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arrianna21 · 5 years

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~To Hell and Back~ Chapter VI (M)

Never make a deal with the devil. Easier said than done. Enter the world of demons where things are not what they seem. Friend or foe, nobody knows. When mysterious and strange incidents come out of the darkness, will you be able to escape the depths of Hell alive and at what price?

Rated M for Mature: This series will contain gore, mutilation, strong language, depictions of death, intense violence, sexual content, themes of horror

Please do not read if the tags above make you uncomfortable. Viewer discretion is advised.

demon!v x reader

Word Count: 7,599

I | | II | | III | | IV | | V | | VI | | VII | | VIII | | IX | | X | |

Yet another morning drags as you roll out of bed in a daze, another sleepless night put to rest. When you go to receive your tasks for the day, Miss briefly glances at you, pausing to stare a few seconds with eyebrows raised in surprise. She says nothing though and merely holds the slip of paper between two poised fingers while you carefully take it.

Going to the kitchen, you methodically prepare the dinner table’s centerpiece, opting for a mixture of pink and orange flowers held firm by black stones. Setting the vase in its place, you return to find the trio of harpies organizing the food. While Mel and Rae work together to refill the spice racks with new herbs, Bren washes the utensils and sets them to dry. A scowl rests on her face as she viciously scrubs the fork within her grasp, pout evident on her lips.

“I can’t believe she assigned me to feed the prisoners again,” she moans. The spoons she’s holding are put with the recently shined ones as she crouches to dig under the lower cupboard for the gruel.

Mel snickers at her friend’s whining. “You should make things interesting like last time. Prepare a special meal for them or something,” she advises.

“Hey, you should toss in a cluster of devil’s tongue. That’ll really spice up their day!” Rae suggests with a wide smile, gesturing to the red peppers hanging on the wall.

Bren rolls her eyes, ignoring the banter while reaching for the cans.

“Your jokes suck, Rae,” Mel scoffs in disgust, twisting the cap tight on the spice bottle. She makes her way towards Bren and snatches a handful of the vegetables from the stem. Cracking open a can of the grey mush, she crushes them within her palm, juice squirting out as it drips into the gruel. It would be easier just to ignore them, to walk away before they even notice your presence, and yet you find yourself doing the complete opposite.

“I can feed the prisoners, if you’d like.” Your quiet offering is met with three sets of eyes, each displaying an emotion of surprise, disbelief, and glee.

Mel is the one to respond to you. “Oh, human. What a perfect idea!” She didn’t have any trace of sarcasm in her voice, which you honestly weren’t expecting.

“I won’t do you any favors in return,” Bren interjects, brows furrowed as she sends you a glare.

You shake your head. “No, no, nothing like that. If you don’t want to go down there, then I don’t mind.”

She shrugs before moving around the counter to assist the other two with the spices. Making your way to the spot she just vacated, you dispose of the tampered cans and take out a new batch of prepackaged meals.

“Human, have you introduced yourself to the prisoners yet? Is that why you’re going down there?” The green haired girl asks out of curiosity.

The counter is stained red from the pepper juice and you grab a rag to clean the mess. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you wet the cloth with water, “I don’t think the prisoners would be interested in knowing who I am.”

Mel gasps at your response, spinning to stare at you in shock. “Of course, they want to know who you are! Why wouldn’t they?” She puts a hand on your shoulder and your arm stops wiping the countertop. “I thought even you humans had better manners than that.” Her eyes are solemn, regarding you with disappointment, as if you had admitted to pissing in their food.

Breaking free from her gaze, you awkwardly move away and quickly finishing cleaning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She smiles. “It’s fine, human, just don’t forget to tell them your name. I’m sure it’s very unique.” The dry tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you and so you merely nod in agreement, setting the cans in a bucket.

Moving past them, Bren glances up. Her mouth opens, voice catching as she hesitates and you stop. “You shouldn’t,” the words get caught, as if she can’t decide on how to phrase her sentence. Her blue eyes drop down uncertainly and they linger below at the bucket before they harden like ice. “You should be sure to introduce yourself to number 14, he’ll like that.”

“Okay,” though your affirmation feels more like a question as you walk by her and down the dark steps of the dungeon.

The basement is just as dimly lit as before with flickering lights being your only guide. As you make your way to the confined prisoners, Hakyeon lifts his head upon hearing your approach, yellow irises watching you with interest.

“So you decided to come back, eh?” His teeth appear to shine under the dull glow of the lanterns as you crouch down and give him a can. He yanks on the tab, cracking the metal open before taking a short swig of the thick substance.

The rest of the people scrabble across the concrete floor, fingers desperately reaching for food and you rapidly pass them out. “I did,” you reply, watching the others retreat into their respective positions.

