honeykitcat - Tumblr blog

honeykitcat · 12 days ago

Text

You were never supposed to matter (1)

Targeting the fans was only the beginning. If he truly wants to bring down HUNTR/X, Jinu knows he has to strike at their core by focusing on one of their beloved managers, (Y/N). But what happens when the demon prince of pop finds himself falling for the very heart he planned to break?

wc: 1.9k

divider credits go to @hyuneskkami 💛 PARTS: (1) (2)

Letting out a sigh, your shoulders droop in exhaustion, your marbled countertop now looking like the softest mattress in all of Korea. With the way the Saja Boys have been climbing the charts lately, Rumi’s voice disappearing, and the backlash from the canceled live performance, you had no idea how you were supposed to manage this nightmare.

You knew about the girls’ second life—how they protected the world from Gwi-Ma’s demons while maintaining the perfect image of K-pop idols. You were one of the few people Rumi trusted with her secret, having accidentally seen the marks on her back during a fitting. After years of working with HUNTR/X, you’d gotten good at spinning lies to Bobby and the others: exploding demons? Special effects. The girls falling from the sky mid-rehearsal? Just some ambitious wire work. But with the recent threat of the hot, muscular demon boy band, you had been on your toes for days, coordinating with the PR team on how to keep the girls afloat amongst their competitors.

Your eyelids begin to droop, heavy from exhaustion—until something shifts.

The air changes. The night breeze picks up, colder now, sharper.

Your eyes snap open. You reach back, grabbing the nearest knife from the block. As you spin around, your blade lands inches away from a familiar figure—a raven-haired boy standing in your kitchen.

“Easy, easy, easy,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender. As he takes a step closer, the streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains reveal him in his human form—the one plastered across billboards and fangirl daydreams.

And who could blame them?

He was the epitome of perfection. The sharp jawline, the tousled black hair, the lean frame that moved with dancer precision—it was a weapon in itself. He was sculpted to charm, built to be adored. Even now, bathed in silver light, he looked less like a demon and more like a dream.

But it was his eyes that made you hesitate—those honey-colored irises, warm and gleaming with something almost human. Almost.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” you demand, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he replies calmly.

“Oh sure, because trusting a demon has never gone wrong before,” you snap, stepping closer, the blade still pointed at him.

But he doesn’t flinch.

“Well... your little friend believed me when I promised to keep her secret. Purple hair with demon marks sound familiar?”

That stops you. Just for a moment. Just enough.

Jinu sees it—and steps forward, gently pressing a finger to the tip of your knife and guiding it away.

“Now that I have your attention,” he says calmly, “I want to help you.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “And what makes you think I’d ever believe you?”

He sighs, gaze lowering. “I don’t expect you to. I just… I want to be like her. To be free. But until they reach the Golden Honmoon, we’ll never escape Gwi-Ma’s control.”

Your jaw tightens. “You have those marks for a reason.”

“I made a mistake—”

“No,” you snap. “You made a choice.”

Your grip tightens on the knife. “And that’s why I can never trust someone like you.”

In a split second, the blade flies from your hand—but before it can touch him, he vanishes in a puff of violet smoke. The knife hits the wall with a dull thunk, then clatters to the wooden floor.

A small, pale blue card flutters down from where he once stood. You hesitate before picking it up.

A cartoon duck smiles on the front.

You open it.

Inside, in delicate handwriting, it reads:

“Come find me when you’re ready to listen.”

You roll your eyes, toss the card into the bin, and fall back onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.

But as the night settles in, you can’t help but wonder, why did Rumi trust him? And why, deep down, did part of you want to believe him too.

__________________________________

As you watched the girls practice the dance for what felt like the umpteenth time, your mind kept wandering back to last night’s encounter. There had to be a catch. Demons were all the same—selfish, vile, cruel.

So what did he really want?

The memory of his honey-colored eyes lingered like a bruise in your thoughts. Warm, almost sincere—but lies always wore a pretty face.

So many questions spun through your head like a whirlpool, dragging you under until—

“Helloooo?”

You blinked. Zoey was waving her hand inches from your face.

“Earth to (Y/N)?” she teased, dragging out the last word.

Your eyes widened, snapping back to the three girls now staring at you.

“You okay?” Mira asked, head tilting, brows furrowed with a mix of concern and suspicion. “You’ve been acting… different today.”

Zoey pipes up again, “Yeah, you’ve been looking at us like—” She tilts her head to the side, eyes wide, like she’s under a spell.

You giggle softly. “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking.” You send them a reassuring smile.

They all nod, understanding. You always had a lot on your plate as a manager.

“We’ll go ahead and call it a day,” Rumi says. “Let’s pick it back up tomorrow.”

The other girls sigh in relief, clearly eager to be swallowed by the nearest couch. As they turn to pack their things, you reach out and gently grab Rumi by the wrist. She stops, her violet hair swaying slightly as she looks back at you.

“Can we talk?” you whisper.

Her brows crease. “Yeah, sure, uhm…” She glances over to Zoey and Mira. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”

“Sounds good,” Mira calls. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!”

“Bye, (Y/N)!” Zoey waves excitedly before leaving with her pink-haired companion.

Once the door clicks shut behind them, the room grows quieter.

You turn to Rumi, wasting no time.

“Have you been talking to Jinu?” Your voice is firm. “And don’t lie to me.”

She stiffens. Her eyes dart away, debating silently. Then, quietly—

“Yes.”

You let go of her hand as if burned, staring at her like she just suggested disbanding HUNTR/X.

“Rumi…”

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what I think?” Your voice sharpens. “Rumi, he’s a demon! One of the very monsters you’ve sworn to hunt and destroy. You’ve hated their kind since you were a little girl!”

She hesitates, but then… she speaks.

“He’s different.”

She bites her lip. “He’s not like the others we’ve fought. He just… he doesn’t enjoy the hurting. It’s like he’s trapped in something he didn’t ask for.” She pulls her sleeve up slightly, revealing the faint glowing marks etched into her skin.

“People change,” she says, voice low. “Sometimes… they just need a reason to.”

Before you could respond, the studio lights flickered once… twice… then died. The room plunged into darkness.

“Get out,” Rumi said sharply, her voice instantly shifting into that protective, no-nonsense tone. “Now.”

“Wait, what are you—”

“Go!” she shouted, already dashing in the opposite direction.

Heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, you grabbed your phone with trembling hands and fumbled to switch on the flashlight. The weak beam flickered to life, cutting through the thick veil of darkness as you sprinted down the hallway, footsteps echoing against the studio walls.

But halfway through, you skidded to a stop—your breath caught in your throat.

A low, sickening growl echoed from the shadows ahead. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even close.

Then came the sound of claws—wet, ragged, scraping against the walls. From the cracks and corners, they emerged—a horde of demons, crawling out like living smoke. Half-shadow, half-nightmare. Spines jagged like broken glass. Eyes glowing red in the dark. Limbs bending wrong, too many joints, too many teeth.

You turned to run—but they were faster. One leapt toward you, its mouth splitting open in a shriek that pierced your skull.

You screamed, stumbling back, and instinctively squeezed your eyes shut.

You braced for the pain. For the end.

But it never came.

Instead, a feral snarl ripped through the air, so loud and guttural it made your bones rattle. The sickening crunch of impact followed, like something had been thrown straight into the wall. Hard.

Your eyes snapped open.

There, standing between you and the demon pack, was a tall figure draped in a jet-black hanbok, its fabric swaying gently like smoke in the still air.

“Jinu?” you whispered

But not the Jinu you knew.

His human illusion had fallen away. He wore a traditional black gat, its ribbon fluttering in the unnatural wind that had suddenly stirred. From beneath the wide brim, his eyes burned golden—not warm, but wild, predatory. Smoke, thick and purple-black, coiled around the edges of his silhouette.

His body moved like liquid shadow, sleek and elegant, but every step oozed restrained violence. The demon who had attacked you lay crushed against the wall in a heap of limbs, twitching before going still.

Jinu didn’t even glance back.

He didn’t speak.

But as the others lunged at him, he moved with a speed that was inhumane.

Effortless. Precise. Beautiful in a way that made your breath catch and your spine crawl.

He cut through them like a blade of darkness—one clawed hand dragging a demon to the ground, the other summoning a flick of searing smoke that split through flesh like fire through paper. Each motion was deliberate, calculated, protective—but brutal.

You stared, frozen.

Not because you were afraid.

But because you understood.

He hadn’t come for them.

He came for you.

You watched as he dealt with the last of them, holding it by the throat and with a crack of finality, letting it fall limp to the ground—it’s body fading into ashes. He looks back to you, but the look of anger and bloodshed in his bright golden eyes was gone, now back to a warm hue. The silence seemed to stretch between the two of you, almost palpable. He walks towards you. Every step echoed in your ears, louder than your own heartbeat. Your instincts screamed—Run. Turn away. Don’t let him get close. But you stay frozen in your spot. He stopped just inches away, closer than you should’ve ever let a demon get. He raised his hand slowly. You flinched and shut your eyes, breath hitching sharply.

This is it, he’s going to kill me himself.

Instead, you felt his ice-cold finger lifted your chin gently, his touch featherlight. Your eyes fluttered open. You find his gaze inspecting every inch of your face, his bows furrowing just the slightest as he memorized every detail.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

You nodded, though your voice trembled. “Y-yeah.”

He let out a soft breath, the corner of his lips curling into the faintest smile. “Good.”

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then his expression shifted—just slightly, like a storm creeping back in behind his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he murmured, gaze dropping for a second.

Before you can speak, he steps back. The smoke curling around his form starts to rise again, swallowing him like mist.

“Wait—” you call out, reaching a hand toward him

But he’s already fading.

“Don’t follow me,” he says, voice soft but clear. “Not until you’re ready.”

Then, just like before, he vanishes into a ripple of violet haze.

You’re left standing in silence. The hallway, once haunted by demons, now feels too still. Too empty.

And then… something flutters gently to the floor.

Your eyes lower.

Another card.

Same pale blue. Same cartoon duck. But now, taped to the back, a single ticket—National Theater of Korea. Tomorrow. 8 p.m.

You pick it up slowly, heart thudding in your ears.

Inside the card, in that same careful handwriting:

“Come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

You want to throw it away.

You should throw it away.

But instead, your fingers tighten around it. You stare at it for a moment longer… then quietly tuck it into your pocket.

760 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 15 days ago

Text

under a thousand moons | jinu saja

each night, he plays his worn bipa beneath the temple eaves—music born not of glory, but of need, of survival, of something quietly breaking. she hears it from across the city, a melody like a secret meant only for her. when they finally meet, it isn't grand or loud—it’s soft, inevitable, like a thread tugging two hearts closer. in a city that forgets the poor and passes by the quiet, one boy’s song and one girl’s pause become the start of something neither of them expected—and neither can forget.

pairing: kpdh jinu x f. reader (she/her pronouns used) genre: rom-fantasy, timeless love, angst, slow burn (i hope i deliver aaaaaa) rating: teen and up audiences warnings: poverty, emotional vulnerability, animal neglect (implied mention), soft angst word count: 2.7k+ credits & honoraries: inspired by @scribblewytch’s incredible fic—thank you for letting me build off your magic ♡ nabi's notes: this movie has me in a chokehold im tellin' y'all soooo here's my entry to the fandom. to many more!✧˖° ⊹ ࣪ ˖

하나 . 둘 .

the bipa had five strings. two were frayed. one never stayed in tune, no matter how often he coaxed it. but when he sat down to play, it didn’t matter. the sound it made was still beautiful—raw and unpolished, yes, but achingly human. like something old and weathered that still remembered how to sing.

each day began the same way. at dawn, he rolled up his sleeves and helped his mother run the small tteok stall they kept on the edge of the lower market row. it was nothing special—just a squat wooden cart, its lacquer faded from too many summers, with a rusted grill and a few baskets of skewered rice cakes waiting to be cooked. they brushed each one with a glaze of sweet soy, let the sugar bubble and crisp over the coals until it shimmered, then handed them over with folded hands. some customers came with kind words. most came and went in silence. a few haggled over every coin. but his mother never turned anyone away.

by midday, the heat clung to their skin like syrup, and the scent of grilled tteok soaked into his sleeves. his fingers were often sticky from the glaze, and the soles of his sandals were worn thin from standing. still, they didn’t complain. that stall kept them fed. most nights, they brought home whatever hadn’t sold and reheated it for dinner.

only after they closed up—after the coals died down and the cart was wheeled into the narrow alley behind their home—did he sling the bipa over his back and make the climb to the temple wall.

there, just beyond the final incense stalls, beneath the tiled eaves that curved like crescent moons, he sat and played. the space was small, no wider than a doorway, but it shielded him from wind and rain. smoke from incense coils lingered in the corners, curling like ghost-thin ribbons around the worn stone. monks passed by in silent rows, their eyes never drifting toward him. not out of cruelty—just habit. to them, he was part of the landscape. a boy and his old instrument, folded into the city’s edge like moss on a wall.

he wore the same clothes each evening: a thin tunic that might’ve once been sky blue, now faded to the color of old parchment, patched at the seams. a ribbon of cloth—once red, now rust-brown—tied his hair back from his face. but the wind always had its way. strands slipped free and clung to his cheeks, kissed by the night air. he never pushed them aside.

around him, the kingdom moved. the scrape of sandals on cobble. the creak of carts laden with root vegetables and late-summer melons. laughter drifted up from the market below, mingled with haggling and half-sung lullabies. somewhere down the slope, a city official barked at delivery boys, his voice sharp as cut metal. and still, the boy played.

not for attention. not for pity. not even for coin—though sometimes a silver or two clinked to the ground from a passing stranger. there was no jar in front of him. no woven hat. only dust, and the long, curling shadow cast by the setting sun.

the music was quiet at first. a murmur. the low breath of something buried deep beneath the city’s noise. it didn’t rise like a grand overture. it seeped. moved. unfurled. a melody not born from memory but from need—notes remembered by the body.

it wasn’t a courtly tune, nor one meant for festivals or drinking nights. it was older. nameless. felt, not recognized. like something that lived between stories and prayers.

his fingers moved not with elegance, but with persistence. each note was earned. grit carved into calluses, calluses pressed into chords. his wrists ached from lifting tteok all day, from the strain of playing the same refrain until it stitched itself into his bones. the pain didn’t stop him. it was part of the rhythm.

"that again," muttered a woman, shifting the baskets on her shoulders.

"always that same sound," her companion said, wiping his brow with a rag.

"like a funeral."

"no," she said after a moment. "like something trying not to die."

a stray cat had taken up residence nearby—a scrappy thing with matted fur and ribs like bent reeds. it limped with every step, its tail dragging like a tattered ribbon. he sometimes fed it. never touched it. but he never made it leave. it came back each night and curled beside him, closing its eyes like it, too, needed the music to stay whole.

when the final note came, it didn’t rise. it fell—quietly, like the last ember giving in to ash. there was no applause. no dramatic hush. only the wind and the continued murmur of the city.

but the air had shifted. ever so slightly. like something had been scraped away, leaving a raw edge where silence used to be.

he leaned back against the temple wall. the stone was cool. firm. familiar in the way old things are—unyielding but steady. the wind slipped past him, threading through alleyways, brushing across rooftops like a whisper. his music went with it, tangled in the scent of grilled tteok, smoke, and rain.

down the crooked street, past the baker’s alley and silk stalls, a girl paused.

she was running errands, a woven basket clutched to her chest. her sleeves were rolled to the elbow, hands dusted with flour. her hair was pinned in a loose coil, held by a carved wooden comb that had begun to slip. people brushed past her, muttering complaints, but she didn’t notice.

her head tilted. not toward him—she couldn’t see him from where she stood—but toward the sound. that soft, distant melody floating between rooftops and lamplight. she had heard it before. every night, as she closed her father’s shop. always that same tune, never quite the same twice.

there was something in it—something that curled beneath her ribs and settled warm in her chest. as if the music was calling to something inside her she hadn’t yet named.

she didn’t smile. didn’t cry. she just stood there, for one breath longer than necessary.

and then she moved.

but her steps were slower now. not heavy. not sad. just... changed. as though the music had rearranged something inside her. smoothed something out. stirred something else.

she always heard it.

and tomorrow—maybe—she would follow it.

she was the shaman’s daughter, her mother, the royal spiritual and physical practitioner to the queen and the women of the palace. her mother’s hands—soft, but stained with oils and ash—moved between this world and the next with a grace that was half-learned, half-inherited. she was the one the queen called upon for warding dreams, easing births, or quieting the tremors that followed sorrow. her words were few, her silences deep. the girl had grown up beside her, tucked into quiet corners of court halls and forest shrines alike.

that morning, she walked the palace path with a woven basket in hand, heavy with herbs and thread. she was to wait by the eastern courtyard, where the garden met the temple wall, until her mother finished tending to the queen’s favored attendant—a young woman who had woken with a grief she couldn’t name. the girl did not ask questions. she had learned to let silence carry its own answers.

she sat on a stone ledge beneath a fig tree whose limbs arched low like old shoulders. sunlight filtered through the broad leaves, dappling her arms and the ground with uneven gold. the breeze carried the mingled scents of jasmine, roasted barley, and sandalwood. around her, the palace stirred with its usual rhythm—slippers whispering against stone, the faint clatter of bowls after morning offerings, the low calls of guards changing posts.

and then—she heard it.

that sound.

the bipa.

the boy had moved closer. she hadn’t seen him at first, but the music reached her before her eyes did. it always did. the thread of melody wove through the morning noise, rising from somewhere near the incense stalls beyond the temple gate. it was unmistakably his—rough around the edges, aching in places, but with a core of beauty that couldn’t be dulled.

she rose slowly and stepped out of the fig tree’s shade.

there he was.

seated cross-legged near the worn stone steps, tucked into the angle where two walls met, his back straight and his hands steady on the bipa’s body. the instrument looked more frayed than ever—its lacquer dulled with use, one string stretched so thin she was surprised it held. yet he played it like it was whole. like it had never known a flaw.

he didn’t play like the court musicians. there was no flourish, no poised performance. his hands moved with the rhythm of someone who knew work: who had scrubbed pots, flipped skewers, stacked bowls, then picked up his instrument. his sleeves still bore faint traces of dark sauce—evidence of the morning’s labor at his family’s stall along the lower market road. she had passed it once. she remembered a woman—likely his mother—turning skewers of grilled rice cakes over hot coals, brushing them with sweetened soy as steam rose into her face.

now, in the hush at the temple’s edge, he played. not to perform. not for coin. but for something quieter. truer. as though the sound was part of his breath, and he simply needed to let it out before it collapsed inside him.

she watched his fingers curve around the strings—not with elegance, but with effort. there was strength in the way he played, the kind born of repetition and necessity. the music wasn’t delicate, but it was deliberate. it resonated.

around them, the palace continued—vendors calling prices, monks sweeping walkways, officials stepping from palanquins—but it all seemed dulled, like the world had slipped underwater, and only the music remained sharp.

her fingers tightened around the basket’s handle.

her mother would appear soon—tall, solemn, cloaked in robes faintly scented with mugwort and pine. she would say nothing, only tilt her head in that knowing way, and the girl would follow. that was how it always went. routine wrapped in reverence. tradition passed like a cup of tea between hands.

but for now, she remained still.

her gaze lingered on the boy. his dark hair, tied back with a faded ribbon, caught the sunlight like thread in a loom. his face was calm, focused—neither hardened nor soft. his clothes were modest, worn but clean, carefully cared for even if the dye had faded to parchment hues. he looked like someone with nothing extra to give, but who gave anyway.

and the music—gods, the music.

it pulled at her, low in the ribs. not like a tune sparking memory, but like a sound tapping something older. like the cry of a crane over still water. like wind through hollow bamboo.

without thinking, her lips parted.

a hum slipped out—quiet, instinctive. a single note, then another. she didn’t sing in words, only tones. barely more than breath. a harmony beneath his melody. not strong enough to interrupt. just enough to thread through the spaces he left open.

her song met his like a second flame catching the edge of the first.

she didn’t know why she sang. only that her heart felt suddenly full—of smoke and sunlight and something she hadn’t named in years. something like longing. something like recognition.

and still, the boy never looked up.

he didn’t need to. the music didn’t ask to be noticed.

it only asked to be heard.

and across the courtyard, standing in that quiet pause between waiting and duty, she answered.

evening stretched thin across the city, staining the sky in folds of indigo and rose. the lanterns along the temple road were already lit, their warm glow pooling on the stone path like spilled gold. a breeze carried the scent of grilled chestnuts, burnt sugar, and the tail end of incense.

he sat in his usual spot, beneath the curved eaves of the temple wall, just beyond where vendors were packing up for the night. the bipa rested in his lap, its wood familiar beneath his fingers. he had just returned from helping his mother. his sleeves still faintly smelled of sweet soy and smoke.

he wasn’t playing yet. just sitting with the weight of the day in his limbs, brushing his thumb lightly across a string. adjusting. listening. breathing. the cat had already curled beside him, tail tucked in, eyes half-closed.

then—soft footsteps.

she appeared like a skipped beat in the rhythm of the street. a figure not meant to be there, and yet exactly right. she walked quickly at first, basket in hand, sleeves rolled from a long day, her hair pinned with the same comb now slightly askew. she looked like someone with tasks to finish, brisk in her steps, measured in her pace.

but then she heard it.

just a few notes, plucked like drifting questions. not a song yet—just a whisper of one.

she slowed. then stopped.

he noticed her before she noticed him. a slight hesitation in her step. a tilt of her head. she stood at the base of the stairs, caught between leaving and lingering.

he hadn’t meant to meet her eyes. but he did.

and something flickered—quick and quiet—between them. not quite recognition. just a shared pause. a subtle understanding neither of them could name.

she took a cautious step closer.

“is that a bipa?” she asked, voice low, careful not to disturb the silence.

“it is,” he replied, adjusting the tuning peg. his voice was soft, a little rough from the smoke and the long day, but steady.

“it sounds like…” she hesitated. “like wind inside a memory.”

he smiled—not widely, but enough. “that’s a good way to put it.”

she looked at the worn edges of the instrument, the curve of its belly, the way it seemed to fit him like a second spine. “i always hear it from down the hill. at the weaving stalls. every night.”

“i didn’t think anyone noticed,” he said.

“i notice.”

another silence stretched—longer now, not heavy, but held. she set her basket down at the stone wall’s edge and sat, folding her legs beneath her. not too close. not too far. the cat, ever territorial, glanced at her, then looked away.

“do you take requests?” she asked.

he chuckled softly. “only if you don’t mind it sounding a little... frayed.”

“i don’t mind.”

she looked at him then—not just his face, but the whole of him. how the threadbare tunic sat across his shoulders. how the ribbon in his hair was more string than silk. how his hands looked strong and worn and capable.

“what you play,” she said, “feels like it’s holding something together.”

he paused. then nodded, gaze lowering to the strings.

“i play because if i don’t,” he said quietly, “i’m afraid something in me might fall apart.”

he plucked the first note.

it rang out, low and full, then trembled softly into the night. the next followed. and the next—until the music unfolded like breath held too long. there were no words to the song, but she understood it anyway.

he played for her—not with grandeur, but with honesty. like unspooling thread from the chest. the sound rose and fell, shifting between shadows and lantern light. around them, the city exhaled. voices passed. the day let go.

when the music faded, she didn’t speak right away.

“do you always play like that?” she asked finally.

he shrugged lightly, wiping his fingertips on his tunic. “only when someone’s really listening.”

she looked down at her hands. then up at him again. “i’ll listen tomorrow, too.”

he didn’t answer. but something in his expression warmed.

then she stood, lifted her basket, and introduced herself.

he nodded. “i know.”

her brow lifted, amused. “you do?”

“you ask for the broken tteok at the end of the day,” he said. “you give it to the street dogs when you think no one’s looking.”

she flushed. “so you do notice.”

he shrugged. “only some things.”

she smiled—not wide, not bright, but real. the kind of smile that made the evening feel whole.

“i’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

then she turned and walked down the path. her steps were quieter now, as if she didn’t want to disturb the fading echo of his music.

and he sat a while longer, fingers resting on the strings, eyes on the place where she had been.

they had met by chance.

but in the way the world stilled for just a breath—just long enough for two people to notice each other—they had met at exactly the right moment.

should i continue? heart, reblog, or interact whatever. i highly appreciate feedback!

258 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 15 days ago

Text

BODY SNATCHER

K-pop Demon Hunters Female Reader Insert

Warnings. brief mention of alcoholism, reader gets kidnapped, lots of arguing, mild disassociation.

A/N. Reader is referred to by their stage name, Archer, because I tried to avoid using (Y/N) for this fic as I felt like it ruined the immersion, but it is still a reader insert! Nothing else is described or designated.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Regaining consciousness when you don't even remember losing it in the first place is incredibly disorienting.

The first thing you notice when you come to is the raging migraine that's bouncing around your skull.

The second is the fact that you're uncomfortably strewn out on something cold, hard, and wet.

Lastly, the terrifying realization that you're not alone hits when the unfamiliar voice of a man murmurs, "Why is she still alive?"

The question instantly sends you shooting up in panic, desperately pushing through the rush of vertigo and stumbling to a wobbly stand as you struggle to regain your senses, eyes squinting into the darkness to try and pinpoint the source of the screams that echo around you.

"AAAHHH!!"

"IT'S STANDING UP!"

"DIDN'T WE TAKE THE SOUL!??"

"JINU WHAT THE FU–"

The screams send a wave of pain shooting down your spine and you clutch your head with a groan, inching backward until you meet the rough resistance of what you assume is a wall.

