#Coping with an unreliable friend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sungbeam · 6 months

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𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 — part one (i – vii)

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

your sister's dead, but apparently that's not the most shocking news. maybe she wasn't killed on accident, maybe ji changmin isn't really human, and maybe the monsters were never under the bed but all around you...

▷ genre, warnings. strangers 2 reluctant allies/friends 2 lovers, slow burn, demon/supernatural creatures au, angst, action, murder mystery-ish au, forced proximity trope, suspense, gore, depictions of violence and blood, themes of death and grief, use/description of weaponry, swearing, a slightly unreliable narrator bc she has no idea what's happening, reader's sister is dead, mentions of stalking, humor bc coping mechanisms, reader has hair long enough to braid sorry, blood drinking, the barest of proofreading and editing done...

▷ part word count. 22.3k words / 47.4k - read part two here

▷ associated songs. teeth (5sos), wet nightmare (bibi)

a/n: i tried to make it scary I SWEAR but changmin brings the clown out of me 🤥 anyways i ripped a chunk of my heart out and im serving it to you bloodied on a gold platter, i hope u love her :') read the warnings ofc and lmk your thoughts <3 also i completely gave up on wrestling w blr so im dropping it in two parts, but both of them at once 🤣 pray for me.

#1—NEXT OF KIN.

THEY TOLD YOU YOUR SISTER'S DEATH WAS AN ACCIDENT, they being the authorities who had shown up at the front door of your apartment with their caps in hand, solemn faces pressed into lines that you could not read between. The world had fallen out from beneath your feet like someone had just yanked the carpet out, and you hadn't yet stopped falling.

The funeral was set on the rolling green hills of Elysium Memorial Park, the cemetery where your parents were buried, where your grandparents were buried, and now, where your sister joined them six feet under. Generations ago, your grandparents had purchased plots for themselves and their future family members while the land was cheap. When it came for your time to leave this mortal coil behind, you too would join them in the dirt of Elysium. It almost seemed right that the sky had opened up to reveal a blindingly hot sun, not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Perhaps the sky would not weep for your sister, but celebrate her life instead.

But while the heavens above would shed nary a tear, you could make up for that loss yourself. Having little to no living relatives left, you had been expected to take responsibility for all the arrangements, all while grieving, all while studying, all while trying to not fall apart some more. You were holding it together by the zipper of your dress pants and the caffeine from your coffee. You couldn't stop crying for the entire service, the forced silence of your cries balanced by the violent tremors in your shoulders.

Your sister Sena's patch in the land was now marked by a heaping pile of dirt. She had a lot of friends—most of whom gathered behind you and had thrown their flowers upon the dirt hill. You had a few distant relatives as well who you'd managed to remember (somehow) amongst all the madness. A couple of them were able to fly out for the event, but most had to decline.

When you heard your name being called, you drew your blazer sleeve over your eyes in a futile attempt to dry them.

Walking towards you now was a couple, middle-aged, dressed in black from head to toe, not far from how you looked right now. You knew them from about a week ago when they had sought you out after the news of your sister's death spread.

You hadn't the heart to sue them when they confessed who they were. It's our fault, they told you in the quiet of the hallway outside your apartment, we're so sorry. We understand if you'd like to press charges.

Sena was a victim of an automobile accident. You didn't know the entire story—was too tired for the whole story—just shocked she was even in the country. She was supposed to be across the world for a study abroad program, but why was she discovered on the side of the road, a few towns over, inebriated and dead? She became nothing more than roadkill and a statistic in death, and maybe that was why you were so bitter.

"Yn, it was a beautiful ceremony," said the woman—Julia, she had introduced herself as that week ago. Her nose was reddened from the friction of tissue paper, her eyes damp and glittering in the sunlight. "I'm sorry you—that you have to deal with all the pomp and circumstance."

"We know you deserve your time alone," joined her husband, Carter. He tucked his hands into his pockets, mustering up a smile for your sake, but you could still see the guilt flooding his eyes with water. "We just wanted to say thank you for letting us come and pay our respects."

And for not pressing charges. But you dashed that thought away. That was the bitterness talking, but these were good people. They had come forward and been honest, and it wasn't their fault Sena was drunk. (Why in the world was she drunk and here and why didn't she tell you the truth—?)

"Thank you for coming," you replied, "I wasn't sure if you would take me up on the offer, to be honest."

You wrapped up conversation with the couple and watched them depart across the grassy hills toward their car. Your eyes surveyed the last bits of the lingering crowd for familiar faces—anyone at all. But all you found were strangers.

These were all Sena's friends, after all. She had always been the more adventurous of the two of you.

You sighed and resigned yourself to start looking for the funeral coordinator to discuss payment and the like. Though the event was over the worst was just beginning. There was so much to do, and so little energy left to perform them.

But as you began trudging through the plush grass toward the far end of the plot, you noticed a man standing beneath the shade of a nearby oak tree. He wore typical funeral attire—the black dress shirt, pants, shoes, and even a pair of rectangular shades to cover his eyes. Like many of the others, you didn't recognize him—at first.

And then he shifted, lenses of his glasses reflecting sunlight and you could just barely put together the puzzle of his face and his identity. Ji Changmin.

What was he doing here?

They were friends, too, Yn, you reminded yourself. Yet, you weren't sure why you were so surprised he was here. Maybe it was because you never remembered extending the invitation to him (but someone could have spread the news by word of mouth). Maybe it was because several months had passed since you last saw him. Maybe it was because you always thought there was something… strange about him (but that could have been your bias; there was always this thing about him that irked you). Either way, you never had anything to say to him before, and that had yet to change even in light of your sister's death.

The two of you stared each other down, and for a moment, you believed he was going to walk over to you.

But instead, he pushed off the tree trunk and made his way toward the trickle of funeral goers up the hill, leaving you to wonder after him.

The next time you saw Ji Changmin was a week after the will reading.

Because you were Sena's next of kin, you were contacted by your shared attorney about Sena's will. Apparently, she had a will. After all these years, you couldn't even fathom the idea of needing one so early, but for some reason, she had. (Maybe that worried you a little more.)

The strangest thing was that your attorney had delivered to you a flat lockbox made of steel and secured with an old fashioned lock and key. Along with the stash of money in her savings account (where the Hell had all of that come from anyway?), Sena also gave you that. Whatever it was.

You had yet to open it when you bumped into Changmin on your way out of your college's academic counseling center. With recent events, your departmental advisor called you in to discuss your academic plans for the foreseeable future.

You can take as long as you like, Yn, she'd said to you. You're already ahead of schedule to graduate anyways. But that wasn't the point was it?—

"Oh." You stopped short as you rounded the corner and nearly crashed into something. "Sorry," you said before you even recognized him.

A pair of dark, feline eyes looked you up and down. "Yn, right?" Changmin drawled. A pair of white wired earbuds hung from his ears and his shoulders were fitted with a dark colored bomber jacket that was familiar to you. You'd seen it draped over the back of one of your kitchen chairs once when Sena had him over for a project.

Your eyes shuttered. "Yeah. Changmin?"

His nod was barely there. He cocked his head to the side in a way that felt like he was trying to gaze into your soul. "I'm—I'm sorry for your loss," he said, grappling for the right words. "Sena was a good friend."

"I didn't realize the two of you were so close," you told him. This was probably the most he'd ever said to your face, and you to him.

Changmin gave a small shrug. "We worked closely together, so it was kind of inevitable. How are you doing?"

You didn't think the conversation would last this long. "Oh, uhm, I'm fine." You inwardly knocked yourself over the head. He's probably just trying to be nice, Yn. "I mean—" you amended, "—I'm doing as well as you can imagine, I guess. Just lots of legal stuff and…" Her room. Cleaning out her room. Opening the lockbox. Reading her last will and testament for the fiftieth time.

When you didn't finish your sentence right away, he nodded again, shuffling on the balls of his feet. Was he feeling as awkward as you were? "I get that. Hey, if you—y'know, like, need anything—"

"You don't have to do that."

"What about coffee? Just… to talk."

Coffee? You considered him for a second. Before, you nor he had ever given any indication to the other that you acknowledged the other's presence. In fact, you confessed to Sena once that he intimidated you, even if he was just sitting there in your shared living room while pouring over JSTOR academic essays.

He was patient, you realized. Then you relented. "Okay. When's good for you?"

You thought you saw a glimmer of relief in his eyes, but that could have just been the afternoon sunlight. "Now?"

Your eyes widened a smidge, and you coughed. "Uhm now? I—I have class…?" You didn't, but the curve ball that was an impromptu coffee session with Ji Changmin wasn't something you needed right now.

His eyebrow lifted as if he didn't believe you. "Okay," he dragged out. "Tomorrow morning?" He offered as a counter.

Your brain did cartwheels in an attempt to figure out if you would have the willpower to do that. "Okay," you said. Better to get this out of the way, right?

"Do you know that one place on Magnolia?"

"The one across from the Eight Ball?" You perked up in recognition. You and Sena used to go all the time. The two of you liked to say that Magnolia was her street because it housed all her favorite places; just the thought of taking a stroll down it made your eyes water. "Yeah, Sena and I used to go all the time."

Changmin paused, his mouth opening, then closing.

You guessed what he was thinking. "It's fine if we go. I'm not gonna like, burst into tears or anything," you chuckled awkwardly, clearing your throat when excess tear fluid made you congested.

His lips pursed, impressing a dimple into his cheek. "Okay, only if you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." It seemed that everything you said to people was something like a lie nowadays.

It was late when you finally faced the lockbox.

The box was an unassuming hunk of metal, flat and slim and no bigger than a standard piece of paper. You warmed the key in your palm until it was hot to the touch and made your skin redden. The sky outside your apartment window had darkened to a blot of ink, the white shutters drawn shut to create a white paneled shield. You just finished up a very lazy dinner, washed up, and decided to confront the last thing on Sena's will.

The lockbox in the bank under my name goes to my sister, Yn Ln. She is the only one allowed access to it until she opens it; what she decides to do with the contents is her choice.

There must have been something important inside it, you reasoned, otherwise it wouldn't have been a part of the will and it wouldn't be under lock and a single key.

"What is this, Sena?" You asked aloud, venturing to twist the lock open with the key. The locking mechanism gave way, and you set the lock and key aside. The shorter end could slide open like a hidden door, and you peered into the dark depths, almost afraid of what you might find between its jaws.

You could make out the silhouettes of shapes at the bottom, the soft-cornered texture of a wad of bills. You reached in.

One of the things she had left for you in her will was all of the money in her savings account. It had shocked you to see the number—you always thought her only job was at the library, but clearly, she was not just on a librarian's salary.

Pulling out a stack of cash from the box was yet another thing that helped solidify in your mind that something was off. The confusion settled first, and then the betrayal. Had she not trusted you with this knowledge while she was alive? You were the one going into accounting and finance, and yet, she hid all of this money from you? Was she afraid of something? Afraid of judgment, of the law?

You tossed the twenties onto the table. The note slipped between the rubber band and the first piece read something along the lines of 'in case of emergency.'

You made a plunge into the box again. This time, you pulled out the last two things at the bottom, a standard white index card and a small, fabric pouch. The card displayed Sena's familiar scrawl:

You're probably wondering what any of this is, but if you're reading this, it means that something's gone wrong—like really wrong. The necklace in the pouch is super important. DON'T TAKE IT OFF. Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't trust anyone. This is really important to me, Yn. Please be safe; I love you.

x, sena.

Please be safe? Safe from who or what?

You held the note in your hand for a moment and couldn't believe this would be the last thing you received from her. It would be a tangible legacy, in a way, and you weren't sure how to feel about that. You moved the note to the table and turned your attention to the pouch.

You carefully tugged it open. She said it was a necklace, right?

"Oh," you voiced aloud while fishing out a thin, silver chain.

There was a pendant attached to the end with some heft to it. It was a deep, bloody red in the loose shape of a teardrop. There wasn't a sharp peak, but a slightly flat end on one side and a rounded end on the other. You would guess it was some kind of precious stone, but when you stared at it long enough, it looked like the color pulsed… like a heartbeat.

Your breath hitched.

Eyes narrowed, you held it up to the light by the chain. The vibrant red remained stagnant—perhaps you were just tired.

Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't take it off. Don't trust anyone.

Strange request about a necklace. For a moment, you wondered if your sister had indulged in some unsavory acts to achieve the numbers in her bank account and the previous stone in your hands. If you put this on, would you be counted as an accomplice to robbery?

"God, you just need to go to sleep, Yn," you muttered, swiftly clicking the chain into place around your neck. There was no way your sister would have anything to do with—

You froze.

From the other side of your shutters, you swore you heard the sound of shuffling. It wasn't unheard-of that the leaves and tree branches knocked against your second-floor window once in a while, but there hadn't been much wind as of late.

A chill spider-crawled up your spine as you strained your ears to hear more.

When you came up with nothing, you shoved the pendant under your shirt and cleaned up the lockbox. You had an early day tomorrow, after all; sleep was dire to face Changmin.

But as you crept into bed, you couldn't help but feel as if the stone on your sternum did have a heartbeat, and that something in the dark was watching you.

#2—GHOSTS ONLY HAUNT.

YOU STEPPED FOOT ON MAGNOLIA STREET looking for signs of your sister.

The morning air was a little cooler as spring filtered into town, and it also meant that this street in particular would begin to swirl with baby pink petals from the trees of the street's namesake flowers. There weren't many people around on a Thursday morning, but the sun peered between the buildings to say hello, at least.

You were in good company.

"Hey."

"Holy shit—" you whipped around to find Changmin almost right behind you. Your heart stuttered against your ribcage, your hand flying to your sternum where the necklace was. You were still getting used to its presence.

He gave nothing away with his facial expression. Damn him.

"I didn't realize you'd be early," you breathed as you tried to get a grip on yourself. Did this guy just materialize out of thin air everywhere?

Tongue in cheek, he said, "Well, I couldn't really sleep, so I figured the morning air might freshen me up a bit. Shall we?" He gestured with his elbow and chin to the establishment to your right.

There sat the quaint, little coffee shop you'd both agreed on yesterday. This one was one of Sena's favorites. She always claimed that their blueberry scones were the best in the world.

When you didn't say anything for a little, he cleared his throat. "We don't have to, if you can't or don't want to."

You hadn't even realized you were being quiet. Thoughts had been muddled as of late. You cleared your throat and stumbled for the door. "No, we can go in."

Two cups of coffee arrived at your table seven minutes later in compostable cups and a pile of artificial sweetener packets and creamer. You straightened in your seat across from Changmin and began ripping open sweetener packets and wondering if you should have gotten something of substance to eat. (You had stared at the blueberry scones for a long minute before deciding that today was not the day you wanted to cry in front of someone, especially this someone in particular.)

Changmin moved his cup toward his side of the table but made no move to add sugar or cream, or to even drink it.

This place was so familiar to you that you knew exactly how many packets of cream and sweetener to mix in, and you gently blew a breath over the steam floating off the surface. When the liquid hit your tongue and your throat, its warmth enveloped your nerves in a warm embrace, assuring you everything was going to be okay. The emotion hit you like a freight train.

You pressed your thumb against the rear gland in your right eye and willed it away. "So uhm," you said, fanning your eyes gently as you attempted to pull yourself together in front of him, "what… what did you wanna talk about? If there was anything?"

He folded his arms over his chest while leaning back in his chair, and you thought you saw his gaze soften. "Why don't you take another sip?" His eyes went to the coffee. "It'll help."

You couldn't deny that suggestion, and you reached for your cup to take another small gulp. The breath you let out rattled.

This was a bad idea.

"Are you gonna be okay if I talk about Sena?"

You nursed the coffee cup in your hands and nodded slowly.

He eyed you for a moment, then relented. "Did she happen to leave anything that was marked for me? Before the—the accident, she said there was something she needed to tell me."

Something she needed to tell him? You racked your brain, eyes drilling into the wood grain of the coffee table between you two. The will hadn't mentioned anyone else but you. And all of the letters or notes from Sena that were given to you were all for you; the attorney would have handled the rest and mailed them off to anyone else she'd written something for.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "No, I can't think of anything. You say you were expecting something?"

The resolve in his eyes steeled over, and that little bit of softness you'd seen before disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. You couldn't read him anymore. "Yes, I have her texts."

He fished out his phone from his pocket and you pursed your lips as he maneuvered to a screen of his and your sister's last messages to each other:

sena: i think i'm going back home soon, so i'll c u then changmin: okay that's fine changmin: wait ur still over there?? i thought u left already? sena: had to talk to someone abt the thing, but it was a dead end sena: just remind me that i have something to tell u changmin: what? sena: it'll be better if i said this in person

That was all Changmin let you see.

You leaned away from his phone, head reeling more from the fact that he knew she had been out of town and knew where she was and why she was there. Never mind the fact that apparently, Sena was holding onto important information for Changmin. You couldn't care less about that.

You supposed the texts were for him to prove to you he was telling you the truth. It wasn't like you weren't telling the truth either.

"Why was Sena out of town?" You asked him. "Did she ever go on any of those study abroad trips?"

Changmin paused, then something flickered in his eyes. "I think I showed you too much."

"I think you showed me too little."

"Yn, did she tell you anything about what she needed to tell me?"

You were going to push against him for your own agenda again, but the slight pressure in his tone made you think twice. There was something urgent in his words, his expression, his body language. You couldn't tell what it was, but something about this had to have been important.

Absentmindedly, your hand rubbed the area where the pendant sat on your chest beneath the collar of your shirt, and his eyes followed for a moment before flickering back up to your eyes. "No," you told him quietly. "She didn't tell me anything."

He must have believed you, because defeat shuddered across his face, and he said goodbye to leave. He didn't even take his coffee with him. Asshole.

You told yourself it would be months before you could bring yourself to go through Sena's things, but after this morning's run-in with Changmin (because it wasn't even a session; you could hardly call it anything but a run-in because it lasted maybe ten minutes), you were determined to unlock her door and do some digging. Clearly, she was hiding more than her money and jewelry(?) from you.

Changmin… he completely ignored your questions confronting him about Sena's whereabouts and her purpose for traveling. You were getting more and more suspicious as to what your sister had been up to lately. Changmin had to be in on it, too, then. He had to be.

Sena's door took up your entire vision as you stood before it with the key in your hand.

You weren't entirely sure what you were expecting when you opened it, but it was as if she had never left. Everything was where she left it—plum-purple covers tucked beneath the mattress, vintage national park postcards hanging from fairy lights by wooden clothespins, jackets layered over the back of her desk chair. There was an empty mug on her desk with the remnants of a red lip tint on the edge, and you knew you weren't going to remember to take it out to the sink later.

The small shelf-nightstand hybrid next to her bed was filled to the brim with books and notebooks and magazines. You settled gingerly upon the edge of her bed, palms pressing against the comforter.

The room still smelled like your sister.