Hakyeon hums in appreciation, scooting closer towards you. “Will this be a common occurrence?” He wonders as he sets the gruel down. His head presses against the solid bars holding him captive and you eye him dubiously, golden gaze peering from between the metallic grey.

You shrug, “It depends on what chores Miss assigns me.”

He scoffs lightly, flicking his hair to the side. “She won’t care if you take over other people’s tasks so long as your own get done.” Before you can answer, his hand slips through the bars to grasp your foot, fingers lightly touching your ankle. “Did you stop by so you could tell me your name, human?”

“No,” you snap.

“Well that’s not very nice,” the man pouts. “You seemed like the type of person who had manners. Shame,” he sighs. His nails caressing your skin send shivers along your leg and you resist the urge to shudder.

Your hand slides down and grasps his own before carefully tugging it away. “It’s also rude to touch people without permission.” You let go of his hand, watching him blink once, easy smile turning up on one side.

“Fair enough. Then you have my apologies, human. I’ll be mindful of your boundaries in the future.” He sits back against the wall and returns to eating. “Nice accessory by the way,” he compliments, side eyeing the ribbon wrapped around your wrist appreciatively.

“Thanks, I think,” you mutter. Standing up, you reach for the bucket. “I should get going.” You take a step back and turn around, briskly walking towards the door.

“Give my regards to your dear sister,” he cheerfully calls and you instantly still, hands gripping on the bucket handle as though it were anchoring you in place.

Your back stiffens, knowing full well that you’re being watched with heavy interest on your reaction. Turning your head to the side, you look over your shoulder and meet the demon’s eyes. “Who said anything about a sister?” Play his game, but don’t give him what he wants.

Hakyeon drops his head to the side. “That anklet didn’t make itself. And it’s somehow connected to a girl withering away in some hospital bed.” His eyes appear to glow as you walk back over.

Leaning down to where you’re hovering over his seated position, you have half a mind to yank on his head of silky hair and demand that he tells you everything. “Who told you?” Your whisper hisses between your teeth and the molten gold glimmers in his irises.

He gets to his knees, hands wrapping around the bars as he comes face to face with you. “Does it matter? Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the fact that she’s dying? She’s not going quietly either.”

“You know what’s wrong with her.”

“Do I?” His eyelashes flutter innocently, sparking more anger inside of you.

Curling your lips, you ask the dangerous question. “What do you want?”

The man giggles like an excited child, causing a stir among the others as they jerk at the noise. “Now we’re talking.” He practically jumps to his feet and you realize it’s the first time you’ve seen any of the people in the cells stand. Everyone else can barely manage a crawl, as if their energy has been sapped long ago, but not him. This demon looked ready for a dance, a tango that served as a duel between two people. “Tell me your name if you want to build this relationship first. I only work with clients I trust,” he insists.

You also stand at your full height, giving off a sense of superiority. “Who says I can be trusted? Or you for that matter?”

“I do,” he smoothly replies, his cat like eyes observing you thoughtfully. “Mutual trust can’t be acquired if you won’t introduce yourself to me. It’s as if you think I’ll take advantage of you,” his upper lip curls in offense.

“Demons aren’t exactly known for their integrity.”

Your scoff is met with a groan as Hakyeon drops his head against the metal bars, a dull clang echoing from the impact. “It isn’t wise to generalize and group every demon into one category. Now,” he snaps his fingers twice, “your name or get out. I grow bored of this banter.”

Survival instincts tell you to lie, to make something up, anything to keep from relinquishing any ounce of control, but you’re desperate. Desperate for any piece of information and he knows it.

With a resigned sigh, you mumble your name into his ear and he picks his head up. “Finally, we’re making progress. Humans and their qualms, I’ll never understand them,” he laughs to himself as he slides back to the ground, legs spread out on the floor.

“I need you to tell me how I can help my sister, please.” Time was of the essence for both you and her. You didn’t want to bother using it on someone who was just going to lead you on a wild goose chase.

Hakyeon scratches the underside of his chin, contemplating his response. “It seems like she’s dealing with possession, sweet Y/N. Such a nasty experience,” he shudders. The demon steals a glance towards you and catches the horror scrawled across your face.

Tremors wrack your frame as the words fully process themselves into viable sentences. Possession. It shouldn’t surprise you after everything you’ve experienced so far and yet you’re just as lost as before. A sense of déjà vu washes over you when the same questions bubble in your mind. How could this have happened? When did it start? These thoughts swirl manically and you shake your head to unscramble them. Focus on a solution first.

“Okay, so something’s killing her. A demon, I guess?” Your voice quivers as you look to the imprisoned man, surprised to find him watching you with pity.