The screaming stops, and after a few painful whimpers, silence fills the night air as you finally stare down the blurry figures standing before you.

"... Is it dying now?"

A quiet 'ow' follows the question as you push further back into the wall, glaring warily at the five men before you.

The five, huge... glowing... purple? Men before you.

"W‐Who are you!? Where am I?" You try your best to sound intimidating but your voice cracks in the middle of your questioning, throat protesting your sudden rise in volume with a painful cough.

"You mean... You don't remember–"

"Shut up, Abby!"

The man in the middle takes a step forward, silencing the rest of the group as he leans further into your vision with a soft smile.

"We found you here– passed out. You must've been pretty tired after that disaster of a concert, huh?" He tilts his head, black bangs falling carefully over his forehead as you furrow your brow in confusion.

"Concert? What–" Suddenly, a flash of pain shoots down your spine, taking root at the base of your skull and causing your head to feel like it's splitting open.

The men make no move to help you as you collapse in on yourself, once again landing on the floor as you begin to seize in pain.

"Woah, is she getting possessed!?"

"C'mon man, you know we don't do possessions–"

"WHAT IF SHE’S A GHOST!?"

"She's not a ghost–"

Just as suddenly as the pain began, it's stops. Leaving your sobbing, heaving figure behind with two lifetimes worth of memories.

Your original memories.... and this body's memories.

Yep.

You've been reincarnated– When you don't even remember dying in the first place!

Not only that, but you've apparently been reincarnated into the last movie you watched on your laptop before falling asleep.

K-Pop Demon Hunters.

Which you only know because you just so happen to have been tossed into the body of Huntrix's non-canon forth member.

Aka a nepo baby with mommy issues and an unhealthy need for praise and attention.

Aka the only human in the group.

Which sucks big time, considering the situation you currently find yourself in.

"That's right... the concert..." You murmur quietly. The concert in celebration of the release of 'Golden.' The concert that Rumi ran out on after realizing her voice was in jeopardy...

The concert that was originally never supposed to happen, because of Rumi's absence... yet, in this world, it did.

After Rumi disappeared, instead of running off after her and canceling the show last minute, Archer, which was apparently this body's stage name, had proposed performing without Rumi.

Bobby had supported the notion, and Zoey and Mira followed suit begrudgingly after being reminded of the thousands of fans waiting just outside the doors.

Thus, the show went on, with the three girls claiming that Rumi was sick and unable to perform, resulting in you and Mira splitting her verses in some of Huntrix's older songs, as none of you felt comfortable singing it for the first time without her.

Once the show was over, Zoey and Mira took off to find Rumi, leaving you behind with Bobby, where you then decided to walk home alone after everything died down...

What the hell was this girl thinking!?

The memory of her reassuring Bobby that she'd be fine sends a rush of anger flooding through your veins.

An idol- a female idol- walking home alone, in the middle of the night, BY HERSELF!!

No wonder you ended up here...

"You're the Saja Boys..." You pale as the realization hits, wide eyes meeting the soulless black gleam of the leaders blank stare as you breathe out a meek, "You're demons..."

A booming, "THERE'S NO WAY SHE FIGURED US OUT–" echoes through the empty alleyway behind Jinu as he smirks down at you, scoffing out a laugh of disbelief as he kneels down to your fallen figure, "You just keep getting more and more interesting, Archer."

Before you could conjure a response, Jinu has you slung over his shoulder and halfway down the street, the others following close behind.

"Wha– What the hell!? Put me down! Where are you taking me!?" You pound your fists on his back to no avail, lifting your head to glare annoyedly at the two trailing directly behind as they laugh at your movement.

"Calm down, we're just going somewhere we can talk."

"Talk!? What is there to talk about!? I swear I won't say anything about- whatever happened in the alley, okay!! We can just pretend this never happened and go our separate ways-" You're frantic now, digging your nails into his broad shoulders in a last ditch attempt to get him to release you.

Jinu doesn't even flinch, "I don't think so, Archer. You're gonna tell us how you knew we were demons, how you still have your soul–"

"–and how you knew we were gonna call ourselves the Saja Boys!" You snap your head up to meet the mischevious teal eyes of Baby as he grins at you ominously.

You swallow nervously at the statement, hesitantly succumbing to Jinu with a stressed sigh, allowing yourself to defeatedly fall limp in his grasp.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A few minutes and a very confused desk attendant later, you were now sat on a bland black sofa in the middle of an equally bland penthouse with five pairs of beady eyes staring you down.

"Soooooo... Nice place you got here–" You wipe your hands on your legs nervously, desperately avoiding their intese gazes, "Hey, how exactly did you get this place?"

"Ah, ah! We're the ones asking the questions here!" Baby jolts forward, pointing a finger in your face threateningly.

Jinu sighs in annoyance, pushing Baby's arm down as he stalks forward, squatting down to your eye level as you shrink back from his inquisitive glare.

"You don't look like a hunter..." He hums to himself, tilting his head to take in your features scrutinizingly, "And you definitely don't sing like one." You wince at the borderline insult, glaring across at him in offense.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You don't even smell like one, either..." Jinu ignores your question, leaning into your personal bubble and taking a– very creepy –whiff of your hair before you instinctively shove him away with a disgusted grimace.

"Okay, seriously– even for a demon, you're being super creepy right now, dude." You cross your arms defensively as Jinu's gaze darkens, watching cautiously as he rises to his full height to stare down at you.

"Hmmm. As far as I can tell, she's completely human." His statement causes the rest of the boys to break out into hushed whispers, grouping together and taking quick, cautious glances back at you as they converse.

"You mean, she's not a hunter? Then why is she in the group?" Romance is the one to take the lead next, stepping beside Jinu as he eyes you curiously.

Mystery glides up next to the pink haired man with a frown, "And how did she know we were demons?"

It's quiet for a moment as you nervously wait for Jinu to answer. Flitting your eyes around the room axiously, picking at your nail beds and chewing your lip as you idly trail your eyes over the room before realizing that they were all staring at you expectantly, "Oh! uh... I'm just there to... make them seem like an actual idol group... I guess?" Your voice raises in pitch towards the end, as you still find yourself confused with the concept as well.

Apparently, this body originally belonged to the daughter of the CEO of Huntrix's label, Hwang Eunji. Eunji raised Archer in the industry, training her to be an idol since she could walk, grooming her to be the best...

Unfortunately, no matter how much effort she put in and how much talent she had, the original Archer was severely lacking in social awareness and emotional support. She struggled with her self-esteem and making friends as she always felt like she had to compete with her fellow trainess. She had a nasty attitude and simultaneous inferiority and god complexes, making her insufferable and honestly, kind of a bitch.

Growing up under her mom's ideology of becoming the best Idol, caused her to end up with no friends and horrible conversation skills, resulting in her often keeping to herself and staying quiet. Therefore making everyone think she was a snob, when in reality she just had no idea how to talk to people.

All these issues added up and resulted in her being a girl group reject for years. Her mother considered just debuting her solo before Huntrix was formed, but knew that a girl group would do better publicity-wise, so when Celine came to Eunji while pitching Huntrix, she agreed on the one condition that Archer debut with them.

Celine tried to argue, but Eunji, having been the Sunlight Sisters' manager, knew that Huntrix were demon hunters, and convinced Celine that having a normal human would help them 'blend in more,' whatever that meant...

How Celine ever caved, you don't know, but in the end, you got thrown into the girls group, given the name Archer and told to mind your business when it came to the girls and their random dissapearing acts.

You? Her?

Jinu raises an unamused brow, visibly unconvinced, "Right... and you knew we were demons... how?" You scoff, rolling your eyes in a show of annoyance as you lean back into the sofa as casually as you could, hoping they wouldn't see past the lie. "In the alley, you were purple, with stripes, glowing eyes and fangs. Not to mention, Abby said- and I quote-" You lean forward, hands up to demonstrate air quotations as you mimic his shout, "-Didn't we take her soul?"

You raise a pointed brow at Jinu as he turns to glare at said male before turning back to you frustratedly, "You called us the Saja Boys. How do you explain that one?" You can't help but tense up at the question...

How do you explain that one?

"Uh.... I'm...." You fumble to come up with a believable excuse, shriking under Jinu's unwavering glare, and blurting out the most logical conclusion, "I'm psychic."

It's deathly quiet.

Jinu's eyes look like they're going to pop out of his head with the look he's giving you. Somewhere between, astounded, impressed and pissed off, his exhasperation is palpabale as he continues to stare at you in disbelief of your blatant lie, but before he could say anything, the silence is broken by a quiet whisper of, "I knew it." Curtosey of none other than Baby Saja himself.

His triumphant smirk has Jinu groaning, "What do you mean you knew it!? She's obviously lying! Look at her!" He gestures a hand to draw attention to your clammy figure, sweat dripping down your brow and grin eerily wide as you nod in affirmation of Baby's words.

"Yup! You caught me! I'm psychic! I knew you guys were demons because I could sense your malicious aura." You frantically gesture to the air around the group, opening your mouth to continue bullshitting about negative energy and other spiritual nonesense before Jinu scoffs, "That-That doesn't even make sense-"

"-Yes it does!" You cut him off hastily, narrowing your eyes in a stubborn glare as he scowls.

"No it doesn't!"

"And how would you know!? Are you a psychic?"

"Wh-Th- No! but that doesn't-"

Romance interrupts your arguing with a clap, "Right, well, I think we all know there's only one way to settle this..." He trails off ominously and you feel a sense of dread coming down on you as he stalks closer to your seat on the couch, slowly lowering himself down next to you before opening his mouth, "What song are we singing tomorrow?"

All eyes are once again trained on you as you take a moment to think, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breathes to draw it out longer and make them think you were actually... well, thinking about it.

"Soda Pop."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Jinu stares at your sleeping figure with a contemplative frown, quietly observing the way your chest rises and falls with every soft breath that leaves your mouth.

The way your nose scrunches when you shift your head, the way your fingers twitch when one of the boys moves around you too loudly, it was all so... human.

You were human. Completely and utterly human.

So why couldn't he take your soul?

"Are you just going to watch her sleep all night or are you going to practice with us? Gwi-ma knows you could use it..." Romance's teasing brings him out of his brooding, and he spares you one last glance before pushing past the shorter man with a grimace.

"I wasn't watching her."

Romance scoffs, muttering a snarky reply that doesnt quite catch his attention as he gets into formation, idly wondering what has him so unnerved when it comes to you.

What are you hiding.... why is his mind so quiet when you're around...and why does your soul sing to him the way it does?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Awe look, she's drooling..." The coo of affection for your nasty sleep habit has you jolting awake, frantically wiping the drool from your cheek as you glance around your room in panic.

Wait.

This isn't your room.

"Calm down, you passed out when we went to get food." As if sensing your panic, Abby gestures to the sofa you were sprawled out on, reminding you of the nights events.

"Right... Wait- What time is it!? Oh my god, Bobby's probably freaking out!" You frantically stand from the couch, ignoring your aching joints and rumaging through the cushions for your phone.

"Looking for this?" Jinu's annoyingly smooth voice echoes from behind, causing you to swirl on your heels and find him standing in the entryway to the living room, phone dangling from his hand with an evil smirk on his face.

You heave out a sigh of relief, sprinting to his side to yank the phone out of his grasp, letting out a dry sob when it wouldn't turn on.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. It was going off all night." Romance laughs, peeking over Jinu's shoulder with a smirk.

You groan in frustration, shoving your phone in your jeans pocket as you shove past the two with a scowl, "Well, this has been fun and all but I should get going before-"

You yelp as an arm shoots out in front of you, blocking your path to the exit and jolting you to a stop. "Not so fast little Archer." A voice purrs, drawing your attention to Abby, who smiles down at you condesendingly, "You didn't think we'd just... let you go, did you?" Your heart drops.

"Yeah, sorry to say, but we can't have you running off and telling the rest of Huntrix about us, so...." He shares a mischevious grin with Baby.

"So?" You squeak, body rigid in fight or flight mode as they turn to stare behind you, right before a hand lands heavily on your shoulder.

You jolt, heistantly turning to meet Jinu's stare as he speaks, "So, you're coming with us today, Archer. We're not letting you out of our sight anytime soon." You gulp, shrinking under their grins with a defeated sigh.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You now find yourself standing front and center to the Saja Boys' debut, watching with flushed cheeks and sweaty palms as they pointedly hold eye contact the entire performance, ensuring st least one of them had eyes on you at all times.

You had tried to sneak away when they went off to 'set up,' which you're pretty sure was when they bumped into the girls, but unfortunately, Jinu had suspected that and stuck his pets on you. Which wasn't all bad, considering the tiger was as soft as a cloud and loved being coddled.

Unfortunately, being distracted by the big kitty left Romance enough time to get you situated before they began, bringing you a hat and face mask to hide your identity and leaving you standing in the middle of the plaze with a snarky, "Stay." before joining the rest of the boys.

"Hey, hey!"

You cough as you accidently inhale the pink smoke, gagging at the rancid sulfur scent, and waving a hand to fan it out of your face as you meet Jinu's smug gaze.

"Hey!"

You laugh at the outburst of shrieks and screams that ring out once they emerge from the cloud of smoke, huffing as the crowd begins to grow around you.

"Don't want you, need you, yeah, I need you to fill me up!"

Suddenly, a group of old ladies shove past you, sending you stumbling backward and effectively cutting off the boys' view of you. You internally celebrate, quickly taking the opportunity to scan the faces around you in hopes of finding the girls.

If your memory serves you right, they should be somewhere close to the front...

Unfortunately, the crowd only grows more and more antsy as the song continues, and it becomes increasingly harder to make your way through. Eventually, you become trapped in-between a bunch of teenagers who were screaming their lungs out at the sight of a giant can rising from the ground.

The sight has you panicking, scrambling to search the heads around you in a last ditch effort to escape before the song ends.

Just as you think you catch a glimpse of Mira's pink pigtails, the music stops, and Jinu's voice is evident despite the sounds of the crowd around you.

"That's it for now. See you tonight on everyones favorite variety show, where we'll be joined by a special guest host. Saja Boys love you!"

The proclamation has you glancing back at the boys in panic, catching Jinu's gaze just as it locks onto your figure, darkening in a way that has your heart sinking. You watch helplessly as they disappear in a cloud of smoke, frozen in your stance as the crowd steadily dissapates, hopelessly searching every face that passes by to no avail.

Huntrix was nowhere to be seen...

and you had just pissed off a group of over 200 year old demons.

You're pulled out of your anxious spiral by a bruising grip on your bicep, yanking you into a pair of arms that wrap around you with a surprising tenderness as Mystery's voice whispers a soft, "Close your eyes."

You follow his instruction with no argument, squeezing your eyes shut as soon as the pink mist slithers into your vision, stomach lurching at the smell as your body suddenly feels weightless.

There's a split second of pure agony, where your body feels suspended in nothing but fire and flame. Your body burns from the inside out, rendering your limbs useless, your jaw clenched so hard it feels like you cracked a tooth and your breath gone, but only for a second. A second that felt like eternity before your feet landed back on solid ground, Mystery's chest rising and falling against your cheek being the only thing grounding you in the moment.

You don't get much of a chance to wonder about what the hell just happened because as soon as you were stable on your feet, a scoff made its way to your ears.

"What part of 'stay' did you not understand?" Jinu's voice is cold, and you hesitantly look away from Mystery's soft silver hair to watch the leader stalk forward with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"You... didn't actually think I'd listen to that, did you?" Your disbelief is blatant as you stare at him incredulously, still glued to Mystery's side as your response seems to aggravate the ravenette further.

"Well, I had hoped you weren't stupid enough to try and run off by yourself, but apparently I was wrong." He spits the words out like venom, and you can't help but feel unnerved by his drastic change in personality.

He was nothing like his movie counterpart.

"Right, because it's stupid to try and run away from my kidnappers!" You scoff, thoroughly irritated and completely done with the entire situation, ignoring the violent flinch the word causes Mystery to react with, uncaring of their discomfort after all the shit you've had to deal with in the last couple of hours.

First, you somehow switched bodies or reincarnated or transmigrated OR WHATEVER into this movie world.

Then you get kidnapped and interrigated by these assholes AFTER THEY TRIED TO KILL YOU!

Now you're basically being held hostage, AND THEY'RE MAD THAT YOU TRIED TO ESCAPE?!

Jinu's scowl deepens, and Mystery places an arm over your shoulders to pull you away as he inches closer, "Kidnappers!? We didn't kidnap you! You came with us willingly!" He thrusts a finger in your face accusingly, and if it weren't for Mystery's solid grip on you, you'd have stepped up to slap it away.

"Because you picked me up like a sack of potatoes!! I didn't have much of a choice!"

"You could have ran off– screamed for help or called somebody after you woke up, but you didn't, did you? No, because that's what a normal person would do!" His laugh is humorless, "You decided to stay and talk to us. You are the one who trusted a group of demons not to try and kill you again! All we're doing now, is trying to keep you from running off and ruining our plans because if you do, Gwi-Ma's going to–" He abruptly stops himself, scowl faltering as his eyes soften before he shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he backs away.

Silence falls as the tension in the room reaches its peak. Mystery's grip remains unfaltering despite his silence, and the other boys are scattered around the room with varying degrees of solemnity on their faces.

"There were other demons there, Archer." Romance breaks the tension, standing next to Jinu with crossed arms and stern eyes, "And let's just say, they aren't as nice as we are." He bares his teeth in a mocking grin, "You've caused us quite the headache little Archer." He sighs, and you watch defensively as he glides over to the couch, plopping down nonchalantly as Jinu storms out of the room.

"Not only are you psychic–" He raises a brow, eyes alight with amusement that let's you know he doesn't believe your story, "–but you also have a... unique soul."

"Unique?" You echo the word unconsciously, eyeing the pink haired man curiously as he hums.

"That's one way of putting it... Though, I'd say weird is more accurate..." Abby snorts, hip popped as he leans casually against the wall by the entryway, a silent way of letting you know that you weren't going anywhere without their permission.

"Whatever word you prefer, the fact is that your soul isn't like any that we've seen before..." He huffs, "It even has the demon lord himself unsettled."

That has you perking up warily.

Gwi-ma was unsettled by your soul...

"Why?" The word blurts out of your mouth before you could stop it, sending Baby into a manic fit of laughter once he spots your panicked face.

He tosses his head back with a wide, toothy grin from his place next to Romance, whose own chuckle has your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, "Well, first off, we couldn't take your soul. That's confusing enough as it is, but then there's also the fact that–"

"Romance." Abby cuts the other man off with wide eyes, tone clipped with something that has him hesitating.

The two pink haired males are caught in a heated staring contest that's eventually interrupted by Baby releasing a groan.

"Ugh, who cares! He's gonna be pissed that we didn't kill her anyways! We might as well tell her!" He turns to you with a cheeky grin, ignoring the glare his exclamation garners from Abby.

"The reason you got Gwi-ma so freaked is because when we're around you–" He leans in conspiratorially, "–it's quiet."

You stare back at him confusedly, but he doesn't expand on his response, simply grinning wider and slumping back in his seat with a sigh.

Irritated, you end up turning to tilt your head back at Mystery, who was still glued to your side, in inquiry. The silver haired demon simply nods in affirmation, quelling your confusion when he speaks, "When you're around... We can't hear him. We... can't even hear the screams either." Taking a glance at the other boys' reactions let's you know that their words were serious.

The information has you short-circuting.

"So... What? I'm like a... demon dead zone?"

"Kind of, yeah..." Abby grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighs, "We... don't really understand it but... Gwi-ma's freaking out because he can't control us when we're around you... he sees you as a threat... which is why Jinu flipped out earlier."

He offers a sympathetic smile, eyes drifting to where Jinu dissapeared as he let's out a soft sigh, "Since we couldn't take your soul, Gwi-ma wants us to kill you the old fashioned way. Some of us didn't agree with that–" He frowns, and Mystery's arm tightens it's defensive hold as Baby pouts out a quiet, "Buzzkill." In the background.

"–and Jinu's annoyed because he thinks this whole situation is distracting us from destroying the Honmoon." You grimace.

You'd almost forgot about that...

"Right. So he's not actually worried about me. Just that me dying might... make you guys, what– fight?" You scoff.

"Something like that, yeah."

Before anything else could be discussed, the slamming of the front door echoing through the room has everyone turning to watch as Jinu strolls back in, face flushed and puffy. Hardly sparing any of you a glance as he tosses a plastic bag onto the coffee table, swatting Baby's feet off the furniture with a scowl as he speaks, "We need to start getting ready, it's almost time for the game show."

Romance wastes no time, immediately jumping up and out of his seat, clapping his hands excitedly as he bounces out of the room, "Right! Right, we gotta get dressed and then find something for Archer to wear– Baby, hurry up, you're first! Abby, you too, you've got the least layers. " Baby groans, trailing behind the other demon reluctantly as Abby herds him into the next room.

"Wait, what do you mean 'find something for me to wear–' Romance!?" Your panicked question goes unanswered as the door closes, leaving you behind with Jinu and Mystery.

The living room becomes engulfed in an awkward, tense silence as the shorter stands rigid at your side, hand squeezing your arm rhythmically as Jinu turns to adress you, "You're coming with us, as we've discussed–" His pointed glare has your argument dying on your tongue.

He looked tired, and as much as he tried to hide it, it was obvious that he was crying before he came back. He honestly looked so pained and upset that you were afraid of saying anything that might make it worse.

"–you're going to guest host Play Games With Us, so you better prepare yourself to play nice." He sighs, moving to grab the bag he placed down earlier and bring it to you.

"Here, I got you something to eat, I figured your Ramen was good enough–" His movements are abruptly halted as a loud growl echoes through the room.

You jump at the sound, whirling around to watch, dumbfounded, as Mystery continues growling at Jinu. Teeth bared defensively, chest vibrating with the gravelly sound leaving his mouth as his skin glows with the telltale purple patterns that define their demon heritage.

Jinu instantly raises his hands, eyes trained on Mystery's grip on your shoulder as he slowly drops the bag on the couch, backing away until the growling finally subsides, ending up on the opposite side of the room.

The two of you share an alarmed glance over Mystery's head as he moves to grab the bag, pulling out the cup of instant Ramen with your face on it and giving it a thorough sniff down.

He takes a moment, nose scrunched and face twisted as he gives Jinu a skeptical glare before gently handing the cup over to you with a resolute nod.

You can't help but find yourself lost in thought as you stand in the middle of a stare off between the two demons. Standing there, staring at a picture of your face plastered on the front of a cup of Ramen, the weight of your new reality comes crashing down on you, and you can't help but think about how the next couple of weeks are going to go.

Ideally, tonight you'd take the opportunity to escape. If everything goes according to the movie, Huntrix will show up to the studio, giving you the perfect chance to escape the demons clutches.

Then, you'd tell the girls their plan, tell Rumi to reveal her patterns, and help them write a song good enough to seal the Honmoon and defeat Gwi-ma... but...

Then what would happen to the boys?

They'd also be trapped down there, vulnerable to whatever punishment the demon lord has in store for their failure.

The thought has your heart squeezing painfully in your chest.

Call it stockholm syndrome, but... you can't stomach the thought of these guys going down with Gwi-ma.

Despite their... rough edges, they've all risked their lives by saving yours. Sure, maybe not all of them were team 'keep Archer alive,' but none of them have actively tried to murder you either. Besides the incident in the alley, but that doesn't count.

By sparing your life, they've directly disobeyed Gwi-ma's orders, and it's only a matter of time before he finds out. When he does... you don't even want to think about what he'll do to them...

Sometime during your internal monologue, Mystery had taken it upon himself to make your Ramen for you. The warm plastic being gently pressed back into your grasp brings you out of your thoughts, blinking down at the steaming soup with soft eyes as Romance's voice echoes from around the corner.

"Jinu, Mystery! Get in here, it's your turn!"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

When Romance said they had to leave time to find something for you to wear, you had assumed that you'd be making a pit stop at the mall on the way to the studio.

That was not the case.

Now, you stand on stage next to the emcees in a hot pink, sleeveless turtleneck under a white, cropped, off the shoulder sweater, with baby pink jeans and rose colored high tops.

How the hell they magically had clothes that fit both you and their color scheme perfectly, you don't know, but they did, and now you have to suffer through the rumors that it sparked.

The first thing the emcee had pointed out was the matching outfits, a teasing grin on his face as he poked fun, "Oooohhh~ Seems like the Saja Boys already have an honorary member!" Garnering a round of giggles and whispers from the audience as Jinu encouraged them.

"Ah, Archer seonbaenim has been such a welcoming figure during our recent debut. She actually offered to come on this show with us after we told her we were nervous, the matching outfit must be another way of helping us feel more comfortable. We'd be happy to include her as our honorary member– even if she is already part of a group..."

"Awwwweeee!"

His shy smile and honeyed words instantly sent the crowd into an uproar, turning every eye onto you as you struggled to keep your bright smile intact, internally gritting your teeth in anger at the mischievous glint in his black eyes.

Two can play at that game...

"Of course, I'd be happy to be considered an honorary member! I myself know how hard it can be debuting so late in an industry that already has such an established hierarchy." You place a hand over your heart sympathetically, "As some of you may know, I struggled to debut for years. When I finally did it was very sudden and despite all of my training it was incredibly overwhelming–" You blink your eyes, turning your head away from the camera and audience and sniffling before turning back with a soft smile and teary eyes, revealing in Jinus annoyance at the round of sympathetic moans you got from the audience.

"–so I promise to do my best to help my hubae's in their journey." You offer a respectful bow of your head, using the opportunity to hide your satisfied smile as the boys scrambled to follow suit.