You took the small bottle of perfume on the nightstand and spritzed a little onto your wrist. You pressed it to your nose, letting the scent make your senses woozy. It wouldn't bring her back; it didn't smell exactly the same when it was on your skin.

You set the bottle back onto the nightstand, then lowered yourself to your knees to pull all of the books off the top shelf. You stuck your head into the empty cupboard—you weren't really sure what you were looking for.

All of the titles here were the normal things you remembered seeing her read: assorted mythologies, books on the occult and supernatural, her textbooks for anthropology and archeology. There were about a dozen and a half National Geographic magazines that you flipped through within the next two hours, as well, all of which turned up nothing of curiosity.

None of the bound books were notebooks of any kind.

You crawled over to her desk—rifled through those. Nothing. They were all school related and completely, utterly ordinary.

Disappointment weighed you down into her desk chair as you hit another dead end.

Was there nothing she could give you?

No, she's dead, you thought to yourself. You'd never known Sena to be a secretive person, especially with you—in fact, you were the quieter of the pair, and she always managed to coax the right things out of you.

Sometimes you had felt like the older sister because you handled so many of the logistics and practical things, but when the world became too scary, you could always count on running to her to feel safe again…

Safe.

Sena, were you ever safe? You were beginning to think not so much.

"Do I need to file for a restraining order?"

It was getting ridiculous how many times you ran into Changmin in the past two weeks. It was outside the advising office, on your way to the store, in the hallway outside your finance lecture. And now, he loitered in the lobby of your apartment complex with a wired earbud in one ear and the other dangling freely.

He seemed to be unfazed by your remark as he peered over at you from beneath the brim of his cap. "What if I just live here?"

"But you don't," you huffed, coming to stop right in front of him. You had a feeling you would have definitely known if he moved into this building. "What do you want from me, Changmin? I'm not going to magically lead you to my sister's secret stash of whatever. I just want to get to class."

"Then go to class," he said simply. He gestured with the phone in his hand toward the door. "I'm not here for you."

You narrowed your eyes at him. Perhaps you were being a little silly, and this was just some weird trick your brain was playing on you to make you notice him more. "Answer me something."

"Only if you answer something for me."

"This isn't a negotiation."

"Worth a shot," he said with a sigh. "What shall I answer for you?"

"You and my sister weren't dating, were you?"

He must have choked on his own spit because he coughed, furiously thumping his chest. You would have laughed if this was any other circumstance, and if you and Changmin were friends (but you weren't). He shook his head at you. "No. Your sister wasn't interested in me like that and neither was I. We were strictly colleagues."

You cocked your head to the side. Colleagues… you let that marinate. "Okay, so did she have anyone she was seeing then? Just out of curiosity." A former lover you didn't know about would make sense, something like a Bonnie and Clyde situation maybe. Or perhaps you were chasing after ghosts to get a glimpse into the past.

"Someone I suspect, but I don't have their contact," he replied, mimicking your head tilt and narrowed eyes. "If you had her phone—"

"I don't."

"Ah, a shame then."

"Do you?"

"And why would I withhold such an important item from the next of kin?" He drawled.

Changmin suddenly jolted upright from the relaxed position he stood in. It was so abrupt, it gave your heart a start. "That's my cue."

You followed after him out the front doors. "What cue? Did you hear your microwave go off or something?"

You swore to God you saw his mouth curl up in amusement. But it might have been just your imagination. He yanked his other earbud out and lifted a hand in goodbye. "Something like that! See you around."

He disappeared around the corner before you could follow after him. Plus, you really did have a lecture to get to. (Wait, did he say that she was seeing someone—?)

You sighed, wondering if you should follow him… something in the back of your mind told you it would be safer not to.

#3—MONSTERS AMONG MEN.

YOU SWORE JI CHANGMIN HAD TO BE a psychic with the amount of times he predicted your whereabouts. Every time you saw him in your vicinity, you and he shared either a verbal sparring match or stared one another down. He seemed amused by it; you were growing increasingly concerned, even if it was all just coincidence.

(There was this one time, on a Wednesday this past week, where you were the one who appeared at the anthropology department to see one of Sena's old professors. Changmin was there, as it was his major's headquarters, and shot you a curious glance. The meeting was innocent and an accident. No, you definitely weren't stalking him. Absolutely not.)

(It was interesting to consider whether both of you thought the other would lead you to something of Sena's. You were certain he knew more than he let on, and perhaps he thought the same of you… Shit, maybe you should invest in a taser.)

Additionally, the weird sounds around your apartment had increased. Sometimes when you walked around in the evenings, the hair on the back of your neck and your arms stood at attention, as if you could feel the gaze of someone or… something watching you. However, every time you turned to look, the crazier you were convinced you'd become.

It didn't help that the necklace Sena left for you kept mimicking your heart beat when you weren't paying attention. If you willed it to repeat the steady beat in the light so you could observe it up close, it would cease.

It was as if distance from your skin or touch left it without a heart to echo.

You were half certain you were losing your mind. It had to be all this stress and emotion overwhelming you.

Saturday morning, you decided to pick yourself up and go see your sister. The funeral home had called you earlier this week to say that her headstone was complete, so this would also serve as a trip to ensure everything was engraved correctly before it was placed over her grave. You dressed yourself up in a dark top and comfortable jeans, something you might be able to sit in on the grass as you lingered in her presence, even if she was dead.

Ever since you went through her things, you hadn't ventured into her room again. You thought it might preserve the way it looked, smelled, felt… preserve something of her.

Once you'd gone to the funeral parlor and management center at Elysium Memorial Park to confirm the engraving, you took a brisk walk up the hill to where you remembered Sena's plot to be. The sun peered out between clouds this morning, giving the sky a dual-toned appearance, one half a dark gray, and the other a gossamer yellow.

You started down the hill, head ducked to watch for any graves or hills so you didn't trample over other people's bodies. A bundle of flowers from the grocery store sat cradled in the crook of your arm—a bundle of pink carnations ("I'll never forget you") and dark crimson roses (mourning). You didn't often pay attention to the meaning of flowers, but you thought if you weren't able to choke anything out today, then at least they could speak for you.

Just as you neared the grave between oaks, you lifted your head, your footsteps slowing at the person who stood over your sister's grave. "You have got to be shitting me."

"Isn't it a sin to curse over someone's grave?" Changmin asked as you stopped short of where he was. There was a single stem of sunflower (adoration) seated at his feet on the bundle of earth that was Sena's resting place. "Well, I wouldn't know. That's not my expertise."

"What are you doing here?"

He gave a loose gesture with a flourished hand. "Visiting a friend. Don't leave on my account. She's your sister."

It was as if he could read your mind. You didn't count on anyone being here when you saw her, but he had a right to visit her, too. The bitterness seeping into your bones would have to be squandered for today; the universe just needed to stop making the two of you bump into each other.

You ignored the quickening pitter-patter of your heart and the necklace, and trudged over the grass to where he was.

You gently placed your bundle of flowers next to his, then straightened to stand beside him. The two of you stared at the patch in the ground in silence.

A frown etched itself onto his face, along with a crease between his brows. He seemed almost angry—at what, you couldn't tell. Not you, you hoped.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to the grass to sit down and be closer to her.

I miss you, you voiced into your head, as if you could transmit these thoughts to the dead body in the ground. I'm so… it's too much, Sena. I can't do this. I don't know what you want from me, I don't know what Changmin wants from me. The apartment is cold. Why didn't you tell me you were home all this time?

For the moment, you let your vision blur with tears.

You covered your mouth with your palm to dam the emotion inside, especially with someone else right next to you, but dignity be so fucking damned. Your body trembled with the weight of everything and beyond—you were Atlas carrying the world upon his shoulders. Pressure mounted in your cranium from how hard and freely you sobbed, your fingers pressed to your face to support your head as your tears wet the earth beneath you.

A presence lowered itself to the ground beside you, and Changmin remained politely quiet. He breathed in deeply, but you heard the slight tremble of his breath when he exhaled.

Maybe you were crying for the both of you.

After what seemed like eons, you sniffled, pawing at your puffy and reddened eyes with the sleeves of your shirt. You hadn't brought along any tissues or anything, an oversight.

You gathered your wits about you and clambered to your feet, your knees knocking together like a baby deer. Changmin still had his eyes pinned to the ground.

"Whatever the Hell you want from me," you told him hoarsely, "I don't care. Just leave me alone."

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Without another word, you walked away to head back to the bus stop.

Your skin prickled when you returned home. The air was oddly… off, and a strange smell lingered in the air. It was subtle, only becoming apparent to you with deep, focused inhales. The identity of the smell eluded you and it wasn't something you were familiar with.

You kicked the front door shut behind you, and noticed that the window was ajar. Had you accidentally left that open before you left?

Strange.

You padded across the room to peer out at the street below. There sat the usual tree that occupied the space in front of your window, the one that you assumed (hoped) was the thing making all of the noises outside the past few weeks. (Because if it wasn't that, you didn't want to know what it really was.)

The thought occurred to you that you might have opened the window before you left to air out whatever smell had crept through the air vents. Yes, that made a whole lot of sense.

Settling with that explanation, you cranked the window closed slightly, only leaving a sliver so you could muffle as much of the sounds outside as possible. This part of town wasn't the noisiest, luckily, but when there were vehicles that drove by, they tended to be loud for no reason.

You sighed, settling down onto your couch with your bag. The whole rest of your day was open, and the only thing you had thought of was to go see Sena.

The feeling of eyes on you loitered on your skin like an invisible ant crawling over your body somewhere. You swiped at your neck, rubbed your arm… you couldn't identify it when you swung around to observe your own home.

This was your home, wasn't it? Why did it feel like you weren't alone in it?

You were going to go close the window—

A shadow appeared on the ledge of your window sill and you let out a scream.

The mass gnarled its teeth at the sound, pouncing at you with claws and fangs that glinted in the daylight.

You scrambled backward on the couch, toward the opposite end, your heart throwing itself up against your ribcage. "What the fuck?" You breathed, trying to figure out what in the world it was.

Bad idea. Oh, baaaad. Bad. Bad. Bad idea.

You shouldn't have stared so long; then you wouldn't have realized it had multiple rows of teeth, a face pale as a full moon, and two beady eyes narrowed into slits. Saliva dripped from its maw and down its chin as it crawled on its haunches and arms to you.

It made a guttural noise, then lunged.

You swore and fell over the arm of the couch, dragging along the lamp on the side table. You tried to move your right leg off the arm—it didn't budge. Oh god, it had its claws in your pant leg—

"Mine," it snarled, surprisingly sentient. "Master wills it so."

You kicked it in its face and managed to scramble away, clutching the lamp in front of your body as a weapon.

It ran after you, and your body leapt into instinct.

You nearly slipped as you fumbled to your feet and tipped the coffee table over the creature. "What the fuck are you—SHIT."

Wood splinters exploded as the creature smashed clear through one of the legs and went careening for you.

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE," you begged, running for the kitchen and the block of knives in your sight.

Your knees hit the wood floor with a vengeance, and you had no time to mourn over bruised knees. You twisted around and just barely shoved the lamp between its jaws before it could enclose them around your neck—

Somebody pounded on your front door. "YN? YN!"

Familiar—that was all that went through your head. "HELP ME," you screeched, your hands growing slippery from the slobber. Desperation filled your veins and you gave a violent shove.

Your front door bursted open, the handle banging against the opposite wall and leaving a dent.

Changmin charged into the room with a dark look in his eyes, a swear on his tongue. "You're the little weasel who's been fucking with me."

The creature shifted his attention to Changmin. "Your Disgrace," it gave a mocking bow.

That seemed to be his ticker.

You couldn't comprehend what happened—only an exchange of blows, a blur of body mass—Changmin brawled with the creature on your floor and you dragged yourself behind the kitchen counter to hide. You reached for a knife from the knife block up above and pulled your knees to your chest, the sounds of snarling and wood breaking and bones cracking—then—complete silence.

You slapped a palm over your mouth, eyes going toward the ceiling to pray to anyone who could hear you.

This was when you died. The creature had killed Changmin and now it was coming back to finish what it started.

You held your breath with your eyes wide open. You strained your ears. The sound of a sigh met your ears, one that was oh-so familiar to you.

"Shit," came Changmin's voice. "Yn. Yn? Yn, where…?"

He rounded the counter, his hair sticking up in different directions and a large tear at the top of his shirt, but other than that, he seemed no worse for wear. He eyed the knife pointed outward at him, and he showed you his palms as if placating a rattlesnake. "Woah, hey, it's okay. It's gone now."

Your body trembled from head to toe with all of the pent up fear and adrenaline. You shook your head, your hand still clapped over your mouth to keep your screams or cries in.

Changmin lowered himself to your level slowly. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise, it's gone and you're okay now. Let's put the knife down."

You slowly, slowly brought your extended hand down, letting the blade point toward the ground and away from the man in front of you. "What—" you choked, "—what was—who are—"

His facial features arranged into something short of stress. "It's a long story…" He roughed a hand through his bangs. "That thing back there? Yn, that was a demon."

You blinked.

He exhaled sharply. "I'm a demon."

"Don't fuck with me."

"You think I'm fucking with you?"

Your free hand clutched at the pendant around your neck. "You—you don't look like that thing though."

He gave a nod. "Right, I don't. I'm… a different kind of demon." When you remained quiet, he prodded, "You're not going to fight back? You're not gonna tell me you're going crazy?"

"Oh, I know I'm going crazy," you nodded vigorously, wiping away the snot that dribbled down your nose inelegantly. He reached over the counter to grab the roll of paper towels and slide it over to you in an act of (rare) kindness. Your head made contact with the cabinet behind you. "Is the carcass lying on my living room floor, Changmin? Tell me it is not lying on my living room floor."

"It's not."

"Then where the fuck is it?"

He licked his lips, closing his eyes. "It escaped."

"Out the window?"

"No, through a portal—"

You wheezed, and you were sure you looked half mad to him. "Oh my god, I really am off my rocker." A portal. A portal! Of course it was a portal.

He pinned you with a look. "Yn. Yn, listen to me. You're not safe here."

"No shit. I almost died two minutes ago." You saw his unimpressed expression and forced an apology out of your mouth. "Sorry. Humor is a coping mechanism. You can't just tell me demons exist without me thinking we've both gone absolutely insane."

Changmin settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, gripping onto the edge of the counter behind his head. "Yeah, your sister reacted similarly when she found out."

Everything came to a screeching halt.

"What?"

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Supernatural creatures exist. The ones that you read about in books and in myths and legends, and watch in silly movies and TV shows?" He gestured wide with both his arms. "They exist—we exist."

You could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You swallowed. "And she… she knew this?"

A nod. "Yes. We've all been walking among you this whole time."

"What does this have to do with Sena?" What did any of this have to do with your sister? Was this even worse than you imagined it was?

He pursed his lips, exposing the little mole beneath his bottom lip for a moment. "Sena and I were… business partners. We were in the bounty hunting business, essentially."

There were words coming out of his mouth, but it was too much. All of it hit your head and fell straight to the floor, and none of it truly sank into your sense of reality.

Sena was a supernatural bounty hunter? And she died while on a case. A personal one, he said—?

"—I was coming over to show you something when I felt my trap get triggered."

"Wait, wait, wait," you cut in. "Trap?"

"I've been hunting that demon for weeks now," he explained to you, but the words were coming out slowly like he was reluctant to let them go. "It's been… avoiding me, and I tracked it to your apartment and realized what, or who, it was after." His teeth ran over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed on you. "You're wearing it, aren't you? The pendant?"

On instinct, your hand shot up to your sternum. "How the Hell—"

"That's what Sena and I were looking for." His sharp, feline gaze remained pinned on you as you slowly lifted the chain to take the pendant out. It glistened like a fat, red ruby in the daylight. "What did she tell you about it?"

"Absolutely nothing," you said plainly. You set the knife on the ground beside you and adjusted your sitting position with a shaky exhale. "Except that I shouldn't let anyone touch it before me, that I shouldn't take it off, and to not—trust anyone."

You stiffened when Changmin reached for something in his back pocket.

"Relax, this is what I wanted to show you." He held his hands up after retrieving a cream-colored envelope from his back pocket, majorly bent and crumpled in some portions, but intact for the most part. He slid the envelope across the kitchen floor to you, and you immediately recognized your sister's handwriting.

You gingerly picked it up off the ground and inspected it. It couldn't have been forged—the way she wrote her R's were too distinct. She was so weird about always writing capital R's even if it was supposed to be lowercase.

You opened the flap and tugged out the letter inside. As you made your way down the note, it came to you that this was his evidence. This was his evidence that Sena knew him personally and that, according to past-Sena, you could trust him.

Your fingers shook as you pushed the letter back into the fold, and you shoved the envelope back over to him. "Okay," you muttered. "What now?"

Something akin to relief washed over his face. "She didn't tell you anything about the pendant? Nothing?"

You shook your head, fondling the stone between your fingers. "No. I found it in the lockbox she left for me with cash and a small note."

"Lockbox?" He perked up. "Are you certain there wasn't anything else in there? Not a second stone or a second necklace? Nothing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought, and you pressed your thumb and forefinger to your closed eyes when they began to sting from dehydration. "No. It was just those three things I mentioned earlier. Why?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you said. "I am absolutely sure. You don't think I turned that thing upside down?"

Changmin stood up and began to pace around his side of the kitchen, his head buried in his two palms. "Oh fuck," you heard his muttered swear.

"What is it?"

He rubbed his hands down his face, and it reset him to that careful blankness from before. "Do you trust me?"

"No," came your automatic answer.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Your sister was after something important before she died. She—she was supposed to update me about it when she got back, but she never did." He carded a hand through his hair again. "It could reveal to us more about what happened. Didn't she mention anything about how important this was?"

He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. Sena wrote it plainly in her final note to you about how important this necklace was, and keeping it with you. You supposed you could dash out any thought that she stole this from a bank or jewelry store… a mortal one, at least.

What the fuck was this thing made of?

You enclosed your fist around the stone. "So what are you saying?"

"We need to finish what she started." He considered something for a moment, then added, "And you're not safe here."

Something panged in your chest. "I'm not teaming up with you."

Changmin took a couple steps toward you and from this distance, there was an unmistakable ferocity in his gaze. "I would agree with you, but unfortunately, if I want answers and the pendant, then I'm stuck with you."

Your blood pressure spiked. "You're such an ass."

"Ass or not," he drawled, "you can stay here and risk that cretin coming back for you, or you can come with me, and we can figure out what the Hell happened to your sister."

Your bones, your joints—everything ached as you clambered to your feet. God, you were tired. A grave sort of determination trickled into your mind, though, at the thought of getting away from this. It didn't seem like there was much other choice anyway.

#4—SURVIVE THE NIGHT.