“So it would seem. Probably by an Engulfed as they’re the cause of most possessions.”

“Does this mean she needs to be exorcised? Will that save her?”

He barks a laugh, “You make it sound so simple. To rid somebody of a demon you’d need to perform a ritual yourself, enough to weaken it and then banish it with positive energy. That could be an old Cross-wielder or someone with their own remedies and charms.”

Your teeth dig into your lip, steeling yourself to continue with your pressing inquiries. “You wouldn’t happen to know said ritual, would you?”

Hakyeon grins and looks up at you. “I’m so glad you asked. Unfortunately, I don’t know the procedure by memory, but I know where you can find it. It’s a specific book you see,” he rubs his jaw and thinks for a moment, “sorry, but the title isn’t coming to me at the moment.”

Huffing, you crouch next to the cell. “What else do you want? I doubt I’m capable of freeing you,” you remark with a glance at the locked door.

Grabbing the can of gruel, he takes another sip. “Oh, you’re definitely capable of escaping, but not without getting caught. Honestly, who trusts the creepy painting in the library?” He notes, his tone light. “Tch, calm down, darling,” he laughs upon seeing your worried expression. “You and your prince’s secrets are safe with me. How about this? I’ll be nice and make this easy for you. In the library there’s a book called Fractum Animarum.It’s going to be on the first level, on the bottom shelf of one of the bookcases. It’s blue, so you can’t miss it.”

“That’s pretty specific for someone who’s stuck down here day and night.”

“I have my resources,” he replies simply. “All I ask in return is for a small book.” His hand dips into the grey ooze. Coating the tips of his fingers, he draws an odd symbol on the concrete. “It won’t have a title, just this picture. Check the side tables for it,” he suggests as he wipes his hand on the floor.

“How do you know I’ll come back? You just gave me all the information I need,” you point out.

His hand slips through the bars and a finger lightly bops the tip of your nose as he smiles with elation. “It’s all about trust, sweet Y/N. Besides, I’m sure you won’t be able to resist coming back later.”

You stand with the bucket and utter a short thanks, heading out of the dungeon with renewed vigor. Your assigned tasks are completed fast and you’re dismissed just before dinner. Taking advantage of the extra time, you head up to the library. The door swings open while you step inside, keeping an eye, and ear, out for the boy that’s surely nearby. Thankfully, you spot him by one of the book carts towards the back writing on the inside cover of some book.

Despite wanting to just find the books and then get out without saying a word, you choose to announce yourself, more so for pleasantries than anything. “Hi, Ink,” you call, though it’s ignored as the small figure continues working.

Shrugging, you head to the enormous bookshelves, ducking low so you scan the rows. After a few minutes, you resort to crawling on your hands and knees as your search takes longer than expected. That demon better not have been lying.

“What’re you doing, you weirdo?” Ink wonders from behind.

You jump at the closeness of his voice and look to find him sitting on the arm of the couch. “Trying to find a book,” is all you say.

“How do you know it’s down there?”

“I have a feeling.”

His white eyes follow you as you crawl past another two bookshelves before you’re finally victorious in your hunt. Just as the demon predicted, you see the blue text resting on the very end of the shelf. You gently tug the thick book out and get to your feet, knees aching from kneeling on the cobble.

Upon seeing the book, the boy quirks his head to the side and reads the binding. “Why’re you interested in a book about possessions?” When you turn to face him, he jumps off the couch, waiting expectantly for an answer.

“Research,” you reply. “Ink, is it okay if I take some books to my room? I promise I’ll keep them safe,” you reassure him when he eyes you with what is obvious skepticism.

“Whatever,” he says before transporting to the other side of the room as he goes back to work.

Making your way towards the library’s entrance, you see a green book lying on one of the tables and you recognize the symbol that Hakyeon drew on the floor earlier. It’s a tiny notebook with a little pencil inside the spiral binding. Deciding to bring it just in case, you grab the book before leaving. You make a detour through the kitchen and snatch two slices of bread, letting Lhaine know that you’re going to turn in early for the night.

Biting into your dinner, you set the books down on your desk and search for the bound paper and ink so you can take some notes. Opening the heavy tome, you go to the first page and start reading.

For many centuries, the art of spiritual possessions has been taught by way of our forefathers. Only those with power and strength within their blood are successful enough to take control of a human being. Beginning with vulnerable mortals is critical for those who seek influence over greater subjects.

This volume is divided into three significant parts: The Desecration, The Conquering, and The Exalted. Each section will guide users on the proper techniques as well as cautionary performances that must be considered to ensure effective ownership of the mind and body.