The rest of the session went on in a similar fashion, each game a new opportunity opportunity to one up each other in fan service and amount of sympathetic affection earned from the crowd.

Although as the show went on, you couldn't help but eventually let your guard down. Finally relaxing and letting yourself feel at ease for the first time since your arrival, as the excitement of your impending escape was overwhelming. Allowing you to genuinely enjoy your time hosting and interacting with the boys in a more lighthearted scene. Exchanging playful, teasing banter with Baby and Romance and bringing Abby and Jinu's egos down with targeted challenges and games as Mystery stayed in your line of sight with a find smile the entire time.

Eventually, the time for the plot to come back into play came, and after a short commercial break you were stood front and center, watching the boys chug baby bottles full of hot sauce with a wide grin and full hearted laughter.

You'd think for a group of demons, they'd have better spice tolerances, but no.

They dropped like flies, none, save for Baby, lasting longer than half a bottle before tapping out.

Your eyes can't help but drift up the the rafters, watching excitedly as Huntrix slowly crept closer.

"–hard to say goodbye when we're having so much fun!"

You snap back to attention, nodding along with the emcees' as they began to wrap up the show, "Tonight truly was an amazing experience, I had a great time–"

"Then why say goodbye when we have extra special guests coming up?" Jinu frantically lunges forward, ecasing your hand in his own as he pulls your microphone to his mouth with a charming grin, chest brushing against your shoulder as he leans his face down to speak.

"Please welcome–"

"–the rest of my dear members, Huntrix!" You yank the microphone back, pulling Jinus arm along with as as he stares down at you in shock, eyes narrowing at your shit eating grin while the lights and camera focus in on the three girls atop the blank wall behind you.

"W-We just wanted to–"

"I asked my members to join me in making a special appearance tonight as a way to congratulate our hubae's on their debut!" The crowd cheers excitedly as Rumi awkwardly waves, all three girls donning tense, confused smiles as you gesture for them to join you on the ground.

"–and join us for a final game here on–" You jut the mic out to the crowd, encouraging their excited cheers and response of "Play Games With Us!!"

The girls speedily make their appearance, sparking another round of applause as you quietly duck behind set, returning with a wide smile and a pile of folded colored paper you had sneakily asked one of the staff members to prepare beforehand while the boys were busy getting their demon henchmen to paint the ball pit.

"For our final game, we are going to play...." You toss down two squares, one black and one pink, holding up the other two in your hand excitedly, "Ddakji!!"

The crowd cheers, and you happily hum along with them, pointedly ignoring Jinu and Rumi's burning stares.

"Saja Boys are team pink–" You move to gently press the pink square into Romance's hand, leading him forward and to a stop before the black square before moving to Zoeys side, and leading her to the pink square, offering her a reassuring smile as you hand her the black one, "–Huntrix are team black!" You lean to the side, staring down the camera and whispering your the mic conspiratorially, "As you can guess by their outfits tonight, which may or may not be a hint for our next comeback." You wink knowingly, chest puffing pridefully as the crowd once again goes nuts.

"Starting us off! We have Romance versus Rumi!" You gesture for the leader to walk over to the pink haired demon, "and Zoey versus Baby!" You end up having to physically drag the demon to his place.

"We'll be playing simultaneous speed tag team rounds! With the loser immediately swapping out with another member until the timer runs out." You point to the back wall, where a big digital clock emerges, "Whichever team gets the most points after five minutes, wins!" You cheer, "Give us a countdown!"

The crowd enthusiastically complies, counting the timer down with an excited, "Three... Two... One!!"

Once the starting buzzer went off, all hell broke loose.

Romance had effortlessly flipped the black square on his first throw, offering a smug smile as Rumi glared back with an open jaw, absolutely gobsmacked by the accuracy.

Zoey had unfortunately missed her shot, resulting in Baby flipping her square on his turn just as easily as his counterpart.

You and Mira had been hastily ushered in their places by the emcees, who had finally gathered their bearings and seemed just as excited about the sudden crossover as the crowd.

Mira didn't bother hiding her glare as she reached down to pick up her square, staring daggers at Baby's smug smirk as she trembled with rage.

Romance's smile was mocking, eyes meeting yours with a familiar condesendence that had your smile twitching.

"I'm gonna wipe that smug smirk off your face, hubae~" Your confident purr had him shuffling on his feet, face falling into confusion at your lack of nervousness while you steadily line up your throw, garnering a round of screeches from the fans.

"ARCHER YOU'RE SO HOT PLEASE NOTICE MEEEEE!!!"

You grace the crowd with one last cocky grin, revelling in the rise in pitch of their cries before you turn back to the game, absent-mindedly wincing as you hear Mira let out a frustrated groan.

You're sure that Romance and the rest of the boys think that you've managed to sabatoge their plans due to your psychic powers. While they're not completely incorrect, you just wish it were that simple.

In reality, you had to put a lot of effort into getting this plan to work.

You had put it together during the journey to the set, having come to a conclusion after your little crisis at their apartment.

Not only would you help Huntrix seal the Honmoon and defeat Gwi-ma... You'd also save the boys from the demon lord, and allow them to live freely as humans once again.

The first step was ensuring that the fans don't lose their faith and love for Huntix.

So, as soon as you entered the property, you began scheming. While the plan itself wasn't all that elaborate, the timing was crucial. Not only would you have to find someone willing to help you, which had proven to be the most difficult aspect as you had approximately eight minutes to find a staff member and instruct them to ready the ddakji squares before Mystery had retrieved you from you 'bathroom' break.

You'd also have to intervene right before Jinu got the chance to humiliate the girls by making them slide down in their leather outfits. That part had actually gone surprisingly smooth, considering he had superhuman strength and speed.

Now came the easiest part, because despite your original experience or lack of with the game, this body just so happened to belong to a champion drunk ddakji player.

Yeah, turns out Archer had a nasty habit of drowning her sorrows in a bottle of soju and scamming money out of fellow bar flies in a game of ddakji.

Which proved to be unfairly beneficial as you flip Romance's square, first try.

"Archer scores the first point for Team Huntrix!! Saja Boys still hold the lead 2-1, but it looks like this game might end up being more intense than we thought!" The emcees voice echoes in your ears as you revel in Romances shocked stare, offering a cheeky air kiss as he stands aside defeatedly.

You end up solo carrying the game, beating every single one of the boys twice over with the girls cheering you on in the background.

Your skills had worked to fire up the rest of Huntrix, leading to Mira winning once against Abby and Rumi and Jinu going point for point during the last minute.

"Aaaaaand that is time!!" The emcees voice correlates with the buzzer going off, stopping you mid throw, "Now gather around, gather around–" The two usher your groups back together, standing face to face across from each other as the emcees giddily continue "–let's see who the winners are shall we–" Jinu and Rumi are outwardly glaring each other down, Mira and Baby following their leads at their sides as Zoey and Abby pull faces at one another while you and Mystery exchange soft smiles, ignoring Romance's burning stare.

"Huh!?" The sudden outcry has all of you snapping your heads to the emcees, faxes falling as they exclaim, "ITS A TIE!!"

While the information sends the crowd into an uproar, you all release frustrated groans/sighs, where the Saja Boys end up recovering first, taking the opportunity to try and salvage their original plan.

"Oh well. It was still an absolute honor to share the stage with you tonight." Jinu closes his eyes, hand over his heart as he leads the boys into a deep bow.

You pale as you realize what was happening, watching the other girls straighten up defensively, Mira's arm shooting out to drag you into formation as you all bowed back lower.

"Oh no, it was all ours." Rumi responds softly, voice light and airy.

"No, ours"

"No. Ours."

"Ours."

Eventually, right as you forcefully folded yourself in half, the curtains were drawn, and the cameras cut, forcefully ending the competition.

You didn't even have time to properly straighten out before Abby had forcefully slung you over his shoulder, Baby sitting on the other as the group booked it out of the venue.

You can hear the girls gasp in the distance, panicked eyes meeting your wide eyed stare in alarm, "Archer!?"

You begin to genuinely panic.

This was not supposed to happen!

Everything went according to your plan, so why–

You nearly begin to cry as you barely realize the very obvious fact;

Despite being so sure that the game show was your opportunity to escape, you never actually made a plan to escape.

Having been distracted by your plan to save Huntrix's reputation, you had completely forgot to come up with a plan to save yourself.

You're so dumb–

Your self depreciating thoughts are interrupted by Abby abruptly placing you back onto your feet, followed by a hand being slapped over your eyes.

"Ow!? What the–" You move to pry the hand off, only to be met with a sharp 'tsk' of disapproval, "We're in the men's bathhouse, so unless you want to see a bunch of naked, middle aged men–"

"–Okay! Okay, I get it! The hand can stay!" Although your vision was effectively cut off, you could practically feel the amused smirk Baby was giving you.

You can hear shuffling around you, faint splashes and drips as well as you shuffle uncomfortably under Baby's grip, "Listen, guys–" the sound of the door slamming open has you snapping your mouth closed, body tensing in preparation for the upcoming conflict.

"Wow, did you really follow us in here?" Jinu snickers.

"I knew they would, that ones always looking at me." You scoff as Abbys disgusted tone, assumedly drawing attention onto you as the girls cry out, "Let her go!"

"Get your disgusting hands off of her!"

You can hear the sounds of their weapons being drawn, nervously shuffling on your feet as Jinu laughs, "I don't think so... You see, we've taken quite a liking to our little Archer here–" You shiver as his hand ghosts down your spine, "–she's going to be a big help in stealing your fans."

You grit your teeth in annoyance, tugging Baby's hand off of your eyes and spinning around to face the girls, opening your mouth to–

Honestly, you don't really know what you were going to do, but it doesn't really matter considering Jinu had swept you away before you had the chance to even murmer a word. Cradling you close to his chest as he smiled teasingly back at Huntrix, sicking the water demons on them with a childish laugh.

"Jinu, put me down!" You struggle against his hold the entire way down the hallway, squirming and shoving to no avail as he keep his iron tight grip.

You hear the doors burst open, glancing back in alarm as Rumi comes barreling after you, catching up at an alarming speed as you thrash harder, "Jinu, seriously, let me go!!" You plead, panicked eyes meeting Rumi's over his shoulder as she lunges, sword barely missing you leg as Jinu finally drops you, dodging her attacks seamlessly as they dissapear through a wall.

Unfortunately, the relief of being free is short lived, as a hand being placed on your shoulder has you whipping around to find Mystery crouching behind you.

"Mystery, I–" Your breathy whimpers are silenced as the silver haired demon pats your head with a soft smile.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'll get you back to the–"

"No!"

His head tilts confusedly, and you shuffle onto o your knees to reach over and grab his shoulders comfortingly, swallowing nervously before continuing, "I-I can't– I can't go back with you this time."

His bottom lip trembles and you give his shoulders a gentle squeeze as you rush out your words with a breathy grin, eyes wide and dilated as you tremble anxiously, "Look, I have a plan, okay? I can save you– All of you, but I need Huntrix's help to do it."

His mouth falls into a scowl, growl crawling up his throat as he shrugs your hands off of his shoulders, "Of course, that's always how it goes..." He abruptly rises to a stand, and you hastily follow as he takes a few steps back.

"Mystery, I–"

"You want to go running back to those little hunters? Fine. Go ahead! They've never seen you as anything more than a liability, anyway. You're nothing but a burden to them, dead weight they have to csrry around to make themselves look good." He spits, and the venom in his voice has your eyes tearing up.

Out of all of the boys, Mystery had been the kindest to you. The most protective, the clingiest, the quietest... but the kindest.

He had brought you a blanket and pillow when you fell asleep on the couch, let you use his charger when your phone was dead, kept Baby and his homicidal instincts at bay and even defended you from Jinu, his leader.

You had assumed it was all a ploy to gain your affection. A show put on to get you to trust them and let your guard down and use you against the girls... but with the way he was reacting right now, you're not so sure that that's true...

"They don't care about you, Archer! They never have!–" He throws his arm out in agitation, gesturing to the other room where you could hear the clashing of blades and claws.

His statement has you scoffing defensively, arms crossing over your chest as you let out a wet laugh, tears welling in your eyes as you retort, "What, like you do? Mystery you've known me for two days! I've known Huntrix for years! I trust them to help me, to help us!"

Even though you've technically known him longer than the girls, but he doesn't need to know that...

"Whose to say they'll even trust you enough to help you save us, huh?" He scowls, "Why would they even want to save us? I mean, come on! We're demons, they're hunters. They kill us, we kill them, that's how it goes!" He's shouting now, and the patterns on his skin are steadily making their appearance as his agitation rises.

The sight has you swallowing nervously, taking a shaky step closer as you reach out to grasp his hand, "I-I can convince them..." The claim is weak, even to your ears, and it has Mystery releasing another scoff, pulling away and stepping out of your reach as he turns his back to you with a mocking grin.

"Yeah? Well, don't come crying to us when they brush you off, cause I guarantee you, we won't be as stupid as we were this time..." He huffs, dissapearing into a cloud of pink smoke, leaving you alone in the silent hallway with teary eyes and a heavy heart.

"Archer! There you are, are you okay!? Did those disgusting demons do anything to you!?" Zoeys voice echoes faintly in your ears as you keep your gaze trained to the spot where Mystery once stood, tears finally falling just as Rumi takes your cheeks into her palms, worried eyes trailing your face carefully.

"Hey, it's okay now. You're safe, we got you." Her voice is soft, comforting to the point that it has you sobbing, leaning into her embrace as she moves her grip to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into her her chest as you wail.

Zoey and Mira exchange alarmed glances over your head, thoroughly caught off guard.

It's the first time they've ever seen you cry...

Rumi glares out at the alley she had seen the group run into, vowing that it'd be the last time you ever had to cry because of a demon.

469 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 16 days ago

Text

The Artist Who Lives for the Plot

Warning/s: Fem!Reader, Mild language/casual swearing, chaotic energy (duh), unhinged humor, reader suffering (comically)

[A/n]: I had so much fun writing, and dw. Part 2 will be coming soon. It's time to live with them. If it all fits, that'll be the last and final one! Thank you for your support <3

>Part 1<, Part 2, Part 3,...

Day 1: Staff Badge, Zero Fear

You just received a job. Technically, a side-job.

You needed the extra cash. Rent was due next week, and at this point, the only thing growing faster than your stress was the mold in your bathroom.

Being a webtoon artist had always been the dream. You studied—poses, anatomy, lighting, shading, even a bit of photography thanks to that one kind sunbae back in high school. You poured years into perfecting your craft. But… doing your dream job in reality?

Yeah. Not exactly how you imagined it.

Making money through art was already hard. Add today’s economy into the mix, and suddenly budgeting meant rotating between cheap instant meals and whatever eggs were on sale. Not the healthiest diet, but it got you through deadlines. Mostly.

Anyway. Enough with that depressing backstory.

Today, you were helping out behind the scenes—cleaning up, running errands, doing whatever the other staff didn’t have time for. The entire building was in chaos, people rushing around, shouting schedules, checking equipment. Apparently, some new boy group was debuting soon.

Like, in a week or something? You hadn’t seen them yet, but you had heard things.

"They’re gorgeous," One of the stylists whispered while curling a wig. "Like, inhuman levels of beautiful."

That alone was enough to catch your attention.

You weren’t trying to ogle anyone. You just needed some visual inspiration. For art, obviously.

So when someone asked you to bring water to the practice room? You may or may not have speed-walked your way there with the excitement of a fangirl and the blank expression of a very tired assistant.

The moment you opened the door, chaos greeted you. They were arguing. And loud.

Great for drama. Better for material.

"Do you want to achieve world domination or not?!" The black-haired one snapped, voice sharp like he was conducting a military operation instead of a boy group practice.

"Then hit the beat— on time!"

Ah, the leader. Jinu, you think was his name.

"You're 0.5 seconds off." The one who's half of his face was covered with hair flatly said.

"I told you, it’s called flair." Said the one with pink hair, heart-shaped bangs framing his face.

"You mean lag." The mint haired muttered, eyes glued to his phone.

"Shut it." Groaned the one with the ridiculous muscles, dabbing sweat off his face like a disappointed gym coach. "Let’s just start from the top before Captain Serious combusts."

That’s when they noticed you.

But by then, you’d already seen them—and everything else.

Oh, your eyes. They were blinding.

It was like walking into a manhwa panel. Ethereal lighting. Sweat glistening on toned arms. Perfect jawlines. Tall, broad silhouettes. You barely managed not to trip over your own feet.

This was it. The vision. You felt it. The inspiration burning through your veins.

You cleared your throat, doing your best to keep a neutral expression as you set the bottles near the mirrors.

And then, you said it. Casual. Straight-faced. Deadpan. "If this is what world domination looks like, I think the lighting needs work."

Silence.

They stared, blinked, and glanced at one another. Confused.

Jinu sighed. "Let’s take five."

The rest of the group immediately relaxed, stretching, dropping to the floor, cheering like they’d survived a war. Understandable. You heard they’d been practicing for hours.

You tried not to stare. You failed.

A voice pulled your attention.

"Thanks for the drink, cutie." It's the long haired dude. His voice was smooth and his smile was confident, borderline illegal.

Romance. That had to be his stage name.

Your eyes did a quick scan. You were mentally labeling all of them. It wasn’t weird. Not in a weird way. No. This was research.

Another one, shirt clinging to his abs like it was painted on, snatched a bottle and chugged it like he hadn’t tasted water in days. Abby, clearly.

You blinked. He was broad. The kind of chest that made you think of shirt buttons fighting for their lives. He smirked at you.

You immediately looked away and bowed slightly, mouthing a silent apology for being caught staring.

Then your gaze moved to the one on his phone, laughing at something you can't tell.

"That's so dumb." Mint hair said under his breath. His face? Cute. His voice? Low. Totally not what you expected, but love. You eat that kinda character up in stories.

He must be Baby.

Then there was the guy with long pastel hair partially covering his face. He hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t even looked your way. Mysterious aura? Check. It's clear he's Mystery.

And finally, back to Jinu. The leader. He carried himself like someone dependable. Stern but fair, and he's like that because he wants to see them all succeed.

That's such an eye watering story.

You tried not to squeal. Really, you did. But your fingers were already itching to draw. You can't wait for break to come.

Speaking of break... You look at them. It's only been a minute since they started that. You shouldn't, yeah.

"Excuse me." And yet you're already speaking. "Would it be alright if I took some photos?"

The room quieted a little. You could practically hear their thoughts. Another poor staff member, helpless under their charms.

"Go ahead." Jinu said, offering a small smile. What a charming fella.

He seems like he’d be one of those knight captains in those historical webtoons. The kind who stands behind the throne, silent and strong, carrying the kingdom on his back without asking for thanks.

Daydreaming later, let’s get clicking!

With permission granted, you lit up and pulled out your phone, trying hard not to bounce in excitement. As soon as your camera opened, they were already posing.

Of course they were.

You took a few shots—clean, fast, a few from different angles. They assumed you were done. They assumed wrong.

You lowered your phone, frowned slightly, and pointed at Abby.

"Flex your arm. No—more toward that side. Yes, hold that. Chin down."

They all froze.

"Huh?" Abby blinked.

And just like that, a full-on impromptu photoshoot began. You were directing them like your life depended on it. They followed along, slightly confused but too prideful to stop now.

"Yo..." Abby muttered, peeking at one of the photos. "I didn’t know my abs could look this good. Muscle definition on point."

He's beyond satisfied and that boosts your confidence in your photography skills yet again.

Soon, the rest of them were swarming your phone, snatching it to see their pictures and gawk at their undeniably gorgeous self.

Before chaos could start between them, you took your phone back in your hands as a really huge and bright smile was on your face.

"Thank you so much for indulging this staff member her request!" You made your way to the door with an awkward half-bow, twisting the knob, turning back one last time.

"I’m rooting for you guys! You got this!"

And with that, you were gone. Silence lingered in the room.

"So are we just letting random staff direct us now?" Baby asked, glancing at the others. "Cool. Cool cool cool."

"Yeah." Romance agreed with a nod. "But she's cute isn't she?"

"Every girl’s cute to you." Abby said, bumping his shoulder against him and tossing an arm lazily around Romance’s neck. "Get new taste, man."

"She didn’t even ask for an autograph." Jinu added, almost puzzled. Usually people would ask for that. He did his research well, you know.

"She just wanted photos." Mystery mumbled, his head tilting slightly to the side.

"Of us," Abby said proudly, a sudden, inexplicable breeze swept through the room—no open windows, no vents. Just vibes(?)

The edge of Abby’s fitted shirt lifted slightly, just enough to reveal a flash of perfectly sculpted abs.

He smirked. "Duh."

Fast forward—

Your first day ended early. Convenient, right? That meant more time to look at the pictures you took earlier. You couldn’t wait to study those shots, not in a weird way.

You’d been stuck on one panel of your webtoon for days, and no matter how deep you dove into Pinterest or Google, nothing looked quite right.

But thanks to that idol group, your prayers were answered. Sort of.

You expected to be on the bus by now, earbuds in, zoning out to music. Instead, you were standing in front of a convenience store, digging through your bag for your wallet when a realization hit you like a truck.

No cable. No charger. Not even a hint of it.

You double-checked. Nope. Gone.

You groaned out loud, dragging a hand down your face.

"Perfect." You muttered with a scowl. "Love that for me."

Then again, a bit of late-night cardio never hurt anyone. Yeah, scratch that shit. The universe clearly hated you.

The studio was still unlocked, the lobby empty. You flashed your staff ID in front of the scanner near the door—it beeped, the lock clicked, and in you went.

The overhead lights had been dimmed. Most of the staff were long gone. The silence was oddly calming.

You retraced your steps, mentally going through every place you'd stopped during the day. The break room was empty. No luck. The side lounge? Same story.

Third option: the rehearsal room.

You sighed. "Third time’s the charm." You mumbled, adjusting the strap on your bag as you headed down the hallway.

Your steps slowed as you neared the practice room. The door was closed, but voices leaked through—low, intense. Not the usual banter or off-key singing. Just… murmurs. Uneven. Cult-like.

You blinked. 'Holy hell, they’re still practicing?'

You glanced at your phone. It was late. Your shift ended an hour ago.

What are they made of? Protein powder and ambition?

What are they eating? Dreams? Caffeine? Hope??

You needed to ask. Not for curiosity. For survival. Your deadline was crawling up your spine like a tax collector and you were this close to drawing stick figures for tomorrow’s update.

The lights under the door flickered—blue, then red, then something that looked like a Windows error message.

You stared. Paused. Maybe they were testing stage lights.

Maybe they were summoning Satan. You didn't care. You just needed your charger. So you pushed the door open.

"I’m really sorry for disturbing you, but—" No matter how tired you were from today’s chaos, you still had manners.

They stood in a loose circle, shadows stretched long and unnatural, and… was that a portal? How the hell did they manage that?

If it was an illusion, it was top-tier. What were they feeding these hologram artists? Everyone in this team was way too talented.

Six heads snapped toward you.

You only blinked, admiration shining in your eyes. "Cool cosplay. Is this for the music video?"

A beat of silence.

Then your gaze flicked to the ceiling, eyes narrowing in critique. "Lighting’s a bit much, though. Shadows are swallowing Jinu’s jawline—tragic. Tilt the main source up just a bit next time."

You said what you said and you don't want to wait for a reply. You turn on your phone flashlight and started scanning the floor, stepping past the demon-plush aesthetic like you were dodging cables on a cluttered set.

There. Your charger lay near the edge of the mirror wall.

You scooped it up with a triumphant sigh and gave them all a quick thumbs-up.

"Good luck on the scene rehearsal." You chirped, already walking toward the door.

Click.

The door shut behind you, leaving nothing but baffled beings.

"…Who was that?" One of the figures finally asked, voice low and sharp.

"Staff." Abby replied, blinking.

"A weird human." Baby added, eyes at the door just like the others.

The tallest demon tilted its head, "Should we take care of her?"

The hunger was clear in its tone. Like it could already taste your soul.

Jinu was the first to speak. "No," He said sharply. "Not yet."

There was a pause. The demon turned slightly toward him. "You hesitate."

"I don’t make moves without information." Jinu said, arms crossed. "She’s… off."

"Off?" One of the smaller ones asked. "She looked normal."

"She looked like she was analyzing us," He muttered as he thought back to your behavior from earlier. "Not scared. Not confused. She looked like she’d seen stranger things."

"She was watching our movements earlier," Mystery informed from his corner, his voice soft. "Sketchpad in her lap."

"You sure it's not some fanfic crap?" Baby deadpanned.

"No." Jinu replied, tone quieter now. "It wasn’t that kind of writing. It was too structured. Like she was mapping something out. Watching patterns."

The demons seemed vaguely amused by the theory.

"So… a spy?" One of them asked, half-joking.

"Maybe," Jinu’s expression darkened. "Or something else. Either way, I’ll figure it out."

He didn’t voice the rest:

She looked one of the demon in the eye like she was judging him.

She also told them to fix the lighting.

She moved like the demon was interrupting her schedule.

Either she’s an expert who’ll be a problem later…or just another idiot with good timing and bad boundaries. Still. Better to play it safe.

The demons didn’t press. They glanced at one another then shrugged. Fine. Let him figure it out. Would’ve been more fun if he let them eat her soul, but hey—he’s the leader.

Without another word, they vanished through the pink portals back to the demon realm, leaving behind silence.

It didn’t last long.

Romance sighed dreamily. "Okay but… if she is a spy, she’s kinda hot."

Jinu didn’t reply. He just rubbed his temples, the beginnings of a headache forming right behind his eyes.

First a debut, now possible espionage from the world’s most dead-eyed assistant with a sketchpad.