IT WAS LATE WHEN THE CAR pulled into the motel parking lot. Your ass was on fire from the long drive, and your mind hazy from sleep deprivation. Fear kept you awake for the entirety of the eight hour trek between home and nowhere. You would have worried about Changmin in the driver's seat, but considering you found out he was a supernatural being literally eight hours ago, your worries consoled themselves.

"This was the best out of the selection," he murmured, barely audibly, as he put the car in park. The glow from the motel lights was the only light for miles, and the red-violet from the neon sign washed over Changmin's sharp side profile like a grungy teen thriller show.

A yawn stretched out of you and you reached for your seatbelt. "Wasn't complaining."

He sent you a pointed look. It was a silent "Really?" You pointedly ignored it.

The two of you clambered out of the car and you massaged your back and butt with reprieve. Your hand reached for the red ruby settled beneath the fabric of your T-shirt, the warm stone solid and present between your fingers. Changmin slammed his side of the car closed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, and you were swift to follow his lead.

Your fingers drummed against the side of your pants just as the main office came into view. There was someone seated behind the front desk with her head buried in her phone and Candy Crush on the screen. You and Changmin walked up to the counter and her head flicked upward.

Her eyes darted between you two and something or other clicked in her head. "Room for two?" She droned, already clacking away on her computer screen.

"Yes please," you sighed. You knew there was no way you were getting around her assumptions.

She smacked the gum in the side of her cheek, twirling around in her chair to reach for a key on the wall behind her. "It'll be thirty bucks," she said, sliding the key across the counter, "and we don't have condoms."

You and Changmin both coughed, heat rushing to your face. "None needed," he muttered as he slid a twenty and ten dollar bill over to her.

You collected the key and checked for the room number. Sleep crept into the corners of your eyes again and they were starting to sting from dehydration.

Changmin eyed you from his peripheral vision and nodded his silent thanks to the girl. He swept an arm loosely around your shoulders to guide you back out to the night beyond the main office. The room you were assigned was on the second floor of a building just a little ways down the complex. It was outfitted with a single queen-sized bed and bathroom, and the lights fortunately worked well enough. You couldn't decide if it was a good thing that you were too tired to assess the cleanliness of this room, but you made a beeline for the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower," you announced, already closing the door.

The last thing you heard was his grunt from the other side.

You dumped your backpack on the lid of the toilet then braced your forearms on the sink counter. The lights in here were a dull gray and made you look sickly in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath your pinkened eyes—the receptionist probably thought you were drunk or high. Exhaustion hit you like a bus, your limbs sluggish and heavy.

So much had happened in the past 48 hours.

You ripped the shower curtain back and fiddled around with the shower until cold water spouted from the top.

Changmin was a demon. He was Hellspawn. You'd messed around with the idea of him being a pain in the ass before, but you never expected his demon-ness to be true.

When the water warmed as much as it could, you stepped beneath its drizzle. The ruby pendant from your sister sat on your sternum, safe and warm, and you watched it pulse with a glowing scarlet beneath the stream of water.

Your sister.

A few weeks ago, you watched her body lowered into a ditch in the ground. A little before that, you were told her death had been an accident. Now, you were on the run.

From who or what? You weren't completely sure. That was what Changmin was here for. Well, technically he was here for the necklace your sister left with you, but after what happened at your apartment that caused the two of you to go on the run, here you and the necklace were. Plus, the note your sister left explicitly instructed that the necklace be kept with you—on you. (You still weren't too certain of anything.)

When your fingers began to prune, you reluctantly stepped out of the shower to slip on a new set of clothes from your backpack. You went through the motions of getting ready to sleep, too, mind fuzzy and unable to make sense of anything.

You wrestled down a sigh and desire to cry. You were tired, for fuck's sake, you were so tired.

But when you opened the bathroom door, flicking the light off, you paused. The room was dark.

Your breath hitched in your throat and the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention. Heart pounding, you took a step into the main room.

"Chang—" A palm closed around your mouth, another cupping the back of your head.

Panicpanicpanic—

A warm breath by your ear. "Calm down. It's just me." Changmin.

Fucking Hell.

You found his eyes as yours grew more accustomed to the dark. His head twisted over his shoulder to the window by the door where you could see silhouettes walking past, silent and stalking.

"Someone's here," he exhaled as he slowly removed his hand from over your mouth. His dark bangs hung in his eyes, his mouth set in a firm line. "They can sense the pendant, I think."

Your heart thundered against your ribcage—ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—

Changmin's head whipped back toward you and he fished something out of his pocket. He reached for your hand, closing your fingers around something cold and metal. "Slowly put your backpack down and barricade yourself in the closet over there," he instructed quietly, finger pointing in the direction of the sliding doors just to your left. "If it comes to it, use the knife, Yn."

You bit your tongue to keep your breathing as steady as possible. Your hands shook around the switchblade he'd passed to you, and under his sharp eyes, you carefully lowered your bag to the ground without making as much noise as you could. Then, with his go-ahead, you crept as quietly as possible toward the closet.

Just as you reached for the slot in the door, all Hell broke loose.

The window shattered open, the door kicked off its hinges. Your entire body tensed as you dropped to the floor behind the bed, clutching the knife in front of you.

Changmin swore, nice and loud.

Shadows pummeled him to the ground until he was tangled in darkness, like nightmares brought to life. You saw a flash of claws in your view, your scream caught in your throat.

"You."

A blur of shadow whisked across your vision and your eyes went wide.

The creature crawled over the bed and pounced toward you—you rolled away from him, blade held out in front of your body. Oh, there was an awful wave of déjà vu coming over you.

"You are a difficult being to find, pet," the creature hissed. You were beginning to make out its features now—dagger-like eyes, claws that could easily rip flesh apart like cloth, and a maw of knives for teeth. Shit straight out of nightmares.

It cocked its head at you, crouching on the floor a few feet away. Why hadn't it attacked you yet?

"Curious," its scratchy voice croaked. "The master will be pleased when the asset is brought home to her."

The asset? It must have meant the necklace.

You heard a snarl from your right, and in horror, noted the thick, dark liquid splattered all over Changmin's clothes and body. When he snarled at the demons holding him down, you spotted the gleam of fangs.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice trembled, returning back to your main problem. The necklace sat warm and present, the pulses matching your racing heartbeat.

The creature released a sound like grating metal, something akin to a laugh. "Your guardian is more dangerous than he appears," he said instead while tilting its head to the side. "Clever being, that one. Master will be pleased when we bring his rotted corpse home."

You didn't anticipate how quickly it would move. You screamed as the creature dove for you and you swung out of the way. Its claws dug into the meat of your thigh, clinging to the flesh there with all of its might.

Fear struck painfully through your chest and you desperately twisted around to stab the blade into the side of the creature's neck.

It screeched. You drew the knife out to impale it in the back area, messily splattering an arc of its black blood everywhere.

You sucked in a sob as you scrambled backward. Its body dragged along the ground from its claws still sunken into your leg. The body was limp, but your nose wrinkled from the acrid, hot smell reeking from the corpse. It smelled burnt.

You peered at the blade in your fist with new eyes. The silver glowed gold in the darkened room; you shouldn't have expected anything less. Why did you think a mortal weapon could defend you from demonic creatures?

"YN!"

Too late.

Claws sunk into the sides of your throat and trapped your voice there. You thrashed around; panic stabbed your chest. Pathetically, desperately, you reached your arm back to try and drill the blade of your knife into the creature behind you.

Hot blood squelched down your throat—you were losing feeling there. Numb numb numb—it hurt, oh fuck, you were going to die—

All at once, the pressure subsided.

Breath could only flood into your lungs as quickly as blood spilled from your throat. You were choking, eyes wide up at the ceiling.

This was it, this was it. Maybe you'd see your sister in Hell.

A face appeared above you, sweaty but familiar. Your blurry vision couldn't make out the emotions on his face, but you could hear him… boy, could you hear him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, rustling around and adjusting his position above your body.

His rough palms cupped your face. You could hear your heartbeat slowing in your ears. Ba-boom… ba-boom… ba… boom.

"Stay with me," he panted. His left hand pressed against that side of your neck to staunch the blood flow. He sucked in a breath and he ducked out of your view.

You felt a different wet sensation over your open wound. His tongue was rough, yet soothing as he lapped and sucked on the gouge in your throat. Feeling sparked in that area; you could feel your skin physically stitching itself together. If you could squirm, you would have.

He was swift to switch to your other side and copy those actions there. He groaned low against your skin, one hand cupping the side of your head to hold you in place.

Oxygen rushed through your lungs and you gasped. You tore your neck away from his mouth to dry retch. Blood dripped from the side of your lips to the dusty carpet. You had been asphyxiating on your own life force.

You flopped back onto your back, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gestured wildly at the steaming demon carcass still attached to your thigh. "Ple-please," you whimpered. "Please, get it off."

Changmin crawled onto his arms, sliding down toward your leg. "Yeah, sweetheart. I got it."

He looked up at you as he dug his fingers into the creature's skull, ready to pry the thing's claws from you. Something dark was smudged over his face—his nose, cheeks, across his eye. "It's gonna hurt," he warned, voice hoarse.

You moved your head in a microscopic nod.

Tears pricked at your vision, and your leg screamed. Blood filled your mouth even more from the force you used to clamp down on your tongue. Changmin was swift, but gentle as he removed each claw from your thigh, then tossed the body somewhere behind him. He lowered his face to your leg to carefully lap at your wounds like he'd done before.

When he was done, he flopped onto the floor with you, his sigh filling the awful silence.

You could feel everything. It was pulsing all over your body. Your skin, threading together, tingled and ached and throbbed. Your cheeks were damp with tear tracks and your fingers finally loosened their grip on the switchblade. Your mouth was coated in the metallic iron taste of blood.

The only familiar feeling was the pendant on your sternum. The bane of your existence.

"So you have magic spit?" You croaked, your voice scratchy from your sore and bruised throat.

You heard his huff, the closest thing you'd ever heard to a laugh from him. "It's regenerative," he exhaled deeply.

You snorted, then winced when it hurt.

If you could look up, you would've seen the corner of his lips twitch.

"Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

You heard a soft shuffling sound as he clambered upright to lean against the wall. His head thumped against it, eyes fluttered closed. "I don't drink blood, sweetheart."

"I didn't say you drank it."

You grimaced as you struggled to swallow. Reality was swooping in on you like a vulture above a carcass. Doom swirled in your stomach—you almost died just now. You choked on a sob, and you reached up to your face to brush away your tears.

Oh god, everything hurt.

"I want to go home," you whispered. It wasn't even to Changmin, just to whoever could hear you. Homehomehome, but where was home? They could find you anywhere.

A beat passed.

"I'm sorry." Changmin's head hung, either out of exhaustion or genuine regret. "I promised your sister I wouldn't get you involved."

You still couldn't move your head much, so you kept your gaze on the speckled ceiling. "What?"

"I have… had sisters."

You didn't hide your surprise. You didn't think you would ever get anything personal out of this guy, let alone the fact he had family. But his confession planted a seed of sympathy in you… maybe he was human before, or maybe he wasn't at all, but he had family. That had to count for something.

He released another haggard sigh. "So that was one of the few things we could agree on—keeping you out of this unless necessary."

Necessary. You should have never put on the necklace, should have never touched the cursed thing. Now, you were literally chained to it and its fate.

He went quiet again and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You thought he was going to say something else, but instead, he rose to his feet. Taking slow, careful steps, he made his way over to your body.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," he murmured as he tucked his hands under your armpits to haul you upright.

You cursed under your breath at the ache and the blood rushing to your head. Your left leg was pretty much useless, and he had to cup the nape of your neck to his shoulder so you could lean on him.

"Can you walk?" He asked, his breath by your ear again.

You shook your head, pressing your mouth against the muscle of his shoulder. He smelled like demon blood, and you shifted to lean your cheek on him instead, holding in a gag at the wretched stench.

"Okay. Hold on a second."

He helped you sit down on the ledge of the bed, before going around the room to collect things. He plucked up your backpack from the floor, then his own bag, hoisting them both over his shoulders before returning to you. From your vantage, you could see all the limp demon corpses lying on the ground, unmoving. You wrestled down the bile creeping up your throat and looked away.

Changmin scooped you up in his arms with a grunt, and you looped yours around his upper body, tucking yourself into him. "We have to get out of here before someone comes to check this shit out," he said to you as he exited the room.

You gave a nod. "Aren't you tired? Hurt?" You asked, guilt and fear twisting something horrid in your chest.

"Don't worry about me."

"How could I not?"

His lips twitched. "Oh, so you care about me now?"

You closed your eyes against his shoulder. "Don't be an asshole."

"Sure, sweetheart." He made it to the car and instructed you to reach around his back to get the car key hanging from his bag strap. Changmin managed to get the car door open and deposited you in your seat. Your body molded into the material, exhaustion settling once more into your bones and joints.

In a blink, the two of you were back on the road.

Changmin carded a hand through his damp hair as he pulled out onto the barren street. You rolled your head to the side, eyes drinking him in. There were scratches over his exposed skin, barely there, but still present as if they had healed over already. His clothes were splotched and stained, as well as ripped in other places. And of course, there was the blood smeared all over his face, his neck. The bastard didn't even look fazed.

Right, demon. What did that even entail?

Your eyelids were beginning to droop, yanked down by the force of gravity and the human necessity to sleep. You didn't want to sleep though; you didn't want to be attacked a third time. Though most of the adrenaline had dissipated, your shoulders were still tense, your senses alert and unable to relax just yet.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "You should sleep."

You moved your head. "Can't," you rasped.

He reached over then, his palm warm against your head, as he gently brushed his thumb over your eyelids to coax them closed. "You're safe with me, Yn," he promised. You were reluctant to believe him, but after what just happened, at least you knew he could take care of himself and you.

Sleep was already coaxing you into its jaws to devour you, and the pendant under your shirt pulsed to a steady beat to encourage your descent. "Morning will come soon."

All you could do now was trust him.

#5—THE ANGEL BLADE.

THE DINER OFF THE INTERSTATE was like the ones from the movies: red, vinyl seats that squelched when you scooted over them; blind fluorescent lights that flickered every time a fly died against them; people minding their own business as they hunched over grainy coffee and burgers that looked a little too good to be true. You sat across from Changmin, hands laced over the white table surface while he had his arms braided over his chest.

Another eight hours had passed since the motel. You'd found a rest stop to clean up and change clothes on the way, but when you could no longer deny your need for food, Changmin made the executive decision to feed the monster that was your stomach. Executive decision meant he was driving you somewhere to eat something so you wouldn't pass out from stubborn, self-induced hunger.

You're not gonna die if you want fries and chicken tenders, Yn, he'd said with a roll of his eyes.

Easy for him to say. He wasn't the target of every other supernatural being within a fifty mile radius. Perhaps by association, but still.

It was fascinating what a few hours of rest and magical demon saliva could do to help the human body. All of your wounds had pretty much closed up—albeit a tad sore, but nothing as awful as the pain you were in when being clawed in the moment. It was even more fascinating how alive Changmin looked despite literally not being alive. And the fact he hadn't slept a wink within the past day at least.

You, on the other hand, looked like a dumpster fire. Your hair was a bird's nest, eye bags more expensive than Louis Vuitton. Your stomach gave another whining growl; you'd ordered not five minutes ago with a middle-aged woman in too-bright red lipstick and a blue collared dress uniform.

"Are you sure you're not like, a vampire?"

His face dropped into a deadpan you'd seen before. "Oh my God."

"You can say His name?"

Your lips curled into a self-indulgent smile at the way he rolled his eyes so hard, he could probably see his brain back there. (If he had one.) "Sorry."

"You're not sorry," he said, eyebrow arching. "Do you have any real questions?"

Your hands shifted to your lap as your gaze moved to the window next to you. The sky was an ugly, sickly shade of gray-green. It reminded you of the lighting from the first Twilight movie, and you gagged at the thought. The bright red and neon of the diner clashed horridly with the sky, too. All of it was a little disconcerting.

Back in the car, when Changmin was first introducing you to the real world, he'd given you the short version of the supernatural who lived amongst oblivious humans. He hadn't gotten down to the nitty-gritty, just the shit he needed you to know so he could justify hauling you across the state, and to understand all the supernatural creatures after the little pendant resting beneath your shirt collar.

Two mugs of coffee were set onto your table, the dark liquid sloshing over the sides to stain the white below it.

You reached for your mug first, gently cooling it down with a breath. When you took a sip, gingerly, you grimaced. You somehow managed to wrestle the liquid down, but the searing bitterness was enough to make you push the cup away and reach for the sugar packets at the end of the table.

Changmin watched you in amusement, tongue poking the inside of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you ripped a Stevia packet open. "What're you laughing at?"

"M'not laughing," he shrugged. He picked up his cup of coffee, clinked it against yours for good measure, then chugged the cup of shit in one sitting.

You watched in ill-concealed disgust, horror, and… maybe you were a little impressed.

When he set the drained cup on the table, he wiped his smug mouth with a napkin from the aluminum dispenser.

It was your turn to deadpan. "Show off," you muttered, stirring your artificial sweetener into the dark brown brew.

He shrugged again. "What? Like it's hard?"

"Oh my god, you can be funny."

Your chicken tenders arrived. Steam wafted from them and you closed your eyes to inhale the beautiful smell. Happiness on a plate, you liked to think.

Changmin thanked the waitress who had also delivered him a plate of blueberry pancakes. He eyed you quietly as you inhaled the food on your plate, despite the dull throbbing in your throat.

You caught his gaze, stopping mid-tender. "Want some?" You asked after swallowing the bite, gesturing to your fries.

He shook his head and began buttering up his hotcakes. "Nah. Have at it."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate your separate meals. Changmin had told you before that demons didn't need all the typical things humans needed to "survive" or "live." Technically, since he was undead, there were only a handful of ways he could die. Eating and sleeping were necessary for human life, but they were more so preferences for him. If he wanted to eat, he could eat. If he wanted to close his eyes and dream, he could try.

The thought had you waving a fry at him. "The switchblade," you began, drawing his attention and pancake-stuffed cheeks, "what was it? It definitely wasn't something human-made."

Changmin swallowed his bite. "It was an angel blade."

"You're kidding," you drawled in disbelief.

He challenged your stare. "Believe it or not, it was. Forged up there." He lifted the prongs of his fork up toward the ceiling, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

Your jaw dropped. "So the Big Man Upstairs does exist?"

"I mean, I don't really know. I've never met him if he does. I just know the angels are ruled by the Seraphim," he told you. "Lots of hierarchical bullshit I didn't care to pay attention to."

He impaled another piece of pancake. "Angel blades are one of the few things that can kill a creature like that."

"A demon?" You asked.

"Yes. Lower level demons are easier to kill, especially with a blade like the one I gave you." He shoved the bite into his cheek to continue, "That's why I was able to take on multiple at once."