Regardless of religious affiliation or lack thereof, the host can and must be stripped of rational thought, entering a state of impulses and irrational behavior. Align with particular negative responses the host may exhibit. Higher frequencies of outbursts will wither the spirit quicker. Abstain from holy relics until endurance has been built to withstand the burns.

You sift through the pages and find the subheading titled Demon Species. The first one listed is called Psychlin (L–1) and a small drawing of agremlin with spiked horns is sketched underneath.

Those with Psychlinblood are usually the most skilled when taking a host.

Scribbling down each piece of information, you start a list of things that seem important and then some questions you could ask Hakyeon.

–Psychlin typically prey on the living

–Mark the host with three scratches on the skin

–Transformation process ranges from 3–27 days depending on the severity

The next page had Mindweavers (G–2). A creature brandishing fangs snarls up at you.

–Prey on the last souls in Hell

–Leaves bite marks

–Where do these demons live?

Turning the pages, you find the species Engulfed (R–3). This one doesn’t have any sketch. Remembering the demon’s previous words, you eagerly scan the contents, only to find the paragraphs written in an archaic language of symbols. The next couple of pages offer the same result until moving onto the next section, which returns to a discernable language. Maybe Lhaine can help you with translating. While you’re writing, a chill creeps up your spine when you see horrific drawings of mutilated people, souls crying in anguish.

Your head shoots up at the scraping sound. Did your bed just move or was that your chair shifting beneath your weight? The groaning wood had to have just been the floorboards. It’s an old castle, that’s all. You peek a glance over your shoulder, but the dim lighting doesn’t help.

You stand and gasp upon seeing the shadow on the opposite wall. It’s just your shadow. Shaking your head, you halfheartedly wave your right arm so your imagination will calm down. Your silhouette obeys, only slightly to the right of you. The shadow directly across stays still.

Heart pounding, you jerk your neck around, but no one’s there. Facing forward again, you see nothing. Sweat dips along your skin, shoulders heaving as your silhouette pants along with you. Frantically, you snatch the oil lamp and pace around your room, looking for any sign of the shadowy figure.

You’re just tired. It’s been a long day and it’s late. These reassurances do nothing to stifle the fear clawing inside you as you put your things away before rushing to bed. Blowing out the flame, you bury yourself beneath the covers and shut your eyes tightly, begging for sleep to come quickly.

~*~

The next morning you speed through your tasks. Even Ink can only watch with piqued curiosity as you wipe the tables down with fervor, milky eyes observing you from his perch on the cart. After your lunch, you make a quick stop to your room to bring your books and notes. Except for Chef cleaning the dishes, the kitchen is vacant much to your relief. Holding your things to your chest, you head inside the dungeon.

Hakyeon grins when he sees you and your lips press into a thin line. “Hello, darling! Back with more sustenance?” He wonders.

The demon lithely stands at your approach, but your posture doesn’t ease. “I won’t be able to resist coming back, huh?”

He flicks his onyx bangs aside. “Must be my charms.”

“Not exactly.”

This morning you’d shown Lhaine the encrypted passage and asked if she could read what was written. “Do you think my mom would waste her time teaching me to read Daemon writing like that?” She’d scoffed, brushing her hair with a skeletal comb. “Maybe the Prince could help you when he gets back.”

You didn’t have time to waste waiting on V’s return and you doubted anyone else would be willing to help, which left you with only one option. Return to the dungeon just as the demon anticipated. Opening the text to the unreadable passage, you show Hakyeon the odd symbols, to which he points a knowing finger. “Ah, I wondered if it’d be in the Old Daemon language.”

“Forgot to mention that part,” you scowl.

He shrugs half-heartedly. “At least I pointed you in the right direction. Now, anything interesting for me?” He grips the bars of the cell, casually propping his head on them. You pull out the small notebook with the attached pencil and his gaze immediately focuses on it. “So you did manage to find it,” he smiles fondly.

“I did.”

Hakyeon pulls his eyes away from the book and back to you. “Want to trade?” His hand stretches out while you keep the book close to you, out of his reach.

Gripping the pencil, you turn to the first page lined with a grid. “I could, but it seems like such an interesting game to play.”

His brows raise in humor. “You know how to play Soul Snatch?”

“No,” you snort, “but I could always figure it out through trial–and–error. It’d be a pain to erase all the pages, but I doubt I’d use all of them.” The pencil is poised over the paper and you steal a glance to find him biting his lower lip.

“My my, look at you learning the demon way of bartering. I like it.”

“So you’ll help me?”

He grins. “For the book I’ll gladly repay you with knowledge.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “In exchange for translating, I’ll give you the unused book.”

Gritting his teeth at your counteroffer, Hakyeon keeps his smile polite while he straightens himself. Adjusting the collar of his thin shirt, he sighs begrudgingly. “Unfortunately, you do have the upper hand, for now,” he amends. “I accept your offer, Ms. Y/N.”

