but accidental. "Must've been a pothole."

"And this," Yuji announced from the front seat, "is why I never let you drive anymore," earning himself a death glare from Megumi.

You tried to wipe at your cheek, but the sticky gloss refusing to budge. "Great."

"Don't move!" Nobara was already armed with a makeup wipe. "I can fix this!"

"No more fixing! I look fine!"

"We haven't even started on your eyeshadow!"

You looked desperately at Megumi in the rearview mirror. "Help me."

"Sorry," he said, barely suppressing a smile. "I'm just the chauffeur."

"Traitor."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

The first thing that hit you was the noise.

Music throbbed through massive speakers, the bass so heavy you could feel it in your bones, while voices rose and fell in uneven waves, trying and failing to outmatch the music that echoed off the marble floors and high ceilings.

The second thing was the sheer excess of it all.

"Holy shit," Yuji said, voicing what you were all thinking.

The house—if you could even call it that—was more like something out of a movie. A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting prismatic light across the sea of bodies below. The furniture had been pushed aside to create some sort of dance floor, where people were already dancing like the party had been going for hours.

"Is that a—?" Nobara pointed, mouth agape, at what appeared to be a massive human heart, currently serving as an elaborate vodka luge for a group of laughing students.

"There's two," Megumi corrected, nodding toward another one shaped like some kind of organ. "But I'm not quite sure what's that supposed to look like."

You stood frozen in the entrance, your senses on overload. Strobe lights sliced through the darkness in rapid pulses, bouncing off mirrored walls and making your head spin. The air was thick with fog machine haze and enough designer perfume to stock a department store.

"Hey." Megumi's hand found your elbow. When you turned, his expression was pure concerned-best-friend. "You good? With the..." He gestured vaguely, but you knew what he meant.

You took a deep breath, mentally checking in with yourself as the bass thundered through your chest. "Yeah, think so. Just... don't abandon me for any hot med students?"

He smiled, shifting slightly to block some of the strobing lights. "Please. As if anyone here is interesting enough to make me ditch you."

Suddenly, a burst of cheers drew your attention to what looked like a Vegas-style bartending show. Some guy in a vest was juggling bottles and literally setting drinks on fire, because apparently regular cocktails weren't fancy enough for this crowd.

"Oh. My. God." Nobara's squeal could probably shatter glass. "Is that a chocolate fountain? That's it, forget becoming a pharmacist—I'm marrying whoever owns this place."

"That would be me."

The voice came from behind, smooth as expensive whiskey. You turned to face a tall, striking man. Designer clothes, top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, artfully tousled dark hair, and the kind of smile that's definitely practiced in mirrors.

"Naoya Zenin," he introduced himself, managing to sound both bored and smugly pleased at the same time. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Humble. Right. Through an archway, you could see the party spilled out to a pool area that belonged in a luxury home magazine, complete with more people than your entire apartment building.

"Don't think I've seen you around campus."

Before you could fumble for an explanation, Nobara glided forward like she was born for this moment. "Oh, we're med students too," she lied smoothly, her smile pure sugar. "Exchange program. From Kyoto University."

You barely contained your surprise, but then Nobara's heel found your toes.

"Kyoto?" Naoya's eyebrow arched. "Really? What's your focus?"

"Neurology," Nobara replied without missing a beat, then she gestured toward Megumi. "He's in cardiology. Absolute genius with hearts. Top of our class."

Megumi's face remained admirably blank, though you could practically see his soul leaving his body.

"And you?" Naoya's attention moved to Yuji, who froze like someone had hit his pause button.

"Sports medicine!" Nobara swooped in, slinging an arm around Yuji's shoulders. "You wouldn't believe what he did for our university volleyball team last semester. Practically gave them all new knees."

"Yeah, uh," Yuji managed, looking slightly green. "Knees are... really something."

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from losing it as Nobara continued to spin her elaborate tale. She was in full swing now, crafting backstories with enough detail to make you almost believe them yourself.

"—which is exactly why Tokyo was the perfect choice," she concluded with a theatrical wave of her hand. "The selection process was brutal, but once they saw our research proposals—"

"Research?" Naoya interrupted, looking more intrigued now. "What kind?"

"Oh!" Nobara's eyes lit up with what you knew only meant trouble. She glanced around frantically before her gaze landed on the slowly melting ice heart. "We're actually studying crystallization patterns in organic tissue preservation."

You nearly choked on air.

"Is that so? And what have you found?"

"Well," Nobara continued, smooth as butter, "the molecular structure of ice formation in cellular matrices shows fascinating parallels to..." She jabbed an elbow into your ribs.

"Crystalline lattice networks!" you squeaked, mentally thanking every god that you'd actually opened one of Megumi's chemistry books that one time.

"Precisely." Nobara beamed like you'd just discovered penicillin. "The implications for long-term tissue storage are absolutely groundbreaking."

Naoya's eyes narrowed slightly. "And you're all involved in this research?"

"Interdisciplinary approach," Megumi cut in, his poker face giving away nothing. "We each bring our own perspective to the project."

"How intriguing," Naoya drawled, and you couldn't tell if he was actually buying it or just playing along. "We'll have to discuss it further over drinks. I have some excellent imported vodka over here."

"Perfect!" Nobara practically sang, already dragging a shocked Yuji towards the bar before Naoya could start asking about actual medical terms.

The moment Naoya turned away, you released a breath that felt like you'd been holding it since freshman year. "Crystallization patterns?" You glanced at Nobara. "Seriously?"

"I panicked, okay?" she whispered back, still maintaining her beauty-queen smile. "The ice sculpture was right there! What was I supposed to say?"

"Maybe something that won't get us exposed as frauds when he starts asking about actual medical stuff?"

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

It was remarkable how quickly your ridiculous pretense took on a life of its own. Your virgin mojito had long since grown warm, forgotten in the excitement of your increasingly elaborate charade. You'd tried to back out earlier, but Nobara wouldn't hear of it.

Now, surprisingly, you were having too much fun to care.

Nobara charmed her way through the room like always, her tales of revolutionary research getting more outlandish by the minute. Yet somehow, these future doctors were eating it up. Her theatrical gestures and infectious confidence made even the most absurd claims sound plausible.

You found yourself caught up in the performance, adding details to your fictional research with surprising ease. Every half-remembered phrase from Megumi's textbooks, every medical drama you'd ever watched, became fodder for your improvised deception.

"Exactly!" Nobara said, turning over to you. "Show them that diagram you were working on."

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a cocktail napkin and began sketching what you hoped looked like scientific diagrams but were actually just random shapes you remembered from Megumi's chemistry textbooks. The small crowd leaned in.

"This is brilliant," someone said, peering at your doodles. "The way you've mapped the molecular bonds—"

"Groundbreaking," another agreed, though you were pretty sure your drawing made no sense.

Even Megumi, usually allergic to fun, had embraced the absurdity. His natural stoicism translated perfectly into the role of a serious researcher. In fact, he seemed genuinely in his element. For once, he could talk about molecular structures and reaction mechanisms without your eyes glazing over.

Yuji, meanwhile, had found his stride discussing sports injuries with a group of actual athletes. His enthusiasm for sports made up for any medical knowledge he lacked, and he'd managed to deflect every technical question with "Yeah, but you should see what this does to your knees!"

It was strangely freeing, this slipping into another life.

You hadn't actually needed to pretend to be med students — there were plenty of other students at the party too, from engineering to literature. But somehow, making up this stupid story was surprisingly enjoyable.

For once, you weren't thinking about law school, your parents' expectations, or your complicated feelings about certain doctors. Instead, you were just... playing, creating a fantasy world where you could be anyone you wanted to be.

And maybe that was the real breakthrough of all.

Later that night, you and Nobara made your way to the bar to get new drinks, still laughing about your successful deception. Naoya was already there, lounging against the bar with the kind of casual elegance that suggested he'd never had an awkward moment in his life.

His eyes lit up when he spotted you, that boyish smile spreading across his face. He straightened up, abandoning whatever conversation he'd been having with his friends.

"Ah, our brilliant researchers," he drawled, gesturing to the bartender. "Let me make you something special."

The way he said it made you wonder if he'd seen through your act, but his smile remained playful, almost conspiratorial. He leaned over the bar himself, selecting a few bottles. His movements were smooth, casual, like everything else about him.

"Oh, she doesn't drink," Nobara said, pulling you closer as she watched him mix the drinks. "Medical condition."

"Come on, one won't hurt," Naoya insisted, his smile never wavering. "This is a celebration." He slid two glasses towards you both, the liquid an impossible shade of blue that seemed to glow. "My own creation. Like your groundbreaking research, it's one of a kind."

Nobara reached for the drink, but you hesitated, knowing it was a bad idea to drink with your medication. But then you reached for it anyway. It seemed rude not to.

Naoya raised his own glass for a toast, but before either of you could react, a group of boisterous athletes in varsity jackets crashed into your circle

"Yo, Naoya! Stop flirting and get your ass over here!"

Naoya's casual composure cracked slightly as his friends practically manhandled him away and dragged him backwards. "Ladies, excuse me. Duty calls. Save that drink for me?"

Once he was gone, Nobara nudged you with her elbow. "Well, he was subtle."

"Please don't start."

"What? I'm just saying, the guy couldn't take his eyes off you."

You rolled your eyes. "He's literally your type. Rich, handsome, probably going to inherit a hospital or three. Why don't you go for it?"

"Because he wasn't looking at me?" Nobara raised an eyebrow. "Besides, since when do you turn down good-looking guys?"

"Since they started looking like they've never heard the word 'no' in their lives. I mean, look at this place. These people probably vacation in countries I can't even spell."

"Right, because that's totally the reason." Nobara's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing to do with a certain someone who you won't talk about?"

You groaned, dropping your head onto the bar. "Can we go back to pretending to be brilliant researchers? That was way more fun than this conversation."

"Don't be like that!" Nobara suddenly perked up, grabbing your arm. "Come on, let's go dance. Fresh air will do you good, and maybe clear whatever, or whoever, is on your mind."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

You followed Nobara into the backyard, still carrying your untouched drink more for show than anything else. The night had transformed the perfect garden into something between a music festival and a medical conference gone wild.

Fairy lights twinkled in the trees, casting everything in a dreamy glow, while the pool glowed an artificial blue that matched your drink. In the water, people splashed around, their pretense of sophistication long abandoned as music pulsed through the air.

Near an absurdly big fire pit, you spotted Megumi and Yuji sitting with a couple of female med students. Even from a distance, you could tell that Yuji was trying to impress them in his own unique way of doing—whatever it was he was doing there—while Megumi watched with his usual quiet amusement.

Then, the music shifted to something with a heavy beat, and before you could protest, Nobara grabbed your hands, pulling you both into a dance circle. Even Megumi got dragged in, though his version of dancing mostly involved standing there while the rest of you moved around him. His deadpan expression only made everything funnier.

You found yourself laughing, really laughing, as Yuji attempted to coordinate a group choreography that absolutely no one could follow. Nobara twirled you around, both of you giggling as you nearly crashed into Megumi, who caught you with an eye roll that couldn't quite hide his smile.

For a moment, everything else faded away. None of it mattered — not law school, not your internship, not any of it. You were just four friends being young and stupid together, pretending to be something you weren't and having more fun than you'd had in months.

Across the yard, you kept catching glimpses of Naoya, who remained stationed at the beer pong table, surrounded by his athletic friends. His smile would flash in your direction whenever your eyes met, and something about the attention felt... nice. Not him specifically. Maybe you just liked being seen. By someone. Anyone.

That's when someone burst through the backyard doors, nearly colliding with you. His shout cut through the music and chatter, "Professors incoming!"

The words rippled through the crowd like lightning. The party dissolved into instant chaos as someone killed the music, leaving only the telltale sound of glass bottles being hastily collected while future medical professionals scattered like startled teenagers.

Before you could process what was happening, someone crashed into you — literally crashed, sending your blue drink all over your shirt. The woman looked right through you, her eyes fixed on something behind your shoulders, face pale like she'd seen a ghost.

"I'm so so sorry," she managed.

"It's okay—" you started, but she was already moving past you, drawn to the front entrance like a magnet.

"What a bitch," Nobara said, eyeing your ruined shirt.

"At least I don't have to pretend to drink it anymore." You dabbed uselessly at your shirt, though you were oddly unfazed. After all, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

But Nobara wasn't listening anymore — her attention had shifted to the front entrance where a group of older, admittedly attractive men had just walked in. Your stomach dropped when you spotted him. No, them. Both of them.

Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto, walking in like they owned the place. Which, you realized with growing horror, they kind of did — these were probably their students. And here you were, playing pretend medical researcher while your actual doctors just crashed the party.

But any panic about your blown cover vanished when you saw what happened next. The woman who'd run into you had frozen in place as Dr. Gojo spotted her. The look that passed between them was so intense, so heavy, that you felt like you were intruding just by witnessing it.

"What is that about?" Nobara whispered, gripping your arm as you both watched the scene unfold.

"I don't know." You couldn't tear your eyes away. Gojo had caught up to the woman now, and even from across the room, you could feel the tension between them as they exchanged what looked like a few terse words. Then, just as abruptly as it started, he strode off deeper into the house, leaving her standing there alone.

"Okay, that was weird," Nobara said, still clutching your arm.

You just nodded, feeling strangely unsettled. There was clearly a story there — several stories, probably — but you weren't sure you wanted to know any of them. Something about the whole interaction felt too private, like you'd stumbled onto a scene you weren't meant to witness.

Then Suguru moved towards the woman, the crowd parting before him. When he reached her, his hand came up to her face with a gentleness that felt like a knife between your ribs, thumb brushing against her cheek.

The pieces clicked together then with nauseating clarity. This was her. Dr. Gojo's girlfriend—student—or whatever she was. She was probably also the woman from the phone call at the art exhibition, the one whose voice had made Suguru drop everything.

Watching them, seeing how his fingers lingered on her skin, made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach.

It was ridiculous. You had no right to feel this way. He wasn't yours to want, wasn't yours to miss. Hell, he was barely more than your doctor, even if the memory of his hands on you in that bar bathroom still burned.

Then, as if pulled by the weight of your stare, his eyes met yours across the room. For one endless moment, the party dissolved into white noise. His hand dropped from the woman's face, and something unreadable flickered across his features before he tore his gaze away.

The moment shattered like glass, leaving you standing there with your stained shirt and a mess of feelings you didn't want to examine too closely. Nobara was saying something beside you, but her words seemed to come from very far away.

You couldn't look away as Suguru turned back to the woman, his posture now stiff and controlled. She kept glancing between him and Gojo with wounded eyes, and Suguru looked at her with such longing, and somehow that felt like a punch in the gut to witness.

"Hey," Nobara's voice cut through your spiral, her eyes falling to the stain on your shirt. "Want to try washing it out?"

You nodded.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

Nobara steered you away from the scene, her grip on your arm somewhere between protective and worried. You let her guide you through the crowd, grateful for the excuse to escape. Behind you, you could still feel the weight of everything you'd witnessed pressing against your spine.

The bathroom was one of those stupidly luxurious ones rich people have in their houses. All marble counters and fancy hand towels. The lights were almost too bright, making you squint at your reflection in the stupidly large mirror.

"Okay, take it off," Nobara commanded, already wetting paper towels. "We'll see if we can save this thing."

You pulled your shirt over your head with shaky fingers, trying not to think about the last time you'd taken off clothing in a bathroom. Trying harder not to think about whose hands had helped you then.

"So," Nobara said, her tone deliberately casual as she worked on your shirt at the sink. "Want to talk about whatever that was back there?"

"What what was?"

She shot you a look that could have stripped paint. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the way you were looking at that guy from before like he'd personally betrayed you by touching another woman?"

"I wasn't—" you started, then stopped, because what could you say? That you weren't jealous? That seeing him with her hadn't felt like swallowing broken glass? "It's complicated."

"When isn't it?" Nobara said, scrubbing at the stain. "But seriously, what's going on?"

You sit up on the counter, wrapping your arms around yourself in your camisole, the marble cold against your skin. "Nothing's going on. He's my doctor, sort of. We went to an art exhibition. That's all."

Nobara's hands stilled on your shirt. "You went on a date with your doctor?"

"It wasn't a date," you protested weakly. "It was... I don't know what it was."

"Girl," she said, turning to face you fully. "Normal doctors don't take their patients to art shows. Or look at them the way he just looked at you out there."

"How did he look at me?"

"Like someone who's realizing he's in way over his head." She wrung out your shirt, frowning at the stubborn stain. "Which, by the way, seems to be a mutual problem."

You groaned, letting your head thunk against the wall behind you. "This is such a mess. I don't even know why I'm here. I hate parties. I hate med students. I hate—" You cut yourself off, because finishing that sentence with 'seeing him look at her like that' felt too honest.

"Could be worse," Nobara said, attacking your shirt with the fancy hand dryer mounted on the wall. "You could be the one out there in whatever that drama is." She paused, eyeing you. "Though maybe you already are."

"Can we just focus on the shirt?"

Between the two of you, you managed to get the shirt mostly dry, though the stain had settled into a weird bluish shadow. Better than nothing, you supposed.

"I need to fix my face," Nobara announced, pulling out what looked like an entire Sephora store from her tiny purse. "Want me to do yours too?"

"God, no." You shrugged your shirt back on. "I think I'll head downstairs, get some air or something. Meet you there?"

"Don't do anything stupid without me!" she called after you, already leaning close to the mirror.

You slipped out of the bathroom, heading downstairs the music growing louder with each step. The party had somehow gotten even more chaotic, if that was possible. You weaved through the crowd, trying to find Megumi or Yuji.

And then it happened.

You turned a corner and collided face-first into what felt like a brick wall. A brick wall that smelled like sandalwood cologne and cigarette smoke. Strong hands steadied you before you could stumble backward.

You knew those hands. Knew exactly how they felt against your skin, knew the calluses on those fingers, knew—

"Careful," Suguru's voice rumbled above you, too close and not close enough.

You looked up, immediately wishing you hadn't. But before you could even process the proximity, he tilted your chin up with his fingers — the same hands that had anothers woman's face in them just minutes ago — studying your eyes with sudden clinical intensity.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "The lights, the noise—"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you interrupted, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

He blinked, his doctor act faltering. Something shifted in his expression, softening around the edges as his hand dropped from your chin but stayed resting lightly against your neck. "Hello," he said, the word carrying a warmth that made your chest tight.

"Hi," you managed, your voice embarrassingly breathy. He still had one hand on your arm. His thumb brushed against your bicep in what might have been an accident but felt like fire through your shirt.

"Are you leaving?"

"No, I just needed some air." You swallowed hard, too aware of how warm his fingers are against your skin. You should step back. Should put some distance between you and the intoxicating heat of him. Should definitely stop staring at his mouth.

"I didn't know you'd be here," you said, which was both true and completely beside the point.

"Neither did I." His eyes dropped to your shirt, narrowing slightly. "What happened?"

"Oh, just someone's drink. A friend of mine helped me clean it." You gestured vaguely upward, toward the bathroom. "Story of my life, really. Can't go anywhere without wearing half of it home."

"First sports bars, now this." A hint of the warmth you remembered crept into his voice. "At this rate, you'll need to start bringing spare clothes everywhere—"

"I haven't forgotten about your shirt!" you said quickly. "I have it washed at home, I just... with everything going on, I kept forgetting to bring it to your office."

"Keep it." His voice dropped lower. "It looked better on you anyway."

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the compliment, and you found yourself stumbling over your words. "I... that's not... I mean—" You stopped, painfully aware of how flustered you sounded.

His words stirred up memories you'd been trying to ignore. Skin against skin, the taste of beer on his lips, the way his fingers had felt inside you. From the way his jaw clenched, like he was physically biting back words, you knew he was remembering too.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked then. "With your medication—"

"No," you cut him off. "I'm being good, Dr. Geto. Just water and my endless talent for attracting stains."

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Good," he said, softer now. "That's... good." But he didn't let go, and you found yourself swaying slightly closer, drawn in by his warmth, by the lingering scent of cigarettes and that cologne that had haunted you since that bathroom.

You stayed suspended like that, neither of you speaking. Not about the woman from before. Not about that night at the bar. Not about how his thumbs were still tracing absent patterns on your skin like he couldn't quite help himself.

His breath ghosted across your face. This close, you could make out every detail — the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline, the tiny flecks of gold in his dark eyes. It would be so easy to just lean in, to close that last bit of distance and—

A burst of laughter from somewhere else shattered the moment. His hands dropped from your arms, leaving cold spots where his warmth had been. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed more nervous than purposeful.

"I should check on—" he started.

"Yeah, of course," you said quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself to fight the urge to reach for him. "Go. I'm just going to..." you gestured vaguely toward nothing in particular.