Great.

He’d already built enough stress to level a small village. Now this?

…Cool. Fine. He’ll handle it. He always does.

Still.

Lighting advice?? Who just— No. Never mind. He stood straighter, his focus clear as glass.

He'll take care of you sooner or later once he knows your motive.

And so you lived through the first day of your new side-job.

Sure, it ended with strange flickering lights, a suspiciously cult-like gathering, and the very real possibility that the idol group you just met might be into LARPing or, worse, weird method acting.

But hey, sick concept. You respect the dedication. You genuinely hoped they listened to your advice about the lighting.

Still, your charger was back in your bag, your sketchpad was bursting with ideas, you get to draw that panel finally, and your rent wouldn’t pay itself.

So, if a bunch of pretty boys wanted to summon smoke and dramatic lighting on company time?

Not your business—as long as they made great reference material.

As you draw, you think things like:

Abby’s arms practically had their own agency. You swore his biceps flexed every time he blinked.

Jinu looked like a man carrying the weight of his group… and your outstanding bills.

And Romance? Prince face, main character energy, and probably the type to Google himself just to read the fan comments.

You, on the other hand, were so innocently, completely unaware of what awaited you.

Probably harassment, but definitely plot.

Day 2: HR Is Not Ready for This

You didn’t expect much on your second day.

Maybe some light sweating, a few awkward water runs, and enough quiet time to sneak in some sketching or brainstorm for ideas on your story.

You just wanted to observe, breathe, survive. Simple.

But the universe and apparently five very nosy boys had other plans.

The moment you entered the room, the air shifted. Not dramatically. Just enough to feel… watched.

Your gaze moved from one to the next—Abby adjusting his shirt (and definitely flexing more than needed), Mystery casually stretching nearby like a ninja cat, Baby muttering to himself while scrolling, and Jinu… he was definitely looking at you.

But you didn’t notice that.

You were too focused on your clipboard, scribbling poses and notes like a diligent little artist.

"You’ve been staring again."

You jumped a little. Jinu’s voice. Low. Observant.

You blinked up at him. "Oh, um— sorry?"

His brow arched before a tiny smile tugged at his lips. An attempt to lighten up the air around. "It’s fine. Just… felt like you were memorizing our skeletons."

You laughed, a little too nervously. "No! I mean—well, kind of? I’m an artist."

"...Right."

Was that judgment? You should be offended, right? Yes. But inside.

"It’s for character design," You explained. "I draw for webtoons. You guys are… kind of perfect models."

Jinu studied you. Scribbly. Polite. Very tired. But his gut didn’t trust you. "…Just don’t publish anything weird about us."

You gave him a two-finger salute. "No promises."

He walked off—suspicious, calculating, and weirdly handsome about it.

You sighed, then looked down. You’d circled a line on your page.

"Too symmetrical. Suspicious."

The second day at work is fun! Yeah, right. Fucking fuck. Today's exhausting. And not the "Wow, they’re so dreamy, I’m swooning~" kind.

No. This was “I swear to god if one of them breathes over my shoulder again, I will throw this pen” level of tired.

You were just trying to observe quietly, take notes, and survive the shift.

But subtle glances? Apparently that translated to "please, harass me."

Romance started singing, badly, every time your pen moved. Said it helped set the mood. You told him to change the playlist.

Abby kept "accidentally" standing right in your view. Shirt raised. Flex engaged. Asking, "How’s the lighting on my triceps now?"

Mystery appeared over your shoulder with zero warning, stared at your sketch, nodded, then vanished again like an IKEA ghost.

Baby? Baby muttered your critique out loud just to mess with you.

"‘Neck angle inconsistent’? Wow, harsh." All while smirking so handsomely. Baby. As in the one from hell. With Wi-Fi and zero respect for your peace. Like his fucking members.

You squinted at him, nearly blessing the world with the ugliest scowl known to man. "How are you even reading that from across the room?"

He didn’t answer. He just smiled wider.

Oh, these bastards were enjoying your suffering.

Was bullying the new staff part of their team-building exercises? Hazing disguised as charisma? They haven’t even debuted yet!

The audacity when their Spotify numbers are still at zero.

You'd think world domination came with manners, but no.

Contrary to their faces—artfully sculpted by angels or Photoshop—their personalities were straight-up hellspawn. (Ironic.)

By the time you were done, your social battery had collapsed into dust. You passed by a staff member in the hallway, maybe a stylist or someone from props.

"You look… drained."

You nodded. "Drained is generous. I feel like I’ve been emotionally dry-cleaned."

They laughed. You didn’t. You're mourning your peace.

Meanwhile, back in the practice room:

The air was quieter now. But tense.

Jinu stood near the speaker, arms crossed. His expression unreadable. "She’s hiding something."

The others didn’t laugh this time.

"Maybe she’s just weird." Baby offered his thought.

"Doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous." Jinu replied.

"So what, we just keep annoying her until she cracks?" Romance said, upside-down on the couch, legs kicking in the air like a chaotic cat.

"No." Jinu’s eyes didn’t waver. "We keep watching her until she shows us what she’s really here for.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Abby grinned like he's excited and can't wait to act whatever on his mind. "So. Strategic pestering. Got it."

Jinu didn’t stop him, or anyone of the boys. Whatever it takes to make you crack he guess.

Later that night, you collapsed at your desk.

Still alive. Barely.

You flipped open your sketchpad, flipping past pages of poses, muscle references, and narrowed notes.

"Abby’s arms could run their own business."

"Romance: pretty, but loud."

"Baby = gremlin with a phone."

"Mystery—??? Stop teleporting???"

You sighed, poked at your charger, then scribbled one last line before calling it a night.

If tomorrow’s like this again, I might fake a cold. Or a coma. Or both.

Still... their interest in your art? Kind of flattering. Mostly annoying.

2K notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 22 days ago

Text

His

Just a little brainstorming before sleep.

Pairings: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Warning: Prey/Hunter dynamics, Obsession, NSFW

Part 2

It was your idea.

You’d said it with a half-smile and flushed cheeks, barely able to meet his eyes when you asked. “What would it feel like,” you murmured, “if you hunted me?”

Jinu had blinked, frozen for a beat. Then slowly, a grin crept onto his lips. Not the teasing kind. No, this one was darker. Thirstier. The kind that curled in the corners like smoke before fire.

“You want to be prey, sweetheart?” he’d asked, voice husky with disbelief—and something else. Something feral. “You want me to chase you?”

You had nodded.

And so you ran.

Night fell over Seoul like a silken veil, shadows pooling in alleyways and between streetlamps. The city had never felt so alive—so dangerous. You darted through the streets, breath catching with every step, the cold night air sharp in your lungs. Somewhere behind you, Jinu moved unseen.

Hunting.

He gave you a head start. Told you he’d wait until you were out of sight. But he’d warned you, right before you turned the corner:

"Once I start… I won’t stop until I have you."

And you’d trembled. Not from fear.

From want.

Now, your pulse raced in your throat as you ran through narrow streets, heart hammering like a war drum. You couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t see him. But you felt him.

Watching. Waiting. Closing in.

Then—

Arms.

From behind, strong and sudden, they wrapped around you like chains made of heat and silk. A gasp caught in your throat as your back hit his chest and his hand splayed across your stomach, pinning you in place like you belonged there—because you did.

“Got you,” Jinu growled against your ear, voice low, victorious, obsessed.

Your knees buckled at the sound, and he caught you easily, pulling your trembling form tighter against him, one arm banded across your waist, the other trailing slowly up to cradle your jaw.

He buried his face in your neck.

God.

The scent of you hit him like a punch to the gut.

Sweet. Wild. Terrified—but not from fear. It was the high of adrenaline, of surrender, of wanting to be caught.

He inhaled like it was oxygen, like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind completely.

“You smell like prey,” he whispered, voice wrecked with lust and something deeper—something reverent. “Soft little thing, running through the city like I wouldn’t find you.”

God, the feel of you—panting, warm, shaking in his arms—it sent a thrill down his spine that nearly made him dizzy. His heart pounded, but not from exertion. From the sheer, overwhelming satisfaction of having you right where he wanted you.

Where you belonged.

“Oh, sweet girl…” he breathed into your ear, voice husky with praise and something more dangerous. “You ran so well.”

You shivered, and he felt it. Every tremble rippling through your small frame. Your skin was warm and flushed, and he could practically drink the adrenaline humming through your veins.

Jinu buried his face into your neck from behind, groaning low at the scent of your skin. That prey-sweet smell—fear and want, heat and surrender.

It was intoxicating.

His nose dragged along the slope of your neck, slow and reverent. And then he found it—that same pulse point he knew too well. Rapid. Fragile. Fluttering like a bird’s wing under his lips.

He pressed his mouth to it. Just to feel. Just to taste.

And gods, it nearly broke him.

“You smell divine,” he growled, voice vibrating against your throat. “Like something meant to be chased. Meant to be caught.”

His canines grazed your pulse point.

Not a bite. Not yet. Just a tease.

But it was enough.

You bit your lower lip, hard—trying, failing, to suppress the soft moan threatening to spill. He felt it in the way your body pressed into his, the tension in your thighs, the way your hands curled around his forearms holding you in place.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispered, teeth dragging along your skin, deliberate and slow. “So obedient. So sweet.”

He was obsessed with you. Every breath, every reaction, every sound you made was his drug. Your trembling was his high.

You belonged to him—not metaphorically. Not romantically.

Utterly.

Spirit. Skin. Scent.

You were his prey, his possession, his perfect addiction.

And Jinu had never felt more alive than he did with you in his arms, shaking and silent, caught between danger and devotion.

And he had no intention of letting you go.

Jinu’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest as if he needed your body pressed to his to breathe. But it wasn’t enough—not when your pulse was still fluttering against his lips, not when your body still trembled in his grasp.

So he moved.

His hand slid up from your stomach to your chest, fingers splayed over your heart, possessive and firm. Then, slowly—so slowly—his other hand reached up, curling under your jaw. With effortless strength, he tilted your head back, exposing the delicate line of your throat to him like an offering on a pedestal.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your skin.

And then his lips descended.

Open-mouthed, starving, he kissed along your neck—each press slow, deep, worshipful. His tongue dragged across your skin like he needed to memorize your taste, his teeth grazing the soft spots just enough to make you gasp.

You moaned—quiet, involuntary—your hands flying to his forearm, the one that held your chest tightly against him. You grabbed it, needing something solid to ground yourself as your knees began to weaken beneath his mouth.

The hand on your jaw shifted, his thumb brushing your cheek, angling your head just right to give him more space—more you.

And you gave it.

Because there was no hiding anymore. No pretending you didn’t want this. No pretending he didn’t own every part of you in that moment.

“Jinu… please…” you whispered, breath trembling.

He froze for half a second.

Then smiled against your throat.

A slow, devilish grin.

“Please?” he echoed, voice thick with smug amusement, tongue teasing the word like it tasted better than blood. “Please what, little prey? You’ve gotta be more specific.”

He pressed a kiss right below your ear, hot and lingering. “Do you want me to stop?”

You whimpered—shook your head.

“Didn’t think so,” he whispered, his voice now a wicked purr. “You asked me to hunt you, remember? You said you wanted to feel it.”

He nipped at the edge of your collarbone, just enough to make your breath catch again.

“How’s it feel, mm?” he murmured. “To be caught by the very thing you should be running from?”

His hand on your chest moved, just slightly, stroking down your ribs. His body caged yours in, holding you completely, and still—you didn’t move.

You let him have you.

Because you had asked for this.

And Jinu was going to make sure you never forgot what it felt like to be hunted.

Wanted.

Claimed.

His.

Jinu held you like a secret, pressed between his body and the cool wall behind you, his mouth still trailing hot, slow kisses across your neck. You were trembling in his arms, your breath coming in stuttered gasps, your hands gripping the forearm wrapped tight across your chest.

But it was when his other hand moved—slowly, deliberately—that your whole body locked up.

Fingertips skimmed down your belly, feather-light, the silk of your blouse shifting beneath his palm. You shuddered, gasping softly as his hand traveled lower, teasing the waistband of your skirt. There was a pause—brief, torturous—and then—

He slipped beneath the fabric.

And the moment his fingers brushed over you, over the aching heat he’d drawn out of you with nothing but words and teeth and breath—

Jinu shivered.

A sharp inhale cut through his lips. His body tensed behind you, and he pressed his face deeper into your neck as if the sensation had nearly undone him.

“Fuck…” he whispered, voice wrecked and reverent. “You’re soaked.”

His grip tightened on your chest, pulling you closer, holding you in place as he groaned low against your skin.

“All this…” His voice turned teasing again, but it was laced with something darker. "All this just from being chased? From being caught?”

You whimpered.

He chuckled, slow and dangerous. “And here I thought I was the demon.”

You could feel him shudder against your back, like your scent alone was enough to shake him apart.

And then—his power began to bleed through.

Lilac-colored markings bloomed across his pale skin like ink beneath ice, rising over the backs of his hands, crawling up his arms like quiet fire. His breathing deepened, the control in him unraveling inch by inch. His amber eyes—already glowing—sharpened, blazed.

The pupils slitted fully now. Like a serpent’s. Like something no longer pretending to be human.

He buried his face into the curve of your neck again, inhaling deeply like your scent was air, like your trembling was fuel.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he murmured, his voice distorted slightly by the force behind it, by the beast inside him inching forward.

“You have no idea what it does to me—feeling you like this. Letting me have you. Just like this.”

He didn’t need to say more.

Because his body said it all.

He was feral for you.

And you’d offered yourself up like prey…

But now?

Now, you were his salvation and his ruin—wrapped in one perfect, trembling body against his.

1K notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 26 days ago

Text

You were never supposed to matter (1)

wc: 1.9k

divider credits go to @hyuneskkami 💛

Your eyelids begin to droop, heavy from exhaustion—until something shifts.

The air changes. The night breeze picks up, colder now, sharper.

Your eyes snap open. You reach back, grabbing the nearest knife from the block. As you spin around, your blade lands inches away from a familiar figure—a raven-haired boy standing in your kitchen.

And who could blame them?

But it was his eyes that made you hesitate—those honey-colored irises, warm and gleaming with something almost human. Almost.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” you demand, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he replies calmly.

“Oh sure, because trusting a demon has never gone wrong before,” you snap, stepping closer, the blade still pointed at him.

But he doesn’t flinch.

“Well... your little friend believed me when I promised to keep her secret. Purple hair with demon marks sound familiar?”

That stops you. Just for a moment. Just enough.

Jinu sees it—and steps forward, gently pressing a finger to the tip of your knife and guiding it away.

“Now that I have your attention,” he says calmly, “I want to help you.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “And what makes you think I’d ever believe you?”

He sighs, gaze lowering. “I don’t expect you to. I just… I want to be like her. To be free. But until they reach the Golden Honmoon, we’ll never escape Gwi-Ma’s control.”

Your jaw tightens. “You have those marks for a reason.”

“I made a mistake—”

“No,” you snap. “You made a choice.”

Your grip tightens on the knife. “And that’s why I can never trust someone like you.”

In a split second, the blade flies from your hand—but before it can touch him, he vanishes in a puff of violet smoke. The knife hits the wall with a dull thunk, then clatters to the wooden floor.

A small, pale blue card flutters down from where he once stood. You hesitate before picking it up.

A cartoon duck smiles on the front.

You open it.

Inside, in delicate handwriting, it reads:

“Come find me when you’re ready to listen.”

You roll your eyes, toss the card into the bin, and fall back onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.

But as the night settles in, you can’t help but wonder, why did Rumi trust him? And why, deep down, did part of you want to believe him too.

__________________________________

So what did he really want?

The memory of his honey-colored eyes lingered like a bruise in your thoughts. Warm, almost sincere—but lies always wore a pretty face.

So many questions spun through your head like a whirlpool, dragging you under until—

“Helloooo?”

You blinked. Zoey was waving her hand inches from your face.

“Earth to (Y/N)?” she teased, dragging out the last word.

Your eyes widened, snapping back to the three girls now staring at you.

“You okay?” Mira asked, head tilting, brows furrowed with a mix of concern and suspicion. “You’ve been acting… different today.”

Zoey pipes up again, “Yeah, you’ve been looking at us like—” She tilts her head to the side, eyes wide, like she’s under a spell.

You giggle softly. “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking.” You send them a reassuring smile.

They all nod, understanding. You always had a lot on your plate as a manager.

“We’ll go ahead and call it a day,” Rumi says. “Let’s pick it back up tomorrow.”

“Can we talk?” you whisper.

Her brows crease. “Yeah, sure, uhm…” She glances over to Zoey and Mira. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”

“Sounds good,” Mira calls. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!”

“Bye, (Y/N)!” Zoey waves excitedly before leaving with her pink-haired companion.

Once the door clicks shut behind them, the room grows quieter.

You turn to Rumi, wasting no time.

“Have you been talking to Jinu?” Your voice is firm. “And don’t lie to me.”

She stiffens. Her eyes dart away, debating silently. Then, quietly—

“Yes.”

You let go of her hand as if burned, staring at her like she just suggested disbanding HUNTR/X.

“Rumi…”

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what I think?” Your voice sharpens. “Rumi, he’s a demon! One of the very monsters you’ve sworn to hunt and destroy. You’ve hated their kind since you were a little girl!”

She hesitates, but then… she speaks.

“He’s different.”

“People change,” she says, voice low. “Sometimes… they just need a reason to.”

Before you could respond, the studio lights flickered once… twice… then died. The room plunged into darkness.

“Get out,” Rumi said sharply, her voice instantly shifting into that protective, no-nonsense tone. “Now.”

“Wait, what are you—”

“Go!” she shouted, already dashing in the opposite direction.

But halfway through, you skidded to a stop—your breath caught in your throat.

A low, sickening growl echoed from the shadows ahead. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even close.

You turned to run—but they were faster. One leapt toward you, its mouth splitting open in a shriek that pierced your skull.

You screamed, stumbling back, and instinctively squeezed your eyes shut.

You braced for the pain. For the end.

But it never came.

Instead, a feral snarl ripped through the air, so loud and guttural it made your bones rattle. The sickening crunch of impact followed, like something had been thrown straight into the wall. Hard.

Your eyes snapped open.

There, standing between you and the demon pack, was a tall figure draped in a jet-black hanbok, its fabric swaying gently like smoke in the still air.

“Jinu?” you whispered

But not the Jinu you knew.

Jinu didn’t even glance back.

He didn’t speak.

But as the others lunged at him, he moved with a speed that was inhumane.

Effortless. Precise. Beautiful in a way that made your breath catch and your spine crawl.

You stared, frozen.

Not because you were afraid.

But because you understood.

He hadn’t come for them.

He came for you.

This is it, he’s going to kill me himself.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

You nodded, though your voice trembled. “Y-yeah.”

He let out a soft breath, the corner of his lips curling into the faintest smile. “Good.”

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then his expression shifted—just slightly, like a storm creeping back in behind his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he murmured, gaze dropping for a second.

Before you can speak, he steps back. The smoke curling around his form starts to rise again, swallowing him like mist.

“Wait—” you call out, reaching a hand toward him

But he’s already fading.

“Don’t follow me,” he says, voice soft but clear. “Not until you’re ready.”

Then, just like before, he vanishes into a ripple of violet haze.

You’re left standing in silence. The hallway, once haunted by demons, now feels too still. Too empty.

And then… something flutters gently to the floor.

Your eyes lower.

Another card.

Same pale blue. Same cartoon duck. But now, taped to the back, a single ticket—National Theater of Korea. Tomorrow. 8 p.m.

You pick it up slowly, heart thudding in your ears.

Inside the card, in that same careful handwriting:

“Come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

You want to throw it away.

You should throw it away.

But instead, your fingers tighten around it. You stare at it for a moment longer… then quietly tuck it into your pocket.

760 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 2 months ago

Text

Familiar, Not So Familiar || Lilia Vanrouge

You, a mage-in-training, attempt to summon a simple familiar—only to accidentally get yourself Lilia Vanrouge, a legendary fae with a penchant for chaos.

You have tried. You have tried so many times that the gods themselves must be watching your efforts like a soap opera, popcorn in hand, marveling at your persistence and misfortune.

Every spell you’ve ever learned? Perfect. Every potion you’ve ever brewed? Immaculate. Every single tedious little task required of an apprentice mage? Completed with at least passing competence.

And yet—this. This one, single, crucial spell has eluded you since the moment you first picked up a wand and thought, yes, let’s dedicate my life to this craft instead of something simple, like farming, or piracy, or a career in interpretive dance.

For years, you have watched your classmates perform their familiar rituals with ease. You have seen their little foxes, their wise owls, their unbearably smug salamanders perched on their shoulders like accessories in an enchanted fashion show. Oh, you don’t have a familiar yet? they’d say, voices dripping with polite condescension. That must be so hard! Magic must be so exhausting for you!

Yes. Yes, it is exhausting, Martha, you imbecile. Magic without a familiar is like trying to run a marathon uphill while being punched repeatedly in the stomach. It is like carrying a cauldron of molten lava with no gloves and being told, just don’t drop it! It is slowly killing you, and you are tired.

So tonight? Tonight is it. The line has been drawn. The candles have been lit. You have researched, you have practiced, you have painstakingly carved every single rune with the desperation of a student facing final exams with an empty study guide.

Either you summon your familiar, or you start looking into lucrative careers in something that requires zero magical ability. Candle-making. Tax fraud. Something.

You kneel before the summoning circle, hands clasped in pure, unfiltered desperation. Your voice is raw as you plead, as you offer up your dignity to the uncaring forces of the universe.

"Please," you whisper, nearly headbutting the floor. "Just this once. A cat. A dog. A single, semi-intelligent rat. Hell, a bat—bats are magical, right? I’ll take a bat. I’ll take a sentient pile of mold if it can cast at least one large spell without dying. Just something. Please, I am begging you."

The room is deathly silent.

And then—

A hum. A vibration in the air, as if reality itself is rethinking its choices.

The summoning circle does not glow—it erupts, an explosion of light so bright that your first instinct is to assume you have been smote for your insolence. The ground shudders. The candles flicker wildly. The sheer energy of the spell crackles through the air like the universe is taking a deep breath and laughing at you.

And then, through the haze, a silhouette.

Your first thought: That is not an animal.

Your second thought: That is not an animal, that is a person.

Your third thought: THAT IS A FAE.

Your fourth thought does not get to exist because your brain has blue screened.

The figure steps forward, hands clasped neatly behind his back, surveying the room with the air of someone who has just walked into an amusing play and finds himself the lead actor. He is floating, because of course he is. His wild hair is a chaotic mess of black and magenta, his sharp eyes twinkling with mirth, his very presence radiating power that should not, under any circumstances, be inside your living room.

Then he smiles, and you are abruptly hit with the horrifying realization that you know who he is.

The portraits. The stories. The absolute legend that is Lilia Vanrouge, former general, feared warrior, living relic of a bygone era, the kind of fae you read about in history books with the unspoken footnote of probably do not summon him.

And he is here.

And he is looking at you.

"Ah," he says, with all the delight of someone who has just stumbled upon something incredibly amusing. "How interesting."

You are frozen. Your body has stopped functioning. Your brain is actively trying to escape this situation by retreating into the astral plane.

Lilia tilts his head, observing your utter paralysis with great amusement, and then, with the flourish of a seasoned actor stepping onto the grandest stage of his life, he presses a hand to his chest and bows deeply.

"You have called," he proclaims, voice rich with dramatic flair, "and I have answered! For one year, I shall serve as your loyal familiar! May our contract be fruitful, our battles glorious, and our meals—" he pauses, grinning like a fox, "well, we shall see."

He straightens, clearly expecting some sort of response.

You do not move. You do not speak. You do not even blink.

Because you are still attempting to comprehend the fact that you have, against every possible law of magic, logic, and common sense, just summoned Lilia Vanrouge as your familiar.

The next morning, you awaken to the horrifying realization that last night was not, in fact, a fever dream.

Lilia Vanrouge is still here.

Floating.

In your kitchen.

Sipping tea.

With your mug.

You stand there, unblinking, as he lifts the cup in greeting, utterly unbothered by your complete mental breakdown. “Ah, you’re awake! Good morning, my dear summoner! Did you sleep well? Oh, never mind that, of course you didn’t—you must be so excited! Your first day with your new familiar!”

Your eye twitches. The existential dread is setting in. But there is no time to panic because you have class.

And now, for the first time in your absolutely miserable academic career, you have a familiar to bring with you.

Which would be a cause for celebration.

If your familiar was literally anyone else.

But no. No, you are marching through the academy halls with a floating, ancient fae war general drifting beside you, humming cheerfully, taking in his new surroundings like a tourist at a historical landmark.

Your classmates? Shitting bricks.

Your professors? Re-evaluating their life choices.

Your history professor? Actively vibrating in place. This is a man who has spent years studying Lilia Vanrouge, reconstructing battle strategies, debating historical inaccuracies, analyzing old texts to understand the mind of one of the most enigmatic figures in magical warfare. He looks at you, at Lilia, back at you, back at Lilia, and you swear to the gods above that this man is about two seconds away from weeping.

He wants an interview. He wants an entire dissertation. He wants to shake your hand for the sheer magnitude of this academic opportunity, and you are just standing there, barely holding onto your last scrap of sanity, because this is not a research opportunity, Professor, this is my life.

Meanwhile, Lilia is having a blast.

“Ohoho, what a delightful institution!” he muses, drifting through the halls, peering into classrooms, inspecting the architecture with a level of interest that should not belong to someone who predates half of these buildings. “Ah, look at that banner! I remember when these were in fashion—horrid little things, always got caught in the wind and smacked people in the face during duels. Ah! And look at these uniforms! What a quaint design! Oh, but that color… tragic choice, really, you should have seen the battle robes from my era. Those had flair!”