Setting the blue textbook on the ground outside the cell, you both sit on the ground while you gather your notes. As he reads, you do your best to keep up, scrawling bits of information in a daze.

–Engulfed are the first species to ever possess a host

–Will immediately find a new host after losing the previous one

–Like poison, slowly taints the soul

–Host can last a maximum of three years

“Wait,” he pauses and quizzically looks at you. “That last part, about only living three years. . . my sister’s been sicker for longer than that.”

Hakyeon gives you a sympathetic smile. “Engulfed like to play with their toys. If it’s an older one, it could keep her alive for five, possibly ten years, if it so pleased.”

Your hand rubs your face, fingers digging harshly. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

He reaches through the bars and lightly pats your leg. “I’m sorry to say, but she’s already danced on the line between the living and the dead a multitude of times.”

Your blood chills as you raise your head slowly. “What?” Vehemently, you disregard his admittance. “No, she’s not—she can’t be—”

“She’s not dead, not yet, but at this rate it may not be long,” he warns you, golden eyes holding slight reassurance. “There’s still time. I’m only saying at this rate another few months is highly unlikely.”

A few months. Hope is already waning along with your sister and yet even with all this information, it’s not much. How could she have gone from being sick to death’s door so quickly? Something had to have triggered this reaction, a catalyst that could’ve stimulated such negative effects.

“Is it possible for them to be summoned?” You find yourself asking aloud.

Hakyeon contemplates this before shaking his head. “No, not an Engulfed. They tend to do their own bidding at their own discretion. Why do you ask?”

You turn the pages in search of anything related to summoning rituals while you explain your thought process to him. “Before I came here, another demon named Sir met my sister. That’s when she started getting worse.”

“Sir as in the Collector?” He props his head under his palm, fingers tapping his chin. “Even if he did possess that level of power an Engulfed doesn’t follow orders. The energy from his presence could’ve strengthened it, but he can’t directly influence those creatures.”

So much for that lead. “Okay,” you sigh, “does it say anything about exorcising them?”

Hakyeon regards you blankly. “This may be a handbook about Possession demons, but I can assure you an exorcising ritual won’t be listed here. Might as well put a holy relic on the cover,” he laughs.

“Well, what about summoning one?” The laugh dies from his throat and you grimace painfully. “I’m just asking.”

He coughs once. “There is a spell for that listed, but it might be better to have your prince present for that.” Closing the book, he slides it towards you before standing up and stretching. “You don’t want to accidentally set a rare demon loose in the castle.”

As he pops his shoulders, you tuck your notes inside and collect your things. “I’d rather not do that unless there’s no other choice left.”

“Only time will tell. Check around the library, there’s plenty of books I’m sure.” He examines his cuticles though they’re surprisingly in pristine condition. Feeling your stare, his attention rises to you. “Yes?”

“Why’re you helping me?” You whisper.

It’s silent for a moment, the two of you watching one another before he blinks in rapid succession. “You have something I want, why else?” he answers and holds his hand out, palm up.

Slowly, you give him the green notebook and he plucks it from your grasp. “A book where you play games sounds insignificant for someone like you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he giggles. “But I can assure you that the contents in this book makes passing the time in this cell worthwhile.” He flicks the pages in a blur before tucking it into his shirt. “I’ll return it in a few days,” he promises.

Nodding, you head out the dungeon and rush to put the book away before going back to your tasks. Though V isn’t home, you still have to clean his room and as you stack the documents on his desk, you wonder how the trip is going with his father. You pick up one of his chokers from the floor and you admire the silken ribbon adorning your wrist. The bruises have nearly faded, but he seemed insistent that you continue to wear it. Fluffing the pillows on his bed, you exit his room and bump into someone as you’re closing the door.

Rae glares, protectively clutching the Queen’s freshly washed dress. She hisses. “Watch where you’re—” Her retort fades, instead muttering, “Excuse me, pet,” her upper lip curling at the word. Stepping around you, she continues on her way without another word.

Perplexed, you can only do the same, going to the kitchen where Lhaine is already eating dinner. Placing the salty pieces of meat within the cabbage, she rolls the soggy vegetable and bites into it. Chef gives you your rations and you sit beside your friend on the stool.

“Rae apologized to me just now when I was on my here,” you blurt, causing Lhaine to chuckle around her food.

“Bet that was a sight to see. Congratulations, she’s probably plotting your demise.” She glances at you. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it past her,” she adds.

You bite into the red meat. “She was about as nice to me as she could manage, though she did call me pet. Even her apologies are littered with insults,” you remark dryly.