"Be careful getting home," he said after a pause.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You watched him disappear into the crowd, and only then did you let out the breath you'd been holding, sagging against the wall.

"So I was thinking—" Nobara's voice floated down the stairs, and you immediately lunged for her, catching her wrist before she could finish whatever mortifying observation was about to leave her mouth.

"Don't," you said, already trying to drag her toward the nearest exit. "Not a word. Not one single word."

"But I just saw—"

"Nope." You tightened your grip on her wrist. "We're not doing this. We're going to find Megumi and get out of here before—"

"Guys!" Yuji's voice cut through the crowd, and suddenly he was there. "Holy shit, you have to come to the backyard right now."

"Yuji, I swear to god if this is about another keg stand—" Nobara started.

"No, no, this is way better," he insisted, already herding you both toward the back door. "Just trust me." Yuji was already pushing through the crowd, leaving you and Nobara no choice but to follow. You stumbled after him, trying to ignore how your skin still tingled from Suguru's touch.

Meanwhile, the backyard had transformed into some kind of arena. As you pushed through the throng of drunk students, you saw why.

She was there — the woman who'd collided with you earlier, the one Suguru had touched with such tenderness. But she was different now, her earlier vulnerability replaced by something sharp as she lined up a shot at the beer pong table. And beside her, of all people, stood Megumi, looking simultaneously out of place and utterly captivated.

Across the table, Gojo made a show of rolling up his sleeves and crossing his arms over his chest. Next to him stood Naoya, practically radiating the kind of entitled confidence that came with old money and too much validation, you thought.

You squeezed through the crowd to get closer to Megumi, catching her mid-sentence as she spoke to him.

"—and honestly, the way you approached the protein degradation problem?" She gestured with her free hand while perfectly arcing a shot across the table. "Brilliant. Though I had questions about the temperature controls in the third trial—"

The ball landed with a soft 'plop' in Gojo's cup. She hadn't even looked.

"Wait," Megumi cut in, actually leaning forward. "You read my paper? The one about molecular preservation in organic compounds?"

"Read it? I've referenced it in my assignment." She lined up another shot. "Your approach could change how we handle long-term storage of biological materials. Though I did wonder about the crystallization patterns in the control group—"

You watched as Megumi's face did something you'd rarely seen. Because Megumi? Megumi was gone. Hook, line, and sinker. All it had taken was one beautiful woman who could discuss molecular restructuring while landing perfect beer pong shots.

You nudged him with your elbow. "Wrong place, wrong time?" you whispered, but he barely registered your existence.

His turn came, and oh god, it was painful to watch. The ball went wide, not even close to the cups. You had to suppress a laugh because you'd never seen Megumi look so unbothered by failing at something.

The woman spun back to him, completely ignoring Gojo's turn. "So what got you thinking about temperature-dependent structural integrity in the first place?" She aimed for another shot. "Because I have some ideas about stabilization methods that might—" Another perfect arc, another splash. "—actually complement what you're working on."

You watched your best friend — your brilliant, antisocial best friend who'd once spent forty minutes explaining why drinking games were "a fundamental degradation of human intelligence" — now hanging on every word from this woman.

And he was smiling. Megumi, the guy who'd rather solve complex equations than make small talk was actually smiling at her talking about molecular bonds between beer pong shots.

"You didn't get dragged into this at all, did you?" you said to him.

"Shut up," he muttered, but his ears were pink and his eyes never left her as she lined up another shot.

"Oh god," Nobara whispered beside you. "I think Megumi's in love."

Then you let your eyes wander, and through the crowd you saw him. Suguru stood between the two teams, hands in his pockets, looking like every ethical violation happening before him was physically paining him. His jaw was set, shoulders tense, desperately trying very hard to pretend none of this was happening.

You had to bite your lip to hold back a smile at how adorably stressed he looked, like a substitute teacher whose class had spiraled completely out of control, and somehow, as if sensing your amusement, his eyes found yours across the sea of people.

Your chest did that stupid flutter thing again, the one you really needed to stop happening every time he looked at you like that.

He shook his head slightly, a silent 'can you believe this?' that made the chaos around you fade for just a moment — the shouting crowd, Megumi's awkward academic flirting — all of it dimmed compared to the way Suguru was looking at you.

But then Megumi actually landed a shot, and the crowd erupted. When you looked back, Suguru had turned away, deep in conversation with another professor next to him. You tried to ignore those weird feelings in your stomach, especially when the woman he was clearly in love with stood just feet away. What right did you have to feel this way? To want his attention when she was right there? It was selfish. It really was.

You turned back to the game just as Megumi launched into another scientific discussion. "—if we adjust the temperature coefficient during the initial—" A ping pong ball sailed between them, deliberately catching Megumi's shoulder.

Gojo stood there, all fake innocence. "Are we really doing molecular whatever at a party? Really?"

Across the crowd, you watched Suguru pinch the bridge of his nose, looking like he was questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment. But then Naoya brought out the tequila and challenged them to drink more, and the playful atmosphere curdled into something else entirely. Something heavier.

More shots appeared. The laughter got louder, sharper, meaner.

Nobara pressed closer to your side. "This is about to go sideways."

The woman matched them drink for drink, but while others started swaying, her aim stayed deadly precise. It was almost unnerving — you wondered how any of them were still standing, let alone hitting targets.

Then it happened. When she sank another perfect shot into Gojo's cup and he drained it like water, something shifted in the air. She put one leg up on the edge of a beer crate, hiking up her skirt. The crowd went completely silent as she sprinkled cinnamon on her thigh, just above where her stockings ended.

The air felt suddenly thick, charged with something uncomfortable. Gojo stalked around the table toward her, and you wanted to look away but couldn't. It felt wrong to watch, invasive, like walking in on something raw and private that was never meant for an audience.

When Gojo dropped to his knees before her, you finally managed to tear your eyes away — only to catch Suguru's expression. God, you wished you hadn't. The raw hurt that flashed across his face felt like a punch to your gut. He turned away, disappearing into the dark garden beyond the fairy lights.

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles, but all you could hear was static. Your skin felt too tight, your chest too hollow. The party pressed in from all sides, suffocating, while that image of Suguru's face played on loop in your head.

Next to you, Megumi had become intensely fascinated with his shoelaces, while Nobara looked like she'd witnessed a car crash in slow motion. Something had shifted, tilted off its axis. What had started as fun had twisted into something else entirely.

You needed air, space, anything to escape the sudden wrongness of it all. You murmured something about needing air to your friends and slipped away from the crowd, following the path Suguru had taken into the garden.

You found him in a shadowed corner, far from the main paths. His cigarette glowed like a firefly in the dark, smoke trailing upward as he exhaled toward the sky.

He must have heard you approach, but he didn't move. You stepped closer, careful to make your presence known, giving him every chance to tell you to leave. When he stayed silent, you settled beside him.

"You okay?" The words came out barely louder than a breath.

"I'm fine." His voice was rough, like the smoke had scraped it raw.

"Okay." You tipped your head back, studying the stars. They were clearer here, away from the party's glow. "Well, I'm just going to stand here and count stars for a bit."

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" You kept your eyes fixed upward, letting him have his privacy. "I'm just stargazing. You happened to find the best spot."

Silence fell. More smoke spiraled skyward. You stayed quiet, true to your word, as if watching stars was all you'd come out here to do. As if you hadn't followed him because seeing him hurt made something in your chest ache.

Just two people, looking up at the same sky, sharing the same quiet corner of a chaotic night. If he needed to pretend that's all it was, you could give him that.

"You know," you said, gazing up at the hazy Tokyo sky. "Van Gogh painted 'Starry Night' from an asylum window. Could only see Venus from his room, had to imagine the rest. Afterwards he wrote those frantic letters to his brother complaining that he made Venus way too big in the painting, he could never quite let go of that."

Suguru looked over at you. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm. Also, did you know that he used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would make him happy from the inside out?"

You caught the slight twitch of his lips in the darkness. "You're making that up."

"I swear I'm not! He also tried to drink turpentine once. His doctor had to physically stop him." You were fully animated now, warming to the subject. "Though considering this is the same guy who gave his severed ear to a prostitute as a Christmas gift, the paint-eating thing seems almost reasonable."

"Please tell me that's a joke."

"Oh no, for real! But there are even weirder stories about artists. Like there's this issue about whether Vermeer used some kind of prehistoric camera. Like talent wasn't enough of an explanation for his paintings." You rolled your eyes. "My personal favorite theory is that Vermeer was actually a fraud and his daughter did all the paintings. Oh, and don't get me started about the conspiracy that Salvador Dalí's mustache was actually fake."

"Now I know you're making this up."

"I swear I'm not! Art history is wild!"

Finally, a real laugh escaped him — just a quiet thing, but real, the sound startling in the quiet garden. You watched his shoulders finally relax, the tension leaving his face.

"Ah, there it is," you said quietly.

"There's what?"

"That smile. Been wondering if you'd lost it completely."

He shook his head, but the smile lingered. "You're something else, you know that?"

Your eyes drifted to the cigarette dangling from his fingers. "Those things will kill you, you know," you said. "I hear there's this really demanding profession called 'doctor' that keeps warning people about that."

"Is that so?" he mused. "Must have missed that particular lecture."

You studied him for a moment before saying, "Want to talk about it?"

He blew out a stream of smoke, watching it disappear into the darkness. "It's nothing."

"Right. Because all the cool doctors hang out alone in gardens, smoking and looking sad."

That got you another smile, smaller this time. "Careful, Attorney. Your sarcasm is showing."

"Better than your deflection."

Silence fell between you again. Music from the party drifted through the garden, muffled and dreamlike. You waited, letting him choose whether to fill the quiet or let it be.

Finally, he spoke, his voice rough. "It's just—" He crushed out his cigarette beneath his shoe, watching the ember die. "Watching them hurt each other, then somehow find their way back together. Over and over. Like they can't help themselves." His fingers twitched toward his pocket, probably for another cigarette, but he stopped himself.

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it messier than before. "And I can't... I can't fix it. Any of it. I'm just standing there, watching it all fall apart."

You shifted closer until your shoulder brushed his, offering what comfort you could. "Maybe it's not yours to fix."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "That's the problem, isn't it? I've spent so long trying to fix things for him, for them both. And now—"

"Now you're caught between them," you said softly, "still trying to fix things while being left out."

"Something like that." He turned to look at you then, really look at you. "When did you get so wise about all this?"

You shrugged. "Oh, you know, all those stupid law books."

He huffed out a sound that might have been almost a laugh, then grew serious again. "They deserve better than this," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Both of them."

"So do you."

The words hung between you, weightier than intended. When he turned to look at you again, something in his expression made your heart stutter. The fairy lights caught in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold at the edges.

"Here," he murmured, voice dropping to that deep tone that seemed to vibrate through your chest. "You've got..." His hand moved toward your face, hovering for a heartbeat before his thumb brushed your cheek with impossible gentleness. "Eyelash."

You forgot how to breathe. "Gone?"

"Almost." He leaned closer, thumb tracing another whispered path across your cheekbone. "There."

But neither of you moved away. His gaze dropped to where his thumb had just been, lingering there as a shiver ran through you — from the night air or his proximity, you couldn't tell. Goosebumps raised along your arms, and his eyes caught it.

His fingers drifted down your arm, barely touching, following the trail of raised skin. That ghost of contact only made you shiver harder. You heard his sharp intake of breath, felt it in the charged space between you, and inhaled that faint cigarette smoke that still lingered on his lips.

"You taste like smoke," you whispered, immediately wanting to take the words back. Smell, not taste — as if you already knew.

"Sorry," he murmured, but instead of pulling away, he swayed closer, like you were both being pulled together by gravity itself. His free hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing along your jaw in a way that made you dizzy.

"Don't be."

The moment hung suspended, everything beyond your small circle of garden fading to watercolor blurs. There was just his hands on your skin, the barely-there space between you, and then — his lips found yours.

He kissed you achingly gentle at first, as if afraid you might shatter. He tasted like smoke and wine and something underneath that was purely him. For a heartbeat, the world condensed to just this — the soft press of his mouth, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, the night wrapping around you like silk.

But even as you melted into him, you could feel it — the shadow of her lingering between you, all his unspoken love for her. It was there in the slight trembling of his hands, the bitter edge beneath the sweetness of his kiss, the way he touched you like he was trying to convince himself of something.

Then his fingers slid into your hair, and rational thought scattered. This wasn't like that desperate night at the bar. This was slower, deeper, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every sigh, every shiver, learning exactly how you wanted to be kissed.

You knew you should stop this. He was carrying a torch that burned too bright to ignore, loving someone who wasn't you. But his hands felt so right against your skin, his mouth moving against yours with a tenderness that made thinking impossible.

Instead of pulling away, you drew him closer, fingers curling into his jacket. He made a sound low in his throat, surprise or surrender, you weren't sure. Didn't want to know.

The kiss deepened, turned hungry. Your back hit something solid, a wall maybe, you didn't care enough to check. His hands cradled your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he kissed you like he was trying to forget something, or someone.

Then suddenly he was gone, backing away so quickly you nearly stumbled. His breathing came ragged, matching your own. In the dim light, you could see the conflict written across his face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have—"

You knew this was wrong. Everything about it screamed mistake — he was older, more experienced and he was your doctor, technically, and let's not forget he's clearly in love with someone else. Tomorrow, in the harsh light of day, you'd probably both regret this.

But right now? Right now you wanted to be selfish. Wanted to pretend, just for tonight, that his hands on your skin meant something more than escape. That when he looked at you with those dark eyes, he was seeing you and not her shadow.

And was it really that wrong to be selfish, just this once? To take something you wanted without overthinking every consequence? Everyone else seemed to do whatever they pleased, why shouldn't you?

You closed the distance between you, hands finding his jacket collar once more. "Don't think," you whispered, pulling him down to meet you. "Just... don't think."

For once in your life, you decided to take something you wanted, consequences be damned. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

He resisted for half a heartbeat, then surrendered with a groan that made your knees weak. This time when he kissed you, there was nothing gentle about it. He walked you backward until stone met your back again, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head.

Your fingers wound into his hair as he pressed closer, until you could feel every line of him against you. The solid weight of him made the world spin. When he lifted you, it felt natural to wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pin you more firmly against the wall.

His hand slid under your thigh, grip steady and sure. Every point of contact between you felt electric, dangerous, wrong — and yet too good to stop.

But god, the way he touched you made it impossible to think straight. Every rational argument dissolved under the heat of his hands, the pressure of his body against yours. You were playing with fire and you knew it. But maybe you wanted to burn.

When you broke apart for air, his eyes were dark enough to drown in. For a moment, you both stayed frozen like that, breathing hard, balanced on the knife's edge of something stupid.

"We shouldn't," he said, but his fingers only tightened their grip.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Maybe we should find somewhere more private," you breathed, feeling the shudder that ran through him. "Like a bedroom."

His grip on your thigh tightened. He pressed his forehead to the wall beside your head, harsh breaths hot against your neck. The hand by your head curled into a fist against the stone.

"My place isn't far," he said roughly. When he met your eyes again, there was something vulnerable in his gaze. "But are you sure about this?"

Instead of answering, you traced slow kisses along his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble against your lips. The sound that escaped him was almost pained.

"I meant here."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — thank you all for your continued patience and support with this slow update story :')) i've added a "previously" section at the beginning to help you keep track of the narrative, maybe? idk, i'd love to hear if you find this helpful.

sooo this chapter dove deeper into the growing complications between our characters as their lives start to tangle together. i had so much fun writing the crossover between the remedies and reasons and symptoms and causes storylines, even though handling two timelines of the same events nearly broke my brain.

also thank u to that one anon who reminded me that r&r reader still has suguru's shirt (would have totally forgotten about it).

& quick note about the alcohol consumption in this story: while it's serve the narrative of the story, please remember that alcohol is toxic to the body and brain, with no "safe" amount. please be mindful of your health and wellbeing.

and lastly, thank you so so much for reading. all your messages, comments, and reblogs mean the world to me, like really, seeing your theories and those long analysis messages absolutely makes my day !! i read every single one even if i don't always get to reply. thank you for supporting this story and being patient with my updates <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @sugurora @manhattanstrawberry @rosso-seta @shoruio @paolarox01

@depressedemosantaclaus @myahfig4 @starlightanyaaa @theelegantpotato @panteramarron

@saurondriell @starmapz

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tomriddleswhcre · 13 days ago

Text

| A Whisper of Serpents

Masterlist

[Tom Riddle x Reader]

summary: You and Tom Riddle are rivals at Hogwarts, constantly clashing and challenging each other. One day, you discover an unexpected attraction to him when he speaks Parseltongue. After Tom teasingly uses it to get under your skin, you confront him in the common room, and the tension between you both finally explodes into an intimate encounter.

warnings: MDNI, characters are 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, smut.

words: 3,3k

a/n: cannot believe i've created this.

devider by @bernardsbendystraws

Cool air in the Slytherin common room whispered along stone walls, and the green light of the magic lamp flickered. You sat in your usual place in the corner by the fire, scratching your quill on your potions paper. The air was filled with the smell of black and sand, a smell that reminded you of Tom Riddle struggling with essays and exams.

Tom Riddle. A name that evoked both ire and admiration in equal measure. The boy was brilliant—too brilliant, you thought, the instant his black eyes darted across the room to you over the desk. He sat at his desk, posture precisely straight, lips curving in triumph, as though he knew he would best you in tomorrow's Potions.

“Enjoying the thrill of inevitable defeat?” he breathed, his voice cutting as effectively through the silent room like a knife.

You looked up, decided not to let him bug you. “I’ll let you know after I see the marks. Should I save a seat for you in second place, Riddle?”

A dark light glittered in his dark eyes, and his smirk deepened. “Confidence suits you. Shame it’s misplaced.” The rivalry had always been this way—sharp, laced with an undeniable tension that neither of you acknowledged. Still, tonight you noticed a difference. The second time Tom spoke, his voice was softer and his rhythm was more even. He muttered something very quiet and soft that you couldn't really hear.

You froze.

It wasn't English. It was something ancient, something primal.

Your eyes narrowed as you leaned forward. “What was that?”

“Hmm?” He looked up, feigning innocence, though the curl of his lips betrayed him.

“That. Just now. What did you say?”

He shrugged, turning back to his parchment. “Nothing you'd understand.”

It clicked then, the penny dropping in your brain—you'd heard rumors, of course, among quiet whispers, huddled as your classmates were on hushed subjects. Tom Riddle spoke Parseltongue, a gift said to be rare enough that not only did they not live alongside Muggle-born witches or wizards, they would think those with Parseltongue came from gods. Of course, you didn't, though: a tingle down the back of the spine was left as well, it seemed.

In the following weeks you became increasingly aware of him. It wasn’t just his flawless academic credentials or the ruthless intellect he wielded as a weapon. It was also the way he moved, the way his voice slithered into that serpentine language when he thought no one was listening.

Finally, one night, you stepped up your game and decided to confront him late at the library. The two of you were all alone in the room, and the silence was often broken by just the sound of a flipping page.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” you said, doing your best to sound casual, “how does it feel to be a walking myth?”

Tom didn’t even look up. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to stand besides his table. “Don’t play coy. Parseltongue.”

This time his head cocked, slight but a glimmer of interest on his face. “What about it?”

“I’ve been listening to you,” you said, your voice lower now. “In the common room. During Herbology, when you thought no one was listening. You do that on purpose, don’t you?”

"Maybe,” he said slickly, leaning back in his chair. Your eyes met his dark eyes, and for a single moment, you forgot how to breathe. “Does it bother you?”

“No.” Words came out a little too fast. You cleared your throat. “Well, it's unusual, but no...”

Suddenly his gaze became sharp.“Unusual,” he repeated, his voice lowered a shade. “That's one way to put it.”

Something seemed to shift in the air between the two of you. It was slight, so fine as to be almost imperceptible; but the weight of his attention pressed against your skin, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“You like it,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

From then on, Tom appeared to seize every opportunity to taunt you, slipping into Parseltongue during your arguments or mumbling it just close enough that only you could hear. Every time, your pulse raced, your cheeks flushed, and you hated how easily he unraveled you.

One evening, you’d reached your limit.

You knew you’d find him alone in the common room. And there he was, his long fingers expertly flipping through the pages of the thick, ancient tome. He didn’t look up as you approached, but you knew he sensed you there.

“Do you enjoy torturing people, or just me?” you demanded.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “You make it so entertaining.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are.”

You were about to shoot back a retort, but the words failed you when he spoke again.

“Come closer,” he said, in Parseltongue, the words coiling around you like a corporeal touch.