You press a hand to your face, inhaling deeply.

You are not going to survive this year.

But at the very least, you are about to have the first productive Offensive Magic class of your entire life.

For years, casting magic without a familiar has been hell. You’ve always struggled with large-scale spells, your body too weak to sustain the energy required. Your classmates have always had an advantage, their familiars supplying them with extra mana while you struggled to get anything stronger than a low-tier fireball.

But today?

Today, you have Lilia Vanrouge as a mana battery.

And you are about to find out exactly what that means.

The spell you’ve been struggling with for years—the one that has never worked properly, the one that has always left you half-conscious and questioning your life decisions—flows from your hands as easily as breathing. You don’t even have time to be excited because the moment the spell leaves your fingertips, the entire training ground erupts.

Not a small explosion.

Not a reasonable, manageable, academically acceptable explosion.

No.

You have just cratered the battlefield.

The shockwave sends everyone flying. The ground is smoking. There is a hole where the target dummies used to be. Somewhere in the distance, alarms are going off. Birds are screaming. Your professor is staring in mute horror at the absolute devastation before him.

And you?

You turn to Lilia, hands shaking, mouth opening and closing like a fish, because what the hell just happened.

Lilia, floating beside you, watches the destruction with the expression of a man who has just seen a slightly amusing street performance. He clasps his hands together, nodding approvingly.

“Well! Now that that’s done, why don’t we go find something fun to do?”

You are not going to survive the year.

It is supposed to be a quiet night.

Supposed to be.

You, a dedicated apprentice mage (read: overworked and underpaid student), have settled down with your magical theory book, prepared to suffer through the finer details of mana channeling. The lamp flickers softly, the air is calm, and for once in your chaotic existence, things feel peaceful.

Then, from the kitchen, you hear something.

Something that does not belong in the realm of mortals.

It begins with an unsettling hiss, followed by a squelching noise so visceral it sends a shudder down your spine. Then there’s a clank—something metal hitting the floor—then a thud, then another squelch. You are gripping your book so tightly that the pages crinkle.

And then—

A chainsaw.

You blink.

You tilt your head, straining your ears, waiting for your exhausted mind to correct you.

The chainsaw revs again.

There is a cackle—a delighted, mischievous giggle, unmistakably Lilia’s—followed by the sound of what can only be described as something wet hitting the walls.

You place your book down with the slow, measured movements of a person who has just realized that, against all odds, they are in mortal danger.

Before you can even get up, Lilia emerges from the kitchen, beaming, holding something that should not exist.

It is a plate of food.

You think.

At least, you assume that’s what it is. The thing on the plate is writhing slightly, like it’s trying to escape, its color shifting between shades of green that have never been found in nature. It looks less like a meal and more like something that should have been sealed away in a forbidden vault centuries ago. You are pretty sure it just twitched.

Lilia, looking pleased with himself, holds the plate out to you like a proud parent. “Here you go! A little something I whipped up! A good meal is essential for a strong mage!”

You stare at him. You stare at the food. You stare at him again. Then back at the food, as if hoping that, upon a second glance, it will suddenly become normal. It does not. It continues to vibrate menacingly.

You inhale slowly. You pray to the gods—the ones who have clearly abandoned you—and take a bite.

And then—

You almost meet them.

Your soul briefly leaves your body. Your ancestors appear before you, shaking their heads in deep disappointment. The concept of life and death ceases to have meaning. Time itself slows to a crawl as your taste buds experience a level of suffering once reserved only for cursed spirits.

You slam the fork down, forcing a smile that looks more like a pained grimace. “I—uh—actually, I’m not really that hungry right now!”

Lilia blinks, tilting his head. “Oh? But you just took a bite—”

You cut him off, nodding so quickly it could give you whiplash. “Nope! Super full! Wow, so full. Stuffed, actually. I definitely can’t eat another bite!”

Lilia frowns, looking genuinely disappointed, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost consider eating more.

Then the food on the plate shudders again.

And you decide that no matter how cute Lilia Vanrouge is, you simply cannot abide.

Later that night, you are once again seated at your desk, trying to get through your magical theory reading, when Lilia appears at your side.

For a brief moment, fear seizes you—until you see what he’s holding.

A cup of warm milk.

Just milk.

You stare at it, half-expecting it to start glowing or whispering in an ancient, cursed tongue. But no, it’s just milk. Safe. Harmless. Normal.

You accept it with more gratitude than you’ve ever felt in your life. “Thank you.”

Lilia settles in beside you, watching as you study, occasionally making little jokes, pointing out errors in your book’s outdated magical theories, offering insights that no historian could ever dream of. The conversation flows easily, his voice a constant, comforting presence, a bridge between history and now, between chaos and something softer.

And as you sit there, sipping your drink, listening to Lilia hum an old tune while offering you obscure magical trivia, you think—

Yeah.

Maybe he really is the best familiar you could have summoned.

Lilia does not like your magical theory professor.

At least, you think he doesn’t.

He’s always cheerful—borderline impossible to ruffle—but the moment you step into that class, something shifts. His usual smile dims, his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and his arms stay folded across his chest like a particularly judgmental gargoyle. It’s subtle—so subtle that if you weren’t stuck with him 24/7 (as your familiar, and definitely not because you enjoy his company), you might not have noticed.

But you have noticed. And it’s weird.

Even weirder? Every time you ask him about it, he gives you the most convincing performance of utter cluelessness you have ever witnessed. The first time, he even tilted his head, widened his eyes, and said, “Me? Dislike someone? Oh, dear apprentice, you wound me!” in the most theatrical, exaggerated manner possible.

And the thing about Lilia is, if he doesn’t want to talk about something, there is no force in the universe that can make him.

You gave up after the third attempt. If it was major, he’d tell you.

…Right?

Today, your professor smiles as she hands you a new assignment: a magic circle for you to analyze.

“You should be able to cast this with your familiar’s assistance,” she says, smiling in that teacher who’s about to ruin your life way.

You glance at the intricate diagram, tilting your head. “What’s it for?”

“Oh, it’s just illusion magic,” she assures you breezily.

And before you can say anything else, Lilia moves.

One moment, he’s standing behind you, silent as a shadow. The next, he’s in front of you, plucking the book from your hands with the effortless grace of someone who has definitely stolen things before.

His gaze sharpens as he scans the magic circle, his usual playful demeanor gone. His fingers tighten slightly on the book’s spine. Then, without hesitation, he snaps it shut and hands it right back to your professor.

“No.”

Your professor blinks, looking caught between offense and confusion. “Pardon?”

Lilia’s voice remains pleasant—but it is the kind of pleasant that makes your survival instincts scream. “I said no. My dear apprentice will not be casting this.”

The professor balks. “Excuse me, but I gave them an assignment. You contain your familiar—”

You raise your hands in exasperation. “Lady, are you kidding? This is a war general. You think I can just ‘contain’ him? You contain him.”

Your professor looks like she wants to argue. Lilia, meanwhile, tilts his head at her with the serene patience of a man watching a squirrel try to pick a fight with a dragon.

Then, he smiles.

It is not his usual mischievous grin. It is a deliberate, pointed smile.

“Why don’t you cast it first?” he asks, tone deceptively light.

Your professor stiffens. “That’s unnecessary, I already—”

Lilia’s eyes gleam. “Go on, then. Just illusion magic, isn’t it?”

The tension in the room spikes. Your professor, who has just spent the past five minutes acting like the spell is no big deal, suddenly looks very nervous.

“Oh, well,” she flounders, “I—it’s meant for—um—student practice—”

“Ah,” Lilia hums, nodding sagely. “So you’d assign a spell you wouldn’t cast yourself to my dear apprentice? How interesting.”

Your professor’s expression freezes.

And that’s when you realize something.

Lilia knew.

He knew the moment he saw the circle that something was off. He recognized it. And whatever it was meant to do, it wasn’t just harmless illusion magic.

Your professor coughs, clearly scrambling for a way out. Lilia waits, ever-patient, eyes half-lidded like a cat watching a cornered mouse.

Then, before she can say anything else, he turns to you. “We’re leaving.”

And you do not argue.

Outside, Lilia floats beside you, humming a little tune. You don’t say anything for a while, still processing.

Finally, you sigh. “You’re not gonna tell me what that spell actually was, are you?”

Lilia’s grin returns, bright and playful. “Who’s to say~?”

You groan. “Lilia.”

He chuckles, reaching out to pat your head in a way that is both condescending and annoyingly affectionate. “Let’s just say I’d rather not have to un-curse you anytime soon, hmm?”

Your stomach sinks slightly. You glance back toward the classroom building, frowning. Your professor has never pulled something like that before. But before you can dwell on it too much, Lilia floats closer, arms crossed.

“Promise me something,” he says, tone suddenly softer.

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Run your spells by me before casting them.” His smile doesn’t falter, but there’s something firm—unshakable—beneath the usual playfulness.

Your first instinct is to argue. To say you know what you’re doing. That you’re a capable mage. But then you think about how fast he moved. How easily he spotted the issue. How your professor, faced with his simple challenge, folded like wet parchment.

“…Okay,” you say.

His smile widens, but this time, it’s warm. “Good.”

And then, just like that, he’s back to his usual self, floating ahead, dramatically stretching as if he was the one who had to deal with a dangerous spell.

“Now that that’s settled,” he sighs, “why don’t set something on fire?”

You press a hand to your forehead.

At first, it was little things.

Your professors started assigning you slightly more advanced spells—reasonable enough, considering your mana pool had technically expanded (read: you accidentally summoned an ancient fae war general as your familiar). You could handle it. You were handling it.

But then it got worse.

Much worse.

It started with offensive spells. The usual: fireballs, lightning strikes, the occasional tornado. And then, gradually, the assignments escalated into city-leveling disasters.

One moment, you were casting a moderately powerful explosion spell. The next, you were being instructed to conjure something called the Wrath of the Abyss—which, from the name alone, sounded like it had no business being taught in a school.

Lilia, floating serenely beside you, casually flicked his fingers, erasing the spell from your assignment scroll. “No,” he said.

You didn’t argue.

The final straw came when you were assigned a spell so ridiculously strong that had Lilia not interfered, you’re pretty sure you would’ve smited an entire town off the map.

That night, exhausted and frustrated, you marched to the headmaster’s office to finally have a conversation about this.

And that’s when you heard it.

Muffled voices.

The headmaster and your professors—all of them—discussing how to weaponize your newly expanded mana pool. How to push you further, how to ensure you could be controlled—with force, if necessary.

You stood there for a long moment, processing.

Then you turned on your heel, went back to your dorm, and drafted the most polite resignation letter you have ever written in your entire life.

By morning, you were gone.

Which brings you to now.

Laid out on the couch.

Bored.

Contemplating your life choices.

Lilia floats around the new house, inspecting it with the air of a man who has been evicted from kingdoms before and now finds the concept of moving vaguely amusing. Occasionally, he hums in approval. Once, he sticks his head into the kitchen and mutters, “I could work with this.” (You choose to ignore the implication.)

Eventually, he drifts over to the couch, settling next to you. He watches you for a moment, eyes softer than usual, before reaching out and gently patting your head.

“…I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

You blink, turning your head to look at him. “For what?”

He offers a small, almost wistful smile. “For everything. You wanted a small familiar. A cat, perhaps. A gentle companion to aid your studies. And instead… you got me.”

Something about the way he says it makes your heart squeeze.

You sit up, shaking your head. “That’s not your fault. It’s not your fault humans are garbage sometimes.” You snort. “Honestly, I should be the one apologizing to you. You got roped into this mess because of me.”

Lilia laughs softly. “Oh, please. This is hardly the worst summoning I’ve been part of.”

You roll your eyes but lean into him anyway, resting your head against his shoulder. “I mean it, though. I’m glad you were there to look out for me.” You exhale, closing your eyes. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. You’re the best fit for me.”

There’s a pause.

Then, Lilia shifts slightly, tilting his head to look at you.

“…You know,” he murmurs, amusement creeping into his voice, “it almost sounds like you like me.”

You groan. “Lilia.”

He chuckles, clearly pleased with himself, and lets you rest against him, draping an arm over the back of the couch.

The TV plays some mindless reality show in the background—something ridiculous, the kind of show where two rich people argue over whose yacht is shinier. Lilia occasionally makes a quiet, offhand comment about the historical implications of their arguments, which, considering he’s been around long enough to have historical context for everything, is both fascinating and deeply concerning.

Still, as you sit there, comfortable and safe, a strange sort of peace settles over you.

Maybe this is okay, too.

Moping is unsustainable.

Yes, your dreams of becoming a renowned royal mage have withered and died like a houseplant you swore you watered (you didn’t). Yes, the academy tried to turn you into a walking magical war crime before you dropped out. And yes, you are technically in magical witness protection now.

But you refuse to let that get you down.

You are a problem solver. A forward-thinker. A survivor.

And what do survivors do? They pivot.

Thus begins your new life as the proud owner of Mystic Remedies, a charming little potion shop in a sleepy town where nobody knows—or cares—that you once accidentally summoned a literal fae war general as a familiar.

And surprisingly? Business is booming.

Apparently, people love magic when it’s used for normal things, like fixing bald spots or whitening teeth or getting rid of that one really stubborn pimple that refuses to die no matter how many times you pray to the gods. Your bestselling potions?

“The Shine of Youth” – Teeth Whitening Elixir

Results are instantaneous and blindingly effective (literally. One guy came back complaining his teeth were so white they were reflecting sunlight into his own eyes.)*

“Regrowth & Renewal” – Anti-Baldness Tonic

The town’s balding population has never been happier. One man sobbed openly in your shop after seeing his full head of hair for the first time in twenty years.

“Vanisher’s Touch” – Acne & Scar Removal Serum

One (1) drop and your skin becomes as smooth as a newborn’s. Side effects include strangers asking you for your entire skincare routine (which, obviously, you refuse to share because you are making BANK off of this).

And presiding over all of this?

Lilia Vanrouge.

Your fae general, immortal menace, questionably helpful familiar.

At first, you thought Lilia would just hang around for company. Maybe help with security. Offer sage wisdom. That kind of thing.

You were wrong.

Instead, he has taken it upon himself to be your business partner.

Which would be fine, except:

1. Lilia insists on being the shop greeter.

“Welcome, weary traveler!” he announces grandly every time someone enters, even if it’s just the lady from next door.

2.He also bows dramatically every time, which has led to multiple people thinking they’ve accidentally entered a royal court instead of a potion shop.

3. He makes up fake tragic backstories for your potions.

The baldness potion? “Crafted from the tears of a forgotten god who, himself, was once afflicted with hair loss.”

The teeth whitening elixir? “Distilled from the ancient wisdom of a radiant moonbeam, stolen by a trickster spirit under the cover of night.”

The anti-acne potion? “Forged in the fires of celestial vanity, when the first star envied the smoothness of the moon’s face.”

The customers eat it up. Business doubles because people now believe they’re purchasing legendary magical relics instead of DIY cosmetic solutions.

4. He takes “quality control” VERY seriously.

You once caught him drinking the hair regrowth tonic.

“Lilia,” you said. “You have hair. You have a lot of hair.”

He took a long, thoughtful sip, smacked his lips, and simply said, “Quality assurance.”

(The next day, his hair was so voluminous it looked like he had absorbed a lion. He seemed thrilled about this. You refused to comment.)

5. His idea of “helping” with potion-making is... distressing.

One time, you left him alone for five minutes.

When you came back, he had somehow produced a glowing purple substance that was hovering slightly above the table and making whale noises.

You didn’t even ask. You just threw the entire thing out.

Lilia disappears sometimes in the middle of the night. You’ll wake up, the room unnaturally quiet, and immediately know he’s gone. Not gone gone—he’s not that dramatic—but somewhere else, wrapped in thoughts you never quite get to see.

Tonight, the air is cool when you step outside, wrapping around you like a second skin. You don’t have to search long. He’s on the rooftop, perched with all the effortless grace of a creature who defies gravity. His eyes are locked onto the moon, silver light washing over his face, his usual impishness replaced with something… else.

You’ve seen Lilia in many states—mischievous, chaotic, wise, deeply concerning—but you’ve never seen him like this.

So, naturally, you make the entirely reasonable decision to scale the side of the house.

It is not a graceful process. There’s a lot of slipping, a lot of swearing, and at one point, you’re pretty sure you get stuck in a position that defies basic human anatomy. Lilia watches all of this unfold with what you know is barely suppressed laughter, but he doesn’t help.

Rude.

By the time you haul yourself onto the roof, panting like you’ve just wrestled a bear, Lilia looks at you like you’re the strange one here.

“…You could have used the stairs,” he points out.

You glare at him. “Yeah? Well, you could’ve not brooded on the roof like the protagonist of a tragic novel, but here we are.”

For a moment, you think he might tease you, but instead, something in his expression softens. Like he hadn’t expected you to come. Like the idea of being found was somehow surprising.

You settle beside him, deliberately sitting close enough that your arms brush. Lilia doesn’t say anything, just leans into you, his weight light but grounding.

“I’m grateful you left immediately when you did,” he murmurs, voice quiet in a way that makes you pause. “I wasn’t prepared to lose you.”

You don’t ask. You never have. Lilia carries centuries in his gaze, in the way he moves, in the weight of the things he doesn’t say. But this? This moment, this sliver of vulnerability? This is his truth, and you’ll never push him to unravel more than he wants to.

So you nod. You pull him closer. And you sit there, pressed together beneath the vast, endless sky, offering nothing but presence.

Because sometimes, companionship is enough.

Despite all of this—despite the dramatics, the chaos, the fact that you are pretty sure Lilia is making up 90% of his fae wisdom on the spot—your little potion shop thrives.

You get to help people. You get to live peacefully.

And best of all? You get to spend your days with someone who makes life interesting.

One evening, as you’re closing up, Lilia floats beside you, watching as you count today’s earnings.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he says, tone oddly soft, absent of his usual teasing lilt.

You glance at him, raising a brow. “We have,” you correct, shoving the last of the gold into the till. “I’d be lost without you.”

He hums in amusement, resting his chin in his hand. “Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”

You snort. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

There’s a pause.

Then, after a moment, he reaches over—ruffles your hair with genuine fondness.

You pretend to be annoyed, but you don’t move away.

(And later, as you sit together, sharing a cup of tea under the quiet glow of lantern light, you think—maybe this life? This ridiculous, unpredictable, strangely wonderful life? Maybe it’s not so bad, after all.)

The first time you created a potion for hair growth, you barely had time to marvel at your genius before Lilia grabbed the vial and downed it in one gulp. No hesitation. No patch test. Just the unwavering confidence of a man who believed you were capable of alchemy miracles despite your previous track record, which included but was not limited to:

Accidentally making a love potion so strong it made a squirrel propose to a tree.

Brewing an invisibility elixir that only made clothes disappear (awkward).

Concocting a sleeping draught that did, in fact, induce sleep—just exclusively in yourself.

So, really, this blind faith of his was either heartwarming or deeply concerning.

The effect was immediate. Lilia’s short, fluffy locks exploded outward in a dramatic cascade, flowing past his shoulders, his waist, and then pooling onto the floor in a heap of silky, midnight strands. He blinked at you from behind his newly acquired curtain of hair, looking entirely unbothered, while you sat there in stunned horror like an artist realizing they’d just painted the Mona Lisa using finger paints.

“Well,” he said cheerfully, lifting a section of his hair with mild curiosity. “At least I won’t have to buy a blanket anymore.”

You groaned, already reaching for the shears. “Sit down. I’m cutting it before you trip and break your immortal neck.”

Lilia plopped down in front of you, perfectly content as you gathered the thick locks in your hands, marveling at how soft they were. You ran your fingers through them, untangling strands, watching them catch the light like the finest silk. Somewhere in the middle of methodically snipping away, your hand brushed against the nape of his neck.

And Lilia—Lilia of the endless energy, mischievous smirks, and unpredictable chaos—tilted his head into your touch like a cat craving warmth. He let his cheek brush against your palm, the weight of him light but deliberate, and you felt something in your chest hiccup.

Oh no.

Nope. Absolutely not. You were not going to sit here and have an emotional epiphany over a haircut.

You cleared your throat and kept cutting, pretending you didn’t notice the way his eyes fluttered shut, how he sighed just the slightest bit when you raked your fingers through his hair again. You ignored the warmth curling in your stomach, the way your heart stuttered like a miscast spell.

This was fine. Just a normal, everyday occurrence. No significance whatsoever.

(You ignored the fact that, long after the potion’s effects had worn off, Lilia still asks you to fix his hair for him.)

It has been a year.

A whole year since you knelt in front of a summoning circle, begging the universe for a small, manageable familiar—a cat, a bat, anything reasonable—only for reality to spit in your face and drop a war general into your living room.

A year since Lilia Vanrouge, former general, ancient fae, and walking eldritch menace, declared himself your familiar with a dramatic flourish while you stood there questioning every single life decision that had led to that moment.

And now, it’s time to let him go.

You knew this day would come. You told yourself you wouldn’t get attached. He was never supposed to stay forever. He has actual, important, world-changing things to do, and you—what are you? A small-town potion seller with a thriving business in male pattern baldness reversal and anti-aging tonics. This is not a worthy occupation for a fae of his caliber.

So why does the thought of him leaving feel like your heart is about to crawl out of your chest, slap you in the face, and then dramatically expire in protest?

You’re an adult. You can handle this. You will handle this.

Night falls, and you set up the ritual.

The summoning contract that bound him to you for a year must now be undone. The process is simple: draw the circle, say the words, and Lilia will be free to return to whatever grand, fae-magic-drenched existence he had before meeting you.

Your hands shake as you carve the sigils into the ground. You tell yourself it’s just fatigue.

The circle is perfect. The words are ready. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and—

SCRATCH.

You blink.

Your circle is ruined.

Because Lilia just dragged his foot through it like a toddler messing up a sandcastle.

“Whoops,” he says, tone entirely insincere.

You stare at the ruined circle. Then at him. Then at the deep, deliberate groove he just scraped through the sigils.

“…Did you just—”

“Oh dear,” Lilia sighs, not looking remotely sorry. “How clumsy of me.”

You narrow your eyes.

Fine. Fine. You can work with this. You redraw the circle, faster this time, heart pounding, trying not to think about how every stroke is another step toward the inevitable.

But as soon as you finish it, it vanishes.

You gape. “What the fu—”

Lilia, sitting lazily on your kitchen counter, swirls his wine glass and hums, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You try again. And again.

Each time, something goes wrong.

The chalk disappears. The ink dries too fast. The lines curve into nonsense when you look away. Lilia, drinking his wine, watching you struggle, looking like a cat who just knocked over an entire shelf and is waiting for applause.

Then, finally, the last straw.

You painstakingly carve the circle one last time, standing up with triumphant determination—

And Lilia immediately spills his wine on it.

He gasps, eyes wide with the fakest, most dramatic shock you have ever seen. “Oh my. How unfortunate.”

You drop the chalk.

You inhale, slow and measured, like a parent about to scold a misbehaving child.

Then you turn to him.

“…Hey,” you say, voice trembling, not with sadness, but with the sheer, earth-shattering realization that this little fae menace is playing with you.

He takes another sip of wine, as if to fortify himself against the incoming confrontation.

“Do you,” you say, pointing at him, “not want to leave?”

Lilia smiles. That infuriatingly cryptic, all-knowing smile that he has given you exactly one thousand times over the past year.

He doesn’t answer.

And you are done.

You grab him by the collar, yanking his floating self down to your level, because no. Not this time.

“Say it.” Your heart is racing, your voice shaking. “Stop playing with my feelings and just say it.”

For the first time in a long time, Lilia looks genuinely surprised.

His bright red eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating.

Then, gently, effortlessly, he kisses you.

It’s soft. Unhurried. Like a promise instead of a confession.

When he pulls away, there’s no teasing, no smug amusement. Just quiet certainty as he murmurs, “I thought that was obvious, little mage.”

And you—

You think, yeah. This is perfect.

The day after the kiss is, by all accounts, completely normal.

Lilia is still Lilia—dramatic, whimsical, and absolutely insufferable in the best way possible. He flits around the shop like a particularly mischievous specter, rearranges your potions in ways that make absolutely no sense, and startles at least three customers by dropping upside down from the rafters like a bat with a caffeine addiction.

The only difference are the little changes in his proximity.

The way he brushes a little closer, his fingertips lingering on yours when he hands you a vial. The way he leans in when he speaks, voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. The way his eyes—sharp, playful, knowing—linger just a second too long, like he’s drinking in every reaction.

Your regulars notice immediately.

“You two finally figured it out, huh?”

“About damn time.”

“Oh, we’ve been betting on this for months—Edgar, pay up.”

Even the old woman who only comes in for her arthritis tincture pats your cheek with grandmotherly approval, declaring, "He’s a little strange, but you always liked strays."

By the time you close up for the night, you’re warm with laughter, exhaustion, and the sheer reality of it. Of him. Of you.

And then there’s a weight on your back, light but unmistakable, arms winding around you as Lilia attaches himself like a particularly affectionate cloak.

“You still haven’t actually asked me to stay,” he hums, his chin resting on your shoulder. You can hear the grin in his voice, teasing and pleased.

You roll your eyes, exasperated and utterly, helplessly fond.

Then, without warning, you turn, grabbing his face in both hands and kissing him hard.

He makes a soft, surprised noise against your lips before immediately melting into it, responding with all the fervor of someone who has absolutely been waiting for this. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and you swear you can feel him smiling into the kiss.