Lhaine tucks her hair aside as she takes another bite of her lettuce wrap. “Obviously. I’m surprised it’s the first time you heard someone call you that.”

Your chewing slows as you turn to her. “Pet?”

She nods and drinks a swig of water. “That’s what you are now, sweetie.” Her eyes drift down as she looks at the purple ribbon.

“I’m considered a ‘pet’ because of this?” You indicate to your wrist.

“Yeah,” she draws the word out. “I guess the Prince didn’t mention that part to you.” Sucking on her teeth, your friend takes a bite of bread and chews for a moment. “Well, you’re officially moving up in the ranks. As best as a human can at least.”

“All because of a ribbon?”

“It’s not just a ribbon,” she retorts. “It’s a symbol of status. The Prince gave you, a human, a ribbon with the family’s color. You’re no longer just a servant, you’re his pet as we call it.” Your fingers play with the silk, touching the fabric until you abruptly untie it. “What’re you doing?”

You set it on the table and continue eating. “Taking it off. He said it was to cover the bruise, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I’m sure everyone already knows what happened.”

“They do,” Lhaine agrees. “I mean; I don’t think he was lying. Supposedly it’s also a ward of protection. No one can harm you while you’re wearing it. Whether that’s in the literal or figurative sense, I don’t know,” she mumbles around her bread.

“I think I’ll take that chance,” you reply.

She shrugs and wipes her mouth of crumbs with the back of her hand. “Suit yourself.”

Later that night, you sit in your bed and look at the pouch of powder the Queen had given you. Worrying your bottom lip, you tuck the blue satchel into your nightstand dresser. You move to your desk and open the book once more, peering over your shoulder briefly only to find nothing amiss. That didn’t mean the shadow couldn’t still be lurking nearby. Though you’ve been reassuring yourself it was just a figment of your imagination, a result of you being delirious, you couldn’t put your mind at ease. Shoving your fears aside, you eventually lose yourself within the demonic text. With each turn of the page, you take little notes here and there for reference, yet there’s no discernable information that’s helpful. You debate on going to the library and seeing what other material you can scrounge up, but watery eyes are disrupting your vision.

Stifling a yawn, you glance at your window, which only showcases endless darkness with looming fires in the distance. You lightly slap your face before collecting your notes and leaving your room. Padding quietly down the hall, you make your way to the library and gently ease the door open. Your feet guide you to the shelf where you originally found the blue book. Sitting down, you pull the books down and begin reading. Pictures and varying descriptions line the colorful tomes, but none providing the information you needed. Most of them pertain to the history and origins of Possession demons without offering anything about banishing or getting rid of them.

There’s a pop from beside you, causing you to jolt upright. “Good morning, Ink,” you say to the boy sitting next to you.

“You moving into the library or something?” He asks, looking at the books scattered before you.

You laugh, shoving a red book back onto the shelf. “No, just doing some homework. You want to help me?”

“Why would I do that?” He leans his head against wall, ink dripping, but not staining the cobble.

“I don’t know. Maybe because you want to be nice, maybe you’re just bored.” Ink rolls his eyes, but says nothing. “Why’re you up anyway?” Hardly any light is seeping through the purple curtains, darkness making a slow retreat as the sun rose.

Ink stands. “I’m an early riser. Also morning call will be here soon.” He teleports to another cart and starts his work for the day.

“Thanks for the warning.” You shut the books with a sigh and go put everything in its original place.

“Whatever,” you hear him groan.

Chuckling to yourself, the wooden door shuts behind you as you head to the servant’s quarters.

“Little thing,” a baritone voice calls in greeting. Further down the hall, you see V standing at the top of the stairwell. His golden blond hair immediately draws your attention amidst his black outfit. How he managed to remain so presentable despite the early hours is beyond you.

“Your Highness,” you greet politely as you approach him.

Leaning against the railing, he cocks his head to the side upon noticing your notes. “What’re you doing up so early? I didn’t think morning call had started yet,” he points out with a gentle smile.

You shake your head. “It hasn’t, I just couldn’t sleep.” When he frowns you wave off his worries. “I’ve been reading a lot, that’s all. How was your trip?”

He huffs a laugh. “Oh, splendid. It consisted of the usual arguments over who should have control over which territories. Eventually we got to the main point of the gathering,” his fingers rub the side of his temple while he rolls his bloodshot eyes.

“Fun,” is all you say.

“Eh, the snide comments make it entertaining.”

You’d expected to hear about something more violent, such as a physical brawl, but apparently rude remarks and insults sufficed well enough for royal demons. “At least it’s over now.”

“True,” he nods in agreement.