Your knees weakened. You hated him. You hated how much you needed him.

“What did you say?” you said, though you knew perfectly well.

Tom stood, the motion smooth, predatory. He moved closer enough that there was hardly space between you, breath ghosting against your cheek.

“Do you really want to know?” he said, reverting to English.

“Yes.”

A certain tension crackled between you, thick and unrelenting. Tom’s dark eyes were locked onto yours, the corner of his mouth twitching in the ghost of a smirk. His presence was magnetic as if he had a gravitational pull, and while all logic and reason screamed at you to step back, your feet remained rooted in place.

“Tell me what you said,” you ordered, but your voice didn’t follow you with the tone.

Tom cocked his head and examined you as though you were some especially intriguing puzzle. “Why?” he wondered, his voice silky smooth.

“Because—” Your words abandoned you as he closed the distance, the faint scent of parchment and dark spice encircling you. “Because I want to know.”

He smiled a little wider, a little deeper, and he tilted his head down just enough that his lips almost brushed against your ear. “Do you?” he said in Parseltongue, the syllables curling through you like a forbidden spell.

A shiver surged through your body, involuntary and ungovernable. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and your breath caught. The language was intoxicating, the sound of it vibrating in a place you didn’t know existed.

“Stop,” you gasped, although your hands betrayed you, the fingers curling into the edge of the table behind you for support.

“Stop?” Tom echoed, half mockingly, half in wonder. His hand lifted, lightly sweeping a single lock of hair away from your face, deliberately slowly. His touch was cold, his fingers grazing your cheek before retreating. “You don’t want me to stop.”

You opened your mouth, but you couldn't deny it: the words died on your tongue; and before you could think of anything to say, he spoke again, soft and low.

“Do you know what I’m saying?” he asked, his tone nearly tender now. “Do you feel it?”

“I can’t understand it,” you confessed, voice barely at a whisper.

“But you like it,” he whispered, his lips brushing so close to your ear you could sense the warmth of his breath. “You like how it feels.”

Your knees buckled a bit, Tom’s hand flying out, gripping your waist, steadying you. His grip was solid and his fingers sprawled over the curve of your hip as though staking a claim.

“You’re flushed,” he observed, his voice nearly clinical. “Your breathing is uneven. Your pupils are dilated. All from a few words.”

“Shut up,” you said, not without heat, but there was a tremor running through you.

“Why should I?” he dared, the grip tightening just enough to get your adrenaline-fueled. “You’re mine to unravel, aren’t you?”

The audacity of his words sent a surge of defiance through you. You threw your hands up and pushed against his chest, though it was a half-hearted attempt at best.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed.

“And yet,” he drawled, his lips twisting as he leaned in closer, “here you are, trembling in my arms.”

He didn't waste any time; it was almost startling intense when his hand caught your chin before his lips crashed into yours, fierce and unrelenting. The kiss was searing and desperate, like a starved man. His other hand found its place at your waist, tugging you closer until even the air dared not to linger between your bodies.

His lips were demanding, his movements precise but passionate. The hand on your chin moved in your hair and tangled in such a possessive way while tilting your head to kiss deeper. An involuntary sound came out of your mouth; it was a soft whisper surrender, which Tom devoured greedily. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing, commanding, until you parted them to let him inside.

He was dark and heavy, sweet and dangerous like stolen wine tempered with poison. His body pressed against your own-firm and unforgiving. His hands moved with unerring confidence, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, as if he had memorized every contour. It was a heady contradiction between precision and raw need, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The next you know, the edges of the common room table were cutting into your thighs as he turned you with a masterful grip while maneuvering effortlessly; books and parchment flew in a frenzy, pages whispering against the stone floor, but it seemed like Tom had no time nor paid any attention to it. The dark glint in his eyes promised that he was completely absorbed in you.

He bent you over the table, leaving you no time to protest or think. The cold surface was nothing like your flushed skin. You gasped when he started to push your skirt up with deliberate, unhurried hands. The sound of impact between his palm and your skin broke the weighty silence, leaving a swift sting and warmth behind with it.

The sensation sent a jolt through you, heat pooling, making your folds wet and insistent as his touch lingered. Tom’s presence was overwhelming, his control absolute, but there was something in his movements—some barely contained intensity—that betrayed just how deeply you unraveled him.

“T-Tom… what are you doing?” Your voice trembles, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation slipping through as the words escape your lips. Your body betrays you, shivering under the chill of the room’s air, your bare skin prickling with goosebumps. The vulnerable position you're in only heightens your awareness, thoughts swirling chaotically in your mind. Tom noticed. Of course, after all he’s very skilled at legilimens.

Tom’s breath brushes against you, sending an electric charge down your spine. “So eager for me,” he murmurs, his voice dark and laced with something primal. The unfamiliar hiss of Parseltongue wraps around the words, a forbidden melody that makes your body react instinctively. Your core tightens in response, a flutter of sensation you can’t suppress.

“What… what does that mean?” you stammer, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him. Your breath hitches as your eyes meet his—a smoldering gaze fixed on you, devouring the sight of your exposed pussy. His tongue darts across his lips, slow and deliberate, his expression one of barely-contained hunger.

Tom doesn’t falter. Every movement is deliberate, exuding raw confidence. In one swift motion, his trousers fall to the floor, pooling at his ankles. His eyes stay locked on yours, dark and smoldering with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. The air between you is electric, charged with unspoken tension.

His hands find yours, firm but not harsh as he guides your wrists behind your back. His grip is unyielding yet measured, a silent promise that he’s in control, but not without care. There’s no cruelty, only purpose.

With a sharp, deliberate tug, the material of your tights gives way, the sound of tearing loud in the charged silence. He doesn’t flinch at the destruction; it doesn’t matter. He can just get you new ones later.

The other hand grips his cock, his hard cock at the sight of you like this. With deliberate slowness, he rubs it along your wet folds, blending his precum with the heat of your arousal. His lips curve into a dangerous smirk as he leans close, the whisper of his breath ghosting over your ear.

"Be quiet for me, sweetheart," he murmurs, the words curling like silk, dark and intoxicating as they spill from his lips—in Parseltongue.

A shiver courses through you, a mix of the forbidden magic in his voice and the wickedly possessive way he moves. Your moans escape, unbidden, half driven by the sinful pleasure of his thrust, half by the raw power that drips from every syllable of the serpentine language.

He thrusts into you, rough and unrelenting, his desire consuming him like wildfire. Pain and pleasure blur together, and you feel the force of his need—not just a craving, but a deep, primal hunger that won't be denied. His movements claim you completely, leaving no room for anything but him.

A low moan escaped your lips as the sharp mix of pleasure and pain surged through you, his thick cock stretching you in ways you never imagined. The absurdity of it all struck you briefly—getting off to Tom Riddle speaking Parseltongue, of all things, while he fucked you so thoroughly. This felt like a fever dream, surreal and all-consuming. You turned your head to look at him, needing to see the man unraveling you so completely.

Tom reached for the hem of his crisp white shirt, tucking it between his teeth as he pulled it over his stomach. The fabric bunched at his chest, revealing the sharp ridges of his abs and the defined cut of his V-line. The sight alone made you clench involuntarily around him. His piercing gaze snapped to yours, and the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth set your pulse racing. You hated that smirk—hated how smug he always looked. But Merlin, he looked devastatingly good right now.

A muffled groan left his lips, raw and unrestrained. "F-fuck, yes. Just like that," he rasped, his voice breaking as the shirt slipped from his teeth, falling to obscure his torso again. His tone dipped, sliding into Parseltongue as his hips began to piston into you with relentless precision. "You take me so well," he hissed in that serpentine tongue, each word coiling around you like a spell.

Your cheek pressed against the cool, unyielding wood of the table, a faint sheen of drool escaping from the corner of your mouth as you lost yourself in him. "Tom, please," you begged, voice trembling with need, arching your back in a desperate bid for more.

His response came swiftly, cutting through the haze of your mind. "Such a filthy little whore," he growled, the final word spilling from his lips in Parseltongue, each syllable dripping with sinful allure. "So greedy for me." His hands gripped your hips firmly as he withdrew his cock, leaving you unbearably empty.

A whimper fell from your lips at the sudden loss, only to be silenced as Tom flipped you effortlessly, laying you back across the desk. His dark eyes bored into yours, a dangerous glint of control and desire reflected in their depths. He didn’t waste a second, shoving his cock into you with a maddening slowness.

It was torturous—the deliberate pace, the teasing stretch that left you gasping and clawing for more. "Tom," you whined, the word escaping as a desperate plea. He chuckled lowly, a sound rich with amusement and wicked satisfaction. "Shhh, darling," he murmured in Parseltongue, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

You didn’t understand the words, but they set your nerves alight nonetheless. The cadence alone sent a shiver racing down your spine. Unable to resist, you reached up, cupping his face gently with trembling hands and pulling him closer. Your lips met his in a searing kiss, your desperation pouring into it. Tom responded in kind, his hips snapping forward with sudden force, tearing a moan from your throat.

Tom seized the moment, sliding his tongue into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His kiss was relentless, consuming, leaving no room for thought. One of his hands snaked up to your neck, his fingers curling around it. He felt the heat of your pulse, the rhythmic throb against his fingertips igniting something dark and primal within him. His grip tightened, just enough to make your breath hitch—a perfect blend of restraint and domination.

It was all you needed. Tom Riddle, his hand firm on your throat, his lips devouring yours, sent your mind spiraling. A delicious haze clouded your thoughts, a mix of the airlessness and the intoxicating way he kissed you. He pulled back briefly, his piercing gaze sweeping over you, satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes. Then, he leaned in, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth.

The sharp sting of his bite made you gasp. You tasted blood, metallic and warm, as his tongue swept over your lip, soothing the pain while claiming every part of you. The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body. His free hand drifted from your neck, trailing lower with purpose. When his fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, the pressure made you cry out.

“Tom…” you moaned his name, the sound drawing a deep groan from him. His lips curled into a smirk as he watched you writhe beneath him.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your body trembling. The way his fingers moved, the rhythm of his hips driving into you, was pushing you to the edge.

“Do it, whore,” he commanded, his voice low and laced with Parseltongue. “Come on my cock.”

The forbidden, guttural language sent you over the brink. Ecstasy ripped through you, your muscles tightening around him as waves of pleasure crashed down. You cried his name, your legs wrapping around his waist, trembling as the aftershocks hit you.

Tom’s control faltered, a guttural growl escaping his lips as he drove himself deep, holding your waist tightly as he cums inside of you. His hips moved in slow, deliberate motions as he rode out his climax, his weight pressing into you.

When it was over, he collapsed onto you, his breath ragged, his forehead damp with sweat. For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your shared breathing. Slowly, your hand drifted to his back, tracing soft circles until the rhythm of your breaths aligned.

After a while, Tom pushed himself up, his expression unreadable. He muttered a spell, cleaning himself with a flick of his wand. Without a word, he dressed with practiced precision, his movements calm and calculated. Then, with another spell, he tidied you up, fixing your disheveled appearance as if nothing had happened.

You adjusted your skirt, tossing your ruined tights onto the chair nearby before running your fingers through your hair. When you glanced at him, he was already watching you, his intense gaze locked on yours.

With a surprising tenderness, Tom reached out, his hand resting on your cheek, thumb rubbing against it slowly. The simple gesture sent warmth rushing to your cheeks. You blinked, startled—not by his touch, but by the realization that Tom Riddle, of all people, had just done something so unexpectedly intimate.

“I suppose I should speak Parseltongue in front of you more often,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t stop the blush that deepened as he stepped back, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

With a flick of his wand, he summoned your discarded tights into his hand. “A souvenir,” he said smoothly, tucking them into his pocket before striding out, leaving you stunned.

298 notes · View notes

shuaflix · 2 years ago

Text

my guardian demon sucks at his job (not clickbait)

❝ look, i accidentally summoned jeonghan from my statistics textbook the day before you met him at the olive garden. ❞

PAIRING ▸ demon!yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, humor, angst, supernatural, demon au

WARNINGS ▸ not so biblically accurate, profanity, slowburn, found family, inspirations from mythology and h. p. lovecraft, lots of banter, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, palming, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), mc is painfully horny, ft. demon!shua and demon!wonwoo

SUMMARY ▸ just when you thought your luck couldn't get any worse, you accidentally manage to summon an ancient demon prince named jeonghan out of a scrap of paper from your statistics textbook. now, you're tasked with figuring out how to return your so-called "guardian demon" back to where he came from before he can stir up more trouble.

PLAYLIST ▸ our dawn is hotter than day by seventeen • cruel summer by taylor swift

WORD COUNT ▸ 23,610 words

TAG LIST ▸ @byunfirstlady @90s-belladonna @knucklesdeepmingi @xlovette @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hatesbutlovespeople7734 @goquokka

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i had so much fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy this one!! thank you so much for supporting my works ♡ lmk what u think!

TO BE FAIR, YOU REALLY DIDN’T EXPECT THE SPELL TO WORK.

You initially thought the scrap of paper you found in your statistics textbook was someone’s torn-up Latin homework. You borrowed the copy from the library earlier in the day, realizing that the only way you would pass your midterm would be if you actually studied. Wedged between the pages of Chapter Three - Linear Regression was the dubious piece of paper.

You thought nothing of it at first. You turned a blind eye to how it was yellowed due to age, thinking it was just left behind by accident. It didn’t even cross your mind about how strange it was that someone left their Latin homework in a statistics textbook.

There was no real reason why you read the words aloud. You thought it could act as some sort of good luck charm—something that could manifest good grades on your exams—but you ended up with the exact opposite.

The paper started glowing, but it wasn’t bright light; a void of pitch darkness emitted from the scrap instead. Mind you, it was nearly the middle of the night. It was already dark, but your room was starting to look like you had opened up a schism in space.

You dropped the paper in the middle of the room instinctively, hissing lightly at how it nearly froze your fingers off. Your room’s temperature dropped by several degrees, and if you weren’t internally freaking out about the random black hole in the middle of your room, you would have curled up in your blankets.

This was one hell of a karmic retribution for slacking on your work for half the semester.

You could hardly see the paper, but you could see faint smoke coming from the middle of the source. It seeped along your bedroom floor, and you contemplated calling your roommate for help before realizing that you, in fact, had no roommate and lived alone.

From there, the paper seemed to crumple up and dissipate into thin air. Instead, a shadowy figure emerged from the smoke. You were not religious by any means, but you felt like this was probably the best time to start praying to whatever higher power was out there.

Light returned to the room once the darkness and smoke faded away. You could now make out the entity’s figure more clearly, noting how it towered over you with sharp horns sticking out from its tuft of hair. Once you could see well enough to make out its face, you were met with what you thought was a human, though the horns and red eyes were throwing you in for a loop.

Humans often had four different psychological responses to traumatic or stressful experiences:

Fight: facing any perceived threat head-on.

Flight: running away from the perceived threat.

Fawn: resorting to appealing to the perceived threat to avoid potential conflict.

Freeze: being unable to move or act against the perceived threat.

Being the absolute weapon of survival you were, your body chose to freeze.

The thing just stared at you until its mouth stretched into a lazy smirk. “Hey, I’m—”

In seconds, your body moved on its own. As soon as you heard the smallest sound come from the being, you grabbed your backpack that was leaning against your bed frame, and you started swinging at the entity with it.

You chose to fight.

You were no longer useless.

“Ow!” the thing winced, shrinking back with each blow. You were slightly worried about breaking your laptop inside, but you were currently prioritizing your life more. “Cut it out!”

You got a better look at this thing. He was clearly attractive with his strong jawline and dark, sleepy eyes—assuming he was even a dude in the first place. You still kept your guard up around Pretty Boy, though, considering he had just Harry Potter’d his way into your bedroom.

“Who—what are you?” you spluttered, holding your backpack up in a (hopefully) threatening way.

“Me?” Pretty Boy grinned. “I’m your demon.”

What in the Wizards of Waverly Place was this man talking about? You stared blankly at the guy before taking a careful step backward. Of course, there were far too many supernatural elements packed into the last minute for you to completely shut down the idea, but it sounded downright crazy. This was something that only happened in books and movies, and they weren’t supposed to be hot!

“A… a demon? From Hell?”

“Yes, that’s usually where demons tend to be from.”

Great, this “demon” was a smart-ass, too.

“What’s a demon?” you asked. It took you a few moments to realize that you had, in fact, asked an extremely stupid question. Of course you knew what a demon was; you didn’t have to be a religious studies major to know about all the Jesus and Satan lore.

“I’m glad you asked,” said demon started, although he didn’t seem to be glad at all. “There are demons that should be summoned, and there are demons that should not be summoned. Can you guess which one I am?”

“Uh…” You deliberated carefully. “You’re a demon that can be summoned.”

“Wrong!” Pretty Boy answered. “I’m a demon that shouldn’t be summoned, so I need you to explain how on Earth you summoned me.”

“I—I thought you said you were my demon.”

“I am,” he said, “because most demons can only be summoned by their designated human, which you did, but I, of all demons, am not meant to be summoned and trapped in this realm! How in Lucifer’s name did you summon me, human?”

You held up a hand to keep him from charging forward at you. “First of all, my name is Y/N. Shouldn’t you be familiar with your own human’s name? Second of all, what do you mean by ‘designated human’?”

Pretty Boy sighed. “I’m supposed to be your assigned demon.”

You frowned. “Supposed to be?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve kind of been neglecting you. Totally forgot your name and everything.” He hummed inquisitively. “Remind me of it again?”

“Y/N,” you repeated carefully, slightly offended. “What the hell is an assigned demon?”

“If I tell you,” he started in a somber tone, and you hung onto every word, worrying at your lip and fearing something dreadful would happen, “then it’s no fun.”

He had to be fucking with you.

“No fun?” you questioned. “Are you kidding?”

“I happen to be very serious,” he answered, “and I’m getting the feeling that you’re a bit of a kill-joy, human.”

“Listen,” you spat, “I have a stats midterm tomorrow, so you better start talking before I get back to studying and ignore you.”

“Fine,” he complied. “Think of it, like… a guardian demon.”

“Damn.” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “If I give you my soul, can you help me pass my midterm?”

“That’s not quite how it works, and I may be a demon, but that’s a pretty stupid request in exchange for your soul,” he deadpanned. “Okay, now tell me how you summoned me.”

Your gaze dropped to the spot on the floor where the black void opened up. You recalled the slip of paper disintegrating into thin air once the demon appeared. You were certain that was the key to this bizarre merging of two realms.

“Uh,” you said, “there was a piece of paper with some Latin written on it. You appeared after I read the words out loud.”

And after turning your room into an arctic tundra.

Pretty Boy’s face fell upon your words. You were shocked that the demon looked so crest-fallen all of a sudden, and it was making you feel a bit guilty for dragging him out of Hell.

You decided to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am not okay, I am Yoon Jeonghan, one of the seven princes of Hell,” he started angrily, causing you to take a cautious step backward. “I am Greed, the creator of alchemy, forger of the Twin Blade, constructor of the—” The demon cut himself off when you held up a fist to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. “W-what? What’s so funny, human?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly, accidentally letting a giggle slip from your lips, “but there’s no way some pretty face like you is a demon prince.”

“I emerged from an opening in the ground, and you still refuse to believe I’m a demon?”

“Well—”

“Human, do you know why a ‘pretty face’ like me is a demon prince?” Pretty Demon Boy a.k.a Jeonghan inquired, stepping closer until you were backed up against your desk. “The King of all demons himself was once considered the most beautiful of all angels. Why?” With three fingers, he tilted your chin up enough for you to take a good look at him—at the swirling dark red in his eyes. “Because demons represent temptation.”

“Temptation,” you echoed, embarrassed that your voice came out more strangled than intended. “Yeah, well, I’m really tempted to kick your ass back to Hell right now.”

You supposed he was onto something, in a sense. Maybe Jeonghan was telling the truth because you couldn’t focus on anything else but how his lips were nearing yours. It was as if your senses had completely clouded over.

Upon your words, however, he dropped his gaze and pulled away from you. Jeonghan looked saddened, which was a sight you had not expected from the smug-faced demon. You weren’t educated on demon lore or anything, but you were quite surprised that they were capable of feeling such human emotions.

“There are ways demons can be summoned,” he said in a somber voice. “If we are summoned by our names, then we can appear and promptly return to Hell. Incantations, though, are tricky; with negligence, there is a possibility that I’m stuck here.”

“Stuck here?” you asked, raising your voice. “What do you mean? You can’t go back?”

“Well, do you remember the words on that piece of paper?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t have a way of going back, dumbass.”

You huffed. “I didn’t know a demon prince could have the vocabulary of a middle school boy.”