When you finally pull back, breathless and a little dazed, you meet his gaze and say, firm and sure,

“Stay.”

Lilia blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually say it. Then his lips curl into something unbearably soft, unbearably fond, and he whispers,

“Till the end of my life.”

Masterlist

2K notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 3 months ago

Text

500 Follower Special~Twisted Wonderland

Finding Out Your a Girl~Pool Party Edition

Keep reading

3K notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 3 months ago

Text

Desperately trying to make you feel at home (because of a misundertanding)

[ PLATONIC HEADCANONS ] [ All NCR students ]

[ Twisted Wonderland ]

Im just messing with Crowley and my other favorite characters, lets not let Crowley bribe Grim with tuna to give us work extra!

I think this is one of the longest work i have done so far, im sorry but, like, i tried to mention as much characters as posible (i think mentioned all the student 💀)

Ever since you came to Twisted Wonderland you were being pretty much at Crowley's mercy, he was the one providing you with what you and Grim needed to survive along with letting you stay in Ramshackle in exchange of helping with his work, however the real deal wasn't fair in the slighlest, no matter how much Crowley claimed to be oh so kind and always looking after the prefect he was constantly forgetting about you and even going as far as trying to manipulate you into accepting do even more work in exchange of a bit extra resources (that, honestly, are things that should have been fulfilled long ago)

After a while of having to work for Crowley and assisting to the classes you grew more comfortable with everything, at first you accepted since you were depending of him but by now you knew him too well and grow comfortable enough at his side to try to get in his good side, after everything that have happened you run out of patient for the headmage actics, fine! If he wanted to play dirty to make you overwork then two could play this game!

You learned that for Crowley finding a way to send you back home was the least of his priorities, so you take that for your plan! Everytime he came to ask you to do more work when you already had your hands full you smiled at him before bringing the topic of your home, asking how his investigation was going, any progress? Crowley was quickly taken off guard, he needed to find an excuse as quick as posible and you just kept pressuring him until he was too awkward that he needed to run away, leaving before even saying anything about the work he wanted you to do

At first you just did it for when he was putting too much work on your hands to do, you didn't wanted to keep overworking yourself and you needed to caught up with the classes you were taking! After all you were a student too! But, at the end, it started to work so well and having free time to just rest was feeling a bit too good, so you keep pressing as much as you wanted. With new confidence you started to talk to Crowley, rubbing his ego about him being so kind just before strike the argument of your home, slowly scalating things from asking about his investigation to even start telling him how much you missed your home!

Ranting about how much you missed your old life, the things and people you missed so much and even started to use the excuse of festivities and important dates back in your world! There was something so important in your world that you just couldn't celebrate here, you can't help but wonder if your friends and family won't miss you so much that they couldn't enjoy this joyful times neither! You were just feeling so sad and homesick that this way you wouldn't be able to get the work done! You didn't knew if it was true concern or just awkwardness but it was working, Crowley was trying to make it up and giving you more free time ever since you started to use your home as excuse

The real problem came when your friends started to heard you talking about your home. It started with Grim, since he was constantly dragged to do the job with you he was there when Crowley came to give you more work, and was the one hearing you talk about how much you missed your home with Crowley, at first he didn't thought much about it since the headmage promised you to find a way to send you back, but the more time passed the more you talked about you home to Crowley, and Grim started to actually grow worried, does his henchman really misses their home that bad? He didn't noticed! But, of course, Grim was a too prideful to ask so you didn't explained that most part of it was just an exageration to mess up with Crowley

Once Grim had enough of being worried over it he ended up telling about it to Ace and Deuce (being the ones who are always stuck at your side), soon tagging along Jack, Eppel, and Ortho, after all this was serious and they wanted to do something, after all you were the prefect and their best friend! You were always there getting involved in problems that had nothing to do with you, even when you were magicless you always did your best to help them because they were your friends, and never even asked for something in return! You have done so much for them and they couldn't even help you feel at home! They felt terrible, guilty even

It was hard to hide how bad they were feeling but even if they tried to don't talk about it when the others asked it was after a moment of hesitation they started to talk about what was bothering them so much to the rest of your friends, and between misundertandings and gossips the fact that the prefect was suffering in silence for missing their home so much quickly became an open secret, somehow still being able to hide from you that they knew (even when they were acting way too suspicious when you were around)

Your friends weren't too discreet when trying to do things for you or paying more attention, you could catch their nervous smiles as they attempt to discreetly provide comfort, wich just lead them to be awkward, it was truly weird but you decided to leave them be (or tease them, whatever you were up to), suddenly the free time you managed to get thanks to the excuses you were giving Crowley were fully occupied by your friends

You were constantly invited to Unbirthday parties and simple tea parties in Heartslabyul (wich wasn't too weird by now) but suddently the tables had a lot of pastries of your favorite flavors and even the table you were in was filled with your favorite pastries, personally baked by Trey, and there was enough tea of your favorite flavor to get drown in it. Suddently Riddle was calmer when you accidently broke a rule, simply making you a almost scary kind reminder, and even if it wasn't werid for Carter to constantly take photos with you at his side, suddenly the number of post about you two and what you were doing increase a bit too much, tagging you as his bestie

Also, you found yourself hanging out in Savanaclaw more often than before thanks to the incredibly subtle invitations from Ruggie and even Leona himself to just hang out in the louge and relax, after all the place was perfect to just lay down and take a nap. And if that wasn't enough they were also more willing to talk to you in the hallways (or between Leona's naps) not that they were mean to you before but getting out of their way just to say hi was quite weird, also it may sounds like you were going crazy but you were left with the impression that they were being slighly more clingy, Leona was now the one making you do errands for him (just a few times) along with Ruggie, who always seem to know how to start the conversation that would lead about your really funny time in school, or sometimes Leona simply finds some not so good excuses to keep you at his side while napping

No matter how much Azul wanted to play it off as simple an oportunity of bussiness it was still quite suspicious that he was suddently inviting you over to Octaville out of nowhere, he was asking a bit more about what your world it was like and what you were used to eat, saying that special plates from literally another world would be great for Monstro Lounge it was still quite suspicious, specially when he allowed you to be the first one to try the new plates, he and Jade insistes that it was because you were the only one who could tell if it was perfect (wich it was surprisingly right, it was quite the pleseant surprised to eat something at least a bit similar to what you used to eat back in your world), but for their insistance it felt like they had a hidden motive, and it didn't help the fact that Azul and Jade had to constantly interrupt Floyd before he told you that they were doing it because they wanted to make you feel less homesick

As if Unbirthday parties weren't enough Scarabia suddently started to have more parties! And parties in your honor! Kamil was far from being good at being discreet so he ended up confessing right away that Scarabia was holding parties specially to thank you for all you have done, not just for him and Jamil but for everyone! It, honeslty, took all his willpower (and Jamil's help) to don't just end up apologizing in tears for not making you feel at home and how sorry he was that you were missing your home so much. And while Jamil was quite annoyed for suddenly have so much extra work he allowed himself, for once, to relax just enough to be a little more sincere at your side in an attempt to make you feel at home, to show that he was being sincere with what he was saying (taking you out of guard when he smiled sincerely in the process, and not with his usual smirk)

You know Rook is quite inpredictale and sneaky but you can swear he has being even more weird than normal, after all lately he has appeared out of nowhere just to say hello, inside and outside of Pomefiore, giving you a few compliments in his usual extravagant way to speak before leaving. In the other hand, Vil didn't went out of his way (or at least pretended that he didn't do it) but he did gifted you some of his personal skin care products out of nowhere, after all Ramshackle was far from the ideal living conditions and you should take extra care of yourself, taking a moment to remind you with that strict side of him about how important it is to take care of yourself before reminding you that being the prefect it isn't just a meaningless title, everyone apreciate you and what you have done (you swear in your life Vil was being sincere, that smile didn't looked like the perfectly calculated smile he gives to the cameras)

Being dragged to Ignihyde wasn't really rare for you by now, Ortho wasn't only excited to have an amazing friend like you but also wanted his brother to befriend you too, but right now there was something off, you were dragged more often just to hang out, you were suddently invited a lot more to just have some movie nights and gaming sesions with Idia, it wouldn't have been that suspicious if it wasn't because Ortho was more insisting than usual and even Idia was doing efforts to get out of his room to meet you, hopefuly you don't notice how much data Ortho is collecting of your preferences to make sure you feel comfortable or how he is constantly checking on you to make sure you are truly happy and don't continue suffering in silence (like how everyone now think you have been)

One of the only ones who doubted slighly the situation was Lilia, thinking that maybe between the gossips the situation could have been exaggerated, still he reminded you that you were always welcome to pass by Diasomnia if you wanted, no matter what they may said everyone in the dorm appreciate your presence, still his doubts doesn't stoped him to give some advices when Malleus asked about how to help the child of man with their homesickness, using the oportunity to help him get closer to his little friend, for what Malleus was actively trying to get closer and even inviting you for night walks whenever he passed around Ramshackle (sometimes passing around was just the excuse), and while Silver took things more calmly, just like his father, he still left clear that since you two were friends you could just vent with him, he promise to try his best to stay awake and even if you wanted to talk about the world you come from he would be happy to heard you

Not just that but suddenly your friends from the first year, the ones who you were closer to and even share classes were paying you visits at Ramshackle more often, somehow having the permision from their housewarden to return a bit more late than usual or directly spend the night with you for a sleep over, as well to have more study sesions with you and constantly asking how were you doing and making sure you were fine

It was good gestures but it was incredibly suspicious since it was almost all the students now paying you attention (you started to wonder if this was a bad omen or something) and when you managed to gain the courage to ask what have gotten into everyone lately they were reclulant to talk, but at end (just like how it started) it was Grim who explained that he saw you crying to Crowley because you missed your home and he couldn't let his henchman suffer like that (he was already too convinced that you were suffering a lot after telling how he saw you talking with Crowley about your world over and over one, being the main reason why this situation was already out of control), quickly followed by the rest of your friends who, after having to hold back and being worried sick for you, couldn't help but tear up a little while expressing his worry and how sorry they were that you were feeling that way

At the end you didn't knew if you should just laugh or start crying of embarrasement, sure, you missed your world but all those times you talked to Crowley were just exaggerations and excuses, you didn't meant for you friends to even know about this, let alone to worry so much that you would have your friends suffocating you in a tearful hug now, but you couldn't say you don't appreciate the gesture and how much they truly worry for you

650 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 3 months ago

Text

Royalty AU:

↠ The Candidates (Start Here)

↠ Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle

↠ Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia

↠Part 1: A Meeting With Azul

↠Part 2: A Meeting With Riddle

↠Part 3: A Meeting With Vil

↠Part 4: A Meeting With Kalim

↠Part 5: A Meeting With Idia

↠Part 6: A Meeting With Leona

↠Part 7: A Meeting With Malleus

186 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 3 months ago

Text

You, I, and the Wall (Azul, Jade, and Floyd x Yuu)

You lie on the ground taking deep breaths, searching around you for three objects you can name while you try to force your ears to tune into the noises around you. The three boys surrounding you look concerned, almost like you're crying but you can't really bring yourself to care right now. It's not like they care anyway, you think; an upset person is just inconvenient to deal with.

"It's my fault." You try to reassure them with a shaky breath. "I'm the one who made the mistake of feeling safe."

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, heavy angst, SPOILERS FOR CH. 4, specifically how Jamil's UM might make someone feel (as in not good, forcing someone to do stuff they do not want to is not nice). If you like this please check out my masterlist here (x)

Floyd

"I bet you'd rather be talkin to Crabby right now, huh?" Floyd almost sounds self depreciating, there's a haze of tears clouding your judgment that makes him feel a bit safer in his vulnerability. "Sorry I'm all that's here right now." He makes sure to stay just far enough from you that you don't feel like he's crowding your personal space, but close enough that there's a barrier between you and the door the Scarabia students fled through. If those guppies thought there was any sort of excuse for putting you into this state he would accept, well there wasn't. If they thought he had forgotten their faces they had a gigantic storm coming, but he needed to make sure you were alright first. Hurricane's can't start until the eye is calm.

"I tried calling Ace, he didn't answer." Your voice sounds so unlike you, weak and tired. "Same with Deuce."

"Ha, dunno about Mackey but Crabby's definitely scratching at the walls if you told him you're in trouble." He means it, and he hates how he knows it will calm you down. Floyd doesn't like the sidelines, that's where Jade thrives, not him. Being jealous that Ace is calming you down even though he's not here is petty and kind of pathetic. But he can't help it, the way he moves and looks is scary, but surely if he looks at you long enough you'll realize-

"You ain't gotta believe me now," he mumbles to himself, slowly shuffling closer to you, satisfying his urge to squeeze by pinching your cheek, "already knew I was gonna have to work on that, but I don't ever want to see you like this again." Finally you look at him instead of away; you are confused and tired but finally comfortable enough to let your exhaustion put you to sleep. He used to think he loved every face you could make, and he can't say he never wants to see you scared because of how cute you look spooked, but this, this wasn't fun. You'll just have to let him be the only one to scare you from here on out, he thinks, gently picking you up off the ground to take you somewhere more comfortable.

Jade

To be fair, Jade had expected you to try hitting him a lot sooner than this. He also had to admit it was extremely... lovely of you to have enough control over yourself to stop just before landing the blow.

"No fighting in the lounge, that's the rule right?" Your entire body is tense, even as you retract the fist and retreat into yourself, away from the table, away from him. Azul laughs awkwardly while pushing forward in discussing the Scarabia situation, but Jade keeps his eyes on you.

"Of course for a magicless person like yourself there would be no way to resist being hypnotized. Really someone could have given you whatever orders they wanted to and ordered you not to remember-"

In hindsight maybe, compared to some of the other observations he has voiced out loud, that one was a touch harsh.

"I am quite sorry if I caused offense." He says. Still tense, you take in a deep shuddering breath, winding up for something. His hands fold contentedly, wondering if you will try to hit him again. Given his comments, he doesn't mind letting you.

"Fuck off." You sound so small you want to die but the shock that unwinds on his face is somewhat satisfying. He wonders, as you try to walk away again, just how it would feel to be powerless to say no. To be small and alone in a world you don't belong in, forced to do something by someone against your will and then made fun of by someone strikingly similar for not being able to protect yourself.

It's an ugly thought, but he wonders if anyone has ever made you feel this small before, if he is making you feel that small now.

"I did not say what I did to mock you." Jade is surprised by the strength of his conviction, and how little he thinks to blame you if you choose not to forgive him. "If the thought of that person's magic scares you, please stay close to Floyd. He will be able to keep you safe." To his great relief some tension leaves your shoulders, and he dares to risk a step forward. "I should hope this goes without saying, but what happened to you was not your fault, nor was it acceptable."

"You trying to say Octavinelle has a monopoly on exploiting me?" There's an edge to the question that will take time to dull, but your ire seems less pointed at him now.

"I'm suggesting you simply look at our involvement as a form of revenge." He means it, though he knows you are in no position to tell just yet. That's quite alright, he knows himself. He can wait.

Azul

"Please wait!" Azul is surprised you don't break into a sprint, but then you don't slow down or stop either, stubbornly insistent on moving towards Ramshackle Dorm. You allow him to walk next to you, ignoring the huffs of stress in his breath.

"What do you want Azul?" No no no this is all wrong, you compliment his efforts after seeing him at his worst and now you're icing him out? Sure, he knew entertaining the idea you could be friends, genuine ones, was too good to be true but seeing it go up in foam in front of him was still painful.

"What did you mean feeling safe was a mistake?" He knows Jamil, in theory anyway, they're in a complicated place right now. Or maybe always but that's besides the point. There was a reason behind all of this he is sure you will likely find sympathetic enough to forgive, but if you are in this much pain why should you? Not that he has a say in it, but why should he let you?

"What do you want Azul?" You just repeat yourself, nails digging into the palms of your hand in a way that looks so painful he can't stop himself from reaching to pull them towards him. It keeps you from running the next couple feet to the mirror, both of you forced to look at the bleeding dents in your palms in a mixture of shame and remorse. He's too distressed to express himself, moving to firmly hold both of your hands with one of his while the other searches for his magic pen. 'What do yo-"

"A chance." Magic soothes the pain as Azul works to close the admittedly tiny wounds with the same determined focus he shows his studies. "All I have ever wanted is a chance." He doesn't say at what, you get a feeling he doesn't really know what he is asking for right now himself. But with how he refuses to mention payment as he puts away his magic pen, just continues to hold you in place, you think you could maybe eventually understand.

"I'll give you one." You swallow hoarsely, taking away your hands from his as he tries to pretending he didn't memorize their warmth.

"It's a deal then," he means that as a joke you think, but there's a bit of his normal showmanship and pride you find oddly comforting now "I promise you, one is all I'll need."

627 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 4 months ago

Text

“Maybe this time” - Azul Ashengrotto x reader

Fallen in love with Azul during your time in NRC, you had never gained the chance to confess to him in his final year: you were too late and your chance was lost in the winds of time. After graduating, you find yourself moving on with life and moving on from him, even opening a bakery and coffee shop in a small town near the sea. It was a perfect life for you - and it was all you could ever want. But when he shows up at your bakery one day, you’re not so sure you had everything you wanted in life anymore.

Or rather

In which, you fell in love with Azul in Highschool and after years of moping - you move on. But when he shows up out of the blue one day, you begin to question if you’ve really ever moved on in the first place.

Author’s Note: I enjoyed writing this! I was brainrotting about this concept so I decided to! Aside from this update, I finally got my first request!!! I’m overjoyed and to whoever decided to request me, I’ll be finished with it within a week or so as I’m quite busy with school. In fact, I have a test tomorrow…Oh well, please do enjoy the fic! Also, this fic is based off the song “Maybe this time” by Sarah Geronimo so check it out if you want!

Content Warnings: Not exactly hurt/comfort, more you moved on from the hurt first and then went again into hurt, then finally comfort. Gender-neutral reader. And lastly, amateur writing and off-pacing since the author wrote this at 3 am in the morning.

Moving on in life was a daunting challenge that could strike fear into most people’s hearts, because often, new things and routines either intimidated people or raised dislike for most. For many people, change was a facet of life they weren’t ready for, thinking that things would stay like that forever - the happiness, the pain, the routine; it was something that most people thought would stay for forever to come. But, really, does everything truly last forever? In some cases, people think so - but when life hits them in the face with change, it becomes a clear answer.

“A latte and a slice of cake, please!”

In some cases, things last forever - but not for yours. It seemed back then that the pain of Azul leaving and graduating, as well as the fact that you never conveyed your true feelings to him would stay forever. But through years of work, moping, reflection, and the best support system you could ever ask for - you finally moved on with your life and haven’t looked back since. Since you’ve graduated, you took to working yourself to death at first, but after a lot of reflection and coping - you decided to relax and take a hobby.

Which is how you landed with owning a bakery and coffee shop, even moving to a small town by the seaside since they had no late-night coffee shops and a bakery built - and so you took it upon yourself to set up one yourself. You thank the Lord on high that Azul was able to teach you basic business skills in able to set this up and how to know your audience - luckily, the townsfolk were quite appreciative and friendly which led you to become part of the community quickly.

“Sure! Order up!”

A smile on your face was evident as you made the latte and put the pastry on the plate. You were thriving; you had been thriving for years in this small and cozy community. It was the epitome of peace and coziness in this village, where the wind was different and fresh and where you were awoken by the sounds of bargaining in the market nearby. You had made the right decision in moving on from the pain of the past, instead moving and focusing on the future.

The regular at your shop smiled at you, taking the latte and pastry from the tray and sitting in one of the seats that overviewed the peaceful view of the sea: from the ripples from the waves visible for all to see, to the seagulls that flew in the air above, peacefully flying and searching for food - and to the townsfolk greeting you from outside the window with a smile and nod.

You were satisfied and content with what you had, you wouldn’t look back to the past not anymore - it was better to focus on the future instead.

Continuing your work, you spent your time idly making tasty caffeinated drinks and delectable pastries that was part of the reason you charmed most of the town’s hearts. It was the reason you had so many regulars at your shop, after all. And when it was closing time, you sat down and smiled at what you had done.

Before you could start closing up the store, you heard the bell ring and a smooth yet familiar voice filling the cafe, “Excuse me, are you still open?”

Looking towards the door, you expected yourself to smile and greet the new customer - you recognized every voice in this town and this one was certainly a new one. And yes, that was how well acquainted you were with each villager. But instead of smiling, you found yourself freezing in place and your mouth dropping slightly.

There was little to surprise you these days; you had borne the brunt of overblots, emotional breakdowns, and while violence was nothing to you - you had gotten used to peace as well. Peace from the people around you and the support you had gotten to those dear to you. There was little to shock and surprise you with, and yet right at this moment, you found your knees weakening, rooted to the same spot.

“…”

Silence was often a peaceful presence in your life, it helped you reflect through your days and things you’ve done - however, as of the moment, you wished you could break the silence yourself. For a while, quiet emanated through the shop as you observed the one person who you hadn’t seen or never expected to see till the day you died (or a school reunion at least): Azul.

When he graduated from NRC and left for internships, you had been an emotional wreck - knowing him, he was going to the farthest place and most successful companies to study and work under them. And you were right. He had gone to study and intern under one of the most successful companies in Twisted Wonderland.

Supposedly, you were going to confess your feelings to him back then, but the moment he was boarding the transportation to his final destination - you couldn’t do it. You just couldn’t. You froze and said one word to him, which was ‘Bye’. And you’ve regretted that decision ever since, it was one of the things you regret, but you’ve taught yourself to move on so it didn’t really matter anymore, did it?

“Well, aren’t you going to take my order?” His voice rang in your ears like a siren’s enchanting voice, beckoning you to reminisce on memories of the past. You were almost tempted to, until you realized what he said - making you immediately snap out of the frozen state and rush to the counter to take the order.

He had an amused smile on his face; he looked so similar yet so different to his past. His features were more matured, while he styled his hair in the same way with his curls - he had the same beauty mark, the same cunning eyes, and most of all: he looked as beautiful as the day he had left you.

“Right. W-What would you like?” Your smile was more wobbly than usual, while your voice was more strained

“Just a simple hot latte, please.” He responded, his head was tilted as he smiled at you; this was the same smile that had you on your knees in NRC.

God, you loved that smile.

At a loss for words, you got to work on his latte - inputting the correct amount of coffee and milk into the mixture - including a cute frothy image of a heart on top. It was the only one you knew how to concoct, and somehow, giving it to him made your heart skip a beat in embarrassment. As soon as you served it, he took a sip and smiled at you politely.

“It’s really good, [Name].”

He remembered you. Well, of course he remembered you; the late nights at his office and the time you spent together wouldn’t have resulted in him forgetting you. So, why in the first place, did you question if he forgot you in the first place? You were stupid, that was for certain.

“What would be better, however, is if you sat down and caught up with me.” He directed a polite smile towards you, a calm demeanor, the complete opposite of your current state. But following his words, you nodded and mumbled one word that fell from your lips:

“Okay.”

What ensued was a long conversation that was the both of you reminiscing over what was missed and what was done.

From the evening to the point where the sun was arising from its slumber, both of you had talked and laughed from the stories you had shared; for hours, you were graced with his presence and smile - and within the short period of time, you could feel yourself resorting to old memories and habits that you had with him. It was the way you smiled and laughed with him, cracking jokes and references that only the both of you could decipher. To him, it may have been a brief meet-up with an old schoolmate and friend, but to you? It was everything that the past you would’ve wanted.

By the time dawn had come, the both of you had glanced at each other like old lovers meeting each other once again after a brief exit out of each other’s lives a long time ago. It was unnoticeable to you, yet it didn’t go unnoticed to him.

“Are you leaving now?” You couldn’t hide the disappointment within your eyes, a small frown on your face as you held back from holding his hand - a gesture of wanting him to stay with you, obvious that you were pleading for him to stop his leave, and for for just this once: choose you.

“Don’t look so sullen. I’ll be staying here for a month, it’s my vacation. Jade is temporarily handling matters for me, and will only report to me if there’s an emergency.” He responded while sipping another cup of tea you had given him while the both of you were talking through the night.

Despite such a long period, the only thoughts entering your head was for him to stay longer, just a bit longer, just so you could relish his presence and his charming smile even more. You wanted him to stay, to let yourself go and feel the same things that you felt back in high school. You wanted the same chats, more time with him, and what you took for granted back then - to now be cherished.

You wanted a chance, a chance to do what you never did back then. To cherish the time you spent with him, and to finally express your old feelings to him - to live with no regrets afterwards.

“Promise you’ll see me everyday?” You crack a smile on your face, one that was filled with varying emotions: nostalgia, happiness, and courage - it was something you didn’t hide. You couldn’t.

Azul’s face wasn’t poised with a smile, instead his cheeks were coated with a light pink blush as he took in your features. But after a few moments, he smiled back - a smile filled with various emotions as well, feelings that you were too oblivious to pick up on.

“Of course. We have a deal.”

“I wonder if I’m going to get scammed.”

“How cruel of you, I wouldn’t scam one of my dearest old schoolmates.”

“We both know you would.”

The rest of the month was blissful, something different from the sort of peace you’re used to. The peace you had when you moved into the village was something you were grateful for, but this was an entirely different experience that you treasured every moment of. Days were spent exploring the town, baking with you, or going to the beach and looking to the ocean where he was reminded of his home. Every moment was sweet and domestic, and you didn’t realize it at first, but somehow - each time your eyes met with soft gazes, each time both of your hands intertwined, and when both of you hugged - it rekindled what you felt initially for Azul into a bright blazing fire of feelings.