Sending him a sympathetic smile, you ease past him on the stairwell until you’re stopped when his hand catches your own. He’s looking at your wrist, thumb grazing your skin. “You’re not wearing the ribbon.” He cocks his head to the side.

Of course he would notice. “I decided to go without it,” you admit.

He stiffens, eyes darting up to you. “Why? Did something happen?” His voice is gruff, a promise of retribution hidden underneath.

“No, no,” is your quick reassurance and he settles once more against the stairs. “I just felt like a possession when I wore it.”

The wrinkles in his forehead deepen. “But you’re not a possession.”

Shifting awkwardly, you nod slightly. “I know, but people started calling me ‘pet’ because I’m human and that’s what the ribbon means.”

“Yes, but it’s more so for your well-being and protection. That’s how we’re able to display our status.”

“I get that, it’s just—” you sigh, “why didn’t you tell me what it meant?”

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“You didn’t think it was important to know that people would consider me as your ‘pet?’”

“I don’t consider you my pet.” “You may not, but that’s the message being sent.”

He looks at you directly then, a glimpse of contemplation evident within his irises as though he were studying a math equation. “That wasn’t my intention,” he eventually answers after a moment of silence. “I merely didn’t want a recurrence of the previous night to happen again.”

“And I appreciate that, but I don’t like the connotations behind the ribbon. Besides I really don’t think I’ve earned any favoritism at this point.”

His lips part to answer, but then a screeching whistle echoes from downstairs and you slip your wrist from his grasp. “Excuse me, Your Highness, I need to get to work.”

He blinks slowly as your departure tugs his attention from his inner thoughts. Nodding more to himself, the prince rubs his reddened eyes and wishes you well. Pushing off the railing, he turns the corner while you head downstairs.

Showering and changing quickly, you set about to complete your tasks. Throughout the day, you’re mostly kept upstairs and so there’s no chance of visiting Hakyeon. With a rag and duster in hand, you go to the library, but briefly pause in front of the large doors. You weren’t assigned to clean his room, yet the purple ribbon is still tucked into your pocket after having taken it off. Hesitating, you glance at his door before going to stand in front of it. Raising a hand, your nails manage a small tap though you know it’s too quiet to be heard.

You crack the door open, allowing a sliver of light to enter the dark room and you can barely see the figure tucked into the mass of blankets. V lies on his stomach, a pillow below him as his onyx wings spread out above him, fluttering calmly in sync. You tiptoe towards his desk, sliding the drawer open so you can slip the ribbon inside. Faintly, you hear the bed shift and you spin around. V throws his leg further over the pillow he’s clutching until settling once more. Witnessing this tranquility from him makes you wonder how often he’s allowed to be at rest, without having to worry about others watching his every move. Feeling intrusive, your feet quickly pad across the carpet as you slip through the door before turning the knob and shutting it.

~*~

Later that night, you’re sitting on your bed with the borrowed book across your lap. After poring through the demonic class and species section, you’ve moved onto the symptoms of a possession. Once properly implanted within the host, resort to subtle influences to begin the desecration. To weaken the spirit, the flesh must also be compromised. Weakening the host body with physical illnesses is recommended.

Thud.

You jump at the noise and carefully raise your head. Everything in your room is still the same. Thinking it must’ve been out in the hall, you’re about to return to your reading until you see your closet door glide open. Besides your clothes and towels, nothing else is inside. If only you could blame it on the wind, yet there’s not even a slight draft for a breeze. What looks to be a black mass appears in your peripherals, but when you turn there’s nothing on the bare wall. Slamming the book shut, you throw it on your desk and yank open your nightstand. Unfastening the pouch, you scoop a spoonful of powder and dump it into your cup. There’s not a chance you’re going to sleep with paranoia at the forefront of your mind. Downing the water, you douse the flame in your lamp and go to bed.

Flashing light burns your retinas. Black feathers drop to the ground in messy clumps. Someone hovers in the air before collapsing to the ground. You sway and the person stumbles. The world shifts and reorients itself. A colorless void stretches forth. The dawn no longer bleeds from the night. V lies in a heap before your feet. Your hands are coated wet, never-ending liquid draining from running wounds.

When the sun cannot find me, you shall succumb to my every whim. You are nothing and I am everything.

You heave a gasp, desperately sucking in air. Your mind is hazy, the humidity suffocating the room as though you’re underwater. Stumbling from the bed, you trip over your sheets and burst into the hall. The short breeze barely cools your skin, a pool of heat steaming across your back as you wobble forward. The thin door careens into the wall when you go inside without knocking. She won’t care.

“Sis,” you pant. The figure mumbles a response beneath the sheets and you poke her arm. “Can I stay here tonight?” You tug at the blankets and she pulls them back up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you prod her again until she finally sits up.