“We can speak any language on this planet and adapt to modern slang,” he explained. “I can also speak dolphin. Wanna hear?”

“No, let’s circle back to getting you back to Hell,” you shut him down before he started using echolocation. “There has to be some other way, right?”

“We have a few options, actually,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. You cringed at the thought of the intruder making himself at home, but you supposed you were the one who got him in this mess, anyway. It wouldn’t be smart for you to boss him around, especially since he could overtake you easily. “Either you remember the incantation, or… actually, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“So, we only have one option?” you clarified. “I have the memory of a goldfish, so I think you’re fucked.” You scratched your neck in thought. “Can’t you call one of your demon buddies to bring you back?”

“Demon buddies?” He laughed coldly. “We aren’t exactly buddy-buddy down there.”

“Then why do you wanna go back so bad?”

“This materialized human form of mine will not last me very long,” he replied gravely, though you weren’t quite convinced the horns and red eyes were doing him any favors. “Normally, I could be up here for as long as I want, but my powers are weak right now. I will eventually perish like this, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless I kill an angel.”

After your morbid conversation with Jeonghan, you decided you would deal with the issue after your midterm. The demon insisted that he would not be able to leave your side since you summoned him, so that led to him sleeping on your floor. To your horror, he was pleasantly satisfied with this sleeping arrangement, claiming it was “better than being boiled alive in oil.”

His bedroom in Hell didn’t sound very cozy.

The next morning, you woke to an email notification that your midterm had been canceled. Something about your professor falling sick out of nowhere.

You wanted to rejoice, but you couldn’t help but feel that this was because of Jeonghan. This was probably the whole “guardian demon” thing, but he was causing chaos and disorder to get you what you wanted. It left an uneasy feeling, but, regardless, you were satisfied with not taking an exam.

Anyway, why was Jeonghan, self-proclaimed prince of demons, assigned to be your guardian? When you turned in your bed to see him sitting at your desk and staring at your textbook, you asked him the question that was bugging you.

He scoffed and replied, “I don’t know. Luck?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is it really lucky that a demon prince was assigned to me? Sounds a little unnerving.”

“That just means you have a powerful demon on your side.” He smirked and leaned in to ask, “Were you happy to see your midterm canceled this morning?”

“So it was you!” you exclaimed. “Look, I appreciate it and everything, but you can’t just make people sick to help me out.”

“I can’t?” He looked surprisingly innocent when you reprimanded him, like a seven-year-old being told not to color on the walls. “I didn’t even murder him or anything.”

“That—that’s also pretty bad,” you stammered. “Let’s not do any of that, okay?”

“But that’s no fun.”

“This isn’t about having fun! These are people’s lives. How would you feel if I harmed one of the other demon princes for fun?”

“That’s hot. I’d probably cum in my pants.”

“Okay, maybe that was a bad example,” you grumbled. “Is there anyone you care about down there?”

“Not down there, not up here,” he replied. “I’m a demon, remember? There’s no one who cares for me, so I don’t care for anyone either.”

“Wow,” you said. “You could be the poster boy for 2012 Tumblr angst.”

“I’ll pretend I understood that, human.”

There was something bothering you, though. Jeonghan’s words last night about killing an angel were parroting in your head. You couldn’t shake off the guilt that he could potentially die on Earth because of you, but it felt immoral to kill an angel to return to his prison in Hell. On the other hand, you couldn’t bear to see him perish because of you.

“How long do you have?” you asked. “You know… to live.”

“Hm… I’d say about 718 years?”

“Oh, what the fuck? You’re chilling.”

“In Hell time.”

You frowned. “How long is that in Earth years?”

Jeonghan’s gaze flew to the ceiling as he tried to calculate the math in his head, using his fingers to count off. “That’s about half an Earth year, so, like, six months.”

“Oh no,” you replied in absolute dread, “and you’re still planning on killing an angel?”

“If that’s the only way to save me—yes.”

“Well, how do you even find one?”

“I can sense their presence,” he said before standing up. “Come on, human. You’ll have to show me around your world so that I can remember the mortal way of life.”

“I guess, but first”—you stopped him by raising your hand—“you’ll have to get rid of those horns.”

Once Jeonghan concealed his horns and changed his eyes to a more socially acceptable color, you gave him the green light to go outside. He looked good like this, but he was attracting too much attention. The demon simply had too big of an ego to tone down the attractiveness, so you were stuck walking around with a chick magnet.

“You’re a demon,” you whispered harshly. “You’re telling me you don’t have any ugly forms?”

Jeonghan sighed. “That is the unfortunate curse of a demon. We can’t help that our beauty is so blinding.”

You wanted to punch him. The boiling oil prison bed wasn’t a curse, but this was?

“Well, people are staring, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I’ve never been the center of attention—or, well, around the center of attention.”

“Then would you like me to gouge out their eyeballs with a dagger?”

“No!” you yelled. “No, there will be no gouging of eyeballs!”

You started going off on your Murder Is Normally Socially Unacceptable And Wrong tangent up until you realized that Jeonghan was no longer next to you. Fear shot up your spine right before you spotted him standing in front of an Olive Garden that you two had walked past earlier.

“Jeonghan, what are you doing?” you asked, frowning. “Let’s keep walking.”

“Human,” he said, clearly ignoring your words, “take me into this restaurant.”

“You’re hungry?” When he nodded, you sighed and complied, saying, “Alright, then, I’ll pay.”

You were worried that the demon wouldn’t behave properly, but, to your surprise, he stood to the side and let you do the talking. You found his shy smile strangely endearing, especially when he tilted his head after the waitress asked if you two were a couple.

“Yes,” he answered before you could shut it down. “We’ve come in a pair.”

You forced a laugh, glancing at the waitress to make sure she didn’t think you two were absolute nutjobs. Well, you supposed it had no effect on you if your psychotic demon was perceived as one, but you were 100% normal across the board. Thankfully, the waitress laughed it off and asked if either of you wanted anything to drink.

You smiled. “Just water, please.”

“Do you have any blood?” Jeonghan asked at the same time.

Your head shot up to see his furrowed brows as he tried to decipher the Italian dishes on the menu. At this point, you were mortified and could positively say that you were not taking Jeonghan outside after this. You’d rather be stuck in his boiling oil prison than be put through this torment.

“B-Bloody Mary?” the waitress asked.

“Oh, is this Mary providing the blood? I don’t really care to know who exactly she is, but I appreciate the—”

“Yeah, he meant a Bloody Mary,” you cut in loudly, putting on a sugary sweet smile for her. You turned to the demon with a warning look in your eyes, but you kept up the playful act as you chided, “Jeonghan! I told you to quit with the pranks here!”

“Oh, you two are so funny,” the waitress gushed. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“Thank you!” you chirped. When she was out of sight, you dropped your fake smile so you could kick the living crap out of the demon’s shin. He winced and raised a brow at you. “What made you think you could ask for blood at a restaurant?”

Jeonghan scoffed. “I’m a demon.”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t have guessed from the hundred times you’ve mentioned it.”

“I can’t eat this food.” Jeonghan put the menu down and ran his fingers down the list of options. “Well, I suppose I could stomach it for sustenance, but it won’t satisfy my hunger.”

“Then what do you need to eat?” you asked, expecting to hear something morbid.

“Well, human blood or flesh would help,” he said. Just as you thought—morbid. Then, after a moment of thought, he added, “or… I’d need to have sex.”

“S-sex?!” you exclaimed. You tried not to choke on air, which failed about five seconds later. Never in your life did you expect hellbound demons to be so lecherous. Well, it made perfect sense, but it was still odd to think about. “You’re telling me the only way you can be fed is by cannibalism or sex?”

“Cannibalism is a strong word.”

“Cannibalism is the only word for people who eat other people!”

“I’m not a person,” he defended. “I’m a demon. I believe you humans call this ‘the food cycle,’ am I right?”

You leaned back in your seat to groan into your hands. “I guess we’re just gonna have to find a way to get you back before you get too hungry. How long can you go without food?”

“Probably forever if I was in Hell,” Jeonghan said, “but I feel really hungry.”

“Is this some ulterior motive to get into my pants?”

Jeonghan barked out a laugh. “Human, do you know who the Seven Deadly Sins are?”

“Sort of? I’ve seen the anime.”

“They’re the seven human vices, and I’m Greed,” he explained. “Other than me, there’s Lust, Wrath, Envy, Sloth, Gluttony, and Pride. Many say that Pride is the worst of them all, but I am destructive at every level. Greed is what breaks a person down and then brings them to destroy the world around them.”

His voice was pitched deeper when he continued, “Greed is the sin that can never be satisifed.”

“O-okay,” you said carefully, “so why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you this because you’re pretty naive for someone who summoned a demon as powerful as I am,” he replied calmly. “I’m Greed, so of course that was an ulterior motive to get into your pants.”

Oh.

Awkward.

You weren’t sure if you were blushing because Jeonghan was hot or because no man had ever been so direct with you. For what it was worth, you were positive that the warm feeling in your chest wasn’t because you were flattered or anything. Being asked for sex in the middle of a restaurant wasn’t hot in the slightest bit, and especially after he proceeded to mansplain how he was a manipulative, conniving bastard.

“Don’t feel pressured,” he said.

Although those were the words that came out of his mouth, you could feel the impatience seeping from him. However, it had you thinking that this could become some sort of transaction. You would surely feel used if you let him get what he wanted so easily, but you would definitely be swayed if there was something in it for you. Plus, Jeonghan was unmistakably attractive, which was probably simply the devil’s temptation getting to you.

“If I let you satisfy your hunger… um, sexually,” you started, “then I want something in return.”

A mischievous glint flashed in his dark eyes. “Oh? You’re making things fun, human.”

You felt something hot roiling deep inside your core, making you nearly lose your breath for a moment. The effect he had on you was otherworldly. (You supposed this checked out considering he himself was otherworldly.)

Before you could lay down your guidelines, a voice called from behind, “Sorry, your previous waitress had something come up, so I’ll be taking your orders for your meal. My name’s—whoa, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened. “Seokmin! Oh my god, you work here?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, laughing lightly at your surprise. “Is this your, uh, boyfriend?”

You met Jeonghan’s stare with an awkward smile. “N-no, we’re just friends.”

Seokmin beamed at the demon, who, to your dismay, made no effort to reciprocate. “Nice to meet you. I was in one of Y/N’s classes last semester. Where are you from?”

Jeonghan reached out to shake the hand that Seokmin held out. You knew he was blunt, but you really didn’t expect him to respond by saying, “Hell.”

You were stabbing metaphysical pitchforks into Jeonghan’s side, fighting the urge to groan into your hands. Seokmin let out a stilted laugh, pausing for a moment to give Jeonghan time to clarify. When the demon didn't, however, Seokmin probably determined that Jeonghan was messing with him.

“You’re funny,” he praised with a grin. “Anyway, can I get you two started on anything?”

Seokmin had the brightest smile you had ever seen. In fact, he seemed to glow brighter just by showing his teeth. You were almost blown away for a moment, just looking up at him and trying not to stumble over your words as he set your drinks down.

“Um,” you started after regaining your composure, “I’ll take the stuffed ziti fritta, please.”

Seokmin turned to Jeonghan, who nodded in your direction with a distracted look on his face. “Yeah, I’ll get the same.”

“Great! I’ll bring those over soon.” With that, Seokmin took both of your menus and walked off.

You smiled to yourself. “What a small world.”

“I have to kill him,” Jeonghan muttered at the same time.

“Excuse me?” you nearly cried. “Jeonghan, are you crazy? You can’t just say things like that in public!”

“Why not?”

“People are gonna think you’re a homicidal maniac! Which you are, but… at least pretend to be normal.”

“Whatever, we’re alone now.” He rolled his eyes. “Your little friend has angel blood in him.”

“What? You’re crazy.”

But then, when you took a moment to consider his words, the lines were starting to draw themselves. It was starting to make sense in your head, with Jeonghan randomly stopping in the middle of the street, as if he was drawn to the restaurant. There was also Seokmin, who almost had an aura of light radiating from him.

Of course, there was the possibility that the demon was speaking nonsense and trying to get in your head. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to deceive you, but there was no reason for him to lie. Jeonghan needed an angel to live longer, so he wouldn’t waste his time dealing with those who weren’t of use.

You asked, “How can you tell if he’s an angel or not?”

“I’m a demon. I can sense these things,” he answered, “but I’m sure you can see some of it, too. You saw how he glowed a bit? Maybe even made you feel a little happy out of nowhere?”

It was true that Seokmin’s smile made you forget all of your worries for a second. You thought his radiance was just contagious, but this sort of made sense now that you were semi-familiar with the supernatural. If angels were able to make people feel contented, though, did that mean demons had the opposite effect?

That could probably explain why Jeonghan got on your nerves so easily.

You leaned over the table a little, whispering, “Wouldn’t he know what you are, then?”

“Doubt he knows it himself. He’s a Quartarion—quarter angel. I bet he doesn’t even know he has wings.”

“So… you can’t use him, right? You need an angel, and he’s mostly human.”

“No, I could kill him, actually,” he replied. “I just need to kill an angel-blood. In fact, killing a Quartarion instead of a pure-blood would make my job a lot easier.”

You felt trapped. It wasn’t like you were in any position to argue about Jeonghan’s decisions, considering it was your fault he was in this state. However, you felt sick to your stomach over getting blood on your hands because of him. Even if you weren’t the one killing Seokmin, it was indirectly your fault.

“You are not killing him,” you said firmly.

“What?” Jeonghan almost sounded like a child. “Not even a little?”

“You can’t kill someone a little.”

“Well, maybe if I sliced his—”

“Okay! Be normal, be normal, be normal,” you chanted, trying to get him to hone in some morals. “No murder, no cannibalism, no—”

“Two stuffed ziti frittas!” Seokmin chirped, shutting you up effectively. You swallowed thickly as he set the plates down in front of you and Jeonghan. “Can I get you two anything else?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jeonghan spoke up, a sly grin spreading across his face, “are you free this week?”

Poor, poor Seokmin, you thought miserably.

Jeonghan managed to sweet-talk Seokmin into hanging out with you two later in the week. The very idea was absurd, considering you and Seokmin have only spoken about five times. You thought the demon used some sort of demon power to get Seokmin to comply, but Jeonghan later told you that he was just naturally charismatic.

You decided to deal with the Seokmin issue later, though. Now, you had another problem at hand: the proposal you initiated earlier.

Currently, Jeonghan had you pinned up against your door, his head dipping low so that he could look into your eyes despite your efforts to avert your gaze. Jesus, you knew this was a terrible idea, but every nerve in your body was telling you to just go with it.

He hummed. “What was your offer?”

“This isn’t very guardian demon of you,” you squeaked out.

“I just can’t kill you,” he said. “Sex is still on the table.”

This piqued your interest. “Wait… you’re not allowed to kill me?”

That just made you feel like he would’ve murdered you already if he had the chance.

“I could try, but I physically can’t harm you. I can harm others for you, though,” he said. “Now let’s go back to that offer you were going to make.”

“Let me clarify,” he continued, “it’s not the act of intercourse that feeds me, it’s your taste.”

He was basically saying that he needed to eat you out. You would be lying if you said you were opposed to the idea. You weren’t sure if it was the whole devil’s temptation thing or whatever, but you found yourself wanting to just let Jeonghan have his way with you.

You sucked in a sharp breath. Back at the restaurant, you weren’t ready to lay down any guidelines for the exchange. However, it was clear to you now.

“I’ll agree as long as you don’t kill Seokmin.”

The demon pulled away from you, frowning. “Why can’t I kill him?”

“He’s my… friend,” you tried.

“He appears to share a deeper connection with me, a complete stranger, than he does with you, an established acquaintance.”

Okay, ouch. That stung.

“Okay, he’s not really my friend,” you admitted, “but it’ll make me feel really guilty if you kill him. I know you need to kill an angel-blood to get back, but there has to be another way, right?”

Jeonghan’s voice was pitched lower when he said, “I don’t know about that.” Silence hung heavy in the air for a few moments before he spoke up again, “Fine. I’ll accept your offer. I won’t kill Seokmin for now, but I can’t promise that in the future if I’m left with no other choice.”

That was probably the best you were going to get out of him, so you nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

Before the demon could reply, you shimmied down your shorts, kicking them off your ankles, and then you sat back on your bed. You pressed your thighs together, waiting for him to come forward and take the lead.

Jeonghan just stared at you, jaw gone slack.

“What?” you asked with a frown. Slowly, embarrassment started to heat up your cheeks. “You don’t wanna do it anymore?”

“Human, I feel a bit strange doing this with the stuffed animals lined up on your bed.”

“I just had to convince you not to murder my classmate a minute ago, and you draw the line at this?” You sighed in exasperation. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Jeonghan just moved closer until he was right in front of you. He pushed your legs apart, surprisingly gentle, and he reached his hand between your legs so that he could prod at the thin material of your underwear at the apex of your legs. You shivered instantly at his touch, grabbing his sleeve when you felt your core ache for more.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, observing how wet you were getting with his gentle touches. “You seem to enjoy bickering with me a little too much, human.”

“T-that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” The question sounded genuine, but the smirk on Jeonghan’s face was unmistakable. You swallowed hard as his free hand traveled up your thigh slowly, inching further and further until he tugged your underwear down past your thighs. You kicked it off your ankles while he started to position you properly on your bed. “What’s ridiculous is having these adorable playthings watching us.”

You turned your head to see your Sanrio MyMelody Squishmallow staring at you with its big, empty eyes and mocking smile. It almost felt like you were being judged by your own plushie.

Okay, you were starting to get why it was capable of freaking a demon out.

You propped yourself up on your forearm and rose up enough to grab your Squishmallow by its bow and turn it around. Now that it was facing the wall, you strangely felt more at ease.

“Okay, now you can go,” you said with a grin.

Jeonghan scoffed, amused. “Thanks.”

“You’re wel—oh,” you moaned, pressing a fist to your mouth when you felt Jeonghan’s tongue work its way between your folds. “Give me a warning next time, damn.”

He paused for a moment to look up at you, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes. “You’re already thinking about the next time, huh?”

“Just shut up and keep doing your thing.” When he raised a brow at you, you added a frantic, “Please?”

This moment may have been the first time Jeonghan had complied so quickly. He got to work right away, gripping your hips and licking a stripe along your cunt. You arched your back once you heard him groan at the taste of your arousal, and the demon had to push you back down to make sure you weren’t fidgeting too much.

You turned your head to the side, digging your chin into the mattress as Jeonghan’s tongue rolled around your clit in torturous motions. You were fighting the urge to cry out in pleasure because you knew you would never hear the end of it from him. Eventually, though, the feeling overtook your pride, and you let yourself moan for more.

Jeonghan was insatiable. That probably came with being a demon, especially when he represented the sin of greed.

But, the thing was, you didn’t expect him to be so mind-blowingly good.

Your sounds must have spurred him because Jeonghan gripped your thighs harder and ate you out with more fervor. It was a back-arching level of pleasure, but he forced you down every time you tried to squirm. When his tongue snaked past your folds, flicking against the walls of your cunt, you truly understood the sheer power of temptation.

Jeonghan didn’t neglect one inch of your core, flattening his tongue so he could cover the surface completely. He switched from plunging his tongue into your cunt to licking long stripes along your slit so quickly that your vision was starting to curl at the edges. You felt like you were going crazy when you grinded your hips against his tongue and felt his smirk.

No man had ever made you feel this good—no, you were positive that no man could ever make you feel this good. Even Jeonghan’s nose brushing against your clit made you feel like you were combusting.

He brought you to the edge so quickly, and you wondered if you had even made yourself orgasm so fast before. The sensation left your legs shaking around his neck and your head turned to the side in a desperate attempt to hold back your moans. You managed to let out strangled whimpers that left Jeonghan chuckling once he pulled away.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you felt a touch disappointed when you looked up at him. There was absolutely no hint of a boner tenting his pants.

“I’d ask,” Jeonghan started with a smirk, “but I can already tell you liked it by the way you were moaning for me.”

You raised yourself onto your elbows, huffing a little. “What about you? Are your powers back now?”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that.” Jeonghan patted his stomach, satisfied. “I’m full, though.”

“Interesting.” You left it there, not wanting to divulge further into his demon diet. “So, you don’t ever have sex for pleasure? Just when you’re hungry?”

“I don’t care for pleasure all that much.”

“Figured,” you mumbled. “Anyway, I’m going to sleep.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I’m tired. Wake me up in a few hours if I’m not already up.”

“Sure. I’ll go do human things and not kill people.”

“Keep up the good work.”

When Jeonghan left your room, you pulled the covers up to your chin and let out a long sigh. The feeling was fleeting, but long enough for you to take notice. A gentle quickening of your heartbeat and a warm feeling in your chest.