You made a noise of indignation. "So you're telling me you're a higher level demon?"

His shoulders fell in a half-hearted shrug.

"Helpful," you muttered as you washed your meal down with bittersweet coffee. You paused for a moment, cleaning your fingers off with a napkin. "The… the licking thing."

Changmin's eyes could not meet yours. "Mhm."

"Do you… do you do that often?"

"No," he said curtly. "That party trick only works on humans and I don't really enjoy the taste of blood."

You pursed your lips at his rather clipped response. "Oh." You recalled the sound he'd made as he cleaned your blood up with his tongue at the motel… maybe it was something out of disgust. You suddenly felt out of place, like you had made his shoulders tense up and the air crackle. You racked your brain. "I—thanks, by the way."

With a cough, he murmured, "Welcome. Couldn't have you dying on me."

You nursed your coffee cup, reaching up to absentmindedly fondle the pendant under your shirt. "Yeah."

"Have you ever met an angel?"

The car was quiet as Changmin peered over his shoulder to switch lanes, the blinker tick-tocking away until it was turned off. "Yeah."

You stared out the front windshield to count the white colored cars on the highway amongst you. "What're they like?"

"They're like every other species," he said, unenthused. "Some are more asshole-ish than others. You'll find good ones and bad ones." A sigh. "The ones I've met have largely been the latter though."

"Oh." You weren't sure if you were disappointed by that answer.

The diner had been less than half an hour ago and you were back on the road again. Yours and Changmin's ETA to your sister's safehouse was supposedly another five or so hours. You couldn't believe she owned safehouses. For fuck's sake, she lived with you for majority of the time before she went to study abroad… she probably wasn't even abroad all those times, you realized anxiously.

It was like he could sense your change in mood from bored curiosity to tense overthinking. He dug around in the pocket of his pants and handed you the pommel of the switchblade from the motel. Angel blade, he'd called it.

You glanced at him in question, but he only pushed it into your palms.

"Get comfortable with it," he said. "It's a decent size as far as angel blades goes, since those fuckers don't really like to give them up. It's good for self defense."

The blade looked like something one could buy at a gift shop, slim with some heft, painted a shiny white color. There was no logo on it, but if you looked at it from the right angle, it shimmered. You unlocked it and let the blade whip out of the slot. The blade was shaped like any other box cutter you've seen before, but the underside had a serrated edge for extra ease in slicing through tougher materials. Your finger ghosted over the glowing metal, silver warming to a yellow-orange, but only if you didn't blink in the daylight.

You killed a demon with this. The blade burned the creature.

"How'd you get this if they don't like giving these up?" You asked as you figured out how to put the blade back into its sheath.

His fingers drummed against the wheel. "Won it in a poker game," he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"

You swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Seriously."

With nothing better to do, you flicked the blade in and out, in and out. You'd only ever really held blades in the kitchen and when opening packages. "Do you have a name for it?"

"A name?"

"Yeah," you said, shifting slightly in your seat as an ache crept into your spinal cord, "y'know like the fantasy books where they name their blades." You inspected the switchblade again, rotating it in your hands. "Looks like a Clyde."

Changmin let out a huff from his nose. "Clyde?"

"What? Got any better ideas?"

"How about we don't name dangerous utilities for murder," he drawled.

"I can't believe you didn't just say 'weapons.'" When he didn't answer you, you made an indignant little noise you hoped annoyed him and admired the angel blade in your hand in a new light. Clyde. Hi, Clyde. You're pretty.

"Don't tell me you're communicating with it," he said to you.

You ran your finger over the flat side again with a fond smile—just to annoy him. "It doesn't give me lip."

A sigh. He tended to do that a lot. "How's your neck?"

Your hand lifted to your throat and massaged it lightly. "It's doing alright. Does it still look bruised?"

You tilted your neck so he could take a good look at it. He eyed the span of flesh there, his dark irises taking on a strange tint. The corner of his mouth curled downward as he turned his focus back to the road. "Yeah."

"It doesn't hurt as bad anymore, if that's any better."

"I guess," he grumbled. "Humans are so fragile."

"Hey man," you huffed, "is it my fault that I don't have magic spit or my skin doesn't heal fast—"

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's not magic spit. That's just how human biology reacts to demon saliva." Changmin tapped the back of his hand on the steering wheel as a vague gesture.

You shifted in your seat to look at him and so that you could take pressure off one side of your back. "I have a question. Why does demon saliva have healing properties when usually lore says that you guys are opposite in nature? Actually, that kind of sounds prejudicial," you thought aloud.

"It is prejudicial," he replied. "Well, mostly. It depends on the demon, but we're just like any other species. It's just that most pop culture depicts us as evil. Demons and vampires are derivations of each other in that—"

"So you are a vampire!"

He didn't even try to counter you this time. "Both species have saliva that can heal wounds, not large wounds, but you can probably imagine that vampires use it to seal puncture marks post-meal."

That made sense to you. "But why do demons need it?"

"Human blood…" he trailed off for a moment as he narrowly missed a car zooming past, his glaring eyes trailing after them, "...is like our saliva. It regenerates us. It's kind of like an energy drink, so it's not a necessity, but more so like a luxury or privilege."

You swallowed and you could've sworn you heard a soft huff from his mouth like a laugh. The thought of your blood being like an energy drink for him—and he'd literally licked your wounds clean at the motel that night. Was that how he was able to heal so quickly? It was a marvel he hadn't drunk you dry. But then again, he'd also said blood wasn't his taste…?

"Are you sure you don't like human blood?" You asked, sounding like a broken record, but more apprehensively this time.

"Sweetheart, you really think you'd still be here if I did?"

Touché.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Changmin stiffen. His hands tightened the slightest amount around the steering wheel, his eyes darting from the front windshield to the rearview mirror.

"What?" You asked, taking a look through the side mirror on your side. "What's wrong?"

Changmin's face washed over in a careful blankness. "We're being followed."

Your whole body tensed and you had to physically restrain yourself from twisting around in your seat. "What?"

"Hey, stay calm." He flicked his turn signal on casually as he exited off the freeway.

"Why are you telling them where we're going?!" He was literally signaling to whoever was following you exactly your next move.

"Just because we're on the run, doesn't mean we shouldn't follow basic driving safety."

You sent him a very emboldened stink eye. "Out of all the times, you choose now to have a sense of humor and to be an upstanding citizen?" Where was this during the entire road trip thus far?

Changmin made no other comments as he turned right onto the street leading further away from the freeway. You sat quietly for a moment, monitoring the cars behind you from your side mirror. Your knee started bouncing as you took note of the white sedan following behind, not tailgating, but its intentions were clear enough where even you could pick it out.

"What're we gonna do?" You murmured.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "We're gonna be fine. We just have to lose them."

"No shit."

"And you say I give you lip?"

Without any forewarning, Changmin jerked the car to the left, practically zooming across the intersection to catch the yellow light. Your whole body sailed across the center console, and before you could give him a piece of your mind, he was sending you crashing into your doorway from another sharp turn. You glared daggers at him, but turned to peer out your window.

The white car was still following after you. They must have run the red light then.

Changmin's sharp eyes sliced across the rearview mirror, and his foot lowered on the gas pedal like a challenge. His eyes whipped back and forth for somewhere he could go next, brain working double the speed. "Hold onto something, sweetheart."

"I don't think that would—HELPPP!" You sputtered and yanked on the handle above the door, hugging yourself to that side of the car.

You could hear the tires of Changmin's car burn rubber and squeal as he zigzagged through streets. You were pretty sure half of this was residential, you thought as the landscape blurred past.

"Do you even know where—" You swore as your body flailed around from another one of his god awful swerves, "—we are?"

He shook his head and floored the gas. "Nope."

Great.

It was about fifteen minutes of this supposed drag racing before his driving finally began to even out. You were seconds from hurling up diner food when you realized…

"Where the fuck did the trees come from?" You asked, lowering your tense form from the door handle.

You pressed your nose against the window to gawk up at the towering trees on your side of the vehicle, all dark green and beautiful. A light fog clung to some of the leaves, making the sunlight streaming through them look like golden strands of gossamer. The road you drove on held to the side of the mountain, but from what you could tell, Changmin had officially lost the white sedan.

Changmin visibly relaxed. "You might wanna pull up a GPS."

You reached over to your phone in the cupholder. But you pretty much tossed it right back. "No bars. Where did you take us?" You didn't even realize there was so much forest in this area. How come you hadn't seen it from the highway?

He gave a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Shit."

The car sunk into silence. Changmin could do nothing else but follow the road until you hit civilization or some kind of sign as to where you two were. You hadn't been in this part of the state before, so it wasn't like you could point out any landmarks. But as you both continued along, you settled into a sort of calm—the trees here were beautiful, untouched by man. Even from inside the car, you could feel the serenity.

Your finger pressed down on the button on your door to lower the window. You stuck your head out, hair flowing behind you. With a great inhale, your mouth broke into a smile. It smelled just as gorgeous as it looked. Fresh and clean and—

"You've got to be shitting me."

You pulled yourself back into the car and raised the window back up. "What?"

Changmin's mouth was set in a firm line, a dimple pressing deep into his cheek. "Wolves."

Your brows knitted together. "Huh?"

"We're in wolf shifter territory."

Just as he said this to you, the car rounded the side of the bend and revealed a large green sign that read: WELCOME TO MOONSTONE CREAK! Population 276.

The sign following it did not make you feel any better: CAMPERS! BEWARE OF WOLVES.

#6—BEWARE OF WOLVES.

AT THE FIRST SIGN OF WOLVES, you sunk low in your seat. You'd made eye contact with one of the furry creatures hidden in the brush, their sharp predator eyes narrowing at the sight of a foreign entity in their woods.

"By wolf shifters," you said quietly, holding onto Clyde in your lap, "you mean like… werewolves?"

Changmin's eyes stayed on the road ahead, but every once in a while, you would catch him scanning the forest, too. "Those aren't the same things. Werewolves are the things you read about in lore, half-man and half-wolf. Wolf shifters can change completely from man to wolf and vice versa."

"Oh." Well, that cleared some things up. "I'm guessing they don't take kindly to trespassers?"

He bit his lip. "I mean, it depends on the pack. If my hunch is right about where we are though, we shouldn't have to worry."

You gulped. "And if you aren't?"

"Well, I told you to get used to that angel blade, right?"

The trek further into the forest and mountains continued. The scenery around you was still as stunning as it was before, and you thought to yourself how dangerous a beautiful thing could be. Every time you peeked out of the car window, you saw a flash of something in the woods beyond the road. There had to be a reason why they hadn't attacked the car yet, right? If this was a pack of wolves who didn't like trespassers, then why were you and Changmin still alive?

Maybe they wanted you in a place where there was no chance of outsiders hearing you scream…

Your intrusive thoughts were getting to you.

There was a dead end, a near broken road sign and fence directing all passers-by that this was the end. Changmin was forced to take the off-road path, beaten into the dirt as it wound through the forest. If you didn't have signal up on the main road, you definitely would not have any here.

It was a few more minutes of traveling down the path that two wolves appeared before the car. Changmin brought the vehicle to a slow halt. The wolves were relatively large, spanning about six feet and about as tall as the bottom rim of the car door window. One of the wolves had black hair like a raven, and the other had hair like a field of grain.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as the wolves stared right at you. "Changmin…?"

He met their staring contest with little intimidation. "It's… it's fine. I think they recognize me."

After a moment, the two wolves broke their strange staring contest and trotted off to the side of the road. They were back so quickly, you almost didn't realize what had happened. Like magic, they had transformed into two toned young men, both nicely built with their lean upper body on display. They must have had a strategic stash of shorts hidden behind a tree for after they shifted to their human forms. One had cropped black hair, the other blond. Well, at least that made sense.

Changmin slumped in his chair, relieved. The corners of his mouth curled upward in an almost-smile, as the two wolf shifters came over to greet him at his window.

The brunette bent his head down to the window with a broad smile, the kind that made your stomach fill with butterflies. (Not to mention the eyeful of abs you and Changmin were getting…) He leaned his arms over the top of the car window, eyes flickering from the demon to you. "Long time no see, Changmin. Who's your friend?"

"That's Yn," your demon guardian said, clasping one of the man's hands in greeting. He reached for the second wolf shifter. "Haknyeon, nice to see you, too."

"Good to see you, Changmin" said the blond.

Oh, so he knew them.

Changmin gestured to the two men. "Yn, this is Kevin and Haknyeon. They're with the pack."

"Not that we're unhappy to see you," Kevin drawled, "but how did you find us?"

Okay, wait. If Changmin knew them, then why wouldn't he know the location of their pack? You sat quiet, waiting for someone to explain it to you… or just explain everything to you.

"Someone was following us and I lost them," Changmin told them, "but I managed to get us lost, too. Coincidence that we ended up here. I'm glad it's you guys and not another pack."

Kevin's eyebrows flew up. "Yeah, for sure. Well—" he turned his head up toward the treetops and scanned the skies. They were beginning to bruise like your skin as the sun sank somewhere amongst the trees and into the horizon. You hadn't even realized how dark it was starting to get. "—sun's already pretty low right now. Why don't you guys shack up with us tonight and then we'll help you out in the morning?"

"That would be great actually." Wow, really? You kept your surprise at bay. "Lead the way."

With no further discussion needed, Kevin and Haknyeon disappeared behind the same large tree trunk from before, then re-emerged as the wolves from before. Kevin, the one with black colored fur, pointed with his snout in the direction the path would take you. The two wolves began to trot down the path, and Changmin waited for them to get somewhat ahead before he flicked his headlights on and followed.

It was a curious act of consideration, you thought.

You watched as the wolves began to pick up speed, your eyes flickering to the speedometer. "So…" you drawled, "what the fuck just happened?"

A sharp huff, his version of a laugh. "They're old friends," he said.

"How'd you not know this was where their pack was if they're old friends?"

"I met them out of the pack," he explained. "It was somewhere in the New England area, and we just happened to be hunting the same thing."

Hunting? Oh, bounty hunter. Right. "And the—the shifting thing."

"What about it?"

You made a face of frustration. He always made you pull teeth when you wanted background information. "Everything."

He glanced at you. "I think it'd be better if one of them explained it to you. Better to have one of their own say it right than risk me getting something wrong."

That was, unfortunately, a very fair answer.

Instead of pushing on the wolf topic, you had more questions that he could answer. "So what now? Are we just gonna stay the night? Is it safe?" What if that white car found a way in here? Neither of you could see who the driver was, and so how could either of you be sure they weren't trying to perhaps get you both here? And if they also had the means to come in here without being marked as trespassers?

"It's safe," he said with such confidence that you arched your brows. He saw your expression, making a soft turn along the road as the wolves had, the pads of his fingers lifting off the steering wheel for a second in gesture. "I know what you're probably thinking, but it's safer than sleeping out in a motel off the highway, alright? Packs usually don't drive cars, and they have maybe one or two for convenience sake. They can smell trespassers from miles away, and they usually have people on watch all the time, which is how they found us so quickly."

You supposed that made sense. The forest here seemed denser, and with the quickly fading light, it made it all the more unnavigable. If you were to try to run… good fucking luck.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. As the car rounded the bend, yours and Changmin's faces illuminated with the glow of light.

The town was laid out flat before you, not over a ridge, not over a mountain, but a path that led into a central meeting place with wooden buildings all around it. The lights were all from candle-lit lanterns rather than the LEDs and fluorescents of the human world. There were a mixture of both wolves and people milling about, an air of warm cheeriness that you could feel even from the car. You felt a fuzziness manifest in your chest at the sight.

Kevin and Haknyeon directed Changmin toward a back road to the right behind a row of buildings. It was most likely to avoid getting in the way of the pack members, you guessed. You kept silent as you averted your eyes from the void-like darkness of the forest beyond to your right.

Up ahead, you saw the two wolves trot into a small paved area with one other car parked along the walkway. It seemed to be like a makeshift alleyway of sorts between two blocks of buildings. With some maneuvering, Changmin managed to parallel park into the space that was just big enough for his vehicle.

When he parked, he gestures for you to follow his lead and get out of the car. "You should be safe to come out with me. We'll probably meet the pack alpha and get everything settled—" His head tilted to the side, "—hopefully."

Your eyes shuttered. "Hopefully?" You echoed. Pack alpha? What the fuck did that entail? From what you remember in the books and shows, you thought to yourself as you clambered out of the car and stretched your sore limbs, wolf packs had an alpha that would lead everyone. You weren't sure if you would have to go through some kind of cult initiation or something to be granted permission to stay the night.

The angel blade sat tucked into the pocket of your pants along with your phone, and you slammed your car door shut. From here, you could peer down the alley and see out into the glowing atmosphere of the town center. It sounded like fun, actually—all of the chatter and laughter. You hadn't been anywhere so lively-sounding in awhile.

"Yn right?"

You startled a little, whirling around to find the brunette—Kevin was his name—smiling at you sheepishly. He was back in human form with a pair of shorts and a plain white T-shirt on. "Sorry I snuck up on you," he said.

"Oh, it's totally fine!" You laughed bashfully, smoothing a hand down your hair. "And yes, I'm Yn. You're Kevin, right?"

Man, he was so much prettier up close…

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Changmin says this is all pretty new to you." He gestured loosely to the world around him, an all encompassing notion to the entire world you had just unearthed beneath your nose.

Your eyes darted behind Kevin where Changmin and Haknyeon were gathered on the other side of the car, pulling yours and Changmin's bags out the backseat. Changmin caught your eyes, lifted his eyebrows, then returned to his conversation.

So he was just gonna leave you in the hands of the very handsome wolf shifter? Cool.

"Yeah, it's kind of a crazy story," you mused. Understatement of the century. "Thanks for taking us in, by the way.

"It's no worries," he chirped. "Changmin and us? We go back pretty far, I'd like to think."

"Oh, cool! He mentioned something about that… and something about meeting the pack alpha?"

Kevin's eyes flickered to something behind you, and you turned around to see what or who it was on instinct. "It's nothing to stress about—he's coming this way, actually."

You felt his hand, warm and large, gently settle between your shoulder blades to guide you toward the two men making their way down the alley toward you both.

One of them… well you could feel the subtle shift in the air. It was as if molecules in the air moved for him. He boasted a powerful sort of stature, with dark hair parted neatly to frame a carved face. For a moment, you didn't know if you were supposed to bow or something, but then he smiled, and you nearly fell over from that alone. He wasn't so scary once he smiled.

The man next to him was a lighter brunette with a cheery expression engraved onto his face as if that were his default setting. There was something about him, however—you thought he glowed a little in the dim light. The angel blade in your pocket seemed to warm slightly at the sight of him.

(So was everyone just super attractive in the supernatural world?)

"Changmin-ah," greeted the man with darker colored hair. He clasped his hand with Changmin's in greeting. "It's been awhile."