You didn’t know what to do but simply laugh when you realized it. Because, how could you? The time you spent healing, reflecting, and spending on yourself, was it all for naught? How could you do this to yourself? When you already know he’d be leaving you by the end of the month, and in turn leaving your life once more. Once again, you were left a pondering and an emotional mess.

You wanted to cherish your time with him, but how could you now? There was. A couple of days left, and you realized something major: you had never really moved on in the first place. How could you see his face without your heart aching in turmoil and the pain of losing him once more? You’d be back to step one, back to how you were like after he graduated.

But despite that, you forced yourself to spend time with him, and unsurprisingly, it makes your heart twist in pain. But you did it, you wouldn’t let him depart without you saying goodbye.

“Doesn’t this remind you of something?”

You had chosen to go stargazing with him as the final activity both of you would enjoy together. You were supposed to be happy, but all you could really think of was how you’d lose him just tomorrow. And what’s more is the fact that this was what you both did together back in NRC before he graduated, you took him to Ramshackle and would gaze at the fireflies and stars.

“Yeah…it sure does.” Your voice was strained, but you managed to clear it out before he noticed it. “Ramshackle was the perfect place for stargazing.”

A peaceful silence made its way to the environment, the only sound being the breeze blowing against both of your skins. The moonlight shone upon each and every little thing, and you really only noticed it as you looked at Azul - his skin glowing as the moonlight showcased every little ethereal detail about him. He looked like a deity under the moonlight.

At that moment, all you could really do was observe his features, admiring them as you’d done in high school when you stargazed with him back then. Then, you laughed. You laughed until you ran out of breath, and until Azul stared at you with curiosity within his gaze.

He smiled at you while chuckling from your laugh, “What’s so funny?”

You took to staring at the stars above instead of staring at him this time, and it helped ease your pain just a little, “I’m thinking. I’m thinking about how stupid I am.”

“You’re not. You passed at NRC, after all.” His reply was disapproving of your words.

Humming in reply, you admired the stars, not bothering to meet his questioning gaze. “No, I’m not thinking about in terms of academics. I’m thinking how stupid I am emotionally - how could I do this to myself?”

You didn’t really care anymore about what happened next, you needed the burden and regret to pass. And so you spoke.

“How could I allow myself to fall in love with you once more? I’m just…frustrated with myself at this point. Once is enough, twice is questionable at this point. Even after years of not seeing you, how is it that I find myself feeling like I did back then within a month?”

Your words were exasperated and tired, it was a wave of emotions and feelings that you were releasing onto him. Unsaid words that were left alone when he was about to leave back then, finally came rushing to the surface.

“I-I don’t understand myself. Just why? I thought I had moved on, but I don’t think I have. I find myself wanting you wholly, to have you within my arms for the time to come and the years wasted on not having you.” You adjust yourself to meet him eye-to-eye, and the only thing you see when you do is a stare with an.indescribable expression. “I’ve loved you since back then, and while things may change, and time will pass - somehow, I think these cursed feelings of mine will change.”

“Forgive me, please. I never wanted these feelings-“

Tears brimmed at the tears of your eyes as you pleaded for forgiveness from him, only to be interrupted with soft lips pressed onto your own. You freeze and after a short moment, his lips detach from your own. “Are you aware that I’ve loved you for as long as you have?” His expression is still indescribable, but with the way his fingers intertwine with yours - you could tell that he was sincere.

“I love you, and I have for a long time. I…just didn’t know if you reciprocated - I came here with the sole intention of confessing what I’ve felt for years to you. So please, just repeat what you feel for me and if it’s truly not what I heard, then I depart the next day and leave forevermore.”

In an instant, you say three words that confirm that everything isn’t just a dream for him, “I love you.” And immediately, he kisses you once more - cupping your cheek in his hand as he pours the years of pent-up affection and feelings into how he touches you so lovingly and gently to the way his lips meld over yours.

And as dawn soon comes, he does not leave, instead he stays; he stays within the boundaries of your loving arms, as you stay in his as well.

188 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 4 months ago

Text

BLOT BATTLEMENT (100 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE)

in which he suffers watching you fawn over his overblotted copy who seems to be in love with you.

SUMMARY: after an experiment gone wrong, an overblotted clone of one of the victims has re-emerged. luckily for everyone, it's reasonably powerless and will eventually disappear. unluckily for him, the clone seems to reflect his true feelings towards you.

PAIRINGS: overblot gang x reader (seperately)

WARNINGS: suggestive (for jamil, vil, and idia), slight possibility of drowning (azul), projection for ob!vil

NOTES: this is in celebration of hitting 100 followers! thank you so much for following my work, and for all the comments you have left behind! i will also be rewriting malleus's section once book 7 is complete! on another note, pls invade my inbox if you immediately see that reference from malleus's section, mwah!

"That's enough. If one of you barks one more time, I will have to show you what happens to unruly puppies that won't obey." Crewel sighs and pinched his nose, another hand gripping his baton in irritation. "Unfortunately, we cannot fix this in an hour. You bad doggies need to get along until this entire issue is resolved."

The professor clicked his tongue, shoving the two out of his office. "I have already contacted someone to get you both. Surely, the Prefect has survived both of you once and will be able to do it again. So stay put, and be good. Or else."

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Seeing his Overblotted self summons waves of shame and embarrassment for Riddle. It was not his best moment at all, and that inky copy is a reflection of his worst flaws and traits. You could imagine how rushed Riddle was to collar his copy in fear that it would hurt others again, especially you who had already dealt with it once.

"Don't make me repeat myself, I demand that I see my King of Hearts, this instant!" It's very much like babysitting a spoiled child, and it makes Riddle so wracked with embarrassment. He cannot control his copy as it stomps and yells outrageous demands to see you. Riddle was really on the verge of collaring it and dragging it back to Heartsyabul when you turned the corner.

OB!Riddle's smile is so wide that it could be mistaken as sinister. "My rose!" Inky blot is smeared all over your uniform as the fake runs towards you. Just as Riddle was about to whip out his wand to stop it, you relax and return the embrace, albeit with a confused expression. Riddle manages to explain very quickly whilst trying to pry off his copy, but you suggest that it is best to let it do what it wants.

What Riddle doesn't tell you is that his copy reflects his desires as well, claiming he is uncertain why it insists on being so affectionate with you. However, it seems to be quite the blessing when OB!Riddle marches to the Heartslabyul dorm to resume its position as Housewarden. In fact, the entire dorm thanks you profusely for being able to manage that little tyrant with a bat of your eyelashes and a gentle voice.

"Trappola, have you not learned your lesson!? Rule #186, you shall not eat hamburg steak on Tuesday! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD—" Tapping lightly on its shoulder, you attempt to placate the copy with a weak smile. "Riddle— I mean, Housewarden Riddle, Ace has not been able to eat all day and the steak was the only thing left in the cafeteria. He did not have much of a choice." Suddenly, the copy's face softened before relaxing back into its seat.

"My rose, I mustn't bend the rules. If I bent them for one, I would have to bend them for all." It scowls, only sinking further into its chair as you rub gentle circles around his forearm. The entire table stares at you with looks of gratitude and relief, all in agreement that you just saved everyone a tantrum's worth of stress. You hummed at the copy, nodding softly. "I know, dear. May I remind you that rules are there to ensure everyone is happy and safe? If Ace hadn't eaten his lunch, perhaps he might have gorged on the tarts instead."

"I suppose you are right, my King of Hearts."

Riddle seethes from the other side of the table, arms crossed and face on the verge of turning red. It was hard for him to decide whether he was merely jealous, or upset at his own copy rampaging around as if he were the real one in charge. He pauses for a moment as an epiphany comes to him.

Is this what it looks like whenever the Prefect is here to calm me down from my temper?

Even though OB!Riddle cannot use his magic, Riddle is extremely watchful of his copy. It is perhaps the ugliest side of him, and the last thing he wants is an Unbirthday Party ruined and spoiled by ink. They only had to put up with it for a day, and surely, Riddle has enough patience to ride out this episode.

He does have to watch and hold himself back as his copy acts so familiar with you. A hand at your lower back, perhaps an inky kiss on the cheek, and you being referred to as 'his rose'? It should have been me!

When his copy disappears, Riddle takes the time to pull you aside and admit the truth behind the blot's behavior. His jealousy seems to have pushed him into confessing, and he makes it clear that he would rather earn your feelings properly instead of coercing you for affection with potential tantrums.

"Forgive me, Prefect. I apologize for my copy's behavior. I have to tell you the truth— it was reflecting my innermost feelings. Prefect, I harbor these affections for you and I yearn to be more than friends. You do not have to tell me anything else at the moment. If you wish for time, I understand as well. Allow me to be curt, at least just this once. I like you more than a friend should, and I would hope to hear your response soon." (So polite!)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

What a drag. Does he really need to help monitor his own Overblotted self? If you were able to survive it once, you should be able to handle that huge lion on your own. OB!Leona appears to be nothing but a grumpy lion who answers to no one, only being forcibly dragged around by his original self.

It changes when you show up. Suddenly, the copy springs to life in your presence and is completely disobeying the original.

You are taken by surprise when OB!Leona backs you onto a wall, a clawed hand lightly brushing against your cheek. "Herbivore," He breathed as his green eyes zoned in on you. "You should be more careful when you wander these halls alone." You couldn't help but gulp as he grins, fangs glinting against the sunlight. "You never know who might just be planning to eat you."

But when Leona takes notice of his Overblot's sharp nails cut into your skin, his attitude changes as well. The original takes initiative to pull you away and stand between you both. Perhaps you don't understand the way they bare teeth at one another, taking aggressive stances as if one or the other would jump and claw at their target. It sets the tone for a very tense environment as you attempt to drag them both to Savanaclaw.

It was best to keep both lion beastmen confined in his room. Considering that OB!Leona was focused on getting your attention, it wasn't hard to manage him. It was all that his overblotted self wanted; attention and absolute adoration. Leona, on the other hand, was more so bothered by the fact you smelled too much like ink in his own room.

"Tell me, do you look at anyone else like this?" Having been kicked out of his own bed, Leona could only stare blankly from his couch as his copy kept you trapped against its chest on the mattress. It only served to annoy him further when you seemed to reciprocate the attention it was giving you. "No, only you." The copy smirks, its tail entangled around one of your legs. "Then tell me, why? What do you adore about me?"

You hummed, sighing while your hand began to play with his mane-like hair. "You're brilliant. You're the most cunning lion that I know." Leona swears you were teasing him as you take a quick glance at him, smiling slightly. "And you're the only one that can protect me." With a mocking grin, the copy cups your cheek and returns your gaze to his own. "Tell me more, herbivore."

When the copy finally reverts back to ink, Leona can't help but find some relief in having the bed (and you) all to himself again. The first thing he does is drag you to the mattress and keep you trapped against his chest. You still smell of ink and lion, and it's his job to fix that.

"Go to bed, herbivore... Ha? I don't have to give you an explanation. You're a smart cookie, haven't you figured it out yet? ... Even with all the answers my blotted copy gave you, you're still not satisfied? Hmph, that's not my problem anymore. You're mine now, is that what you wanted to hear? ... Good. Now if that is all, let's go to sleep. You reek of ink..."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

It had become priority to get Azul's overblotted self into the biggest Octanivelle tank, which also happened to be the most isolated one. While OB!Azul seemed to be temporarily human, he seemed more irate with each second spent on the surface. It only relaxes slightly when it spots you, but his grip on your arm never relents. "Prefect, please. I need the sea..." He's just so needy and in pain. You'd help him, would you?

Azul is absolutely livid. He doesn't want you to see his copy in such a pathetic state. He most certainly tried to get you to turn the other way and march straight home, but you had to hit him with, "Even if it's your overblotted self, I would still help you." It might have been just a small comment, but he takes it as if you would move mountains for him. You weren't making it transactional, and that's practically special treatment for him.

You thought that his overblotted self would settle once in that tank. The copy immediately sheds its human form in favor of his merform, much to Azul's embarrassment. The businessman ready to drag you out and leave that blotted mess to fend for itself when a tentacle had dragged you into the water. Suddenly, you're met with teary blue eyes just before you were submerged. "You didn't plan to leave me here alone, did you?"

And goodness, Azul is just torn between fuming and panicking as his copy drags you further and further down. To make things worse, you haven't even taken a breathing potion! That was more than enough to make the octomer shake off his anxieties and plunge down into the waters after you before you drowned.

"And then what? What exactly were you planning to do once you had the Prefect here?" Azul pinched the bridge of his nose as he crossed his arms, unable to even make eye contact with you. Clutching at the little potion bottle in your hands, you do your best to ignore the way that the copy's tentacles seem to latch onto every single limb of yours. Not to mention how they twitch and slowly coil against your skin, or the way that the copy buries itself into your neck with a whine while it ignores its original.

"Why? Why won't you give me an answer?" It murmurs, arms caging you into its chest. You can see Azul's jaw clench, but you cannot exactly tell if he's embarrassed by how pathetic his overblot can be or envious of how it got a chance to be so close. "I'll give you everything. You will never want for anything. All you have to do is say that you'll be mine." The copy grits its teeth as it tightens its grip on you, tearing a surprised gasp from your throat.

"Why won't you surrender to me?"

The moment that this entire fiasco ends, you never see Azul for another two weeks. Every time you go to the Mostro Lounge to see him, he's suddenly occupied with every single disaster known to man. It isn't until Floyd gets bored of the entire thing when you get the opportunity to be tossed into the tank again. It isn't until Azul jumps into the tank after you with another breathing potion to save you, again.

"Please don't speak of that incident, Prefect. I wish you never had to be witness to such a sorry display... W-What do you mean Floyd told you about that botched blot experiment?! ... Don't play with me, Prefect. You can't just say that you'll surrender to me, you'll hurt my poor heart! ... If you dare say it again, I am afraid that the contract can never be broken. Choose your next words wisely, Prefect. Not all agreements have to be in writing."

JAMIL VIPER

Of all the Overblots here, Jamil's was the most... unhinged one, surprisingly. It was also the nastiest, based on how it seemed to disregard everyone around him. Truly, it was the worst of Jamil's envy and wrath towards everyone around him for shaping him as a servant. No matter what Jamil did to snap some sense into his copy's head, it only served to tick it off even more.

When you came to assess the situation, however, you immediately got the sense that the Overblot will not be cooperative unless it gets what it wants.

"Master Jamil," Both copy and original froze, slowly turning their heads to you, who has knelt onto the floor with a small smile. "A frown does not suit such a handsome face. Is there anything I can do for you?" Jamil remains frozen, mentally screaming in his head while his Overblotted self smirks, sauntering towards you with desire swirling in his maddened gaze. "Rise, my diamond. You certainly may do a little favour for me..."

Thanks to Kalim and the coordination of the entire Scarabia dorm, everyone has tricked OB!Jamil into thinking it was the boss of the place (at least for a day, Kamil is super understanding of the situation!). At least someone expected the copy to see through this farce, but OB!Jamil's ego was so stroked by you and everyone around that it seemed to buy into the delusion.

Unlike Leona's copy which was super uninterested with anything that didn't concern you, Jamil's blotted self was extremely irritant with everyone else. Had it not been for you, Jamil would never be able to live down the embarrassment for having such an... unpleasant copy. So far, there have been no disasters while Jamil was occupied with keeping his copy at bay.

It's just that... Jamil has been watching from the sidelines as you are perched on his copy's lap, feeding it and attending to it's every beck and call!

Gripping his knee, Jamil's eyes narrowed onto your flushed gaze as your fingers combed through his copy's hair. If he had envied everything that Kalim ever wase, he certainly envied the abomination wearing his face as it rested its head on your lap. You didn't have to look at Jamil to know that he was seething, but it wasn't as if you could abandon the blotted copy either. It had only been a few hours since it had latched onto you, and this was not the best time to agitate it.

"It seems that I have not rewarded you." The copy sings. Its expression remains content, shuddering at the sensation of your fingers pulling gently at its scalp. "Do tell me what you desire most." Your breath hitched at the copy's purr. You do not react either as the fake Jamil sits up to caress your warm cheek. Biting onto your lower lip, you shook your head. "I desire nothing but to make you happy, master." You swear that you see Jamil's expression strain itself, and you already see how tight he grips his knee.

"Is that so?" You say nothing when the copy leans in closer to you, licking its lips with intent. You should be frightened, and most certainly be running away, but you don't. "You wish to make me happy, then? Is it me that you want?"

All the signs were there. That copy's hand was pressed against your lower back, the other hand was on your cheek, and his face was so so close—

Its lips are hot to the touch, and you melt immediately into his hands as he pushes and prods with his tongue. Against the candlelight, Jamil cannot tell if your cheeks were truly flushed red. He watches as your own hands crept up onto the copy's shoulders, pressing and digging nails into its shoulders until you have the strength to push yourself away for air.

You pant as your vision returns to you, meeting the copy's cruel smirk. It is looking down on you, and yet, you do not feel animosity towards it. You only feel disappointment once you recall it was only a fake.

"Or perhaps," A gasp is torn from your throat when the fake grabs your cheeks with a firm hand, forcing your gaze to fall upon a stunned, yet flushed Jamil. The copy smiles wickedly against your cheek, humming with absolute glee.

"Is it him that you want instead?"

You nod, and Jamil's heart skips a beat.

Yeah, no. Our boy Jamil ain't recovering from this. The moment that the blot disappears, you best expect that Jamil ain't letting you leave that room without an answer.

"I wouldn't act coy right now, Prefect. You may be clever, but I have no patience for your antics. Now, are you going to be honest with me? ... Why don't you tell me what you want, instead? What? But you were so honest with that fake only a few moments ago. Where have your words gone? ... You wish for me to force the truth out of you, then? ... As you wish, Prefect. I will give you everything you want."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

This was such an inconvenience for poor Vil, and he hates his copy to the same extent that Azul does. Just like Riddle, Vil feels a sense of shame when he looks at his doppelganger because it was a personification of his insecurities and selfishness. However, at least the copy was very calm and cooperative, perhaps even melancholy until it sees you.

Seeing Vil's Overblotted self again doesn't change the fact that the fake was still so beautiful. You are actually stunned into silence when you are brought before the two. Grim swears you have stopped functioning because being in the presence of two Vil's is too much for this world.

If you weren't watching yourself, you would've passed out the moment OB!Vil cupped your cheek with its inky hand and smiled down at you. "Ah, Prefect..." You gulped as it cooed at you, much to Vil's alarm. Its surely dangerous, but danger loves you so much and you can't pull away from it.

OB!Vil never lets you out of its sight after that. Wherever you went, the blot would follow. It seems to be fixated on being in your sights, which was not exactly a problem when you brought yourself to Vil's quarters where you would wait the entire thing out. It does concern you, however, just as the copy seems to grow more and more unhinged with each second that passes.

Vil is not exactly envious of how intimate the fake acts with you. Rather, he's extremely perplexed and observant of the way it pines for your attention and praise like a lovesick puppy. However, it isn't always so sweet. It isn't so sweet when the copy comes so close to scratching at your skin as it begs for your honesty. It certainly does not appreciate being lied to.

"Tell me, Prefect. Who is the fairest one of all?" It asks for the hundredth time.

Vil cannot exactly explain how he found himself watching his copy cage you into his own bed. It has straddled your hips, pinning your hands down onto the mattress without a care for the mess it makes. Ink drips and spills over his silk sheets, his pillows, you. Your neck has been smeared with ink, and so have your clothes. His copy is smiling with ink dripping from its lips and its hair, an obscure yet beautiful mockery of the original.

The original's breath hitches as your lips part into a breathy smile. You look like absolute art, and his fake looks like an absolute mess. "You, Vil. You're the fairest one of all." Vil shut his eyes at your quiet whisper, and he wishes that you stop bending yourself over for this pathetic imitation of him.

The copy snorted in dismissal, a sinister grin taking over its features. "Ha!" Even as it grips your wrists tighter, you know better than to believe that the copy would dare hurt you. Your heart pounds, however, as it leans in closely to your face with desperation on its breath. "Why do you say such, Prefect? Why do you say such when you feast your gaze on the ugliest part of me?" A choked breath stills the copy, its grin growing more crooked and maddened. Ink splashes against your cheek, and the copy pathetically takes a long finger to smear it away, only obscuring your features further.

"Are you trying to lie to me?" It croaked, maintaining that desperately smile.

Vil thinks you'll push it away. Vil thinks that you think of his copy so hideously, and so ugly. Vil thinks that you see him as ugly.

And you dispel all those cursed thoughts as your hand reaches out to cup the copy's cheek, dirtying your own hand in turn. "You've pushed yourself so hard, Vil. You've worked hard for everything you dreamed of." The copy's crazed expression remains, and more ink pours into you. Still, you return it with a gentle smile of your own. "Even when everyone complains, you're only pushing them because you care the most. Perhaps you act like the evil queen everyone makes you out to be, but that crown is yours by right."

Vil's heart stops. He still cannot bring himself to look at the sight. It's that cynical part of him that believe in your acting skills, that this was all a ruse to satiate his fake. The knife digs into his chest further as you hummed sweetly. "Your flaws are just as beautiful to me."

Only then does Vil bring himself to look at his copy. It is still smiling, eyes so wide as blotted tears fall upon your skin. You are covered in ink, covered in the ugliness that had consumed Vil, but you accept it all. You embrace the mess, just as you embrace the ugliness of Vil's heart. "Do you truly mean it, Prefect?" Its whisper shakes with hope, very much unlike the weariness and suspicion it held towards you the entire time.

Both you and the copy slowly glance at the real Vil whose eyes had widened at your softened gaze, filled with nothing but adoration. The heart in his chest ached, and he imagines that his entire body is melting into your hands. You are his weakness, after all.

"I mean every word, Vil."

When the situation died down, Vil takes the time to walk you back to Ramshackle Dorm. However, he makes a quick stop when the moon is set at the right spot, just to cast down light on your starstruck gaze.

"To think that the ugliest part of me revealed such feelings— you deserve an appropriate confession, at the very least. The affection that my fake expressed to you was no different to what I feel for you. I realize... that you meant more to me than you should have. I am not a benevolent prince, nor am I pure as the white snow. Still, I offer my heart for you to keep in a box. I only ask you to accept me, for all my beauty and ugliness... Ha, potato. My lovely potato, you're mine..."

IDIA SHROUD

Surprisingly, Idia got along the most with his Overblotted self. It wasn't as if he was driven by pride or competition— there was just some sort of acceptance when OB!Idia was first manifested. There wouldn't have been much issues.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe before OB!Idia set his eyes on you. It sent Idia into a choking fit when he saw OB!Idia approach you with such cool indifference, acting like one of those aloof protagonists from those dark otome games that he saw on a playthrough once. It's the way that OB!Idia leaned down towards your ear, muttering something about his boredom and suggesting to retreat to his dorm.

Idia took an hour to recover before sprinting to his dorm to ensure nothing has happened. All he found was you sitting on OB!Idia's thighs (it insisted!), and Idia swore that his copy was smirking at him.

OB!Idia was nothing to be concerned about. It wasn't as if it had the power to open up the Gate of the Underworld, which so happened to be far away. Other than the fact that the copy seems so... forward with you, Idia tried his hardest to ignore it.

"You look tense, Prefect." The copy smirked as it gently backed you against the wall. It places an arm right above your head, the figure leaning down at you. Behind the mask it wore, you can almost see it smirking down on you. "Don't I scare you?"

If this was the copy's attempt to intimidate you, ha! You got it covered! Idia is practically weak to any sort of romantic notion, it should surely send his overblot into a flustered fit! Boldly, you close in the gap slightly, crossing your arms around his neck and smiled at him. "Not at all, Idia." Much to your surprise, however, the copy takes its hand to cradle the back of your head, gently nudging your face closer until you barely a hair's worth away from kissing his mask.

"Are you sure about that?"

Suddenly a flare of red catches your attention as you glance to the side to see a fuming Idia who snuck over to your side. Wrapping a possessive arm around your middle, the original Idia glared at the fake and gritted his sharp teeth. "Listen here, bucko. You ain't getting more action than me, so buzz off!" He towers over you, hair threatening to burn orange if this fake continues to toy with you. "You wanna play, huh? Only one of us can have her, and you're nothing but a MagicMart knock-off!"

Cocking its head to the side, the copy snorted. It didn't seem to relent its hold it had on you. Instead, it leaned in towards Idia with a taunting stare. "Yeah? Why don't you ask the Prefect, hm? Seems like our little guest is enjoying all the attention." Both of them glance down at you, who seemed to be busy turning red to even give a proper response.

The blotted copy takes its hand to cup your cheek gently, but it was only a ruse as it forces you to look at Idia, eyes hazy with want. The way your breath shudders makes the original itch to steal you away from the copy.

"Don't you?"

Take that ending however you will. Idia does end up confessing to you once his copy is reduced to ink once more.

"Don't give me that look, Prefect. You totally loved seeing me get all riled up. And don't you dare deny you hated the idea of getting sandwiched by two of me... Please don't make me say it. I ain't good at the 'asking out' part, but I don't wanna skip over to straight up dating. Ugh, fine. I actually liked you for a really long time, and oh Great Seven, I just hope that I'm saying the right stuff to get onto your route. You're the only route that I wanna pursue."

MALLEUS DRACONIA (Book 7 is incomplete at the time of this posting)

Had it not been for the lack of potency in the blot, OB!Malleus would have been the end of NRC. Lilia was not a stranger to Malleus's ability to change the environment based on his mood. Even when this was a mere fake that they were dealing with, no one really wants to find out the consequences of upsetting the copy.