You pushed it down as a brief moment of confusion.

Living with Jeonghan felt like having a guard dog that you kept off its leash.

Not only did you have to stop him from attempting murder on several occasions, but, on the flip side, you also had to warn him about being too nice to make up for his twisted imagination. Jeonghan was far too attractive to be human, and from the numerous times you went outside with him, you realized that he drew too much attention. You were left standing to the side idly while he was chatted up by the umpteenth random girl that wanted his number.

Over the past week, you ended up explaining a lot of things to the demon. Going into depth about the criminal justice system was your favorite because Jeonghan looked flabbergasted by the levels of punishment they had.

(“A six month sentence for theft?” he asked with a frown. “That’s absurd. I got eternity in Hell while being boiled alive in oil!”

“Well, what was your crime?” you asked.

“Uh…”)

Once, you even found him staring at the TV screen with a somber expression on his face. You had never seen Jeonghan so visibly upset, so you asked him what was going on, only to be even more confused when he explained that his pet died. You suspected the demon’s pet to be a hellhound or something. Never did you expect him to pull up a picture of Mount Fuji.

(“His name was Doljjong,” he explained sadly. “He was only 1,359 years old when he erupted for the last time.”

Apparently, Mount Fuji was now extinct. In Jeonghan’s crazy demon lingo, that meant it died.

“You basically had a pet rock, dude.”

“He was more than a rock in my heart.”)

You also had to adjust to living with another man in the house. Thankfully, Jeonghan wasn’t messy or as disgusting as you had expected, but you still had to adjust to some of his living habits that took you by surprise.

For one, Jeonghan preferred showering in scorching hot water. This would not bother you if you hadn’t been dragged into the shower with him on one occasion, which he didn’t seem to think was improper at all. While you were trying not to look at his (beautifully-chiseled) naked body, he was urging you to help him turn down the cold water. As soon as your skin made contact with the water, though, you couldn’t stand the scalding heat.

Strangely enough, although the thought of having a demon in your house terrified you, it was kind of fun to live with him. You liked having someone around that could keep up with your antics, someone who challenged your thirst for argument. Jeonghan was the perfect match for you, and maybe that was why he was your assigned demon.

You finally decided to give him your old phone. It was supposed to be a hand-me-down for your younger brother, but your parents ended up getting him a new one. Since Jeonghan was pretty much ancient, you figured he wouldn’t mind an old phone.

“I want an iPhone 14 Pro Max.”

“What?!” you exclaimed as he took the used iPhone 8 from you, inspecting the home button with a frown. “How do you even know what that is?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, human.” He scoffed. “I don’t care for outdated possessions.”

Oh, right. Greed.

“Well, if you’re gonna live in my house, then you’re gonna learn to be grateful for what you’ve got.”

“Wait.” Jeonghan paused, looking between you and the phone about three times before he asked, “Can I contact Seokmin with this?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“Give me his number,” the demon insisted.

“Jeonghan! You said you weren’t going to kill him!”

“I never said I was going to kill him,” he said, “but I did invite him to hang out, so I should follow up on the offer. Didn’t you tell me that keeping promises is important?”

Ah, right. He was using one of the rules from Y/N’s Guide To Being Human against you. You saw this coming, though; you were no stranger to Jeonghan’s manipulation tactics by now.

“Keeping promises are important, but leading someone on is also wrong,” you chided. “Do not text him if you plan on hurting him in any way.”

He let out a petulant whine before agreeing, “Okay, okay, I won’t.” He thrusted the phone in your direction. “Give me his number, though.”

You bit your lip before you complied. “Fine.”

A few days later, when you had just gotten back from getting lunch with your best friend, Park Sooyoung, you entered your apartment to see Seokmin sitting on the couch.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. You were so startled that you couldn’t even process how furious you were with Jeonghan for inviting him without informing you. “Hey, Seokmin. What’re you doing here?”

The older boy flashed a kind smile. “Sorry to intrude. Jeonghan invited me. I think he’s in the bathroom right now.” He pointed in the direction of where Jeonghan went, and then he said, “I had no idea you two were roommates!”

You recalled last week when you asked Jeonghan if demons had to use the bathroom like humans did. For some reason, you couldn’t imagine it at all. The demon answered that he didn’t have to do such things in his own dimension, but his body was subjected to the same biological system as humans on Earth.

“Ah, yes. Roommates.” You forced a laugh, trying to not sound bitter. So that was the narrative Jeonghan cooked up. Honestly, you were just glad he said something normal. “He didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Seokmin said.

Meanwhile, it was just Jeonghan. Well, on second thought, he was kind of right.

“What’re you doing at home?” the demon asked, sounding more accusatory than welcoming. “I thought you were getting lunch with your friend.”

“And we finished lunch,” you answered. “What’re you and Seokmin doing?”

“We were gonna watch a movie,” he said. “The Notebook, I think?”

Your anger fizzled. Now, you felt like you were interrupting something.

“Do you wanna watch it with us, Y/N?” Seokmin asked, voice all sugary and light.

You found it way too hard to refuse him, so you sat down on the couch next to Jeonghan. Every time Seokmin spoke, you felt your nerves ease up. However, coupled with Jeonghan’s presence, you were undergoing a never-ending state of easing and tensing up again.

“By the way, why’d you guys pick The Notebook?” you inquired.

“Oh, ‘cause Jeonghan hasn’t seen it yet,” Seokmin replied, looking distracted as the film started playing.

Jeonghan hadn’t seen a lot of movies. It wasn’t like there were limited options to choose from.

Thankfully, the lights were off while the movie played, masking how bored you looked for its duration. You were convinced Jeonghan wasn’t enjoying it either considering he started up about ten different conversations unrelated to the movie. Seokmin, being the sweetheart he was, responded to him enthusiastically as he watched. You, on the other hand, were sulking on the other side of the couch and praying for this to be over because you felt like a third wheel.

You almost didn’t notice the mood shift when the kissing scene came up. Seokmin seemed to feel a bit awkward, so he laughed and made lighthearted remarks throughout the scene. You had stiffened up and lowered your gaze, remembering once again why this was an odd choice for a movie night.

Jeonghan, though, turned his gaze to you for the duration of the scene. You could feel his eyes drift to your lips, and it made you hyperconscious of every little movement of his. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were praying no one else could hear it, and the blood rushing in your ears drowned out the audio from the movie.

The demon dipped his head to whisper in your ear, “Frankly, human, I’m enjoying your reactions more than this movie.”

You had no idea why, but you felt something unsettling in your chest. Your heart felt like it was going a hundred miles a minute, but not in a good way; the organ twisted painfully in your chest.

You had no idea why.

Seokmin came around a few more times over the next four weeks. You found yourself feeling less like a third wheel over time, and you were finally comfortable hanging around the both of them. Movie nights became more common, although The Notebook seemed to be so traumatizing that Seokmin and Jeonghan only watched horror and sci-fi movies now.

You were honestly surprised that Jeonghan hadn’t made any moves to kill Seokmin, but you were happy that he honored your agreement. The two of you had gotten closer—or, well, as close as a demon and a human could get. He still called you “human,” but you were banking on him calling you by your name at least once. Moreover, Jeonghan wasn’t completely convincing just yet, but he was starting to learn how to act like a proper human. (There were the occasional murder threats that you had to fend off, though.)

Jeonghan found himself between your legs nearly every other day. You feared that you would get too comfortable, but he still made you orgasm every single time. It was strange, to say the least. You knew demons weren’t capable of feeling anything remotely romantic, but your heart was still acting like a fool, twisting painfully whenever he pulled away.

Today, Jeonghan had followed you to the library. He met your friend, Sooyoung, who kept gushing earlier about how she was dying to meet your new “friend.” The rest of the day went smoothly, save for Sooyoung asking you and Jeonghan if you’ve ever made out. (You shut her up with a smack upside her head.)

Back at home, Jeonghan, who was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, leaned his head back to look up at you. You found it strangely endearing, resisting the urge to run your hands through his soft hair.

“Did I do good today?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, “you were like a proper human—no weird demonic antics or anything.”

Jeonghan lifted his head up again, and then asked in a quiet voice, “Human, could I perhaps try something?”

The demon was asking you for permission? Strange, but you went along with it.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Let me try kissing you,” he said. His words were so clear that you couldn’t even pass them off as something you misheard. You only managed to let out a few incoherent stammers before he added, “Move your laptop. I’m getting on top of you.”

“Y-you didn’t even ask me!” you stuttered, although you were putting your stuff to the side as you spoke. “Is this about what Sooyoung asked? About if we’ve made out?”

“I’m asking you right now: yes or no?”

You frowned. It was as if all your nerves were cut wire, electrifying every limb in your body. Even though you couldn’t comprehend what came over Jeonghan and what possessed him to ask, your brain was screaming at you to just accept his offer.

“Fine, go ahead,” you murmured, feeling your face go hot when he smirked right after.

“Good,” he said. “Thank you for being my experiment.”

You couldn’t ask any further questions because Jeonghan already started moving on top of you, straddling your lap and placing his hands firmly on either side of your face. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, until he leaned down and brushed his nose against yours experimentally.

He was so close. So close that you could feel his hot breath fanning your lips. So close that you could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.

You shuddered. There was that twist of your heart once again.

You swore you could hear his breath hitch, and you almost called it out before a crevice started opening up in the center of your living room.

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, scrambling back against the arm of the couch and holding up one of the throw pillows to defend yourself. Jeonghan had gotten off of you and stood up, eyebrows knitted into a frown. It looked like he knew what was going on, so you asked, “What is it, Jeonghan?”

It was the same void of darkness from before—the same one that Jeonghan came from. The room was freezing this time, too, and the windows had iced over. You swallowed hard, wondering if this was one of your mistakes again. You hadn’t said or done anything this time, though, so it must have been someone here for Jeonghan.

From the wisps of smoke emerged the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Or, well, second after Jeonghan.

“Mammon, you bastard.” Second-Most Beautiful Man scowled. “If this is one of your conniving plots to escape Hell, then you will face punishment worse than being boiled alive for damnation.”

You looked to your right to see Jeonghan with his arms folded across his chest. Smiling.

“Asmodeus,” your demon greeted with coldness in his tone, “you planted that scrap of paper in my human’s book, didn’t you?”

Asmodeus’ glower slowly morphed into a wicked grin. “You don’t leave any room for entertainment, do you? I came here to drag you back, anyway, so don’t be so bitter.” His red, beady eyes shifted to you. “This must be your precious human.”

Jeonghan’s voice was deeper when he warned, “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her, Asmodeus.”

“Or what?” he mocked. “What could you possibly do to me in that pathetic human body of yours? Have you gone soft already? Your powers have weakened, Mammon. Face it. You’ll die out here—no, you’re already dying.”

“What do you want?” Jeonghan snapped. “If you want me dead, then you have no need to be here.”

“I need you alive,” Asmodeus muttered, “in your true form.”

He scoffed. “I’ll just die and be reborn.”

Reborn? You straightened up at Jeonghan’s words. Why didn’t he tell you he would be reborn? Here you were, like an idiot, worrying over his possible death.

“The other five princes are requesting to see you, so—”

“Oh, why should I give a damn about the other princes?” Jeognhan fussed. “They only care about using me for their trivial schemes!”

“Jeonghan,” you spoke up loudly, and both of the demon princes turned to you with shocked looks on their faces. “If I’m interpreting this correctly… then aren’t you being offered an easy way to get back? You should take it, right?”

“Human—”

“Oh, I forgot you go by your human name here,” Asmodeus said with a chuckle. He walked toward you and reached his hand out, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. You can call me Joshua, if that’s easier. I’m the demon prince of lust.”

“How do you know my name?” you asked, cautiously shaking his hand. You looked toward Jeonghan with a scowl. “Wait, how does he know my name and you didn’t?”

“My bad.”

“You’ve truly gone soft, Mammon,” Asmodeus observed. “You’re on Earth entertaining a human girl instead of doing your job back in Hell. Aren’t you the one who told the rest of us to be happy with what we’ve got in Hell?”

“My job,” Jeonghan corrected, “is rotting in Hell. My other job is taking care of my human.”

“Your allegiance is with the princes, Mammon,” Joshua hissed. “This human is insignificant—”

“Do not speak about my human with that filthy mouth of yours, Asmodeus,” Jeonghan interrupted sharply, his eyes darkening. “Tell me what you want from me and leave this place at once.”

“Pythius wants a seat with the Seven Princes.”

Jeonghan raised a brow. “He wants to rebrand to the Eight Princes? Doesn’t have as nice of a ring to it.”

“No, you idiot.” Joshua groaned. “He wants to overthrow one of the Seven Princes, which is why you need to come back. Greed must have a seat at the throne room of sins.”

“Tell him to go ahead. He can be boiled alive in my place.”

“You’re still on that? That was eons ago.” Joshua sighed. “Don’t be a fool, Mammon. If you die on Earth—sure, you’ll be reborn in Hell again, but you will still waste your time by dying on this planet.” He continued, “Think about how disastrous the situation would be if Pythius actually takes your place. You will be stripped of your title, your powers will weaken, and greed will no longer be one of the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad, honestly.”

“Mammon,” Joshua growled. “Take this seriously. You’re acting like Belphegor with that flippant attitude of yours.”

“Ah, Belphegor.” Jeonghan turned to you with a light laugh. “I think you’d like him. He goes by Wonwoo here. Seriously, such a—”

“I will slice up each limb of that mortal body of yours, Mammon,” Joshua warned. “You’re not understanding the severity of this situation.”

“I understand it well enough now,” he replied. “So, you can leave. I’ll figure out what to do on my own. Either way, Mammon will be reborn as usual. Happy? Good, now get lost.”

Joshua sighed, frustrated. “Do you even have a way to get back, you fool?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Then I’ll be on my way,” Joshua said before his body started to tessellate out of existence, vanishing piece-by-piece into thin air. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Mammon.”

You were the first to break the silence once the demon of lust disappeared, asking, “You’ll be reborn? So you never even had to worry about dying?”

“Demons can be killed, but they can’t die.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks. Really cleared things up for me with that.”

“Let’s just drop it.”

You couldn’t just drop it, though. “You weren’t actually imprisoned in Hell, were you?”

“I was. Sort of.” He paused. “Haven’t been for a while, to be honest.”

“Then why didn’t you go with Joshua? It doesn’t sound like he wants you back to throw you back in the lake.”

“I don’t want to be a pawn in their silly games anymore,” Jeonghan muttered darkly. “It’s infuriating.”

“Then what are you gonna do? That was the easiest way for you to get back!”

“I have time, human.” Jeonghan didn’t seem to want to be pressed further, so you backed off. “Don’t worry about me.”

He walked into your room and slammed the door shut, so you settled back into the couch and hugged the throw pillow to your chest. How could you not worry? You couldn’t understand Jeonghan at all, and although you wanted to respect his decision not to go back with Joshua, you were at a crossroads; staying here was killing him. He had far too much pride to think rationally.

Plus, the longer he stayed with you, the more it stung when you realized time was running out. Fast.

The next day, Jeonghan appeared as if he was back to normal. It was odd, though, given how he was brooding yesterday. You made a conscious effort not to mention Joshua, but you knew the topic was still weighing heavy on his shoulders.

(He was insatiable once you were awake and sitting up in bed, prying your legs open and begging you for a taste. Although you had several questions for the demon, your carnal desire overtook whatever curiosity you had.

“Feeling better?” you asked cautiously.

“I’ll feel better soon. Anyway, good morning,” he purred. “You’re dripping already, human. I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your chest felt hot. “Yeah, yeah, just get to it.”

“My pleasure.”)

“Hey,” you called out later during breakfast. “I’m going out with Sooyoung tonight. Are you gonna be okay being alone at home?”

“Where are you going?” he asked instead.

You paused between your spoonfuls of cereal. “Uh, just a party.”

“I love parties,” Jeonghan said. “Will there be human sacrifices?”

You grimaced. Although your guardian demon was making impressive improvements on his transition to human life, there were still some flaws in his way of thinking. On the bright side, though, he made sure to pass his morbid comments by you before he tried them out in front of others.

“No, it’s a college party,” you replied. “The most deadly thing there will be alcohol and Old Spice.”

“Boring,” he mused before getting up from his seat and heading to the living room. “Well, be safe.”

You nearly choked on your cereal, completely forgetting to respond to his words. Did Jeonghan—Mammon, manifestation of greed, one of the Seven Princes of Hell—just tell you to be safe? You had to be hearing things.

Or, your heart offered, maybe some part of him cares about you—deep, deep down.

You pushed down the thought entirely, forcing yourself to think of other alternatives. After all, there was no possible way for a demon to feel those sorts of emotions.

It was almost midnight and Sooyoung was passed out on the couch.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you said in dismay. “We literally just got here.”

“That’s tough,” Kim Mingyu, president of Sigma Omega Nu, replied sympathetically. “At least her boyfriend’s here to take care of her. That means you need to drink more and get on her level.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Hey, that’s what college is for.”

You whined when Mingyu handed you a new cup of jungle juice. Normally, you didn’t accept drinks from strangers; Mingyu was harmless, though, and you two were well-established friends for a few years now. However, you were on your third cup of juice by now, and, if you kept it up, you were probably going to end up like Sooyoung. Since she was the one who drove you two here, though, you had to stay sober enough to find a ride home. No matter what happened, you were determined to not fall asleep on the musty frat house couch.

(It already happened once last year. You woke up the next morning to Kwon Soonyoung yelling, “Someone take a picture of Y/N sleeping on the couch I got laid on!”)

“I can’t get drunk,” you insisted. “I have to get home.” To make sure my pet demon is behaving, you wanted to add.

Mingyu let out a snicker. “Call someone to pick you up or I can ask one of the sober monitors to drop you off.”

You pondered for a moment. Technically, you could call Jeonghan. Now that he had gotten the hang of using his phone, you saw him texting Seokmin every once in a while. You were sure he would be able to pick up a call, as well.

“Fine, whatever. Hand it over.” You took the red solo cup from him and downed its contents—just under ten seconds, counted by Mingyu himself. “I’m gonna go call my friend before this starts hitting me.”

You walked out into the backyard where the music wasn’t as loud. The cool air hitting your flushed skin made you feel like you could breathe properly again, but you still weren’t walking nearly straight enough. With careful hands, you searched up Jeonghan’s number in your contacts.

Your phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Human? Are you dead?”

You frowned. “If I was dead, how would I be calling you?”

“I was hoping I could keep your soul around as my pet in Hell,” he said.

You must have had some sort of degradation kink by this point because that comment was not supposed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. It was time for you to consider therapy.

You cut straight to the point. “Can you come to the party?”

“What? No.”

His refusal normally would’ve stung, but you were too tipsy to back down now. “Please? Sooyoung already passed out and her boyfriend’s taking care of her. I’m getting drunk all by myself now.”

Sort of an exaggeration. You were going to use every card up your sleeve.

“Then walk home.”

“I can’t. Home’s too far to walk.”

“Then sleep over at whoever’s house you’re at.”

“It’s a house full of frat boys. Their living conditions are probably worse than yours down in Hell.”

“Then sober up.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my guardian demon?!”

“If you want an angel to come rescue you, I would try Seokmin’s number.”

You let out a groan and crouched down, letting your head hang between your knees. This was fruitless; Jeonghan was stubborn as a mule, and you were getting nowhere with this conversation.

But this wasn’t just about getting someone to take you home. You certainly had other options, so you could hang up on Jeonghan right now and find someone else to drive you back. However, you just didn’t want to admit out loud that you wanted to see Jeonghan. You wanted him to come over and take care of you, even though that was impossible for the demon.

You were just foolish.

“Fine, Jeonghan,” you snapped. Your head started to feel fuzzy, and you were quickly losing control over your own tongue. “I’ll get home all by myself. I’ll walk home in the cold, dark night, and hell, I’ll even walk on the road if I feel like it. Maybe I’ll lay down and take a nap if I get really tired, and if I can’t even make it to the door, I’ll just sleep in Mingyu’s bed—” You didn’t realize you were pacing until you hit a solid surface. “Ow—wait, what the hell?”

Jeonghan, in the flesh, sighed heavily and hung up the call in front of you. “Human, you’re really such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“H-how’d you get here?” you asked, your cheeks starting to feel hot. “Did you teleport or whatever again? Didn’t you say that eats up your power? Are you—”

The demon clamped a hand over your mouth. “I materialized here, and yes, it eats up the little power I have left,” he whispered harshly, “but you wouldn’t stop running your mouth, so here I am. How could you get intoxicated so easily?”

“Well… I’ve been here for about an hour,” you defended. “It doesn’t take that much for me to get drunk. I’m pretty lightweight.”