"It has," your demon counterpart agreed. "Thanks for taking us in on such short notice. I wouldn't have intruded had I known."

The man brushed the thought away. "It's okay, really. Nice to have a couple new faces around."

"Speaking of new faces," drawled the second man. He beamed a pretty smile your way, waving. "Hi, little one."

Something warm blossomed in your chest. "Hi," you said softly. You weren't certain of etiquette—if you were expected to speak for yourself, to bow…

But it seemed Kevin had your back. He clasped his warm hand on your shoulder. "This is Yn. She came in with Changmin."

"Nice to meet you, Yn. I'm Sangyeon." This was the man with black hair, who felt like the tangible version of power. He must have been the pack alpha. He had to be.

The other man placed a hand on his chest. "And I'm Jacob!"

"We're just looking for a place to stay for the night," Changmin piped up. He tucked his hands into his pockets, eyes shifting over to yours.

"Well, why don't we head over to the pack house and we can talk about all the details of a plan," said Sangyeon. He inclined his chin in the direction of where you assumed the pack house was. Then his eyes, you watched their keen movements, latched onto Kevin's as if they were communicating silently. "Yn," you nearly jolted when you realized he was addressing you. "Kevin's gonna take you to the small inn we have here. It'll give you a little more privacy, and I'm sure you've felt pretty overwhelmed."

It didn't sound like he was asking you, but there was a warmth to his smile. You couldn't help but feel inclined to agree.

Changmin's head went on a swivel. "Wait, she's not coming with us?"

Haknyeon and Jacob were already rounding on either side of him to guide him in the opposite direction Kevin was leading you. Something in the back of your head made you turn over your shoulder to look at him. Was being separated such a bad thing?

Haknyeon suddenly tossed Kevin your backpack, the latter shouldering it.

"Come on, Yn," Kevin chirped, angling his body as he nudged you along so you could no longer see Changmin. "There's a lovely hearth in the main lobby, and the auntie who runs the place makes the best cookies ever."

You nodded slowly as your brain struggled to think of any reason why they would separate you from Changmin. And why did he sound so surprised? Your hand drifted toward the pocket that hid your angel blade. "Oh, really? That sounds nice."

They didn't drug them, did they? Your shoulders tensed at the idea.

Why did they separate you and Changmin—

The inn was the building right outside the alley with a porch that spanned the front facade. The architecture reminded you of an upscale cabin with large oak logs piled atop each other to make up the structure. A warm light emitted from the front windows and glass doors, and you swore you could smell the cookies from here.

When you and Kevin entered the building, he called out a greeting to an older woman stationed behind a reception desk in the back corner. She greeted the both of you with a cordial smile, wiggling her fingers in a wave. Her head tilted curiously at you, however, her eyes zeroing in on…

Your attention was drawn away and you were directed toward the seating area on the other side of the lobby.

"Can I get you any water or anything?" Kevin asked you as he motioned for you to take a seat in the armchair adjacent to him. He set your backpack at your feet for you.

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the seat, hand reaching for the pendant beneath your shirt—you stopped short. Could he sense the power of the pendant? Was that why they separated you from your demon bodyguard? Oh fuck—

"Hey, hey," Kevin suddenly said softly, face morphing into an expression of concern. "No need to get panicked, okay? You're safe now."

Wait. What? You wrung your hands in your lap, heart still throwing itself up against your ribcage. "Safe? What do you mean safe? Safe from what?"

Kevin considered you for a moment, but the gentleness from his voice and body language never left. "You're safe from Changmin."

"Safe from Changmin?"

"Yes," he affirmed patiently. "The bruises on your neck—"

Your hand went to cover the side of your throat where it had been pierced by the maw of a demon, but not Changmin.

"—does he feed from you? They look fresh—"

You immediately put your hands up to gesticulate in wild opposition. "Oh, no, no, no. He—he didn't feed from me; he saved my life, actually. We were attacked by other demons and I was bleeding out, and he just closed the wounds. He… he isn't, uhm… yeah."

Kevin's posture changed, and his smile became relieved—sheepish even. "Well, shit. I'm sorry for assuming, Yn; it's just that a lot of people end up here because they're in unhealthy relationships, and I saw the marks on your neck and just assumed the worst." He cupped the back of his neck. "This must have been really confusing for you. Sorry about that."

Okay, now that made a lot more sense. Your adrenaline was slowly teetering out and the tension left your shoulders. "No, please, that's honestly really nice that you would help victims like this. It did give me a little scare, but… yeah no, this wasn't Changmin's doing."

"That eases my mind a lot," he chuckled. Then he turned and nodded to the auntie behind the reception desk. You watched as she disappeared out the doors of the inn. "She's just gonna let Sangyeon know that everything's good."

"I thought you said you and Changmin go way back…?" Did they not trust him?

Kevin leaned back in his armchair. "We do. It's just protocol, you know? Whether or not we know them, it doesn't matter."

That was good for victims, you thought. Though, you couldn't imagine what they were really discussing with Changmin then… "So Changmin…"

"Sangyeon, Jacob, and Haknyeon would have taken care of him if I told them he was harming you," he replied, lips pressed together. "They really are talking about how you both ended up here though—that, and plans for the morning."

It was like he could read your mind.

A lot had happened just now, and you were still reeling from the fact that you didn't need to prepare to run. Though, you were still hyperaware of Clyde's warmth in your pocket.

Kevin noticed your far-off expression. He leaned forward onto his knees, that kind smile of his curling onto his face and making you feel some sort of woozy. "I know it's probably been a lot for you. Do you have any questions for me?"

He was so different from Changmin. While with the demon getting information was like pulling teeth, here was Kevin offering you information. They were polar opposites, really. You wondered what it might have been like if Kevin had been the one to take you on this quest instead—your mind shuttered. What a strange thought. Changmin might have been a pain in your ass in the beginning (and still now), but… it wasn't like he hadn't protected you. You didn't know.

"I guess," you started, "what's gonna happen now?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, uhm, I think we're both gonna find out once Changmin gets back. See what they've all decided on. But for sure, you and he will be able to shack up here for the night."

You gave a slow nod. "Is Sangyeon the pack alpha? Kind of a stupid question—"

"It's not a stupid question at all," Kevin said. "But yes, he's the pack alpha. You can just consider him as a community leader, essentially."

"And you're all wolf shifters?"

A nod, then he paused, tilting his head. "Yes, but Jacob's not a wolf shifter; he's an angel."

Your eyebrows flew up. Everything was suddenly making a lot more sense. "An angel? So he and Changmin aren't, like, mortal enemies or anything?" You hadn't noticed any wings on him…

Kevin laughed. "Oh, you're cute. No, thankfully they are not mortal enemies. Jacob's too nice to have enemies."

"Even someone like Changmin?" You jested.

"Even someone like Changmin," he said, humoring you. "Speaking of the demon, you two aren't…?"

You sucked in a breath. "Definitely not. We're not together or anything. It's a long story, but our meeting and traveling together is just because of a common goal." You couldn't tell why the thought of you and Changmin being an item made your heart cartwheel. Perhaps it was simply the anxiety of being thought of as Changmin's significant other that made you want to jump to correct that assumption. Yes, that was it.

Kevin bit his bottom lip like he was trying to hide a smile. "Ah, I see. That's good to know."

"And why's that?" You asked.

You could have sworn if he was in wolf form, his ears would have been tucked against his head. "Nothing!" He insisted. "It would just be a shame to not take a chance when it's presented, you know?"

You weren't quite sure what he meant by that, but for some reason, you were eager to find out.

It was late still when Changmin knocked on your open door, lingering on the threshold. You had just stepped out of the shower in the private en suite your accommodations had, a towel settled upon your shoulders to act as a barrier between your wet hair and dry clothes. He didn't look any worse for wear—then again, he never did.

"Everything okay with Kevin?" He asked, clearing his throat. You felt his eyes on you, scanning your body as if searching for any signs out of the ordinary.

You were searching for your phone charger in your bag. "Yeah, it was good. What—what happened with you?" You asked and lifted your eyes to meet his as you fondled the cord between your fingers.

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Well," he drawled, "Sangyeon offered to send a small group out to scout for any signs of our pursuers from today. In the meantime, we're invited to stay here to recuperate for a couple days. If not, then they'll restock our supplies and help us out of here."

"I'm guessing you already made a decision." You paused when you realized there weren't any outlets in this room. Anywhere. A curse fell from your lips and you dumped your cord and dead cell phone into your bag.

"I figured you could use the rest," he said.

Your head whipped upward.

He arched a brow at you. "If that's alright with you."

Was he really asking you? No buts, no ifs, no snark? "Yeah, that's fine with me."

"Maybe a couple days here will be good for your frail, human body anyway."

There it is. You rolled your eyes so far back, you swore you saw your brain waving at you. "And maybe some fake demon sleep will make you less grouchy."

You thought he smiled. It could have been a trick of the light or sleep deprivation. "Whatever."

Just when it seemed like he was about to turn and leave, he stopped. "Kevin's taken a liking to you."

You stilled, attention piqued. "Really? How could you tell?"

Changmin gauged your reaction, and again, you couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. "You need to sleep."

"Wait, you're just gonna ignore my—and he's gone." You huffed and collapsed onto the bed. It was awfully comfortable.

Leave it up to Changmin to leave you high and dry like that.

You rolled over the surface of the bed to close your door. Quietly, you went around the room to close the knobs of the lanterns to put out the lights like Kevin had showed you earlier. The only light now came from outside the window, the campfire and lanterns in the pack center streaming through the shutters to create an elongated stripe pattern along the walls and floors.

You climbed into bed—it was a strange, but welcomed feeling.

Only a couple days without a bed, yet it felt like years had passed. You could only hope you didn't wake up to a demon at your throat this time.

#7—THE ONLY ONE.

WOLVES BEAT EVEN THE SUN from her slumber, you came to find out. The next morning, you rolled out of bed to hear the sound of muffled voices outside your window. Your body ached in places you didn't even think they could ache, and you stretched your arms up over your head as you opened the shutters.

Just a little off from your window stood a small gathering of creatures, both in human and wolf forms. You recognized Kevin as one of the human ones among them. It was the noise of your open shutter that had him turning his head up toward your window. He saw you there, and a smile blossomed on his face, bright and easy. He wasn't wearing a shirt again, as was the other man standing beside him. The other two in their group were wolves.

Kevin waved at you, catching the attention of the others with him. The man beside him beamed and waved, too.

You chuckled to yourself and returned the gesture.

Kevin beckoned you down with his hand.

You searched the window sill for the latch, muttering in triumph when you managed to notch it open.

He had walked over to stand directly below your window by the time you stuck your head out. "Good morning!" He chirped. "Good sleep?"

"Good morning, and so far I think so," you mused, unconsciously smoothing down your hair. You hadn't even checked the state of your bed head. Yikes.

"There's breakfast in the pack house if you'd like," he offered. "I can walk you over?"

You leaned your cheek against your fist. "Sounds great. Give me some time to get ready."

"Take your time!"

You locked the window back up, dropped the shutters, and hurried to get changed. It occurred to you, as you were getting yourself prepped and primed to face another day in a new world, that you hadn't felt so giddy in awhile. And about a boy nonetheless. The skip in your step was crazy to you, and—did you even have anything nice to wear?

You just managed to yank one of the nicer of your graphic tees over your head when you heard a knock at the door.

"Just a second!" You called, carding your fingers through your hair and separating into three so you could braid it out of your face.

You ripped the door open. "Hi."

Changmin stood on the other side looking slightly refreshed with his dark hair damp and plastered over his forehead. His eyes narrowed slightly at your lightened countenance, the way you actually cared about how you were doing your hair, the… everything. He sent you a look. "Breakfast is in the pack house, but I have a feeling you already knew that."

"Yeah, I was just headed down, actually." You stepped out into the hallway with him, closing your bedroom door behind you. Clyde sat in your pocket, replacing where your phone would have been stashed had it any use.

He cocked his head to the side. "You seem a lot more…" He made a gesture with one of his hands. "Alive."

"Well, considering I don't have magic regeneration—"

"Forget I said anything," he said, shaking his bangs from his eyes and beginning to walk down the corridor toward his room. "Go get sustenance, Yn."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You watched him disappear into his room before you made your way to the stairs.

Kevin was waiting for you in the lobby, perking up when you appeared on the stairway landing and made your descent. He took a couple steps to meet you in the middle, and you noticed that he had found a shirt to put on. Damn. "Hope you like waffles," he said as the two of you fell into step beside each other to head out of the inn.

"Love 'em."

It seemed that the entirety of Moonstone Creak was awake, even at such an early hour. The sun had yet to even clamber up above the treetops, leaving the sky a soft mesh of purple and orange. The air was as fresh as it had been yesterday, cool and pure, washing your lungs and waking you up some more.

"Is everyone awake so early?" You asked him, inhaling as much of the peace as you could.

Kevin nodded. "Pretty much, unless you're just coming back from a night watch. We usually encourage the pups to come out and exercise with us."

"Us?"

"The pack's primary watch," he clarified. "You probably saw me talking to a few of them earlier."

"Ah," you hummed. "That's nice though. You're all such a lovely community… It's refreshing."

His eyes twinkled as he smiled at you. "Thank you. I like to think we're a really big family."

You could see as much. By the way Kevin greeted all of his fellow pack members, a part of you wondered what it might have been like to grow up somewhere like this instead of always chasing after safety and security.

You and your sister had always got by somehow, but it had never been like this. With your parents gone so early in both of your lives, you only really had each other to rely on, besides the occasional aunt and uncle who took turns caring for the both of you until your sister turned 18. And now with your sister gone?

For some reason, it felt like you were still taking care of her in death. But perhaps that was the cost of seeking closure.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when they said pack house, but what you saw was about what it sounded like it was going to be. It was similar to the inn and many of the buildings around the area with its log cabin likeness, but this one was much, much larger. You could hear the squeals of children from out here, and there were smaller wolves chasing each other's tails around the wraparound porch. A few stopped to sit and cock their heads at you as you passed, their tails tick-tocking behind them.

It was strange seeing wolves carry around infants and toddlers in their hulking jaws, too, and Kevin chuckled when you almost stopped in your tracks. "It's no harm to them, don't worry."

"Yeah," you laughed nervously, fingering the pendant at your sternum. "It'll take some getting used to. Are you born as a wolf or as a human?" You asked him as the two of you stepped up the front steps of the porch and walked through the entryway.

"Depends—woah, hey guys. Careful!" Kevin clicked his tongue as he caught and lifted one of the younger boys off his legs just before he accidentally knocked over a table holding a vase of flowers.

The kid and his friend giggled as Kevin put him down away from the table. "Sorry Kevin!" And they were gone, out the front door.

He shared a smile with you, cupping the back of his neck. "Where was I?" He gestured to your right down a hallway; you could smell the sweetness and buttery goodness of breakfast. "Oh, right. It depends: since wolves and humans are mammals, giving birth is a little easier than other non-mammal shifters."

"Non-mammal shifters?" Your eyebrows shot up. "What other shifters exist?"

"Any you can think of, to be honest," he said. "All pups learn about their own growth and development though, especially since learning to shift and stay in touch with both their animal and human sides is so integral. It would probably be better if I connected you with someone who identifies as female to talk about birth specifically though," he admitted.

The kitchen was painted a pale shade of yellow that reflected the golden rays of sun and made the whole room much warmer and brighter. There was a mishmash of wolves and humans milling about the central island where a buffet-style breakfast was being served. The variety of food before you was enough to make even—as you liked to think—Changmin's mouth water. (He didn't need to eat, your ass. You saw the blueberry pancakes on the far end and wondered if he had some yet.)

Kevin passed you one of the plates stacked at the end before grabbing one for himself. "Lily, thank you for breakfast!"

Lily, you identified, was the woman leaning against the sink with a pale blue apron tied around her waist and baby bump. "You're welcome! Haknyeonie helped out, too."

Haknyeon's blond head poked in from where he was partly hiding in the butler's pantry, his cheeks stuffed with food. "Hm?"

You laughed to yourself as you started off by transferring a waffle to your plate. "Yes, thank you so much for breakfast. It looks delicious."

"Oh, no need for that," Lily beamed as she came over to the island across from you and put more food onto your plate. "Take more, please. We have so much to go around."

"Oh," you blinked, watching Kevin start to pile things onto his own plate. "It's so much; I don't want to take more than I can finish—"

"I'll help you finish," Kevin offered, shoving a strawberry into his mouth. "I'm sorry if it seems like we're pressuring you, though. I guess we're all just used to making sure the other is fed around here."

You could melt like a slab of butter between two warm hotcakes. "Thank you—I appreciate the thought."

Kevin ruffled your hair as the two of you continued around your tour of the island. "Of course."

From the entryway you had just come in, Sangyeon arrived whistling an offhanded tune under his breath. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Good morning!" Chorused around the kitchen at differing intervals as everyone greeted their pack alpha.

Sangyeon beelined around the island and over to Lily, the two of them exchanging fond touches and a warm kiss in greeting. "Morning, love."

"Good morning," Lily said. "Eaten yet?"

The dots connected in your head and you nudged Kevin as the two of you finished up at the island. "Lily and Sangyeon—?"

"Yeah, she's our alpha female," Kevin confirmed. "Six months pregnant. They celebrated nuptials about a year ago."

"Ah." You didn't mean to stare, but they were such a beautiful couple. Though you thought Sangyeon's smile was warm, it was nothing compared to the one he saved just for his partner.

He must have felt your eyes on him, and he lifted his gaze to yours while he held one of Lily's hands. "Yn, sleep well?"

Your eyes widened. "Oh, uh, yes. Yes, thank you."

"All of your accommodations are to your satisfaction, I hope?"

"More than satisfied," you stammered with a sheepish smile; he was talking to you, right? Everything was way beyond what you had been living with for the past couple of days. A demon-infested motel or this? Well, no competition there. You could still feel the impression of Changmin's passenger seat in your back.

Sangyeon nodded. "Good, I'm glad to hear that. I was hoping to speak with you and Changmin after breakfast about your situation. It'll be with myself and my closest advisors, plus the two of you."

"Yes, of course," you said. "Does Changmin already know?"

"I'll have someone run and let him know."

You and Kevin were dismissed to go forth with breakfast. The two of you settled in a room next door to the kitchen fitted with a long dining table that reminded you of a cartoon rich people banquet table. You sat adjacent to each other, Kevin at the head, and you with the seat to his left.

You smeared butter over the slots of your waffle. "Do I have to worry about what Sangyeon's gonna talk about at the meeting?"

Kevin shoved his bite into his cheek. "To my knowledge, no, but if you're worried, Sangyeon's advisors are a pretty cool crowd."

"Oh yeah?" You asked.

His lips turned up as he chewed. "Mhm," he hummed before swallowing, "I should know since I'm one of them."