Malleus looks down on his Overblotted self. It was a flawed part of him, but nonetheless, a part of him that he was most disappointed by. The Fae Prince should know better than to act so wickedly, but the original understands. He tries to be as sympathetic as he can be for the copy, but it was only indifferent to what the original demanded of it.

Being the concerned friend that you were, you went to see them both despite all warnings from Sebek. Admittedly, Malleus would rather you be as far away from this poor imitation as possible. He does not want to see you hurt, let alone be at the mercy of his copy. Alas, it is too late now. The blotted copy will not allow you to leave.

Malleus hid his frustrations and anger underneath that collected demeanor. The only thing keeping him from doing anything rash was the fact that you were cradled against his chest. With a protective arm holding your waist, you were seated upon the fae's lap. The copy is forced to look up at him as he sat on his makeshift throne, and the fury behind its eyes is most evident, based on the way its hands grip your knees as if it were the only piece of you left.

Alas, it is only a stalemate now. With each tug that the copy made at your lower half, Malleus would simply pull you closer to him in turn. The fae hummed, glaring down at the copy who seems indifferent to intimidation. "Prefect, you may only say the word and this fake will be no more." He grunted, and you resist the urge to whimper as the copy's lips turned upwards into a smile. "If you wish for it, Prefect, I will disappear." It cooed, and the glint in its eyes reflecting the madness of blot.

Hesitantly, you shake your head and only feel Malleus's nails brush against your waist. "I don't want you to disappear." You whispered meekly, uncertain of what to think of the fake's lovestruck gaze. "Prefect, do you know what I can give you?" Even as the fake is forced down by the original, it still has the nerve to reach out and cup your cheek. "I can grant your dreams. I can make your fantasies a reality. I can give you everything."

Malleus lets out a breath of warning, leaning down to your ear as he narrowed his eyes at the fake with restraint. "Do not listen to this mockery, Prefect." His words are tinged with a hint of desperation, as if he had something to hide, something to shield you from. No matter how much he attempts to intimidate the fake, his blotted self presses on with a cruel smile.

"Prefect, all you have to do is love me, fear me, and do as I say. I will be your servant to will, to rule, to ruin." You are frozen as Malleus loses his temper, swinging out his staff to dispel the fake once and for all. Much to his dismay, his blotted self backs away just in time as its glowing green eyes lock onto yours once more.

"All you have to do is stay with me, forever."

The campus lets out a collective sigh of relief when the OB!Malleus disappears. However, suddenly, the entire campus is holding its breath again when Malleus doesn't immediately let you leave his room.

"Prefect, I beseech for your forgiveness. I fear that the fake has reflected my most selfish desires... You have nothing to fear, for I shall never withhold you against your will. How could I do such a thing when I am already so weak to your whims? ... Perhaps you do not have to stay forever to render me your servant. I pine for you, Prefect. My heart has already been yours long before I noticed. Please, grant me your forgiveness, Prefect, lest you cast me aside and I shall let my feelings fade with time."

2K notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I saw your hanahaki flower event and got interested by it. I was wondering if you can do prompt #18 with azul and a gender neutral reader please?

azul ashengrotto x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, slight angst, miscommunication [wc} – 4,442 prompt 18: “Is this normal here?” “Only for the emotionally unavailable folk.” “Ah, so it is.” note - ending is a bit weak cause it got a bit long. anyways i love my octomer still firmly believe azul deserves to get bitches and eat good food a floral inconvenience

Lavender: while best known for its herbal properties, lavender can also symbolize devotion to a person. You should give lavender to a person you see as pure and virtuous.

You stared at the array of purple colored drinks, sweets, and other treats laid out on the table in front of you.

To your left, several plates of candied lavender, a slice of honey lavender cake, and a grape lavender sorbet begged for your attention. On your right, an iced lavender vanilla latte, lavender lemonade, and a lavender spritzer looked ideal to quench your thirst. In the middle, directly in front of you, was the latest dish you were asked to taste test.

A beautiful Swiss chard, candied beet and goat cheese salad tossed in a honey-lavender dressing made your mouth water as the Mostro Lounge manager himself sat at his desk, watching you on the two-seater couch.

“Well? Go on. I made them all myself.” Azul gestured to the salad with a smug smirk, clearly pleased at your excitement. “Time is of the essence, the spring menu is due to release next week.”

“Oh! Yeah, right.”

You picked up a fork and pierced a beet and chard, generously covered in the dressing and goat cheese. Bringing the food up to your mouth, Azul raised his brows tentatively, watching as you opened wide, and just before you took a bite—

“Are you sure Jade didn’t put anything in this—”

“I promise, I made this all myself.”

“Okay.” You opened your mouth and raised your fork again…before bringing it down again.

“You sure—”

“Positive! Just. Eat. It.” Azul sighed exasperatedly. “I beg—and I don’t beg.”

“Okay! Okay, okay, okay.” You giggled, finally taking a bite of the salad.

A burst of sweet, woodsy and fresh flavor covered your tongue. Pleasant, succulent, and slightly sticky, you hummed in delight at the taste of the salad and dressing. You smiled at Azul, who rested his chin on his clasped hands. You couldn’t see his mouth from behind his hands, but you think he was smiling back at you.

“Azul! This tastes wonderful! Even better than the candies and tarts, oh my gosh!” You gushed as you took another bite of the salad, oblivious to the soft, periwinkle blush on the octomer’s cheeks.

“Try it with the lemonade, it pairs well.”

Nodding your head, you reached over to take a sip of the drink, a sprig of lavender embellishing the top. Humming again from the pleasant tang of the lemon and sweetness of the flower, you beamed at Azul.

“You’re so right! And with all the lavender as garnishes, it’s definitely screaming springtime!”

Whipping out your phone, you started to text, talking as you did. “It’s definitely gonna be a hit on Magicam, I bet I can get Cater to come and—”

“No! Uh,” Azul raised his voice, startling you, before clearing his throat and continuing, “you need to try the rest first!”

“Oh, for sure, but Cater can probably give you free advertising or something—”

In a small panic, seeing the chattery ginger’s profile and your thumb hovering over the DM button, Azul quickly rushed to you. He reached over to swipe the phone out of your hands while simultaneously shoving a spoonful of the grape lavender sorbet.

“Nonsense! I can handle my own advertising!” Azul chuckled nervously, “Now tell me, how does that one taste? Refreshing, yes?”

You choked on cold sweetness, a brief knock at the door drawing both of your attention as the door opened before you could respond.

Jade entered the Azul’s office, pausing at the scene before him. Azul hovering, practically on top, of you with a silver spoon shoved into your mouth. Jade blinked once before giving you both a small smile, tilting his head.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to intrude on such a scene, I’ll come back later—”

“Don’t imply anything, Jade!” Azul briskly added some distance between you two, smoothing his ruffled suit.

You on the other hand, spoon now hanging freely from your mouth, gave Jade a wave and gave him a muffled, “Hi Jade, the sorbets good.”

Jade chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Is it? How wonderful, Azul’s been working particularly hard to make sure everything was to your liking—”

Azul cleared his throat, giving Jade a less than amused glare.

“What is it, Jade?” He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “You know I was to not be interrupted for the next hour.”

Jade bowed his head, still smiling as he apologized.

“Pardon my interruption, but it has actually been an hour and a half, and your next appointment is here.”

“What?” Azul looked at the wall clock with a confused expression, groaning as he saw the minute mark was indeed showing it was half past 3.

“Let my appointment know that I will be with them shortly, my dear?” Azul gave you an apologetic smile, bringing out a handkerchief from his vest and offering it to you.

“Here, I’m sorry to cut our time so abruptly. You still owe me your commentary on the free dishes, so make sure to leave your Saturday afternoon open.”

Rolling your eyes, you wiped your lips as you snarkily replied, “I owe you? Didn’t you ask me for my input on the dishes?”

“The free dishes, yes. Does 5 pm sound good?”

You hummed in affirmation, handing back the lilac fabric which Azul accepted. A sound of surprise left you as Azul dabbed the corner of your mouth, where a bit of the sorbet still remained.

The octomer wasn’t known for casual touches, rather he seemed adverse to them. It surprised you how easily those brush of hands and bodies leaning closer to each other came despite this. You suppose it just came naturally after months of study ‘dates’, shared lounge shifts, and late night talks.

Avoiding eye contact, Azul tenderly grabbed your hand and placed the handkerchief back in your hand. His hands clasped around your own, making your fingers grasp the fabric before pushing it to your chest.

“Keep it for now, it’s dirty anyways.” Azul muttered, snatching his hands back as if you’d burned him. “You can return it cleaned this weekend.”

Nodding your head, you chose to ignore the sudden shift in mood, though it hurt your chest. Instead, you gave Azul a warm smile as he turned his back to you as he cleaned.

“Mkay…I’ll see you later, Azul. Byeee~” You wagged your fingers to the still turned Azul, though you could see the tips of his ears turn light purple. Your eyes stayed on his form until Jade closed the door, in which you followed the teal-haired man out of the VIP halls to the rest of the lounge.

Following Jade through the corridors, you mused out loud, “I wonder if he knows…”

“Knows what, Prefect?”

You jumped slightly, startled as you remembered that you weren’t alone.’

“Fuck! I forgot you were here, you’re so quiet Jade, what the hell?”

Jade chuckled, looking down at you as he slowed his pace to walk side by side. “I apologize, but I was simply asking for clarification, who knows what?”

It took you a moment to process that you’d been speaking out loud, exclaiming, “Oh! Sorry I was just wondering if Azul knew that lavender’s my favorite flower. Yaknow, cause of all the lavender flavored stuff…”

You shrugged, aware of the mischievous glimmer in the golden eye studying your form.

“Probably not though, it’s a popular spring flavor. Not gonna complain about a coincidence though!”

Jade hummed, “Yes, a very pleasant coincidence.”

The rest of the walk was pleasant and relatively quiet as you filled the silence by humming a tune Azul had taught you for musicology. You arrived shortly to the lounge, waving at Floyd through the kitchen door window. Floyd waved enthusiastically back, ladle in hand.

Before you could walk off to the exit, Jade grabbed your shoulder, leaning down to ask, “Prefect, would you like to meet me in the library? My shift will end soon, and I’ll be studying for a botany exam. I’d enjoy the company.”

You shrugged and nodded. “Sure, Cater’s gonna meet me and drop off Grim there in a bit anyways.”

“Wonderful, I’ll see you shortly!” Jade waved you off, turning back to the host stand as you left the lounge to the Octavinelle entrance.

A pass through the mirror and a short walk, you soon found yourself at the entrance to the library. There you saw the familiar head of ginger cradling a sleeping Grim in his arms!

“Cater!” you whisper shouted, grinning and waving your hand excitedly.

“Hey babes!” Cater greeted you, giving you a soft smile and wink. “How’d the date go? Gimme all the deets!”

You scoffed, scratching between Grim’s ears as the little familiar sleepily mumbled, “Wasn’t a date, I was taste testing for Azul.”

“Uh-huh, just a private taste-testing between you and the Octavinelle housewarden?” Cater cooed, handing you Grim. “Then why’d you have me take Grimmy and get him all stuffed and tuckered out at the unbirthday party, hmm?”

“He said he made it specifically for me to taste! Grim would’ve eaten it all otherwise…” you pouted, squinting at Cater as he shrugged and gave you a cheeky grin.

“Whatever you say babe, but like, Azul is super infamously known to never give out gifts without expecting something in return.”

“He is getting something!” You huffed as the two of you entered into the library, following your upperclassman as he plucked books for your alchemy class and he for potion making.

“He’s getting my valuable input before announcing his spring menu!”

Cater gave you another wink before drawling, “Sureeeee, whatevs you say babe! Just don't be surprised by the wedding bells in the near future, I better be the man of honor!”

You two bickered for a bit longer, you more so than Cater, who was content teasing you. Once you both had grabbed the materials needed for class, you searched for a table to get settled before Grim eventually woke back up and begged to get dinner.

A familiar shade of teal caught your eye as you remembered Jade’s invitation to study.

“Ah! I forgot I was gonna meet Jade and study with him!” You waved at Cater, who followed suite, walking over to the eelmer. “Text me later, I’ll try and see if I can’t convince Azul to let you get exclusive pics of the spring menu!”

“Kayyyy, I’m sure you’ll convince your little boyfriend easily enough with a few smooches.” Adding insult to injury, Cater blew you a kiss. “Just pucker them up and boys will melt like putty, trust me I know!”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored your friend’s giggles in favor of greeting Jade with a quiet hello.

“Hey Jade, how’s the studying going?”

Yellow and olive eyes met your own as Jade smiled back, nodding his head politely. “Well. I finished my own work a while ago, so I’ve been browsing some journals on magical flora and diseases.”

Jade gestured to the array of books on the table. Sure enough, the books were labeled as magical pharmaceuticals and botany. You settled Grim on one of the spare chairs and placed your own books on a spare spot on the table. As Jade read a page on the medical benefits of a tentacle looking mushroom, you peered curiously at the other books.

You read the page of one of the books Jade had out, labeled ‘hanahaki’.

“What’s this?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Jade gave you a soft smile, though his eyes glimmered with mischief.

“That. I was simply researching it as a favor for a friend.”

“A favor? From you? Riiight.”

Jade pouted, giving you a sad look. “Why do you doubt my kind-hearted nature?” He continued giving you faux sniffles and wiping the corner of his eyes. When you first started hanging around him and his brother, it took you a while to figure out that Jade liked to tease your soft-hearted nature. He said it was to toughen you up for life in the cold, merciless waters under the sea that you’d eventually call home.

Whatever that means.

“Am I not allowed to simply do something out of the kindness of my heart?”

You stuck your tongue out before replying, “Are you doing this out of the ‘kindness’ of your heart, or cause you want something out of it?”

“Hmm, both?”

Jade winked as you stifled a giggle.

“Sure, both are good…who’s it for anyways?”

Jade held a finger up to his mouth. A secret that he was not privy to share. Despite you leaning in with an expectant look, Jade remained silent, giving you a closed eye smile. Shrugging you looked at the page the book was open to.

“Flower sickness?”

“Yes, a gift from the Flower Bride, it causes the afflicted’s romantic feelings to physically manifest into their beloved’s favorite flora. Typically through flu-like symptoms.”

You winced as you reached up to rub your throat. “Like, coughing up roses? Sounds like a pain.”

“It can be, most find it inconvenient, as it tends to trouble those that repress their feelings. Especially those that would rather deny or remain oblivious to them.”

“Is it normal here?”

Jade pursed his lips, looking as if he was in deep thought before responding, “Only for the emotionally unavailable sort.”

Snapping a finger at him you cheekily replied, “So it is then?”

The two of you shared a laugh before resuming your browsing, Jade now leaning over to read the article with you, thumbing the pages as you read out loud.

“Most recognized symptoms include coughing petals, flowers, and even bouquets in the occurrence of strong feelings. However, sneezing the previously mentioned symptoms is also common.”

“Ah, here.” Jade slid his finger along the paragraph below. “More severe cases can include the patient sprouting flora from their pores, ears, and hair follicles. How interesting.”

You clicked your tongue. “Sounds annoying, ooh wait! ‘Common Flora’!”

Listing off the flowers from the second page, you were blissfully unaware of the entertained expression on the twin’s face.

“Let’s see, roses, makes sense. Orchids, gardenias, oh! Even lavenderrrrrrr…“

I was just wondering if Azul knew that lavender’s my favorite flower.

Azul is super infamously known to never give out gifts without expecting something in return.

I made them all myself.

You drew out the last syllable, eyes hyper focused on the word printed before you as you processed your thoughts like a factory conveyor belt. Slowly turning your head to stare at the teal-haired man next to you, Jade simply kept his small, polite smile as he stared right back.

“...Jade?” You tilted your head.

“Prefect?” Jade did the same.

“Where’s Azul been getting all the lavender?”

“Oh, well,” Jade paused, sifting through the book in favor of letting you stew in suspense. “A few weeks ago he started keeping large bouquets of them all over his room and office, though the latter were used for the dishes he made you.”

“You mean the ones for the new menu?” Maybe you were misinterpreting the whole thing. Yeah, no Azul wouldn’t waste a bunch of lounge supplies on you. Lavender is a popular spring flavor, and your a good friend that’s willing to give him the time of day to test his dishes out. Of course, you’re just being silly—

“New menu? You must be mistaken, we aren’t releasing a new menu anytime soon.” Jade rested his head on his palm, now giving you a rare grin.

“He was quite stressed making the dishes to your liking, seeing as it’s quite a common octomer courting tact—oh!”

Jade covered his mouth in shock, feigning embarrassment as he continued, “I’m afraid I’ve said too much, you’ll keep that last bit between us, won’t you?”

“…You’re an ass, you know that?”

“I’m aware, what are you going to do about it? I just ask that you’re gentle with me.”

Everyone within a 1-mile radius could hear your exhausted sigh of annoyance.

The soft glow of the aquarium walls under the bookshelves brought about an ethereal glow to the VIP Room. A soft, soothing blue glow that did very little to actually sooth your nerves. It paired well with the lavender colored walls.

Speaking of lavender, a warm teapot of lavender Earl Grey was settled on the coffee table, along with containers of sugar and milk. To the right was a plate of iced lavender cookies, small purple buds garnishing the tops of the cookies.

“Cookies, huh? I thought you were more of a cooker than baker, Azul?”

Azul, who was writing down your feedback from the baked brie with lavender honey that you’d just had, hummed in response.

“Yes my dear, I had Trey working for me after the last Camp Vargas, though he was kind enough to leave me a few handwritten recipes in exchange for ending his week-long employment with me early.” Azul explained, looking rather satisfied with himself.

“I experimented with one of the recipes and was able to come up with the cookies before you.” His eyes met yours as he smirked and smugly asked, “They’re to your liking, yes? I made them with your sweet tooth in mind.”

There it was, Azul made these for you. Azul Ashengrotto, who didn’t give so easily without a cost, made them specifically for you in mind, though it seemed that that same train of thought didn’t process in his head. Based on his self-satisfied smirk, and the notes he was taking, Azul was happy that the apparent courting ritual was going well.

“Yeah! I like them a lot, they go well with the tea. Um—” You paused, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before continuing with the plan you and Cater came up.

“Did you make the tea blend for me too? It tastes wonderful, I’d expect nothing less!”

Azul brightened, delighted at your attention and praise, and began to “subtly” brag, “Yes! Normally Jade makes the tea blends for the Lounge, but I personally selected this specific variety to pair well with the lavender.”

A fondness grew in your heart as you listened, not really processing though, to Azul describe the subtle differences between his tea blend and traditional ones.

“This specific blend would be most reminiscent of Early Grey Crème, which isn’t as widely known, but I thought would be better for you as it’s smoother.”

“Really?” You gasped, feigning innocence as you asked, “And you made it all yourself? You’re amazing, Azul!”

With a closed-eye smirk, Azul adjusted his glasses and nodded. “Yes, well with all my family’s experience in the food industry, it’s to be expected. But do continue to sing praises my dear, it’s much appreciated.”

You giggled, tilting your head as Azul resumed his note taking, it was no doubt he was recording your reactions and storing them for future use. The real question was whether to figure out the best way to bribe you with the promise of your favorite foods, or to ensure that his future beloved would have their own beloved treats when with him.

“It’s appreciate that you made this all for me in mind…which makes me think…Azul?”

“Yes?’

Azul was now focused on writing rather than on you. Taking another deep breath, you continued.

“Your cooking for me reminds me of a common saying back home…that a way to one’s heart is through their stomach.”

Azul froze, the soft scratching of his fishbone pen suddenly silenced, from the corner of your eye, you could see Azul’s eyes widen and face go blank.

“Is that something said here too?”

“It’s not a completely foreign phrase to me, so I’d say so.”

You hummed, plucking one of the iced cookies from the tray, sauntering over to the silver-haired man. Azul looked up at you, leaned back into his plush chair, lacing his fingers together as he waited for you to continue.

“I bet, with your mother owning a restaurant and everything…though it has me thinking…”

Azul raised a brow as you nibbled on the cookie, while you allowed him to stew in suspense for a few seconds.

“You’ve never actually cooked at the lounge, have you? Sure you’ve tested out some recipes, making sure they come out to your satisfaction…but it’s always someone else doing the cooking for the customers.”

Taking a seat on the edge of the desk, glowing baby blue eyes met your own, making you wonder if his name was a deliberate choice or a coincidence.

“Yes…” Azul answered slowly, hesitantly really, as he tried to figure out your angle. “I’m a very busy person, and I haven’t got all day-”

“And yet, you cooked for me.”

Azul shut his mouth at that, normally plush lips thinning as his fair cheeks softly turned periwinkle.

“Not only that, but you cooked for me using my favorite flower…tell me, my dear,” He audibly choked at the nickname, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists. “Just how did you know I love lavender?”

You leaned down, Azul’s eyes widening as the distance between you two becoming smaller. Sudden close contact grew a burning embarrassment in Azul, who leaned further into his chair until he no longer could. There was a visible panic in his eyes, which made you feel a bit bad for putting him in such a situation.

Azul cleared his throat, composing himself and saving face as he looked at you with a stony expression. “I…have my sources.”

That wasn’t good, you didn’t need the octomer shutting you out to avoid even the slightest humiliation at the hands of a crush.

“Sources? Like what? Sam? The botanical gardens?” You looked off to the side, noticing a vase with a few stems of lavender. “Like hanahaki?”

A screech accompanied Azul as he abruptly stood, pushing back the chair and stared at you with a frigid glare, lips thin and soft eyes now hardened.

“I don’t appreciate this joke of yours. If you want to our time together making fun of me, I suggest we end it here.”

Panic turned your blood ice cold as you tripped over your feet, now chasing Azul as he went for the door.

“W-what? No, that’s not what—”

“I think it’s best you leave now,” Azul dodged your attempts to grab him, refusing to make eye contact. “I’ll show you out.”

“Please, Azul, I wasn’t making fun!” A ball was forming in your throat, making your voice tremble and breath stutter.

As he turned the doorknob, door just cracking open, Azul turned to look at you only to falter as his face fell at the sight of the tears falling from your face.

“A-are you crying?!” He shut the door close as he rushed over, hovering his hands over your frame. “Why are you crying—”

“Cause I thought you liked me! Jade said—well he didn’t actually say, he heavily implied—that you had hanahakiiii…” You drawled out the last bit of your sentence as Azul’s face turned purple, looking horrified as you finished your sentence.

Azul stuttered out, “H-he implied w-what!? Damn that eel—ACK!” before heaving and gasping for breath. As he suddenly collapsed on his knees, you following suit in worry, Azul began making a choking sound.

Though you couldn’t see his face, you could see the clumps of wet buds fall out of his mouth, covered in inky spit, eventually an entire bunch of lavender heaving out of him as well.

“Auughhh…that—” Azul coughed again, looking up at you with a combination of ink and spit dripping from his mouth. “—was unbecoming of me, I’m sorry…wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

Reaching for your pocket, you took Azul’s handkerchief and gently grabbed his chin to look at you. Azul visibly relaxed as your wiped the mess from his lips, fingers moving to comb through his hair. Sighing as he slowly looped an arm around your waist, Azul ,.....

“I should’ve made Jade sign another NDA when I saw him snooping through my bedroom, should’ve known.”

You let out a breathless chuckle, leaning into his grasp. “Yeah, probably. If it helps I shouldn’t have listened to Cater’s dating advice.”

“You what?!” Azul exclaimed, looking at you dubiously, “You asked Cater for advice?”

“He seemed like he knew what he was talking about!” You defended yourself, pouting. “He noticed that you were cooking for me, when you never do for anyone else.”

He sighed, rolling his head back to look up at the ceiling instead of your face.

“As you said—which I’m assuming was one of the things Jade told you—preparing and providing food to our mates is a courting ritual for Cecaelians. I follow the same routine as my mother: create and test recipes, then pass along the instructions to my subordinates and ensure it’s top quality.”

Azul continued, holding your hand as he stood, guiding you up with him. “We octofolk were shunned out of merfolk society for a longtime, even with the legends of the Sea Witch’s benevolence.”

Reaching for one of the cookies still on the table, Azul brought it up to your mouth, tapping it to your lips.

“It shows that no matter our status, we can provide for the one we’ve devoted ourselves to.”

Bringing a thumb to your mouth, Azul softly pulled your lips apart to feed you. A fond, but embarrassed warmth flushed over you, a matching red blush on your cheeks to Azul’s periwinkle one.

“That’s…sweet.” You smiled, taking the cookie from Azul’s hand, much to his surprise. “And really corny, especially for you.”

Azul clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes as you took a bite of the cookie.

“I’m attempting to be genuine, and you’re calling me corny? How insulting!” Azul huffed, though he gave you a faint smile. “I hope you’re going to apologize.”

“Aww, poor Azul. Of course I can give you an apology, if you’ll accept it.”

He gave you a raised brow, confused but still smiling. “Of course, why wouldn’t I—”

A yelp escaped Azul’s lips as you pressed your own lips against his, smiling as you did. Azul sighed into your mouth, tasting the lavender and vanilla on your tongue while you smiled against his lips. His hands cradled your own, keeping you in place as Azul returned the affection with chaste kisses pressed all over your face, neck, and hands

“Wait—ah! Hehe~” You laughed as Azul’s kisses tickled you, weakly pushing him away as he moved to kiss the tops of your hands. “That tickles, stop!”

“Heh, come on now my dear.” Azul cooed, pulling you back in to wrap an arm around your waist, grabbing the cookie from your hands to feed it to you, which you accepted.

“Let me keep all your affection to me, and mine to you. I am quite a greedy lover, you know?”

590 notes · View notes