“How much did you have?”

“Like, three cups of jungle juice.”

“Jungle… juice?”

You snorted. “This one’s got vodka, rum, and fruit punch. It’s pretty good.”

“Three cups?” Jeonghan asked with a scoff. “I forget that humans have such weak tolerances for alcohol. I can drink eight bottles of wine without getting drunk.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You dragged the demon inside the frat house, not giving him the chance to take in and process his surroundings. You poured him a cup of jungle juice in the kitchen and handed it to him. “Drink up, then.”

Jeonghan raised a brow at you before chugging down the liquid like water. He handed it back to you with a light smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you sure there’s even alcohol in this concoction?” he asked, barking out a laugh. “Human, you’re too cute. This is nothing for a powerful demon like…” he trailed off, looking down at his feet and letting out a soft exhale. “My chest feels hot.”

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, stopping yourself from bursting out into laughter. This sight was absolutely priceless. You didn’t think you would ever be able to see Jeonghan so vulnerable.

“Are you drunk off one cup of jungle juice?” you asked, and, at this point, you weren’t able to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god!”

“Shut up, human,” he grumbled. He blinked a few times and held onto the edge of the counter. “I’ve never felt this way before. My body isn’t used to having a human’s biological system.”

“Whoa, this guy is fucked,” Lee Chan retorted, showing up out of nowhere. “He’s talking like something out of I, Robot.”

You rolled your eyes at his pop culture reference, but Jeonghan didn’t seem to follow at all. For all the movies he and Seokmin had been watching, you were surprised that they didn’t get around to this one.

“Robot,” Jeonghan mumbled, moving to lean against you. You grabbed his arm and tried to hold him steady, but he just wrapped his arms around you and let his head rest on your shoulder. “I feel like I’ve just been expelled into the Outerverse with Yog-Sothoth. Ah, fuck, those guys owe me…”

You had to get Jeonghan out of here fast. Before he started speaking crazy demon lingo again.

“Are you sober monitoring tonight?” you asked Chan. “You think you could drive us home?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chan agreed with a smile. Gauging that Jeonghan wasn’t responsive enough to answer any questions, the frat boy decided to ask you, “Did you bring a friend from another school, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you mumbled. “This is Jeonghan.”

Chan ducked his head to get a good look at Jeonghan’s face. “Nice to meet you, Jeonghan.”

“Hi, Robot.”

“No, my name’s not Robot.”

Jeonghan’s biggest weakness wound up being seatbelts.

You and Chan had to fight him down to get him to sit down properly in the back seat. Since he was fussing too much, you decided to sit with Chan up front, letting Jeonghan moan and grumble incoherently in the back.

(“Unchain me, human,” the demon kept whining. “I refuse to be imprisoned in the mortal realm.”

When he was stopped at a red light, Chan threw a glance over his shoulder before telling you, “I think your friend watches too much anime.”

“He’s going through a phase,” you lied.)

While you made light conversation with the frat brother, you felt like your guardian demon was glaring daggers at the poor boy. You wanted to smack him upside the head for his rudeness despite Chan’s generous act.

You craned your neck to look back at Jeonghan, shooting him a warning look. He simply scoffed and looked the other way, although he ended up resting his head against the window once he realized his world was still spinning.

“Come on, Jeonghan,” you murmured once Chan parked the car in front of your place. “Get up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

You tugged the sleeve of his shirt impatiently. “What? Why?”

“Not going back with someone who ignores me.”

Your jaw nearly went slack. Was he jealous? Yoon Jeonghan, Prince of Greed, was jealous over frat boy Lee Chan? Over something so miniscule as you sitting in the passenger’s seat? This was definitely something you were going to hold over the demon’s head for as long as you could.

“I’m not ignoring you, okay?” you tried. “Come back home with me, and you’ll have my full attention.”

Jeonghan hesitated before he let out a begrudged grumble. “Fine.”

You and Chan hauled the drunken demon to his feet, taking one of his arms and throwing it over your shoulders so that you could help him walk. Chan assisted you by slinging Jeonghan’s other arm over his shoulder, but you still found it hard to walk properly with Jeonghan’s head lolling to the side. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“You smell so good, human,” he murmured. Jesus, he was saying all this while Chan was still here? You were glad that Jeonghan couldn’t tell how flustered you were, but it was probably evident to Chan. “What perfume is that?”

“This guy sure does call you ‘human’ a lot,” Chan observed with a light laugh.

“Uh, yeah, inside joke,” you explained quickly. “Let’s just get him to the couch.”

Once you and Chan let Jeonghan’s heavy body drop onto the couch, you walked the frat boy to the door. He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets, a shy smile playing on his lips. He looked at you expectantly, like he was waiting for a tip or something. You were considering handing him the crumpled-up five dollars you left in your back pocket.

“We should hang out sometime, Y/N,” he started. “I feel like I barely see you around the house anymore.”

“Oh, yeah, I haven’t been in a partying mood lately,” you explained, “but I’ll try to drop by more.”

“Alright. I’ll see you around.��

Before you could respond, a voice from behind you loudly interjected, “Bye.” With that, Jeonghan slammed the door shut with one hand.

“That was rude,” you said.

“Can I gut him like a fish?”

“That’s even more rude. Please don’t.”

“Whatever.”

You looked back at Jeonghan, who had one hand against the door that was right beside your head. “What’s your deal? He was nice enough to drive you back and help you to the couch.”

“Why do you keep ignoring me?” he asked, proceeding to ignore you at the same time.

“I-I’m not ignoring you!” you stammered. “I’m the one who helped you get back to the apartment!”

He had you backed up against the door, looking up at him with worry knitting your brows together. Jeonghan let his head drop to lay on your shoulder, leaving you frozen in place. You figured it was the alcohol rushing to his head, but you couldn’t help the fact that your heart was pounding in your chest.

“Human,” he mumbled against your collarbone, “why can’t you just stay by my side?”

“Huh? But—”

“I wanna be human, too.”

The words sounded strange coming from him. Almost like he was at his tipping point. Tender. Raw. Vulnerable. You were absolutely dumbfounded by what you had just heard. With no coherent response coming to mind, all you could do was raise your hand to gently thread through his soft strands of hair.

“Let’s get you to bed,” you replied softly, letting the demon stay in your embrace as you walked him back to your bedroom. He looked up at you quizzically when you sat him down on the edge of your bed. “It’s about time you stopped sleeping on the floor. I’ll take the couch, so—”

You cut yourself off when Jeonghan wrapped his arms around your legs and pressed his lips to your thighs. “Stay here with me.”

You stared ahead, straight at the wall, a dull ache throbbing in your chest. “What are you doing, Jeonghan?”

“What?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” you asked. “You only have months left to live. You should’ve just gone back with Joshua.”

He stiffened. “I didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, I guess you’ll just be reborn, anyway,” you muttered. “You never had anything to worry about to begin with.”

Jeonghan suddenly pulled away from you, his eyes cold as ice. Since he was always docile around you, there was never any reason for you to feel scared around the demon. However, the look he was giving you left you backing up slowly from him.

“I’d rather stay dead than be reborn,” Jeonghan said, “and I wouldn’t feel so agonized about it if I didn’t have to meet you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You felt a lump rising in your throat, and you felt the hot, salty tears hitting your feet before you even realized you had started to cry. It took all of your willpower to keep the waterworks at bay. The demon’s cruel words were never supposed to get under your skin this bad. You held him at arm’s length for that very reason.

Maybe, all this time, you had been pulling him closer unintentionally.

“You think nothing hurts for me just because I’m a demon,” he continued, “but it stings every time you try to chase me away.”

“I’m not trying to chase you away.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me to go back to Hell?” he asked. You couldn’t exactly read his expression, but it was clear that Jeonghan felt tormented. The pain in his eyes was telling of that. “Why did you want me to go back with Asmodeus?”

You huffed. “I really don’t understand you. You don’t want to die and be reborn, but you don’t want to go to Hell either? Aren’t you going to die if you stay here?”

“You don’t get it.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be reborn because I lose all my memories of the mortal world. I lose all my memories of you.”

“And you don’t want to go to Hell because…”

“The only reason you summoned me was because of Asmo—I mean, Joshua’s—need for pointless entertainment. Surely, with what’s been going down in Hell ever since I left, they won’t let me leave again until Pythius is quelled. That could take hundreds or thousands of years.” Jeonghan scoffed, shaking his head. “Pythius… one of the most fearsome and hideous demons. There’s no telling what he’d do for a seat with the Seven Princes.”

“I’m sure if I go back, he would try to kill me over and over again,” he continued, “because he detests me the most. That group of them—the Malebranche—they might be more sadistic than Lucifer himself.”

You frowned. “What’d you do to him?”

“Why do you assume I did something to him?” Jeonghan scowled.

“Because you’re the demon prince of greed,” you replied. “I’m sure you pissed him off somehow.”

He snorted. “Pythius rules the eighth circle where frauds are punished. He hates nothing more than the greed that consumes those humans. Of course he’d loathe the demon that represents the very sin.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you act that greedy here, though. Are you different when you’re down there?”

The dark glint in Jeonghan’s eyes nearly went undetected. You only managed to catch it because of the way his smile dropped in tune. His normally easygoing expression was replaced with the same serious look he wore when Joshua was around.

“I haven’t been this greedy in eons, human.”

You tried to think back to when Jeonghan had acted in such a way. Sure, there were the multiple times he gave you (mind-blowing) head and the time he asked you for the newest iPhone, but those didn’t seem as drastic to you. You expected the very demon of greed to be more selfish.

“Really?” You forced out a stilted laugh. “I think you’re about as greedy as a toddler, like, in a bratty way, but that’s it.”

Jeonghan stood up.

You took notice of his broad shoulders before, but now you felt swamped under his gaze. He towered over you with ease, looking down at you with a storm brewing in his eyes. There were no words exchanged at first, but one look at the demon told you that whatever he was experiencing was far too human for him to understand fully.

“I’m so greedy that I would let the hierarchy in Hell fall to shambles because of you,” he started. “I would abandon my seat and let Pythius take control just so I can stay here with you. I would rather wither away on Earth instead of going back to Hell where I can’t see you again. I would let Alastor, the chief executioner, torture me over and over again until the ache in my heart finally goes away—the ache you caused.”

His next words were no louder than a weak whisper when he grabbed your forearms and said, “I’m so greedy that I wanna just give up everything for you, Y/N.”

With that, Jeonghan muttered something about sleeping on the couch before he walked out of your room and shut the door. That was the first time he had ever called you by your name; yet, it didn’t even make you feel happy. The first salty tear hit the floorboards, then the next, then more. You could only watch the demon leave in silence, finally letting yourself cry once he was out of sight.

Crying because you didn’t want him to leave. Crying because your feelings were already running too deep.

Crying because you knew a botched confession when you heard one.

Just as you were about to settle in bed, burrow yourself in the sheets and sob until you fell asleep, you heard Jeonghan’s footsteps coming back from the living room. You had no time to regain your composure when he flung open the door, his eyes stony and his lips pulled down in a frown.

“I can’t sleep if you’re crying like this,” he murmured, walking over to cup your face with his large hands. “That’s foul play.”

He kissed you.

The motion was swift—a gentle grab of your jaw and tilt of your chin, and Jeonghan was kissing away your disquiet with surprising tenderness.

Temptation.

Temptation was the utmost desire that demons could draw from mortals, but you weren’t quite sure this was it. Jeonghan’s kiss felt different—more intimate. His lips moved against yours with hesitance at first, and he only deepened it once you reciprocated. It felt like he wasn’t trying to pull you closer; rather, he was waiting for you to find him.

Once you two were lost in desperate kisses and heavy breaths, Jeonghan jerked away with a light gasp. You stared at him, dazed, before he grabbed your wrist and pressed your hand firmly against his chest. At first, you weren’t quite sure what he was having you do, but the realization was a slap in the face.

A heartbeat.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

It was fast, like he had just run a marathon. You looked up at the demon quizzically, but he was already pulling away. Your hand hung in the air before dropping to your side, registering too late that he had already let go.

“You think nothing hurts me,” he mumbled. This time, he had his own hand flat against his chest. “I torture myself every day like this because I know, deep down, there’s no happy ending for us.” The demon’s eyes, normally masked with golden brown irises, glowed a dim red.

It started drizzling outside. Soft pattering of rain that drowned out the silence.

Everything would fall apart—slowly, gently, inevitably. Jeonghan, too, would eventually become nothing but a ghost of a raindrop that once streaked your window.

Post-party hangovers always called for breakfast at The Veranda. It became a tradition between you and Sooyoung to go there after a night of partying. That, or you two would skip straight to lunch and get pho. There was no telling when either of you would wake up the next morning.

Today, however, Sooyoung texted you early enough.

“We should get cocktails,” she suggested while looking down the menu.

“You already blacked out last night, you crazy bitch.”

To be frank, you had ulterior motives for this outing. For one, you wanted to get out of the house because the tension between you and Jeonghan was making you suffocate. The other reason was because you wanted to consult Sooyoung with your problems.

You started with, “So, there’s this guy,” and your best friend was already at the edge of her seat. Once you finished giving her the rundown (which only concluded after you ordered your food and were halfway done with your herb roasted chicken sandwich), Sooyoung paused to think, which stretched into about five minutes. More than enough time for you to finish your sandwich.

“I don’t get what the problem is,” Sooyoung finally said, tilting her head curiously. “If you two like each other, then just ask him out.”

If only it were that easy, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t spare her the details of how impossible the situation was. You weren’t in the mood to hear “if he wanted to, he would” when you were dealing with a guardian demon who was literally dying in the mortal world.

You hesitated. “Let’s just say that he’s not exactly available right now.”

“He has a girlfriend?” Sooyoung asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. She looked ready to start telling you off for being a homewrecker, so you had to clarify immediately.

“No, no, he’s single,” you said. “He’s just not… emotionally available to date.”

“So, he’s been getting all close to you without wanting to date you.”

“Uh, not really? He’s just—”

“Cut him off, Y/N.”

“What?” you asked, eyes widening. You figured the situation sounded bad from an outsider’s perspective, but there was no way for you to break it down without explaining that Jeonghan’s your guardian demon from Hell that ended up being trapped on Earth because of your statistics midterm and demonic intervention from Joshua, the other oddball from Hell. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” Sooyoung replied. “It’ll hurt at first, but you’ll get over it eventually.”

“But he’s…” you trailed off, wondering how the fuck you were going to defend a demon prince of greed. You settled with saying, “He’s funny.”

“So are clowns, Y/N. You don’t see me asking out Ronald McDonald.”

“Okay, it’s not that simple, Sooyoung!” you cried out. “It’s more like… he doesn’t have that much time left here.”

“Oh.” She sounded lost at first, but the confused look on her face was slowly replaced with somber understanding. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, you’re good. I didn’t know how to say it.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” she said, “why don’t you just make the most of the time you have left with him?”

Sooyoung’s words hadn’t left your mind ever since breakfast. Even after she dropped you off at your apartment, you were still replaying the conversation in your head.

You thought about it in the shower.

You thought about it while doing your homework.

And you continued to think about it when Jeonghan was spreading your legs apart later that day.

“Didn’t we just fight?” you asked, your voice unnaturally high. Despite your words, you came to realize that you were sort of feral when it came to your sex life. A little fight was just a chip on your shoulder.

“That was a fight?” Jeonghan asked. “I’ve been in fights before. They’re pretty gruesome. Usually some heads roll or someone gets disemboweled.”

“A verbal fight,” you clarified.

“I’ve been in verbal fights before, too. They usually end with someone getting stabbed.”

“Okay, well, that’s not a verbal fight.” You sighed. “I mean, aren’t you upset with me? You were acting like being around me was hurting you.”

Jeonghan looked down and went completely silent.

“Hello?” you called. Did you break him?

Jeonghan looked back up. This time, his cheeks were tinged scarlet red. Your eyes went wide at the sight of the demon fully blushing over your words. You were definitely adding this bullet point to the Blackmail on Jeonghan folder you kept in your Notes app.

“I let my emotions get the best of me, okay?” he mumbled. “Let's just drop it.”

You, however, were brimming with questions. “Hey, but you let me feel your heartbeat last night,” you started. “Did you always have a heart?”

Jeonghan pulled away to look at you with distaste dawning on his face. “Did I always have a heart? Of course I’ve always had a heart, human. How would I be giving you the head of your life if I was a corpse?”

Your demon was gradually evolving to develop a filthy mouth. You weren’t sure if this was improvement or regression.

“You have a human heart and you can feel human emotions,” you said. “What makes you and I so different, then?”

Jeonghan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was a knock at the door. You glanced at Jeonghan suspiciously, wondering if he invited Seokmin without your knowledge, but even he looked clueless. There was no one you were expecting, so you wondered if it was just the UPS guy dropping off a package.

When you opened your door though, it was indeed Seokmin, and he was pissed.

You had never seen him like this, with his nostrils flaring and his skin flushed red. It was almost as if steam was coming out of his own ears. But there was something very glaring about Seokmin that had you gawking at him.

His wings were on full display.

Snowy white wings fanned out behind him. You could hear a low, angelic hum faintly resounding from the feathers. You were in shock for a moment, unsettled and overwhelmed by the heavenly light that Seokmin was bathing in.

It seemed to have an even worse effect on Jeonghan. You noticed how he flinched at the sight, backing up slowly.

“Get back, Y/N,” Seokmin ordered. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but your roommate’s dangerous.”

You wondered if he had some unexplainable power over you because your actions were going against your words as you found yourself stumbling away from the two. “Seokmin, don’t do this,” you begged.

He frowned. “What?”

But Jeonghan got his words in before you could. “Looks like the both of us figured it out before you did. You just found out you’re a Quartarion, huh?”

He was jeering, like he was taunting the angel to attack him. You couldn’t understand what the demon was thinking when he was clearly overpowered right now. Even if Seokmin wasn’t a pureblood angel, Jeonghan’s powers had considerably weakened ever since he entered the mortal realm.

“How…” Seokmin was shocked for a moment, straightening up and glowering down at you. “How did you know?”

“You found out recently, didn’t you? Mommy or daddy told you they were half, which meant you’re quarter—weaker than them,” Jeonghan pressed. “They kept it from you all this time, huh? Because your angelic presence wasn’t strong enough to be a threat, but then you started glowing brighter.”

“Jeonghan, enough!” you yelled, trying to mediate whatever was happening. You had no idea what Seokmin was going to do, but it definitely didn’t seem like he was here for another movie night.

“Mammon,” Seokmin said through gritted teeth. “That’s your real name, right?” Suddenly, the angel turned on you with an accusatory stare. “And you—how did you know about all of this? Did he tell you?”

You gulped before starting slowly, “Look, I accidentally summoned Jeonghan from my statistics textbook the day before you met him at the Olive Garden.”

Seokmin tilted his head, looking utterly puzzled. None of those words were in the Bible.

“I knew he was a demon,” you continued, “and he told me you were an angel. He could sense it, or something like that.”

“Oh,” Seokmin replied rather sadly, as if he had just discovered he had been the brunt of a joke all along. “Well, I’m sorry you were caught up in this Y/N, but I have to kill your roommate before he hurts anyone else.”

“Whoa, hold on—he hasn’t hurt anyone!” you cried, holding onto Seokmin’s shoulder to keep him from charging at Jeonghan. “You’re an angel; you can’t kill him!”

“Technically, he can,” Jeonghan noted as he just barely avoided the angel grabbing him. “Some angels are specifically assigned to keep demons away from humans. I think Seokmin’s just mad, though.”

“I’m not just mad,” Seokmin spat, although he was visibly seething. “I just feel stupid that I befriended someone who was trying to kill me this whole time!”

You turned your gaze to Jeonghan, who held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll admit I might have had murderous intentions at first, but come on! You would be dead by now if I really wanted to kill you.”

“You can’t kill him, Seokmin,” you repeated in a desperate attempt. “You owe him!”

Now the angel was lost. “And how exactly do I owe him?”

“Remember when your card declined, and I bought you that croissant on campus last week?” you tried. As soon as the words came out, you heard a loud groan from Jeonghan, and you were sure he was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “You owe me, who owes Jeonghan, so you owe Jeonghan!”

Seokmin was even more lost. “What?”

“Transitive property of equality: A equals B equals C, so A equals C.”

“There’s no way you’re actually applying the transitive property of equality to this situation.”

“And what exactly do you owe me for?” Jeonghan chimed in, equally as confused.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I’m agreeing with him on this one, but he’s a demon, Y/N,” Seokmin said. “If you feel like you owe him anything, it’s likely you were manipulated by him.”