Sangyeon had an office deep within the first floor of the pack house. It was tucked away somewhere between the living room in the back and the door down to the wine cellar. (Kevin joked that the first pack alpha had planned the layout of the first floor deliberately.)

Following your hearty breakfast, you found yourself seated in one of the armchairs in the leader's office chambers, amongst Changmin (in the chair next to you) and the other members of the so-called inner circle. Kevin lingered nearby, leaning against the office's hearth with his arms and ankles crossed idly. It seemed that the advising board included not just Kevin, but also Jacob, Lily, and someone named Juyeon. You learned that he was out on night guard when you came in last night, so you weren't able to properly meet him until now.

Sangyeon stood next to the office chair seated behind the grand, mahogany desk; Lily was automatically given the chair because of her pregnancy, and because she'd been working all morning. "Concerning the white sedan you said was trailing after you two yesterday—" he said, "—none of our scouts could follow a solid scent past the freeway entrance. It was interesting, actually."

Changmin leaned forward onto his forearms. "How so?" He asked, eyebrows creasing.

Sangyeon nodded to Juyeon, who filled in, "Well, we couldn't figure out what their scent is."

"How is that even possible?"

You blinked, brain whirring into overdrive. There was something you were missing yet again. What was the context here?

Kevin stepped over to your side and murmured to you, "We can usually pick apart scents to identify the layers, so this is why it's… concerning."

"Ah," you nodded. "Thanks."

"It was distinct for sure," Juyeon supplied with a vague gesture of his hands, "but it was nearly impossible to tell what species they were. It was easy enough picking apart the entity from the car smells—" Exhaust fumes, metal, seats, you assumed, "—and we could follow the smell as far as the entrance to the highway you guys came from, but…" He shook his head. "No-go. In all my years, I've never come across anything like it."

The helplessness that settled into the grooves of the room made you squirm, and your fingers fondled the red pendant at your collar again. Here was a space of the all-powerful, and yet, something as simple as a scent was throwing them all for a loop. You couldn't begin to wrap your head around the implications, because, well—you didn't know the implications.

(Dark. You were always sitting in the dark.)

Changmin passed you a glance, and you couldn't tell what he was thinking, as usual. "There has to be a way to somehow analyze it. Could we consult a witch?"

"I've already called an old friend," said Lily. "They're on their way over presently."

"Could I see the pendant?" Jacob's voice carried out into the room. Though he himself was soft-spoken, one could not mistake his volume. Everyone's attention cut over to you, and you wanted to be swallowed up by the earth beneath your feet. "If that's okay," he added. "It feels familiar."

"Feels?" You echoed, gripping the stone in your hand. The chain dug into the flesh of your neck as you anxiously yanked on it.

Changmin's eyes darted from the stone to you. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" You were overwhelmed; that was what you thought. You fisted it in your hand, suddenly reluctant to part with the thing that had caused you so much trouble as of late. You felt… an uncanny urge to keep it in your possession. "Uhm… you can see it, but I won't take it off."

Your devilish counterpart narrowed his eyes slightly, cocked his head to the side, at your behavior. He didn't say anything though, as if this truly was just all your decision. Perhaps this was because he knew that you weren't exactly buddies with these people yet. In retrospect, they were still strangers, and thus, potential threats to you.

Jacob took easy strides over to you from where he was standing by the desk. He passed you a reassuring smile as he knelt in front of you, close enough that you could see the eyelashes brush his cheeks. There was something warm radiating from him, and you swore you saw a flash of gold in his eyes.

Angel, right.

He rose up on his knees, holding out his hand, but not touching you. "May I?"

You pinched the part of the pendant attached to the chain and stuck it out toward him.

Jacob's eyebrows knitted together as he touched the pendant with only the tips of his fingers. You held your breath throughout the entirety of his assessment. When he finally leaned back onto his haunches, you blinked away whatever angelic warmth still lingered. "Juyeon, come smell the pendant."

Your eyes widened. "Uhm—"

"Hold on, what?"

"Wait, Jacob."

The latter two responses came from Changmin and Kevin, respectively, the two startling at Jacob's request.

There was a swift exchange of glances between everyone else and the alpha wolves in the room.

Lily said, "Yn?"

"Why are we sniffing the pendant now?" You asked, finding your voice.

Jacob looked up innocently. "Sorry, I probably should have explained myself. I think it might smell like the scent Juyeon was trying to track."

Something in the room shifted. You glanced down at the pendant in your grip and the questions in your head accumulated and accumulated and accumulated. What in Hell did you get me into, Sena?

"Okay," you said, "you can… smell the pendant."

You weren't sure why he couldn't smell it from where he was, but he took a couple steps over to you and replaced Jacob's position. Changmin's hand appeared on the arm of your chair as he leaned forward slightly.

Juyeon took a cautionary sniff, and his eyes widened. "That's it. It's—it was slightly different, but similar enough where it has to be the same entity." He looked up at you. "Is this the only one of its kind?"

You met Changmin's eyes.

He looked away first. "No."

Your gaze became earnest in his direction, and if you could, you would burn twin holes in the side of his head like a snakebite. More shit he hadn't told you. Were you surprised?

No? What did he mean no?

"We need to talk," you forced out of gritted teeth, gripping onto the arm of his chair now.

He passed you a glance. Later.

"Well, we can only really assume that the person following you was most likely after the pendant," Jacob said plainly as he stood from the ground and dusted off his pants. "But now that we know the origin of the scent, per se, it'll make the hunt a little easier."

Sangyeon gave a bob of his head. "Kevin, you're leading the search party for the day."

Kevin's head perked up, hand on the back of your chair. "But—"

A single look from his leader made his mouth snap closed.

"Yes, sir," Kevin murmured with a shallow nod of acknowledgement. He gave the back of your chair a small pat, then departed without another word from the office. You thought you could feel his presence leave your side, from the room. All of this feeling… was this how the supernatural operated? Was this what a sixth sense entailed all along?

"Juyeon—" the man in question raised his head, "—go find where Haknyeon and Eric are." Sangyeon scratched his temple with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like exasperation. "Grab them and round up the pups."

Juyeon brightened. "Are we taking them down to the creak?"

Lily nodded her approval. "Ooh, nice idea. Yn and Changmin, you're both free to join us. It's lovely down there."

You forced your hand to fall away from the pendant, but not before tucking it back beneath the collar of your shirt. It felt too exposed out here, sitting on your sternum for all to see. You nodded though, trying for a small smile. "Sure, sounds nice."

Sangyeon patted the desktop. "Excellent! The two of you can continue to make yourselves at home."

Though this was a physical conclusion to the meeting, your stomach continued to sit uncomfortably. This conversation should not have been over so quickly… right? Was there not more to discuss? Perhaps not now then. Maybe it was better to take your time letting this all sink in.

"Ah, before the two of you go join the little ones," Jacob cut in. He shot Changmin a pointed look. "You owe me something."

Changmin roughed a hand through his bangs, but you could have sworn his lips curled up with a smile. "Aish… your memory."

"It never fails me when I need it."

You glanced between the two; Changmin did owe you yet another explanation, but if there was something these two planned to settle… "What? What is it this time?"

Jacob grinned, and you definitely hadn't been hallucinating when you saw flickers of gold in his irises. "He owes me a sparring match."

a/n: i am clasping my hands in prayer for a reblog, comment, or ask. take a moment to grab a snack, drink some water, and head over to the second part! thanks for reading

read part two here (if it's not linked yet, refresh and it'll be at the top)

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stcrgazings · 1 year

Text

like a tattoo ➳ (c.l)

part two is up and you can read it here

note: sooooo I literally wrote this out of nowhere, but i like how it turned out, it’s nothing like the song really buttt it has some of its lyrics so it only seemed fitting to name it that. thx to my girly @hey-kae who was my beta reader, and convinced me to post this, love ya. happy reading and don’t be a ghost reader!

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

summary: in which you’re having a very hard time trying not to think about your ex-boyfriend charles, and with his dnf in the first race of the season, everything seems to remind you of him.

warnings: use of alcohol, lots of swearing (mostly fuck), a very heartbroken reader, mentions of a dick-ish charles, smoking ¿?? kinda

word count: 1,5K (it’s a shortie but I promise is soooo good)

“and it’s a Ferrari slowing down guys, and it looks like it’s Leclerc” the commentator in the tv says and your heart immediately drops.

Yes, you hate him, and don’t even wanna look at his face ever again but your heart still aches for him and the way his team is failing him yet again in what is barely the first race of the season.

Your model friend turns to look at you as the stylist sips you up over the black tube dress and fixes your hair in the tight ponytail that adorned you head.

“That’s karma” says the girl besides you, as you inevitably roll your eyes.

“That’s one way to call it” you say and everyone in the room that was starting at you bursts out in laughter.

You wanted to hate him, you really did, but you couldn’t help but wanting to text him after that awful race for him.

But fuck him, right?

He had a championship to win, at least that what he said when he broke up with you cold blooded, so yeah, fuck him and his stupid unreliable little red car.

you look at yourself in the mirror and smile at the reflection, you’re pretty, the most wanted model of every single luxury brand, and you eventually will get over him.

So you say your goodbyes as you exit the Prada building after signing yet another contract to add to your portfolio, your girl best friend hooked in your arm as you both giggled softly about where you both will be partying that nigth.

“But in Monaco right?” She asks as you both enter the limousine waiting for you at the front.

“Yeah I guess” is all you answer as you manager turns to look at you both.

Your hand lingers through your phone and eventually Charles contact, you wanted to text him, but at the end you decide against it, but something in the back of your mind tells you to unblock him and so you do.

Maybe some vodka will give you the courage to text him, or at least to hook up with someone else to forget about those haunting green eyes.

“We’re going to a club” you answer, finally lifting your eyes from the device your managers face quickly going pale.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” He asks serious, you roll your eyes.

“Why?” You play dumb as your friend besides you giggles.

“Bella don’t support her!” He complains.

“I’m actually curious why not?” The model asks again, also playing dumb, the man in front of you squeezing his fists as the both of you gang up on him.

“You going out partying and getting hammered when your ex just got his ass kicked at the race, how do you think the media would react to that?”

you meant this with absolutely every bone of your tiny body, when you say this;

“Do you really think I care what the media thinks? Fuck them for all I care” You spit and Bella besides you claps and cheers and picks a fight with your manager who is clearly unhappy with your plans of the night, he lists all of the cons and the reasons you should stay at home tonight.

“It’s a Sunday y/n, for gods sake!” He says but you didn’t listen and truly did not care a bit.

This is what you’ve been doing for the pasts weeks to try and cope with what he had done to you, and you hated yourself for not just getting over him.

Because it’s not like he was boyfriend of the year when you two were together, in the last months of your relationship he barely even acknowledge you, and he had dump you over call after what it was the biggest fight of your relationship.

Because you had exploded out frustration from his constant indifference, and dick ass attitude, and then ditched the apartment you both shared together.

So naturally when when he called you hours later you thought it was maybe to fix the things between the both of you.

But boy were you wrong.

Somewhere along the lines of “you’re just a model you don’t understand anyway” and “text me when you come get your things” the person you had love the most for the longest time broke your heart and didn’t looked back.

And so you went into self defense and destructive mode and if he didn’t looked back neither did you, blocking him in every social media known to men.

And like that you were strangers with who one was your favorite person in the entire earth.

And so if you wanted to go and get completely hammered after he lost a stupid race you would.

(…)

The Weeknd was playing as you downed another shot with people surrounding you as they cheered you on.

you were pretty wasted, but you still couldn’t get the Ferrari driver out of your mind.

All that you could think about was him, how much you missed him, and how much you wanted him right now.

As you danced with strangers hand all over your body you couldn’t help but remember his.

You remembered his hands, the way you would squirm under his touch, how he would show you how the stars looked like with just his fingers, the way his hands fit practically like they were meant to be holding yours, how good it feel when they were wrap around your neck, and how he would woke you up with them as he tickle you in to his arms, the way he held you at night as you both talk about your days and how much you missed each other.

Suddenly it all feels like too much, you pushed the stranger away from you, his grab in you becoming overwhelming and you need air, a single tear running trough your cheek and you can’t breath and it’s so unfair.

It’s unfair because you’ve had the worse months of your life and he had just moved on, with who used to be one of your best friends.

(Or at least that’s what every single media outlet said)

And you probably shouldn’t believe it but you still remembered the bile coming up your throat as you stared at the pictures of them at the Paris Fashion Week.

So you sit with your head thrown back in on of the sofas of the private booths at the club, and as the air conditioner hit your face, you remembered his hands and the way the mountains looked when you took that trip to the French Alps last Christmas, and you wanted to sob because of how awful it all felt and how much your body ache for him, you close your eyes and take some deep breath, and you can almost feel his lips against yours, you can almost see the life shooting diamonds from his eyes, his beautiful eyes.

The ones that would haunt you at night when you couldn’t sleep because all you did was think of him, how he was doing, if he missed you as much as you did him.

“You want a cig? Looks like you need it” a stranger asks in front of you, you mumble a no as you can, being so lost in your own head.

For the longest time Charles was by far, in your books at least the best person in the world, always so happy and perky, his smile lighting up your days, and nights, always so hungry for life, wanting for you to know the world the same way he did, always so passionate about the things he loved, always so passionate and loving of you.

You can’t help but wonder when it all went wrong, maybe somewhere between France and Abu Dhabi, the last being the last time you remembered being genuinely happy beside Charles, because yes he had come second in the championship but you remembered the way he held you up and kissed you in the hotel room and for a moment you thought you both will be fine.

But when you reach the top, it comes the fall.

And it was all fighting and misunderstandings and misery because you just wanted to be with him but he just wouldn’t let you.

Now you were there, still falling, wanting to forget about those times when you were happy with him.

He moved on, why couldn’t you?

Sitting there you beg for the universe to help you, to give you a sign, anything really, that eventually things would change, that you would stop feeling this way, that the hole inside your chest would disappear and finally the air would feel the way it’s supposed to and breathing and waking up in the morning wouldn’t be as hard as it had been lately and happiness would return your way and things would get better.

Obviously the least that you expect is your phone screen lighting up.

Especially with the name of the one that hadn’t been able to leave your mind in the entire night.

Suddenly and “I miss you” text from Charles hits you out of nowhere like a brick in the face.

Maybe you’ll take that cigarette now.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 oneshot #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc one shot #f1 fic #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x female character #f1 x reader #f1 angst #ferrarri #charles leclerc angst #bahrain gp 2023 #f1 one shot #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x reader

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diodellet · 3 months

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no, i'd rather pretend (jamil viper x gn!reader)

summary: It was so easy to pretend that you weren't also drowning. content warnings: -reader is an unreliable narrator -reader is yuu -self-deprecating, mean inner thoughts (80% ventfic, 20% comfort) ++unbeta'd all mistakes are mine. word count: 1.4k words

It was one of those days. Where everything felt too much.

Sure you could cope with it, carry on as if nothing was bothering you. Let all the little inconveniences wash off of you. After all, you couldn’t overblot. You were the Ramshackle Prefect, damn it. A long time ago, you were given the title of beast tamer and that made you believe that nothing could even come close to bothering you.

Sometimes though, it meant needing a few moments—maybe minutes to cry—alone to gather yourself.

Which, you couldn’t really get in NRC.

“I wish you would lean on us though.” Jamil’s voice, albeit low enough to give the sense of discretion, sounds far away. But you know that he’s crouched by you.

“No… I can’t do that, I’m already dead weight to you all.” Your arms pull tighter around your knees, trying to compress your frame into something smaller than it actually was.

Most of all, you had no excuse to be throwing around words and thoughts you’d kept hidden like knives to pierce your opponents. Things that you thought once hidden, would remain hidden and eventually be pushed out of your memory.

It doesn’t work like that however. Unpleasant things liked to bubble to the surface, especially during one’s most vulnerable moments.

“Can you please leave… I’m already troubling you all by being like this…” Please let me fix myself. I can’t put myself back together like this.

You curl up further into yourself, pressing your face into your knees, bone against your eyesockets in a vain attempt to stifle the outcry of your pain.

All it does is make a pitiful sob heave from you once before cutting off abruptly. You feel a brush of fingertips against the back of your hand, damp from the futility of stopping your emotional fit. And with a gentle tug, your hand comes away—away from shrinking into yourself, away from reflexively hiding the worst of yourself—only to feel his fingers lace together with yours, not one bit bothered by the traces of your tears.

“You once mentioned that this comforted you.” And in the touch of his skin to yours, your first instinct is to yank yourself away.

You did bring it up once offhandedly, when you were sentimental about things you used to be able to do back home, when you were still a stone’s throw away from your friends and family. But his discomfort was understandable, as much as he spent time at the side of someone who wore their heart on their sleeve, not everyone who brandished their emotions did so in the same way. For a moment, his hold tightens, almost afraid that if he let go, then it would mean losing you to whatever it was that was eating you from the inside.

“You also told me once that burdens were meant to be shared.”

Hearing that come back to you—a thing you said in the heat of the moment, somewhere in the aftermath of his overblot—sends a new wave of tears spilling from you.

With those words, a dam breaks and you’re unable to clamp down on any more of your cries.

“But you already have enough on your plate…” you choke out between broken sobs.

Compared to everything he had gone through, your troubles were insignificant. Shallow, even. A meaner part of your mind cuts into you. If you could somehow muster the ability to throw words to ward off someone, then you weren’t actually helpless. You were using your pain to pretend, so you could catch them off guard. So you could eventually drive them away. That was why you were letting him see you like this, right? So he’d see you at your ugly and rotten core, so he’d know to turn around and leave you behind, right?

“Not right now, I don’t have much weighing me down. See?” And his grip shifts to hold your hand more firmly.

“...Are you sure you’re not just saying that? Just to make me stop?” It was fine if he was, as much as you were given comfort in the past, a part of you was dimly aware that the gentleness you were given as a kid was a disguised plea to stop being so immature. That fact of life carried you throughout your years. That everyone has it worse than you, that your problems aren’t all that bad in the first place, you just had to vocalize what was wrong because deep down, you already knew what needed fixing.

And that was the problem right now, wasn’t it? That instead of the big picture explanation you readily had, all you had were sharpened barbs of emotion to pierce yourself and others with.

“I’m not just saying that,” he counters. As measured as his words are, you can feel a faint tremble in his hand as it holds yours. “I… used to think you were. Just saying things, I mean.”

“I probably was.” You were bad with silence after all. Silence was difficult, because it wasn’t actually a total loss of sound, it was having every minute sensation amplified to a deafening degree, being able to hear what was unspoken.

“You weren’t wrong though.” Jamil says, “it took me a while to realize that.”

Does he mean witnessing the other overblots too? The ugly aftermaths of each one that he was privy to? You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during each one or the exact people who were there with you, only bits and pieces of those moments were locked away in a place much deeper than what your memory could hold.