“Are you sleepwalking or something?” She groans, shoving her tangled hair aside as she blearily looks up from her pillow.

Crimson eyes vanish the remnants of sleep and memories as reality drifts back. The desolate room is identical to your own and yet there isn’t an ounce of comfort to be found. “Lhaine, I—I’m sorry.”

She blindly feels around for the matches on her bedside table and lights one of the sticks. The wick catches fire and she dips it into the oil lantern where a flame awakens. “Another nightmare I suppose,” she says and you nod.

“I had them a lot growing up. Her room was right across the hall like yours.” Your gaze remains fixated on the thin sheets, fingers playing with a hole in the fabric.

Sitting silently, Lhaine puffs her cheeks out in a half-hearted sigh. Pushing the covers down, she pats the mattress. “Come on, then,” she coaxes while sliding herself to the other side of her bed. You don’t move closer, but rather lean away as you go to stand. Her hand latches onto your own, warm grip tight as she urges you back. “You’re already here, might as well stay.”

Falling into the lone pillow, you rest your head up against her own while you both get situated. “Thanks,” you mumble.

She grunts in acknowledgement, glancing at the clock that indicates it’s half past one. “At least we’ll get a few hours of sleep.” You’re about to apologize, but then she’s rolling over the other way. The words fade on your lips as you watch her breathing even out, light snores following soon after.

You press your cheek further against the pillow and pull the covers over your shoulder. Shutting your eyes, it feels like mere minutes pass until you’re shaken awake. Lhaine hovers above you, a towel wrapped around her waist. Her hair is damp, the tendrils dripping water onto her sheets. The lamp on her nightstand illuminates her figure, ruby irises twinkling from the flickering flame.

“It’s barely four, but I figured you’d want to get back before someone sees you,” she suggests, climbing off the bed. She sits down at her desk while you sit up. Yawning, you stretch, joints fluidly popping as you shift your legs over the side.

“Are we not allowed in each other’s rooms?”

Lhaine shrugs, grabbing her comb so she can work on detangling her hair. “We can, but sleepovers aren’t recommended. We’re here to work, not socialize.”

It’s silent, save for the sound of her brushing. “I’m sorry about last night,” you murmur softly.

She doesn’t stop brushing, jerking the comb’s teeth efficiently, though you can hear the strands being pulled taut. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll admit it was actually nice to have someone sleeping beside me again.”

You stare at her back curiously. “Did you used to share your room with someone else?”

Her movements falter, the brush catching only air. “No, not here at least.” Sighing, she resumes once more. “Back home though, I used to share my bed with one of my sisters.” She pauses and sets the comb down while you silently wait. “Age wise we were the closest in the batch, so we stuck together the most.”

“Oh. Did you drift apart after you came here?”

She laughs, though it’s dryness evaporates any humor from it. “If only. Nah, mom ate her.” Glancing at you over her shoulder, her lips barely lift. “She was the runt and only the strong are meant to live. Survival of the fittest and all that shit,” she sneers.

“Your mom ate her?”

Lhaine licks her lips. “Uh huh. Usually it’s the other way around with the spider hatchlings eating the mom if necessary, but nope, my mom’s special like that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. . .me too.” Standing abruptly, she unwraps her towel before tossing it aside. “Ha, look at me spilling secrets like that. And not even a drop of wine to go along with it.”

“Lhaine,” you say only for her to roll her eyes and wave you away.

She slips her dress over her body, tying the strings with articulate precision. “Don’t worry about me, just go get changed already. I’ll see you in a bit,” she says dismissively.

Her back is to you, so you’re unable to catch a glimpse of her facial expression. Before losing your nerve, you walk toward her and wrap your arms around her waist, cheek pressing against her protruding shoulder joint. She sighs, yet her muscles relax beneath your hold slightly.

“I mean; I would’ve been the first to go if not for her. Yet the wretched maggot lives on,” she mutters under her breath.

You scoff. “You’re more than that.”

“Obviously. I’m a wicked black widow now.” Chuckling to herself, she pats your arm and you let go.

After reassuring you multiple times that she’s fine, you eventually leave to get ready. Shutting the door quietly behind you, you go to your room and gather your shower supplies. As you walk down the corridor, you’re left contemplating the recent news Lhaine had just revealed. It isn’t until you’re standing under the lukewarm water that you let the tears fall.

———

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A/N: Okay, so this is way overdue! I know it’s shorter than usual, but I’m planning on combining the next two chapters together to hopefully make up for that. Please let me know what you think as it not only means a lot, but it also helps me know if I’m doing a good job in my writing. Thank you so much again for reading!

#v scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #v #bts #demon!v #My writing #To Hell and Back

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