“No, I wasn’t!” you protested before the demon could object himself. “I owe him because…”

You trailed off, wondering how you were going to string your feelings into comprehensible words. They were all a mess of jumbled vowels and consonants in your head, holding no significant weight until you thought long and hard, feeling it get heavier and heavier on your tongue.

The angel raised a brow. “Because what?”

Letters unfurling in your head. Piecing themselves together. You felt like your head was going to explode until you blurted out, “Because he showed me what love feels like.”

You looked over at Jeonghan to see him staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. He looked helpless at the moment, wild with pain, like he had let down all lines of defense at your declaration. A scarlet red blush stained his cheeks, and it was perhaps the single most human expression you had ever seen from him.

Seokmin moved forward, and an agonized scream tore itself from your throat before you could even think. His sudden movement chilled your blood, and all you could think about was how you needed to protect your guardian demon before he was struck by the angel.

And so you did.

Confession time: you kicked an angel in the balls.

You were pretty sure that was a one-way ticket to Hell.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you kept repeating to a defeated Seokmin, who was now laying on the couch with pain drawn all over his face. “My fight response has been kicking in a lot more lately.”

“I wasn’t gonna hurt him,” he explained weakly. “My foot was just cramping up.”

“So you won’t kill Jeonghan?” you asked, brimming with hope.

“I… I don’t know,” he answered. “Jeonghan’s a demon, Y/N. Just because you have feelings for him doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of manipulating those emotions out of you.”

“He’s as good as human, Seokmin.”

“Y/N,” Jeonghan started, but you shook your head.

“I’m right!” you insisted. “Jeonghan has a heart, and it beats; I’ve felt it myself.” The two men were silent, so you continued, “He can’t handle alcohol at all; he’s more lightweight than I am. He likes building lego sets. He likes the rain, and he said it’s because that means an angel’s crying, but it’s really because he loves the way the Earth smells after rainfall. He likes coffee, but he always pours me some first before he takes any. You think he’d have the vocabulary of a Victorian man, but he knows more slang than I do. He… Jeonghan wants to be human. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Silence hung in the air. You wondered if you overstepped for a moment, aired out too much of his business, but then you could visibly see Seokmin at war with himself. You could see the internal battle in his eyes, fighting to believe in whatever the angels had instructed him to do.

He narrowed his eyes at the demon and asked in a calmer voice, “You swear you won’t kill me?”

“I swear on God.”

“You’re a demon. Swear on something else.”

“Um, okay… I swear on, uh, Y/N.”

“Please don’t swear on me,” you muttered, looking at your feet nervously as if the ground was going to swallow you whole.

Seokmin closed his eyes, exhaling loudly. “So, when did you stop wanting to kill me?”

“Y/N and I had a deal that I wouldn’t kill you in exchange for—”

You slapped a hand over the demon’s mouth immediately, successfully muffling the next words that decided to slip from his lips. It felt like your face was burning from how embarrassed you were. While Jeonghan shot you a confused look and tried to lick your palm to get it to budge, you exclaimed, “That detail isn’t important!”

“Anyway,” Jeonghan continued once you finally removed your hand, “I guess… part of me started enjoying those movie nights. Kinda hard to discuss the endings after you kill your friend, right?”

You could see Seokmin visibly soften, the fondness returning to his eyes. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You can tell?” you inquired, wondering if it was some sort of angelic ability he had recently acquired.

“Yeah, I’ve always had some sort of sixth sense about these things,” Seokmin said, although you weren’t quite sure about this because you and Jeonghan had lied to him on numerous occasions. “I was only able to tap into it after I saw my wings for the first time.”

You then wondered if the longing etched bone-deep in Jeonghan’s face was also real.

It took a couple of hours for you and Jeonghan to explain everything to Seokmin, from beginning to end. You had to start from how you accidentally summoned him, which seemed to entertain the both of them, and you had to scold them both to take the situation seriously. Then, Jeonghan explained his side of the story, detailing how he didn’t have much time left because his mortal body was weak.

“What do we do now, then?” Seokmin asked, sitting up straight now. “You’re gonna die if you stay here, right?”

“That’s why he wanted to kill an angel,” you said, “but now we don’t have a game plan.”

The three of you sat in silence for several minutes, letting the situation sink in. Your nerves were still buzzing from your earlier confession, still unanswered by Jeonghan, but you knew it wasn’t the time to dwell on that. There were more important matters at hand, but no one knew what to do.

Jeonghan sighed. “It’s fine. I’ve already accepted that I’m going to die here and be reborn in Hell.”

“You think that’s fair to Y/N? Or me?” Seokmin burst out. “You’re basically telling us to watch you die, dude.”

“You think I wanted this outcome?” he snapped. “No, I didn’t think I was going to actually enjoy living in this realm! I didn’t think I was gonna fall in love with my human! I didn’t think mortals had such excellent marketing strategies!”

Seokmin’s eyes went wide. “You…”

“Jeonghan,” was all you could say, and his name came out no louder than a whisper.

“What?!”

“You said you love me.”

You looked toward Seokmin for confirmation, who answered with a quiet nod—an indication that not only had you heard it correctly, but Jeonghan was telling the truth.

To be honest, you were quite embarrassed that this was all coming to light in front of Lee Seokmin. He seemed very out of place in this otherwise tender moment. Yet, you were filled with inexplicable happiness and absolute dread simultaneously.

Once the grief settled, you were born again. Newfound confidence rising up your throat. You were determined to do whatever it took to mortalize Jeonghan.

“Oh, right.” The demon sounded nervous—enough to make you nervous. He simply stared at you for a moment before brushing the proclamation off with a wave. “Anyway…”

“Jeonghan!”

He shot you a withering look, glaring you down with every fiber of his being. “Seokmin is right there. Do you really wanna do this right now?” he whispered in an exasperated tone, turning his back to his friend so that he could converse with you. Although Jeonghan was lecturing, you were enjoying the way his blush rose to his cheeks. “We can talk about this after he leaves.”

“Okay, fine,” you agreed. “Why’d you have to blurt out a confession while he was here?”

“You did the same thing!”

“I can still hear you guys,” Seokmin reminded unhelpfully.

Somehow, Jeonghan took this as an opportunity to continue to chastise you. “See? This is all because you can’t keep quiet.”

“I can’t keep quiet?” You knew this was not the time nor place to bicker with your guardian demon, but he was an expert at getting on your nerves. “You’re the one who speaks in crazy demon lingo wherever we go!”

He scoffed. “I don’t speak in crazy demon lingo, human.”

“Yeah? Tell that to Chan. Poor guy had to witness your drunk ass going on about the Yog Sloth owing you or whatever.”

Jeonghan stammered and did a double take, looking at you like you had just kicked him square in the chest. “Wait… what did you just say?”

“Uh, Chan—”

“No, the other thing.”

“The Yog Sloth?”

“Yog Sloth,” he echoed, and then something clicked. “Yog-Sothoth? Wait, the Outer Gods—oh my god! They do owe me!” he all but yelled, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

Seokmin’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What’d she even do?” he asked, and you were glad you were on the same page as him.

“Yeah, what’d I do? Who the hell are the Outer Gods?”

For the next thirty minutes, Jeonghan went on to explain how billions of years ago, the most powerful beings of all creation, that rivaled even God Himself, were ruling over the universe. Before space and time was Azathoth—chaos. Azathoth even tried to disrupt the beginning of God’s Creation by starting a war. Each blow delivered from both God and Azathoth caused a rippling effect, creating infinite multiverses that were birthed from the clashing between darkness and light.

There was a period in time when the angels and demons had to side together for once to seal away the Outer Gods. Although they were no match for these cosmic beings, God was able to lock them in the Outerverse, where they have been slumbering ever since.

The key that locked away the Outer Gods had been missing for several millennia, but it happened to end up in the hands of Mammon and Belphegor. Mammon had the clever idea of reshaping the artifact into a human hand and hiding it in a fiery lake in Hell. It was called the Right Hand of Doom, but it hadn’t been touched ever since its reform.

“You reshaped a key of cosmic importance into a hand,” you summarized in disbelief. “That key has the power to doom all of our existences, and you turned it into a human hand.”

“You know, Belphegor had the same reaction after I created it,” Jeonghan said. “Actually, let me give him a call to fetch it for me.”

“Wait!” Seokmin exclaimed. “That key could wake the Outer Gods from their slumber. What are you planning on doing with it? Are you seriously considering using the Outerverse?”

“No, Seokmin, I’m gonna use it as a back scratcher.”

“Don’t get me wrong; I do want you to stay here, but this is extremely dangerous. It’s a really selfish decision, Jeonghan.”

“I’m literally the Prince of Greed.”

“Jeonghan, no matter how much I want you to become human and stay with me, this is just… it’s just crazy,” you said. “What if it goes completely wrong? What if you’re trapped in the Outerverse and killed by the Outer Gods?”

“Listen,” Jeonghan started. “When I first created the Right Hand of Doom, I was contacted by Yog-Sothoth himself—Azathoth’s grandson.”

“How did he contact you if he’s imprisoned?” you asked.

“These gods have their ways the same way demons do,” Jeonghan explained. “It’s kept on the down-low, but there are numerous worshippers of theirs that seek out ways to release them. None of them are ever successful, though.”

He continued, “Anyway, Yog-Sothoth isn’t as cruel as the others. He’s actually quite generous when he deems someone worthy, and I guess he thought I was that person when I refashioned the Right Hand of Doom. Millions of years ago, I helped the Outer Gods out by bringing them sacrifices to empower them, so they’re in my debt.”

Seokmin's face soured. “Why’d you bring them sacrifices?”

“Dunno. I was bored.”

“Let me get this straight,” you spoke up. “So, you’re gonna risk your life over the slight chance that you could be turned human?”

Jeonghan’s dark eyes pierced yours, as if he was saying, Look at me. Look at how far I’d go for you.

“Relax.” He cracked a smile. “It’s not like I’m going to the Outerverse myself. I just need the Right Hand of Doom to communicate with Yog-Sothoth across our realms. Even if he rejects my bargain, I doubt he’d try to crush me to a pulp from his prison.”

“If that’s all there is to it,” Seokmin started, a smile creeping to his face, “then I don’t see why we shouldn’t try.”

Jeonghan left the room momentarily to contact Belphegor, Prince of Sloth. He hadn’t exactly disclosed how he was going to summon the demon, but he returned with a scowl on his face, shaking his head as he explained that Belphegor was too lazy to retrieve the Right Hand of Doom at the moment. You and Seokmin asked when he would return, but even Jeonghan didn’t have an exact answer.

“Give me a call whenever he decides to show up,” Seokmin said before he went back to his apartment. You could tell that he was still shaken up from finding out that his friend had been a demon all this time, but you were glad that they were both being civil for now.

However, there were now other issues at hand. As soon as Seokmin left your apartment, you realized that the tension between you and Jeonghan couldn’t even be cut by a blade. To your surprise, your guardian demon was the first to mention it.

“You love me,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. It was like he was trying to wrap his head around the concept, trying to make sure it was real.

“I do,” you said bravely, “and you love me, I think. Seokmin seemed to believe it was true, and he’s an angel, so…”

“I think I do.” He looked pained. “These feelings are really confusing. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. You have a way of making me feel like I’m at the top of the world sometimes, but sometimes I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom.”

You understood that completely. When you and Jeonghan had your good moments together, you felt like you were soaring. However, when you were reminded about how little time he had left on Earth, you wanted to shut out the rest of the world and hide.

“We can figure it out together,” you told him, reaching forward to grab his hand and squeeze it.

Jeonghan’s eyes always looked different to you, like melted amber. They held many millennia of age and experience, so it felt like Jeonghan was unfazed by most aspects of life he encountered. Nothing could make the man falter.

But now, with evident panic in his eyes, newfound confidence surged through your blood that compelled you to get on your tip-toes and press a chaste kiss to his lips. It was a seemingly tame sign of affection, so you were thrown off when Jeonghan quietly slid a finger past the hem of your jeans. With his head dipped, the demon looked at you through his long, feathery lashes.

“Are you… are you hungry?” you stammered out.

“No,” he mumbled, raising his head to meet your eyes with his expectant ones. “Two people who like each other… Normally, this would lead to dating, wouldn’t it?” When you nodded, he continued, “How about it, then?”

“How about what?”

“Let’s go out.”

Your mind went blank for a moment. With how straightforwardly he said it, you would have thought Jeonghan was messing with your head, trying to push your buttons by teasing you. But his face looked determined this time, like he actually meant it. You could see the red glow of his eyes as he waited for an answer.

You blinked. “Like, as boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yes, as boyfriend and girlfriend,” Jeonghan confirmed, exasperated. He gripped your hand tighter, as if he was getting his feelings across with a gentle squeeze. “Like Hallie and Noah.”

“It’s Allie.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He scoffed, surprisingly tender in the way he cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer. You were still a bundle of nerves, but something about Jeonghan made you feel secure. Quite the opposite of how you theoretically should feel around a demon. “Hey,” he tried again, his voice no louder than murmur, “I wanna kiss you.”

You smiled. “Then do it already.”

And so he did.

Jeonghan had kissed you before, but it was nothing like this. It seemed so urgent before, like you both knew you were running out of time. This time, though, he was slow, taking his time to memorize the shape of your lips as he moved his mouth against yours. You felt his long lashes tickle your cheeks, and it almost made you giggle, so you had to pull back to regain your composure. Jeonghan looked down at you, chest heaving even though the kiss was nothing but gentle.

“Again,” you pleaded.

Immediately, his current expression turned cocky. The corner of Jeonghan’s mouth lifted in amusement, and he kissed you not-so-gently this time. He pulled your body flush against his, and you reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his neck. The moment he slid his tongue past your lips, you heard a soft groan from Jeonghan that made your knees buckle under you.

Jeonghan held your waist with one hand and the back of your head with the other. Even though you were still standing on two feet, you were sure that he could hold you up, anyway. He gripped you like he never wanted to let you go.

“You taste good,” he mumbled against your lips.

“You taste like… coffee.” You made a face and let a giggle slip.

“Well, it’s a good thing you like coffee.”

“Not when I’m tasting it secondhand.”

“You know, a minute ago, I wanted to fuck you properly,” he said. “Now, I’m just miffed. Slightly turned on, but still miffed.”

“Fuck me properly?” you asked, sort of embarrassed by how high your voice got. You inched closer, allowing Jeonghan’s finger to toy with the waistband of your underwear. In return, you placed your hand flat against his abdomen, moving it down slowly until you reached his crotch. Jeonghan hissed when you pressed against his growing bulge. “You mean…”

“With my cock, yeah,” he finished bluntly.

It was silent for a moment. You removed your hand, swallowing carefully after realizing that your guardian demon was hard.

Jeonghan wordlessly slid his hand down your pants, maintaining direct eye contact with you. His hand cupped your clothed cunt, and although you tried to resist, you couldn’t help but throb for more contact. You wondered if he just wanted to see your reactions, and you confirmed this by watching his smirk form when you whimpered.

“Oh,” you breathed out.

“Yeah, you like that?”

His voice was heavy, ragged. You felt like you could get drunk off it, so, naturally, you backed up with him until the back of your legs hit the bed. You made a sound of agreement when he hummed, prompting you to answer his question. You couldn’t even form words when all you could think about was being under him. Jeonghan’s palming grew more intense, and you were having a harder time staying upright.

Then, he was occupied with your neck. Jeonghan dragged his soft lips along the flesh, nipping and biting where he pleased. You let out a soft whine when he sucked on that one spot that turned your brain into mush.

“I’m gonna lay you down,” he said, although it felt like a question with the way he was looking at you. His eyes were careful, like he was holding onto your every word before following through. “Am I doing this right?”

You laughed, delighted as he set you down on your bed and got over you. You looped your arms around his shoulders and asked, “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Am I going about this the right way? I don’t really do this sort of thing.”

You were surprised at his sudden meekness. Judging from Jeonghan’s overwhelming confidence from your past hookups with him, you expected him to carry on with the same arrogance. You never thought he would be so hesitant all of a sudden.

“You’re doing perfect,” you reassured with a chaste peck to his lips.

“Right.” He did one of his breathless laughs, easing your nerves with his grin. “Just tell me if I’m screwing up, then.”

Jeonghan dipped his head again to pepper kisses across your collarbone, working his way back up to the column of your neck. He worked on your sweet spot, biting and sucking until he had successfully left a bruise. You squirmed underneath him the entire time, tugging your hands through his hair and begging for him to fix the ache between your legs.

The demon only chuckled darkly in response. As he bit the shell of your ear, he removed your jeans and underwear swiftly, which you aided by kicking the garments off your ankles. He prodded your cunt with nimble fingers, grinning wider when he saw the desperation in your eyes.

“You’re so wet,” he commented in a silky voice. “All for me, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, “and take your clothes off already.”

Jeonghan rose up to sit back on your thighs, staring at you the entire time he pulled his shirt off and discarded it to the side. You couldn’t help but ogle at his figure; he was absolutely gorgeous—sculpted by God Himself.

“Don’t do that,” he said gruffly when you reached out to poke his stomach. You deduced that Jeonghan was most definitely ticklish and trying to hide that weakness from you.

“But your reaction was cute.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, his hands moving to tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, your turn.”

“H-huh?”

Even when Jeonghan gave you head in the past, you always kept your shirt on. He, too, had never stripped down in front of you like this. Surely, you were expecting this to happen, but the thought of being fully naked in front of Jeonghan was intimidating. It felt like you two were reaching a level of intimacy and closeness that you thought was unattainable months prior.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I already know you’re not wearing a bra. You've gone braless for, like, almost a week now.”

You raised a suspicious brow at him. “You were staring at my tits?”

“No comment.”

Jeonghan placed his slender hands on your waist, squeezing your sides comfortingly as you pulled your shirt off over your head. He watched you with marvel in his eyes, eyes trained on the swell of your breasts. He leaned close to press soft kisses against the skin, whispering praise as he did so. You didn’t peg the demon to be so romantic, but you weren’t complaining.

You heard gentle pattering outside your window while Jeonghan kissed down your chest.

“It’s raining,” you whispered. The two of you broke apart for a brief moment while Jeonghan hastily got rid of his pants and boxers. “An angel’s crying.”

You looked to the side, and you nearly had to look away before Jeonghan could notice how flustered you looked. The demon stood in all his glory. You had seen naked men before, but Jeonghan was, of course, a creature beyond human comprehension. He was the most gorgeous being you had ever come across.

And, strangely enough, for the first time, you didn’t feel that uncontrollable tug of desire when you looked at him. You weren’t compelled to drop to your knees and submit to the demon. Your attraction felt innate, much like how the rain falls so naturally from the sky. Not that Jeonghan ever had you under a spell or anything, but it almost felt like he was becoming more human.

Whether that meant he was losing his powers or was growing accustomed to living as a human, you had no idea.

“You’re beautiful,” he admitted, looking down at you like you were the stars in the night sky.

“Thanks,” you replied shyly.

“That’s your reaction?” He beamed, amused. “Well, whatever. I’d rather you save your voice for when I make you scream, human.”

You thought it would be impossible at this point, but your cheeks grew even hotter. Yet, you couldn’t even chide the demon because he was already getting over you, promptly attacking your neck with more kisses.

You were a soaking mess already, so Jeonghan’s fingers slid into your cunt with ease. You were taken aback yourself by how effortless it was, but you figured two fingers couldn’t hold a candle to the girth of his cock.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch how Jeonghan fingered you. Both of you stared at the spot where his fingers disappeared in you, and the sight only turned you on even more. For once, Jeonghan was pleasuring someone else without the favor being returned, yet you had never seen him so satiated. He was thriving off of your moans and cries, like the sounds itself were feeding him.

A moan escaped your lips, fragmenting off into broken whimpers as Jeonghan’s fingers sped up. You felt your thighs start to shake—the preamble of your orgasm building up. Heat bloomed under your skin, and you dug your nails into the demon’s shoulders to warn him.

The warning only spurred him to move his fingers faster—in scissoring motions this time. His thumb found purchase on your clit, circling the ball of nerves slowly. Finally, you fell off the edge, crying out in ecstasy as boundless pleasure tore through your body. Your mind went blank, thinking about nothing but how good you felt. It was like you were bathed in heavenly light.

“I got you,” Jeonghan murmured, kissing the spot under your ear.

If you had half the mind to kick him in the shin, you would. Pretending to comfort you while torturing your swollen clit throughout your orgasm was pure evil. You expected no less from a demon.

“Will you do me a favor and fuck me already?” you asked, exasperated. For good measure, you flattened your palm against his stomach and slid your hand down his abs.

“Alright. Beg for it.”

You balked. “W-what?”

“You want me to fuck you that bad? Then beg for it,” he said with an air of haughtiness. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but the man didn’t budge. “I’m waiting.”