Maybe the only way you could remember was from the bits that spilled out. The bits that mixed together with your ugly insides.

“But… you don’t have to be here.”

“I know, but you don’t have to deal with this on your own either.”

“...Did I also tell you that shit?”

“...Maybe.”

“God, tell me to shut up next time.” At your groan, you hear an amused laugh from him. Like he’s glad that the roles were reversed in his favor.

There wouldn’t be enough words to describe how much you hated being this vulnerable. Yet not even a fraction of those words could even begin to encapsulate how secure you felt at the same time. All you can do is feel the calmness slowly take over your insides.

“I tried. But you wouldn’t stop.” You can still hear the bitter smile in Jamil’s voice, a pinprick of his true feelings in spite of what was meant to be a playful jab.

“...I’m sorry.”

“No—I’m glad you didn’t.”

And it’s those words that stop your train of thought in its tracks. And you tentatively lift your head to peer at him.

He meets your gaze, and there’s a note of something unbelievably tender, that you wish you looked up before this moment. Jamil Viper was good at hiding his emotions, good at dressing up his words with honey and sincerity.

“Hey,” he says. Like he wasn’t just sitting with you and holding your hand through the worst of your emotions.

“Why…” your voice cracks, “why would you tell me all of this?” Or rather, what you mean to say was, why stay with you when you weren't feeling like yourself?

You supposed that it was so easy to talk, to let observations and promises flow from you without abandon. It was easy being the unbothered party, deflecting any and all cause of concern. It was so easy to pretend that you weren’t also drowning.

“I wouldn’t have said all of that if I didn’t mean it.”

“But…”

And there, you see a falter in his expression, a slight frown forming on his lips. “Don’t make me say it all again.” His gaze momentarily breaks from yours as his free hand comes up to adjust the hood of his dorm uniform.

Ironically, it’s what dispels the last of your doubt.

“Not even one more time?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m leaving.” Yet even as Jamil says that, he still hasn’t let go of you.

“...Can you stay for a little bit longer?” And was it okay for you to open up a little bit more? Was he okay with hearing from you? Hearing about these useless worries and feelings that swallowed you up?

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And with the warmth surrounding your hand, a lifeline in your sea of emotions, maybe you could believe that.

a.n. i'll fix this after i've had a moment to sleep. i wrote this on a whim while i was going through shit (i still kind of am... but i'm doing better). omake

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper x reader #g/n reader #jamil viper #dellet-writings #hurt/comfort #twisted wonderland x reader #twst

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simonsapelsin · 6 months

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Non-royal Wilmon Babies AU

Wilhelm entered the world crying and it seemed like he would never stop.

He had colic. His first two nannies quit in under a week. Though they'd cared for difficult babies before, little Wilhelm's crying was exceptional. It was desperate. It was unyielding.

The third nanny was Linda Eriksson. She came to Kristina and Ludvig highly recommended by nanny number two, who was Linda's friend. Linda was a warm and kind woman and she had experience with colicky babies - her daughter Sara had given her and Micke months of sleeplessness.

The job paid so well that Linda accepted, even though she was busy with a young baby boy of her own. She couldn't pass up the opportunity. Micke's work was sporadic and unreliable at the moment, so Linda needed to get a job. She didn't tell her new employer about her family. She didn't want her full commitment to baby Wilhelm to be questioned.

With Sara in preschool, and Micke now taking care of baby Simon while Linda earned a steady income, things were working out for the Erikssons. It was hard at first for Linda to be away from Simon every day, and Wilhelm's crying was constant as ever, but she was coping. She loved Wilhelm from day one and knew he'd soon grow out of it.

"I know, I know, cariño. It's hard to be a baby," she cooed to little Wille as she bounced him on her shoulder. "It's hard to live in this world." He wailed into her ear.

One morning Linda woke for the day to find that Micke was not there. He'd gone out drinking the night before, promising to only have two beers and come home early. His phone went straight to voicemail. Linda called Micke's mother three times, but no answer. She called several girlfriends, but no one could help. She'd have to bring Simon with her to work. She had no choice.

When she arrived at work after dropping Sara off at preschool, she was relieved to see that Kristina's car was already gone for the day. Oblivious Ludvig had no comment when Linda entered the house already holding a baby. She put Simon down in a bouncer and took the crying Wille from Ludvig, who left in a hurry.

"Wille, this is Simon. Simon is my baby. He's going to hang out with us today, okay?"

Wille paused his crying long enough to open his bleary eyes and look at the beautiful babbling creature bouncing on the floor. The moment he set his deep brown eyes on baby Simon, something miraculous happened.

The crying stopped.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and just stared. Simon bounced along happily, looking right back at Wille.

"Oh, cariño. You like baby Simon?" Linda brought Wille over to him, crouching down so the two babies were on the same level.

"Ma ma maa," said Simon.

Wille stared, transfixed.

Simon shrieked with happiness. He reached out and grabbed Wille's fat little baby hand and held on. Wille smiled. Tentatively at first, and then a big toothless baby grin.

Baby's first smile. Linda cried with relief.

(please note that I am from the U.S. where the childcare system, parental leave, social welfare, unemployment, etc are all absolute shit so i have no idea if this situation could actually happen in sweden)

#i saw a baby today and this happened #young royals #baby wilmon #yr ficlet

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slayerkitty · 2 months

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The DFF Experience: A Dead Friend Forever Fandom Round Up (Part 2*)

(screencap by @blmpff)

Theories (Episode 11-12):

My Two Cents on White Being Non Pt 1 by @queenofhtesarcastic

My Two Cents on White Being Non Pt 2 by @queenofhtesarcastic

Wacky Theory Time by @hastalahamon

New Always Meant for Everyone to Die by @hastalahamon

Non is Alive by @moonsunpenguin

Fluke Uploaded the Video by @yellingaboutkp

Finale Theory 1 by @ppeonppeonhan

Who Will Survive vs Die in DFF @queenofhtesarcastic

Non is Still Alive by @queenofhtesarcastic

Non is Still Alive by @befuddledcinnamonroll

Meta:

Character Analysis (Episodes 1-9)

On Jin’s cowardice and bravery by @yellingaboutkp

On Por’s moment in the spotlight by @leconcombrerit

Phee and Jin as parallels in episode 7 by @raelle-writing

Por and other characters’ roles as leaders by @leconcombrerit

On Fluke by @fracturediron

On Non’s parents by @fracturediron

On Non as a "hidden character" by @flamevbirdv

Phi hasn’t told New he and Non broke up yet? by @respectthepetty

Something Something PhiJinNon by @bellamygate

On Non’s Mom and the Grief of Losing a Child by @theflagscene

Non and Walls by @heretherebedork

Core Five on Friendship: Non, Phee and Tan by @colourme-feral

Tan is the Devil by @lukaherehelp

What Tan Does/Doesn’t Know (Tan is Regina George) by @respectthepetty

PheeJin vs PheeNon Parallels by @colourme-feral

Tan vs Phi And How They're Coping by @nutcasewithaknife

PheeJin Window Sex and Non Sex Tape Parallel by @bellamygate

On Tan/New by @fracturediron

Tan/New Analysis by @fracturediron

Non’s Thoughts on PheeJin if Non is Still Alive by @vegasthehedgehog

PheeNon Were Not a Good Couple by @yellingaboutkp

Phee's Character is Confusing by @crysta1ized

The Good and Bad in DFF (Character Analysis) by @blramblingx2

Character Analysis (Episode 10)

The Red String of Fate: Phee's Relationships in DFF by @brifrischu

Phee's Reaction to Non and Keng Makes Perfect Sense for the Character by @the-pink-quill

Phee: Torn Between the Past and the Future by @raelle-writing

Jin and the Morality of Useless Goodness by @salamander89

Jin and The Video by @kerrikins

Who is White by @tbhimnoteasyonmyself

Phee as an Unreliable Narrator by @quicksrlver

Phee is Lying by @leconcombrerit

What the Fuck is up with Phee? by @tbhimnoteasyonmyself

Phee and Tan sitting in a tree P-L-O-T-T-I-N-G by @mikuni14 with contributions by @italianpersonwithashippersheart

Por Being a Static Character by @bubbipond

Jin is the Only Bitch Who Respected Non by @yellingaboutkp

*Thanks to the fandom being amazing and writing and creating like crazy, we had to add a Part 3! You can find it here. We also added a Part 4. It's here. In case you missed it, Part 1 is here.

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #dff the series #thai bl #the dff experience #dff meta #dff art

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whoretan · 2 years

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You | Masterlist

Summary: There's an itch you've been scratching all semester: digging into your Professors, boss, friends, and relative's lives. You know everything, their dirtiest secrets, their weird fetishes, the stupid shit they like to waste their paychecks on, what the last thing they used their credit cards for. But, when you hack Park Jimin and his fraternity brothers everyone except one comes blank. You can't help but dig deeper, getting yourself into a mess you can't code yourself out of.

Genre: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Tags: breaking of fourth wall, reading is not mentally okay (DID disorder, etc), neither is jk, college setting, hackers/hacking, world-crime, lots of crime and dealing with 'a bigger picture', essentially get yourself into some deep shit, lots of sex (eventual) to help cope?, unhealthy relationships/toxic, obsessive behavior, everyone is unreliable, do not trust anyone, and have a good time trying to figure out what the fuck is happening

Current WC (Updated): 10.4k

Authors note: I want to preface that this fiction is a psychological thriller before it's a romance. Although there are romantic themes, and the main characters will eventually end up together, the whole point of it is to confuse you. I want you to think about every interaction, every person, every decision, and lastly do not trust everything the reader thinks she sees.

Is also available on AO3 with the original pairing. Taekook ver TBA.

chap1_jk970.txt

Summary: Jeongguk was supposed to be like the rest, easily hackable with a selection of dirty little secrets he'd like to keep hidden from the rest of the world: the typical weird kinks, fetishes, scams, evasion of taxes, lying on academic records. However, when you dig deeper it turns out that Jeongguk's secrets run, much, much deeper.

WC: 4.6k

Link: TXT

chap2_trojan.exe

Summary: What should've been an easy pick-up ends up being one of the worst nights of your life.

WC: 3.2k

Link: EXE

chap3_r3d.mp4

Summary: Jeongguk fills you in on what’s going on, and you realize you’ve gotten yourself into a mess much bigger than you’ll ever be.

WC: 2.5k

Link: MP4

Taglist: Thank you for reading and supporting my work.

@investedreader @soeur-de-ame @typicalasiannerd @janedukiesworld @thvkives @27s0ty97 @jmniconic @fammiliarlikemymirror3 @scarelttrose @annaspluto4 @greetieweetie @jinsundor @thejeonre @jungkookminthairwhen @ziko @jks-smolbunny @cupidguk @callmejimmeo @jkoojeon @berryonasumerevvening @ggukkie001 @ifntelyinspirit @rjsmochii @milan9164

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unpretty · 2 years

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A half-feral hero, a monster king, a bastard prince, and an open world. Bound by destiny, they save or slay one another, an endless cycle of death and rebirth. When the Moonlight Monster rises, the Starlight Hero is Astielle’s only hope. Unfortunately, she’s a little busy with her rock collection.

☽✷☀

Astielle is a free webnovel about the Starlight Hero (Minnow), her nemesis the Moonlight Monster (King Karzarul), and his nemesis the Sunlight Heir (Prince Leonas). It is an endless reincarnation cycle enemies-to-lovers speedrun and slow burn about trying to avoid the main quest by doing every possible sidequest instead. It's about trying to get your friend away from his shitty family and into your polycule instead. It is over 200k words, and almost 40k of them are a flashback to completely different characters thousands of years before the main story. A lot of readers tell me it is very funny, or that it made them cry. It was supposed to be PWP. It is a hot fucking mess in progress.

"You shouldn't let her eat rocks," Ari said.

"If she wants to eat a rock," Leonas said, "there is nothing on this or any other plane of existence that I can do to stop her from eating the fucking rock."

"I spit it back out," Minnow said. She was regretting ever telling him about the rock. "Can we move on, please? I would like to move on."

Astielle features:

[Table of Contents] [RSS Feed] [Email Alerts]

#original #fiction #fantasy #astielle #astielleblogging

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lorelune · 10 months

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part o - part iii

|| diluc ragnvindr x f! reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, fluff, post-trauma || wc: 16.2k || ao3 || masterlist || NEXT →

You return to Mondstadt after many years away, sick, with an feeling that's all-too familiar and unwelcome.

❁ my heart, your song - @firein-thesky ❁

minors & ageless blogs dni

a/n: AH!! here it is :'^) the diluc fic!!!! thank you so much to @itoshisoup for beta reading (along with my non-tumblr pals han & ennis as well!!) this section contains four chapters, separated by partitions. if you'd prefer to read this fic with the chapters/parts separated, it will be posted as such on ao3!

this fic is a collab with the lovely cielo (@firein-thesky)!! our fics share a mostly canon compliant universe :3c give it a read!! it's linked above!!!

...

tags: alcohol use, descriptions of vomiting, reader with chronic injury, reader is referred to as 'little sister' by kaeya (not related), unreliable narrator/reader, soggy soggy SOGGY diluc, protective diluc, diluc and reader were childhood friends to lovers, reader is a healer

PART o: kismet

Once, on one of your several trips to Sumeru, you visited the Akademiya. You only went to poke at dusty books and sit in on a few lectures as a wanderer who liked a good story and a bit of learning. There, you met a scholar whose name didn’t stick with you, from the Rtawahist darshan.

They had the far-off look in their eye of someone who had seen a bit too much, for who they were. You knew that some scholars went mad in their pursuit of knowledge. Saw things that they couldn’t cope with even if they tried. Your new friend looked to be close to such a threshold.

Perhaps, in an act of pity, you took this scholar out for a drink. Or two. Or seven. The exact number of cups and goblets escapes you now. But what you do remember, as you sat together on a terrace high above Yazaha pool, legs swinging, was their ramblings.

“There’s a map of everything, up there.” They gestured wildly to the sky, twinkling and bright, with the moon as company. “Deciphering it... Well. That’s another thing. But it’s there. And if we figure it out, fate will be in our hands to know.”

They continued, stretching their hands to the cosmos above them, as if their fingertips could decipher the orchestration of the Gods with nothing but passion, wine, and will. It was admirable, in your drunken state. Perhaps foolish to your sober mind.

Nonetheless, such an idea stuck with you. Even after you departed from your bygone friend, and continue your wanderings, you think about it. You laid on your bedroll more than once, staring upward, and wondering—

Why did the gods mosaic the sky?

You are just a mortal, how are you to know? You tried not to dwell on that specific thought. The one you find yourself coming back to, in your worst nights—

(If I could read the stars, and foresee a tragedy, is there any way for a calamity to be stopped? If you knew fate’s charted course, the crest of its fortune and the wake of its tragedies— could you circumvent them?)

(Could you have stopped your calamity?)

It was a self-deprecating thought, and it dragged you back to a place and time that was both unpleasant and unnecessary to recall.

There’s no way to change the past, you reminded yourself. You could only move forward. Never back. You only balked at the stars in your weakest moments and pondered such ideas like fate and destiny. You could live in the illusion of carving your own destiny as you traversed Teyvat. One where you wrapped gauze around wounds after the disaster had passed. Heal sullied ground. You could do everything you could to help people. That was enough, you decided early on in your travels.

You’d help people (and avoid the nation Mondstadt). Simple enough.

One foot in front of the other.

PART i: there’s a puzzle we crafted

You’re tired.

So tired.

It’s a merciless type of exhaustion that you rarely, if ever, let yourself slip into. To wander Liyue’s peak and narrow paths in such a condition is dangerous, even if the Millelith and Guild did a decent job keeping settlements of Hilichurls suppressed. In general, you can take down slimes on your own— except when you find yourself this deliriously tired.

Normally, you don’t even bother traveling in this state. You would drag yourself to the nearest village, throw some mora at a layperson and set up shop wherever they had space. Be that an inn, back room, or stable— you aren’t picky. As long as you could rest for a few days, perhaps help out the village in your spare time.

Your most recent wanderings, however, took you far onto the Yaoguang Shoals for several days, and by the time you returned to solid, proper earth, you were desperately low on essentials. Your nearest respite was an old village crawling with Hilichurls. Your next best option would be a miniature expedition onto the shores of Dragonspine and hope the cold wouldn’t kill you before you could find shelter and stoke a fire.

So, you keep going.

All the way past Stonegate and the quarries beyond it. You’re only half-lucid as you wander into Mondstadt for the first time in years.

You roost in an abandoned cottage some ways down the road. Finally resting for the first time in days. Never mind your still-damp bedroll or the structural unsoundness of the ruin. You practically fall to your knees and pass out, given your state.

(Running has made you tired, hasn’t it?)

When you awaken, you ache. (Familiar). You nibble on the last of your rations and it hits you—

You’re back in Mond, aren’t you?

Archons.

You should leave, really. It’s your first thought when you realize where you are. You shouldn’t be here. You’re not even near the city proper, but a panic unfurls in your chest like you’ve been struck. You immediately begin to pack up your things—

Two things hit you then:

One: You’re far lower on supplies than you had thought.

This isn’t a new development, however. It’s just far worse than you thought. You paw at the contents of your bag, realizing that the dried zaytun peaches and jerky you had for breakfast were the last of your rations. The weather had been poor across Liyue in the past weeks, and many of the normal markets you would’ve run into were shuttered because of it. Regardless, you didn’t think you were on your last fucking morsels.

Deep in your bag, all you have is a torn, unusable tarp and a pitiful handful of the crystalline shards you used to purify water.

You don’t even need to look at your medicine kit to know the paltry state it’s in. Far too many empties.

Two: A burning sensation that splits you wide open and threatens to eat you alive.

You barely twist your foot the wrong way. Hardly at all. Regardless, something like liquid electro shoots from the twisted (broken, mutilated—) parts of your right foot, up your thigh, and shakes you down to your bones.

You stumble, using the wall for support and keeping your weight off the injury. It shouldn’t be aggravated this early in the day. You shake it off from your ankle, lowering yourself to the dirt floor to massage out any of the tension and subsequent pain that you can. You’ll be able to walk, surely, but it’s getting harder and harder to deny that the old injury isn’t worsening over time.

You remember, vaguely, hearing tell that there was a skilled healer in Mond once again. Younger, a Vision-bearer in the Church, maybe?

You know enough about the Church of Favonius that they would at least look at your injury, if this half-remembered healer really does exist and is affiliated with them.

You hate that Mondstadt seemed like the best option.

(Later, you’ll realize it’s all a bit like fate, pushing you toward that stupid city.)

You find yourself at a loss, shake your head, and sigh, “... I guess it wouldn’t... really be so bad to visit.”

You’ll just stay for a day or two.

...