“I am not begging you, that’s so—” You paused. Jeonghan raised a brow, prompting you to continue, so you admitted, “It’s embarrassing!”

He shrugged. “I think we’re both past the point of being embarrassed in front of each other, human.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, fine. You want me to beg? I’ll beg.” You laid back down, looping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck once more and pulling him close. “I’ve been waiting months for you to fuck me, so please make me feel good and I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” The mischievous glint in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I’ll be good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” you whined, the agitation growing in your chest. “I’ll be a good girl, okay? I’ll be really, really good.”

“Alright, I’m sold.”

Jeonghan pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting out a light laugh before his demeanor completely shifted. His easygoing smile turned into a proud smirk when he practically folded you in half, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders so that he could line himself up to your entrance. He hummed, teasing your folds with the head of his cock.

You wanted to cry out, to push at his chest and beg him to just fuck you already. All of the teasing had you at your tipping point, and you were about to complain until you felt the tip of Jeonghan’s cock enter you slowly.

Your breath hitched. He hadn’t even completely entered you, and you were already throbbing at the thought of his cock inside you. Jeonghan used one hand to hold your hips down, pushing into you slowly but surely. You could tell he didn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he kept his eyes trained on your face the entire time, gauging whether to proceed based off your reactions.

“Sorry,” he apologized, placing a kiss against your stomach as he continued pushing his way inside you until he bottomed out. Your eyes nearly rolled back once he was fully inside, and all you could do was clench around him until he growled. “Hold still.”

“Keep going,” you begged, holding onto him like he was your anchor. If you let go of him, you were sure you would fall apart.

Jeonghan simpered, looking quite delighted as he started rocking his hips slowly. It seemed as though he was waiting for you to get adjusted to his size. Despite all, you were still clenching around his cock occasionally, leaving him holding onto you tighter and groaning into the crook of your neck. Jeonghan sped up his thrusts and left a bruising grip on your hips.

“You like that?” he asked, and, lord, you nearly came for the second time just by his words.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, nearly gasping the words. “I… I want—”

“Want what?” he cut you off smoothly, smirking down at your disheveled appearance. He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust. “What do you want, princess?”

You whimpered. “I do wanna be your girlfriend.”

He froze for a moment, stunned. Apparently, that wasn’t the route he was expecting you to take.

Then, the demon’s shock wore off and was replaced with a warm smile. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. He pulled away to look into your eyes. “I’d be honored to be your boyfriend, Y/N.”

It was like clockwork—the way your orgasm hit you at that very moment. You tightened around him uncontrollably, the sporadic motions causing Jeonghan to cum as well. He pulled out right before his climax, ropes of cum spilling onto your stomach. You watched it pool together with hazy, unfocused eyes, still dazed from your orgasm and sudden confession.

Jeonghan was your boyfriend now.

“I see why mortal men are such fools for women,” Jeonghan said once he collapsed next to you. “If sex is always this good, I would start wars, too.”

“You’re a demon prince. You’ve started wars, anyway.”

“Oh, right.”

Afterward, you taught Jeonghan a thing or two about aftercare. The concept was completely foreign to him, so you informed him that good boyfriends took care of their girlfriends after sex. When Jeonghan told you to just grab a tissue and call it a day, you had to scold him to get him to clean you up.

To your surprise, Jeonghan did a satisfactory job. You half-expected him to do the absolute bare minimum, but you could definitely see that he was trying his best.

So, you bestowed upon him the highest honor: allowing him to sleep with you in your bed.

Jeonghan got under the sheets beside you, wrapping an arm around you once you cozied up to him. It was strange how comfortable you felt with him, especially considering he was your assigned demon. In some parallel universe, you and Jeonghan might have been normal people with normal lives, and you two probably felt the same level of closeness as you did right now.

Neither of you could sleep right away. Jeonghan traced patterns along your arm and you told him countless stories about your childhood. He smiled fondly, intently listening to the life you lived before him.

Later, he kissed you, and, between bated breaths, whispered promises of forever. And eventually, the soft trickling of rain lulled you both to sleep.

You woke up freezing.

At first, you thought Jeonghan had stolen the blanket. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for the Prince of Greed to be, well, greedy. However, considering your limbs were entangled with his, that didn’t seem to be the case.

The feeling was awfully familiar. It was the same sub-zero temperature you experienced when Jeonghan appeared in your room the first time. However, it was brief this time, dissipating as soon as it started.

Although you couldn’t identify the strange man who materialized in the center of your room, you had a good idea of who it was.

“Oh, Belphegor,” Jeonghan greeted without a care in the world, confirming your suspicions immediately. You were amazed that the half-naked demon was completely unfazed by his demon friend coming out of nowhere. Maybe this was just a regular morning for their kind. “About time you showed up.”

Belphegor made a noncommittal sound. “Yeah, well…”

“I can’t believe it took you centuries to fetch the Hand.”

“I was going to do it,” he said, “but then I didn’t want to.”

Jeonghan groaned. “You idiot.”

You gathered up the bedsheets, making sure to cover yourself fully before turning your attention back to the two demons. Maybe if you acted like everything about this situation was normal, it would distract from the fact that you only had a blanket to cover your naked body. The stranger seemed to have no interest in you whatsoever, so you figured he wouldn’t think anything of you and Jeonghan sleeping together.

“Jeonghan!” you hissed, glowering at your startled boyfriend. “It wouldn’t kill you to wake me up?”

“Oh, Y/N,” he started, seeming pleased with himself. He gestured toward the demon next to him, who looked like he had just rolled out of bed himself. “This is Belphegor, but you can call him by his human name: Wonwoo.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said cautiously.

“Hi.”

There was clearly no room for conversation between you two.

“Anyway,” Wonwoo continued, shooting Jeonghan a curious look, “what’re you gonna do with the key? You’re not opening the Outerverse, are you?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “I’m not gonna release the Outer Gods, I’m—”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Wonwoo cut him off, clearly uninterested in the conversation. “Now that I know you’re not trying to kill us all, I’ll get going.”

“Yeah, okay, good talk.”

Later in the day, you sat on the floor of your living room with Jeonghan and Seokmin. Jeonghan was giving him a rundown of Belphegor’s visit, which didn’t take very long considering he was there for a grand total of nine moments. You almost made an offhand comment about how Jeonghan didn’t give you any time to get dressed, but that would have exposed what went down between you two last night.

Neither of you had even mentioned to Seokmin about sealing the deal.

“Alright, so,” the Quartarion started, “how does this work?”

Jeonghan pulled out a ten dollar bill, a deformed-looking Twinkie, and a tiny bottle of bath salts from the pocket of his sweater. He laid them out carefully around the Right Hand of Doom before looking up at you and Seokmin. A smug grin spread across his face, but you and the angel were flabbergasted.

“A Twinkie?” you asked.

“He likes sweets,” was the extent of Jeonghan’s explanation.

“Primordial Outer God of space-time likes Twinkies. Good to know.”

“And the ten dollars?” Seokmin asked.

“He likes money, too,” Jeonghan said. Before either of you could question the bath salts, he pointed to the bottle and added, “These are just for the vibes.”

Nice.

“Anyway,” Jeonghan continued, “these types of invocations usually require human sacrifices or something along those lines.” Seokmin and him glanced in your direction at the same time, and you shot them each an icy glare. Jeonghan coughed into his fist. “We’re obviously not sacrificing you. I’m just saying he’s more likely to answer me because I’m a demon prince.”

Seokmin looked on edge. “So… are we starting?”

“I don’t want Y/N in the room,” Jeonghan answered.

“What?” you asked, shocked at the sudden dismissal. “Why?”

“He’s so powerful—even knowing of his existence can drive some mortals insane,” Jeonghan muttered darkly. “Seokmin should be fine since he’s an angel, but there’s a chance you’d go mad if you heard his voice, so stay back until I say so.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were already starting to get to your feet the second he mentioned mortals going insane.

“I’ll stand in the hallway, then,” you decided, far too curious to lock yourself in one of the rooms.

You watched as Jeonghan and Seokmin took each other’s hands quietly and exchanged a silent nod of understanding before closing their eyes. Jeonghan then started reciting some strange incantation that was far more complicated than the one you used to summon him. It seemed to drag on for close to a minute before the air around them went still. It was as if they were trapped in a time vortex, suspended in space while all you could do was wait for them to be released.

You took careful steps backward until you were against the wall, and then you sank down to the floor. As much as you tried to calm your nerves, you were riddled with anxiety. You had to physically hold your thigh down to keep it from bouncing.

Jeonghan didn’t tell you how exactly this would go. Hell, he probably didn’t know himself. Because you were so unaware, though, you weren’t sure if what was happening right now was normal or not. The two men weren’t even twitching or breathing; they were like still images.

Minutes stretched on. You weren’t sure how long it had been, but each passing second felt longer than it should have been. There was nothing you could do but wait. Stare at the motionless air around the two boys and wait.

It had probably been around half an hour when Seokmin’s eyes shot open with a loud gasp. You scrambled to your feet immediately, badgering the poor boy with questions to find out what happened while he was just trying to catch his breath. Jeonghan, on the other hand, looked the very image of tranquility when he opened his eyes.

“What is it?” you kept asking. “What happened?”

Seokmin had a strange, distant look in his eyes. He tried to speak several times, but no words came out.

“Could you get him something warm to drink, Y/N?” Jeonghan asked. “I think he’s in shock.”

“I’ll—I’ll make some tea,” you stammered, stumbling over your feet before you could start walking properly. “How about you? Are you—” You stopped yourself once you saw the hint of fear in Jeonghan’s eyes, and it chilled your blood. You couldn’t even fathom what they had just gone through. “I’ll get you a cup, too.”

It took two hours for the two men to recover—slowly but surely. You brought them tea and gave them time to process what they had just been through. It mainly consisted of you sitting to the side and keeping yourself from asking any questions. You figured they’d tell you if they wanted, but you weren’t in any position to press them.

Jeonghan seemed to feel bad for letting Seokmin tag along. He kept glancing at the angel with sad eyes, seeming remorseful. Then, he turned his attention to you. To your surprise, he walked over to where you sat on the couch to sit next to you and lay his head on your shoulder.

“Hey,” you called softly. “Are you feeling better?”

He nodded, although he didn’t look you in the eyes. “You should probably go to your room. Yog-Sothoth told us he’s thinking about my request, so he could be making up his mind any minute now.”

“You’re going back?”

“I guess. It was more like my consciousness was transported there instead of my physical body.”

He said it like it should have been no big deal, but the two were clearly unsettled by their visit. You weren’t sure how to feel about them going back. It could break Seokmin for good. Even though he was an angel-blood, he didn’t have the power that Jeonghan had.

“The fact that he listened to Jeonghan’s request means that he’s considering it,” Seokmin spoke up after a period of silence between you three. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go, Y/N. The Outerverse is the most terrifying realm I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to Alabama.”

You smiled a little. At least he seemed to be feeling more at ease now.

“They say Yog-Sothoth exists beyond our reality, so he can possibly see other streams of reality that aren’t connected to the branches of Creation,” Jeonghan explained. “That sounds insane, right? When you’re in the Outerverse seeing those pockets of different realities… it can make you go a little crazy. I mean, I’d give Hell a five star Yelp review over the Outerverse.”

Seokmin tucked his head in his folded arms. “I never wanna go to that place again.”

“Well, I’m not exactly planning to have my next birthday party there.”

“Mammon,” a voice boomed in your ears, and the sound itself was weird. There were undertones of echoes in its words, and you couldn’t even tell if the voice was in your head or not.

You didn’t have to ask who it was because the fear in Seokmin’s eyes was unmistakable. Jeonghan straightened up, panicked, but you assumed it was because you were still in the room because he swiftly placed his hands over your ears in an attempt to muffle the sound. You weren’t sure it would help, but you did feel safer that way.

“God of Time, I appreciate your presence.”

“I’ve decided to accept your offer,” Yog-Sothoth said. His voice sounded louder, even with Jeonghan’s hands over your ears. “I’ll help you.”

There was a way.

He removed his hands from the sides of your head, and you sat up straight again. You never thought those four words would light up so much hope inside you, but here you were, beaming like an idiot next to your demon boyfriend. There was a hope for a future between you and Jeonghan—hope that you two could live out the rest of your lives as humans. More importantly, there was hope that you two could live out the rest of your lives together.

For a moment, you were filled with doubt. There was so much at stake for this decision, and you couldn’t fathom someone loving you so much that they would give their world up for you.

“Jeonghan,” you murmured, “are you sure about giving up immortality?”

“I’d rather live a short life with you than spend the rest of eternity longing for what we could have had,” he declared with a fire blazing in his eyes. “I don’t want forever if it’s not with you, Y/N.”

His soft words coupled with his fierce gaze only sent butterflies to the pit of your stomach. You were hopeless when it came to Jeonghan; whatever he said left you like putty in his hands.

“Jeonghan,” Seokmin whispered, looking fearful. He was pointing at the makeshift summoning circle. “The Twinkie’s gone.”

So, the primordial Outer God of space-time was helping Jeonghan out because of a Twinkie. You decided against questioning why the all-powerful being was about to manipulate the fabric of reality over an over-glorified sponge cake.

“But,” Yog-Sothoth’s voice echoed in your ears as he spoke, “for this exchange, I require a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice?” Jeonghan asked, frowning. “The Twinkie—”

“No, Mammon, not the Twinkie. I want you to bring me a loved one; an eye for an eye.”

You frowned. Jeonghan could split his soul into two—one residing in his demon form in Hell, and the other residing in his human body here—but he had to sacrifice someone he loved? You couldn’t understand how this was a fair exchange; he was already giving up a part of him for this ordeal.

“Sacrifice a loved one in exchange for what I want,” Jeonghan echoed, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ve seen this before.”

“You have?” Your eyebrows narrowed. “When?”

“Avengers: Endgame.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Dude,” Seokmin chimed in, and you were starting to think you were the only one who understood the gravity of the situation. “This is literally Thanos sacrificing Gamora for the Soul Stone.”

“Stop embarrassing us in front of the Outer God!” you whispered harshly.

“Well,” Jeonghan started, his tone growing serious again, “I’m sure you know my choice.”

“Yes, I do.” Yog-Sothoth hummed, and something about it seemed calculative. You wanted to interject and ask Jeonghan what the hell he was talking about, but you felt like you were immobilized. “Very well, then.”

You looked at Seokmin to see if he understood what was going on, but he seemed just as confused as you were. Jeonghan just stared ahead, refusing to look either of you in the eye, and panic rose in your throat. You wanted to trust him, to confidently know that he wasn’t choosing you or Seokmin, but you really didn’t know who else it could have been.

Like Jeonghan told you before, demons didn’t care about anyone or anything. Only you and Seokmin were able to crack him open.

That was why horrifying realization was drawn across both of your faces. Jeonghan was choosing either you or Seokmin, and considering you were the reason he wanted to be mortal in the first place, you were terrified he was going to sacrifice Seokmin. And it seemed like Seokmin was terrified of that possibility, too.

You stood up and grabbed his shoulder. “Jeonghan, you—”

But before you could get any words out, you were sinking and the ground was swallowing you whole.

Everything went dark, and then silence followed.

You had gone under anesthesia once in your life. It was back when you were thirteen and the doctors had to perform an appendectomy on you. Being sedated didn’t feel like sleeping at all; it felt like closing your eyes and then waking up to a weird jumpcut in your memory. You remembered being extremely disoriented at first, not even realizing what had just happened to you.

Now, as your eyes fluttered open, you felt the same way.

You were tucked in your bed, which had to have been impossible because you were in the living room when everything turned black. You sat up to gather your bearings. Your head was a mess for a second, unable to focus on one thing at a time.

Jeonghan. Seokmin. Yog-Sothoth. Twinkies. Sacrifice.

The words etched themselves in your bones until you felt dread seep in. If you were still in your bed, completely unharmed, that meant Jeonghan had gotten rid of Seokmin. You looked down at your hands, and you realized they were shaking before you could stop yourself.

“Jeonghan!” you yelled, furious. Before he could hurry to your room, you stormed out, fighting back tears. Just as you thought, he was rushing down the hallway to see you, but you weren’t in the mood for a happy reunion. “How could you?!”

He looked confused. “Didn’t… didn’t you want this? I’m human now, Y/N.” A bright smile broke across his face. “Yog-Sothoth split my soul, so Mammon’s back in Hell where he belongs, but I’m here to stay as a human.”

You punched his shoulder. Hard.

“Okay, ow,” he complained. “Y/N, I—”

“Don’t,” you warned. Your voice was wavering and you could feel your throat closing up. “I don’t wanna hear it after what you did to Seokmin. You promised me you wouldn’t kill him!”

As if on cue, the angel-blood, who was supposed to be dead, peaked into the hallway from where he was in the living room. He had a bowl of ice cream in his hands, shaking his head at you repeatedly.

“I’m not dead,” he clarified, even though you could very clearly see that. “I’m alive.”

“Oh.” You had to take a step back because now, you were more confused than ever. “You’re alive.”

“You sound disappointed. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna steal your boyfriend.”

“I’m not! I’m… really fucking confused—wait, you found out we’re dating, too?” You turned to look up at Jeonghan. “Wait, so who’d you sacrifice, then? What happened after I blacked out? I feel like I’m so in the dark right now.”

Jeonghan looked down at his feet, suddenly glum. “I sacrificed my pet.”

“Mount Fu—I mean, Doljjong? I thought it was dead already?”

“No, my other pet.” He showed you his phone screen, which was on an article about Mount Vesuvius going extinct. “Jjongddol.”

“Oh, another rock.” You tried to sound sympathetic, but it was hard to feel bad for a volcano. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“He’s not even sad about it!” Seokmin argued, pointing his spoon at Jeonghan in an accusatory manner. “He gaslit the Time God!”

Jeonghan huffed. “I am sad, okay! Just because it took me a while to remember his name doesn’t mean I don’t have fond memories with Doljjong!”

“Jjongddol,” you corrected.

“Oh, right—Jjongddol!”

You smiled, taking his face into your hands. “You know what this means, though?”

Jeonghan looked at you, eyebrows lifting in pleasant surprise. “What?”

(“Oh, Christ, they’re gonna start making out,” Seokmin muttered and hurried back to the couch. “I’m gonna look for movies on the TV, Jeonghan!”)

“It means we finally have all the time in the world to ourselves, Yoon Jeonghan.” You got on your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips, which he reciprocated almost immediately. “I’m a little sad I don’t have a guardian demon anymore, though, even if he sucked at his job.”

“Hey, I didn’t suck!” He pouted a little, which you laughed at. “Now, though, you get to show me how to be a proper human.”

“Oh, shoot. We need to find you a place to live since my lease only allows one person, and then we need to figure out getting your documents in order, and then—”

Jeonghan cut you off with a laugh. “I’m on board for all that, but I’d really like to celebrate my new life right now by watching a movie with my best friend and girlfriend.” He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “And then tonight I’d like to—”

“Alright, alright!” you interjected, feeling your face go hot. “You know, the demon part of you might be gone power-wise, but I don’t know about personality-wise.”

“You love it, though.”

“Jeonghan, let’s watch Superbad!” Seokmin called from the living room.

“Okay!” Jeonghan turned to you and held out his hand. “Come on. I heated up popcorn and even put in some jalapeños for you.”

“Hey.” You stopped him, and you weren’t exactly sure why, but you felt so overwhelmed by your emotions at the moment. There were so many forces against you two, yet you still managed to fight the odds. A constant storm you both battled to stay together, and only now you felt like you could finally breathe. So, when Jeonghan looked at you, the words came out naturally. “I love you.”

He looked at you for a moment, before his face broke into one of those heartbreakingly beautiful smiles again. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

Now it was your time to smile and grab his hand. “Let’s go watch that movie.”

“Oh, is Y/N watching with us?” Seokmin asked.

“This may come as a shock, but this happens to be my apartment, Seokmin.”

And, as you three watched the movie, you and Jeonghan kept your hands interlocked, unwilling to let go. You thought it was beautiful how two hands could touch and forge a bond like no other. It must have been why you and Jeonghan had made it past every obstacle that came hurtling your way.

In some parallel universe out there, some stream of reality that didn’t branch from Creation, you and Jeonghan were probably normal people who found each other naturally. In that world, neither of you had to go through all the pain and suffering to find each other, to finally end up in each other’s arms.

But you would choose this reality over that one every single time. You would go through all the trails and tribulations for Jeonghan however many times you needed to because, at the end of the day, the love you two had for each other couldn’t compare to any other reality out there.

And you would never admit it out loud, but he was right; your guardian demon didn’t totally suck at his job.

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