Mondstadt’s front gate is so familiar it nearly hurts. The guards have different faces than the ones you remember from your youth. Their demeanor is the same— kind, open, like how people from Mond tend to be. They don’t hound you too much as you pass, and you enter the city without issue.

Midday sun lights Mondstadt proper when you arrive (your journey from the quarries took a bit longer than necessary, considering your route went wide around a particular plot of land that you refused to go near.)

The city bustles with noise and activity. Merchants line the streets, carts and stalls overflowing. Seafoam banners and floral wreaths hang along the stone arches and walls, while garlands of fresh flowers stretch from building to building. The scent of fresh flowers, baking bread, and sweet wine envelopes you.

Windblume, you remember. It is spring, after all.

You hope the crowds of the festival will help you blend in as you meander through the city. You keep your head down, counting cobblestones and being quick with your purchases. Better to get in and out, probably. If you can snag a new tarp and bedroll, you could set up across the bridge for the night, and be gone by morning if you could track down that healer within the afternoon too.

As you walk up the main run of Mond proper, toward the fountain and the smell of warm spiced meat, someone, archons, gasps from behind you and says your name.

(Later, you’ll recall this moment. Perhaps kismet turned on its axis for you to still and—)

You freeze, going stiff. You’d know that voice anywhere. Sweet and teasing, curling down your spine in a way that feels both ambiently flirtatious and horribly familiar.

Part of you screams to ignore her. Let her think she has the wrong person and continue your journey in Mond unimpeded by an old specter. You could be out the gates in a number of hours, if not minutes if you really need to (run, run, run).

But, there’s a temptation. It breathes itself alive, from the back of your mind to the front, entirely unavoidable.

(How long has it been since you’ve seen a familiar face? One that you know instead of just recognizing?)

You turn slowly. “... Hi, Lisa.”

...

And, somehow, you end up in the Knight’s of Favonius headquarters, with a perfectly warm cup of tea in your hands, nestled in a library you hadn’t been inside for nearly a decade. It smells of old parchment and leather. Steam rises from your cup, fragrant with Sumeru rose and Guili cinnamon stick with black tea leaves. You recall the scholars of the Spantamad darshan favored this blend; you shared more than a cup or two during your visits to the Akademiya.

Lisa settles in the seat across from you, with a small box of pastries that look sticky and sweet. Your mouth waters.

“How have you been, dear?” Lisa gives you a soft look. “It’s been so long.”

So long, you add to yourself. Sitting across from Lisa is giving you a gut-twisting sense of deja vu that has your palms sweating.

“I’ve been well,” you say, gently. “Travelling, still.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Lisa smiles and lays her cheek on her palm. “What was your most recent destination?”

You hummed. “I recently went to Natlan’s capital, just for a few months. I ended up staying with a smith who gave me odd jobs in exchange for housing.”

“Oh, wow,” Lisa preens for you. “And before that? I apologize, dear, I’m not caught up with your journeys.”

Ah, the lack of letters.

“I apologize.” You rub your forehead. “I haven’t been writing lately. It’s been... hard to keep track of things, though it’s not an excuse.”

“I would disagree.” She flashes you a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been crisscrossing Teyvat; it makes perfect sense why you would struggle to keep in touch with folks. I’m sure you’ve met plenty of friends on your travels, too. I imagine you have lots to juggle.”

Lisa is partially correct, you suppose.

“You continue to give me so much amnesty— too kind,” you laugh, and lean back in your chair.

Lisa looks a bit wistful as she puts down her cup in exchange for one of the pastries. You recognize the expression on her. You’ve only seen her wear it once before.

“How long are you staying in Mond?” Lisa asks, nodding down to the box. You leave the treats untouched.

“Not long.” You refuse to look at her as you answer, “Just for the day. I needed some supplies and Mondstadt was the most convenient.”

It’s a clinical answer. One you say intentionally, perfectly, so she can’t poke holes in your logic. You hope, pray, she doesn’t push back on your short visit. Any longer, and you might accidentally run into more faces you don’t wish to see. Lisa was tangentially related to... everything, but she was the least obtrusive person you could have run into. Still, you’re in the lion’s den, in the Ordo’s HQ, for a cup of tea, praying that you can slip in and out undetected outside of Lisa.

(It’s easier like this, you tell yourself. You can’t get twisted up in this place again.)

Lisa examines you, tracing you up and down with her gaze in a way that’s horribly disarming. If it was from anyone else, you’d think they were checking you out, especially with the sweet, upward quirk of her lips. But, this is Lisa, and you had forgotten how astute she is.

“Only a day? That’s a shame.” She sighs, sitting back and stirring the tiny spoon perched in her teacup. “It's Windblume. You should stay.”

“I could,” you muse and give her a sympathetic smile. “But, I don’t think it would be wise. It would be better if I got on my way quickly.”

She raises an eyebrow. “How far back would a few days in Mondstadt put you on your travel plans?”

‘Plans’.

You nearly bark out a laugh, but you keep it lodged in your throat.

“Not terribly far, but I... I don’t want to stay, Lisa.” You reach across the table and squeeze her free hand. “It isn’t good for me to linger here.”

The look she gives you breaks your heart. Her brows wilt, her eyes get a little sadder, and she grips your hand unyieldingly. “... Are you sure, sweetheart? I’m sure the Knights could put together some lodging for you—”

She presses, and you hate the feeling of it. You know her kindness is not misplaced, but it makes you roll around in your skin regardless. Archons. You interrupt her with a tight smile, “Truly, Lisa, I am grateful for the offer, but I will be on my way come tomorrow morning. Perhaps another year.”

“Perhaps.”

You sip your tea in silence for a moment. You stew, barely, not at her specifically but circumstance. It boils just underneath your skin, just as it has been since you entered Mond’s border. Speaking to Lisa has only made the feeling grow and burn.

You can’t meet her gaze— you can’t. You can feel it on you regardless. You know you’ll see more pity and maybe that familiar bite of anger she wields so well.

“Why don’t you tell me when and how you got that Vision then?” She nods low, down to your waist. Your dendro Vision hums there, tied to you with a fraying, braided string that desperately needs replacing.

There isn’t a problem with indulging a bit of... this, is there? You’re only sitting to chat. Drinking some tea. You can hunt for that healer and duck out of Mond’s walls by sundown. Easy. You pluck one of the buttery-looking pastries from the box and plop it on your plate.

“Sure, but only if I can get a refill on this tea.” You smile and raise your cup.

...

You lose track of time, talking to Lisa.

You do tell her how you obtained your Vision, and of your subsequent journey through Snezhnaya to its port following your graduation. She tells you some of the new gossip of Ordo Favonius, and that she’s been thinking about picking out a ring to give to Jean (though, she has a hunch the other already has one in mind. Lisa thinks it'll be fun to meddle with whatever precise plan the Acting Grand Master (nice) has in place.)

She continues to pour you tea and push more baked goods onto your plate. You enjoy them, and her company. It’s a rare treat to sit down for so long with nothing more than chatting on your mind.

“How was studying in Snezhnaya?” Lisa asked, eyeing your various bags. “Cold, I imagine?”

“Very.” You grimace, fishing around in your satchel. “But, worth it.”

You pull forth a palm-sized metal insignia. You keep it tucked away, most of the time, only flashing the thing when necessary. You only need legitimacy every so often.

“Oh, wow.” Lisa gawks a bit. “May I see?”

You hand it to her. “Be my guest.”

She studies the metal, running her fingertips along the edges where the different colors meet. Vibrant blues meet greens and whites, with pink and purple flowers cast around the bottom edge. The shape resembles something between a shield and wheel, with each one of its seven portions having some meaning for the institution. They escape you now.

“I’ve heard that the Tselostnyy School is quite the place,” Lisa says. “No one at the Akademiya seemed fond of them, but I imagine it was out of some sort of insecurity.”

You snort. “Probably. Folks at Tselostnyy actually teach healing— not just study the human body for the sake of some academic pursuit. The two schools have opposing goals.”

It was one of the main reasons you declined to apply to the Akademiya at all.

“I’m glad you found a place to study— I know it was hard, after Teacher passed away.” Lisa reaches out as she speaks, going for your hand.

You withdrew your own from the tabletop, hiding it in your lap. “It was. But I managed.”

‘Managed.’

Lisa gives you a look that drips pity. She looks as though she’s going to reply, just as the door to enter the library clicks open.

Your gut drops to the floor and your shoulders stiffen.

“Lisa? Could you proofread this draft for me? I’m afraid I sound too formal again—” It’s Jean, it’s Jean.

It’s her voice, the distantly familiar click of her hard heels against the wood flooring. You bunch the fabric of your trousers in your fist, forcibly reminding yourself to breathe. Jean walks from behind you, rounds the table, stops at Lisa’s side and looks at you.

Jean’s eyes widen.

“Oh, sorry sweetheart— I’m a bit busy with a friend right now,” Lisa says easily, oblivious (seemingly, probably not.) She gestures to you and winks. “I can take a look after lunch, if you can take a break with me.”

Jean says your name— gasping it more or less, tightening her grip on the document in her hands.

“... Hi, Jean.” You give her a little wave. “How have you been?”

It’s bittersweet, the feeling that curls and grows in your chest as she brightens and pulls up a chair next to Lisa. It’s familiar and rotten, all the same.

...

The commotion in the library brings other visitors.

Lisa wears a smitten smile as other knights make their way into the library. Aramia and Flyn— they look older, long grown out of their adolescence and more into their skin. Hertha has crinkles around her eyes that grow tight when she recognizes who you are.

The Spark Knight barrels in the room being lazily chased by—

Kaeya.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

He scoops up the little knight and turns to the tea table, now surrounded by familiar faces, and you can see he has his lips pursed for some sort of teasing quip. Probably at the expense of the Ordo’s acting Grand Master and Librarian.

Then, Kaeya sees you.

You watch his jaw snap shut. Whatever clever thing he had to say dies on his tongue and you watch it. It’s a little satisfying after all this time. You’ll cherish this moment, you think. The split second of confusion, the realization, the shock and— the guilt.

He wipes the expression off his face easily, as if it were never there to begin with. But you’ll revel in his discomfort. Your own little revenge, several years too late.

“Oh, wow—” Kaeya whistles, clicking closer and settling Klee on his hip with a bounce. He says your name almost breathlessly. “Little sister, it’s been quite some time. We’ve missed you.”

“Did you?” You tilt your head. “That’s surprising.”

You hold your tongue. You dig your teeth into the sides of it, forcing yourself quiet. The feeling that’s boiling in your chest won’t be extinguished by verbally thrashing Kaeya in the middle of the Knight’s HQ— but, Archons—

It’s tempting.

“‘Sister’?” The little knight’s nose scrunches. “Mister Kaeya, you said you only had Diluc, who’s only kinda your brother. No sisters!”

“He’s teasing me,” you placate her, voice sweetening. The little knight looks at you with wide eyes, a little awed. “‘Mister Kaeya’ is an old friend of mine, we played together lots when we were little like you.”

An oversimplification, of course. Little Klee doesn’t need to know what happened after the sun-swept days of sword fighting and house ended at the winery. Kaeya’s air quickly fades as Klee squirms down and asks kindly for a hug. You don’t think she can remember you— you only held her once, when she was so small— but you know her kind age and remember so differently from your own.

“Why are you in town?” Kaeya asks. “I thought I’d never seen you within city limits again. Color me surprised.”

You lock your jaw, as Klee bounds away from you and wrestles her way onto Jean’s lap, “Passing through, is all. I’ll be gone by morning.”

“... So, you’re not staying for Windblume?” Kaeya sits, pouring himself a cup of tea. You think you might hate him. “That’s a shame.”

“I’m not,” you clarify and roll your eyes. “Though everyone is insisting that I do.”

“You really should.” Lisa takes the opening and insists, “It would be lovely to have you.”

Of the group that has congested in the library, you only hear agreement. Jean has a bright look in her eye that makes you shy away.

“I... I really shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Kaeya grins, foxlike. You think he just likes making you squirm.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Jean inquires, setting her chin on her fist.

“Well, no—” There’s always somewhere for you to be. You can’t stay. You shouldn’t even be here now.

“Then, stay.” Eula leans against the doorframe, entered at some point.

You’re being thoroughly peer-pressured, it seems.

“...I’m being bullied into staying for Windblume, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps.” Jean gives you a sheepish grin. “You’re missed, Windblume is just an excuse.”

You ache.

“Stay in the city, enjoy some wine,” Lisa insists. “Catch up with folks. I’d love to see more of you while you’re here. I’m sure you have stories to share of your travels.”’

You barter, “... If I do stay, I need to find a healer. I heard that there’s a skilled one, living in Mond. A Vision holder.”

Jean opens her mouth, but Kaeya speaks first. “Done.”

You consider.

You’re fully aware that your arm is being horribly twisted into staying for Windblume. You know this is unwise. But—

(There’s something to it. Something you can’t admit it to, not aloud, not yet— but being in a room full of people who do not see you as a stranger, but rather an old friend. They know your name, and you know theirs. There’s something to knowing the streets you will walk if you stay. Familiarity is a wretched comfort.)

“If you need lodging, the knights could easily put you up in the dormitories,” Jean offers.

“No, I—” You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your cheeks. “I appreciate the gesture, but if I do stay I’ll camp outside the city.”

“So you’re staying?” Klee’s eyes shine.

“I—”

“In that case, come out for drinks tonight,” Kaeya insists with a sly smile that makes you want to eat glass. “I’ll buy a round.”

“Wait—”

“Angel’s Share does bring out its Windblume vintage tonight—” Lisa says enticingly.

“Absolutely not.” You smack your hand on the table, far louder than you intend.

Kaeya cocks his head, amused. Lisa and Jean share a look, and the rest of the knights look a bit bewildered. You hate to raise your voice, but Archons, this crowd can be pushy.

“I’ll stay. But I’m not going to Angel’s Share.” Never ever again.

Lisa does seem to notice her error in suggesting it and gives you an apologetic smile. She reaches for your hand and squeezes. You feel a bit lighter.

“Diluc won’t be there,” Kaeya states. On the nose. “He doesn’t bartend on weeknights, even during Windblume.”

“... Really?”

“He doesn’t,” Eula corroborates. “I have knowledge as well that he is in the middle of merchant deals with a group from Natlan. There is no reason to think he’d be at Angel’s Share this evening, if that’s your concern.”

You pick at the skin around your nails.

“I’ll think about it.”

(You agree, by the time you leave Ordo HQ. After many other promises of free wine and dancing, you find it hard to refuse. It doesn’t hurt that you confirm with multiple others that Diluc doesn’t bartend on weeknights. That he’s been caught up in business, and hasn’t been in the city much at all.)

...

You had enough mora for a few nights of lodging. You figured that Goth may have even given you a discount, as an old friend of his. Archons know how many times you worked odd jobs for him and his sons, patching up walls and the occasion twisted ankle or jammed finger.

After some searching, you find Goth in one of the many gardens of Mond proper. As happy as he is to see you, he regretfully informs you that he has no free lodging.

“Windblume has booked out all of my short-term properties,” Goth sighs. “Unless you’re looking for a minimum six-month lease, I don’t have any rooms available.”

(Goth explains to you that the goddamn Fatui has rented out the entirety of his hotel... indefinitely? Upfront? Hence the lack of a room.)

You tell him it’s no trouble, wave off his concern. You don’t mind a few more nights of camping. The only allure of an inn or hotel was the possibility of consistently bathing and a soft mattress.

You pick a spot outside of Mondstadt proper to set up your camp. There are many tents already set up— travelers, like yourself, here for the festival. You recognize colors and fabrics from all over Teyvat. It warms something in you, that you aren’t alone in being an outsider here.

(Such a thought feels wrong, because it is, isn’t it? You aren’t an outsider at all. This is your home. The only place you’re not an outsider.)

You struggle to set up your tent, and decide to leave it for later. Wandering around Mond for the afternoon aggravated your injury, and you instead take the time to poke around in your medicine kit for a quick tincture. Something to settle the—

(Burning, screeching pain that tracks up your leg. You’re grateful the other travelers aren’t watching how you collapse against a pile of discarded crates, barely holding back a hiss of pain.)

(It’s getting worse, isn’t it?)

Teacher always said that nothing was harder on sickness and wounds than stress. It was a wisdom you remembered but barely heeded.

You use the dropper and place the tincture under your tongue. It tastes bitter and coats your throat as you swallow.

...

The sun rains gold on Mond as you meander toward the Angel’s Share. Liquid amber that coats the buildings and cobblestones. It’s nostalgic in too many ways, and it makes something behind your ribs ache.

(You’re hit with the distinct urge to run. To turn tail and leave Mondstadt forever, again.)

You shove it down, swallow it whole, and bear it. Bear it. Not forever, just for a few days. You can catch up with some old friends, leave any old scores unsettled and untouched (undisturbed, unthought about—), and depart. Maybe even fix up your foot in the process.

You hesitate outside of Angel’s share.

It looks different than you remember. The door and its frame have been replaced, the door and its frame hardly ached. There’s a message board outside that you can’t recall being there previously. A wreath hangs on the door, woven with blue and white flowers for Windblume.

You want it to be different. You do. Because if things are different, walking into Angel’s Share wouldn’t feel so daunting. You could pretend that this horribly familiar tavern was someplace else entirely. Maybe even delude yourself into thinking that this little building was its own, unique, carved-out square during one of your travels. A fantasy where you’ve never been here before.

(The warmth under your disgust wouldn’t feel so misplaced then.)

You enter.

It’s lively, bustling with patrons of all types with the festival beginning so soon. You recognize clothes and people from all corners of Teyvat, and it comforts you once more. You blend in easily, lingering near the door, and peek at the bar.

Diluc is nowhere to be seen. Another barkeep mans the kegs, barrels, and bottles. You don’t recognize him— which brings you some relief.

It would be easy. To be delusional about this whole thing. That Angel’s Share could be just a tavern in the middle of nowhere and the faces that are around you have no chance of being familiar. You’re in a sea of folks who are travelers, just like, or mostly unfamiliar. You could, couldn’t you? Tell yourself that this isn’t a place where—

(You had your first drink. Learned how to mix cocktails with Crepus. Play fought Diluc and Kaeya in the rafters on the third floor. Where you last saw Diluc—)

You clutch a hand to your chest. Who knew that emotional pain could be so violently physical?

Jean calls your name from across the room, pulling you from your stupor. You meet her eyes, and the smile you force to meet your eyes feels a little more genuine.

With the call of your name, several other patrons look up and gawk for a moment. You get a few more ‘oh hello!’s and ‘I didn’t know you were in town!’ thrown your way and you give them all sheepish smiles. Faces you can’t place very well. Features and familiar expressions mutilated by time and a botched memory. It makes you feel sick to your stomach— archons, and you haven’t even sampled this year’s selection of thousand-wind’s wine, have you?

Jean flashes you a sympathetic look when you finally make it to their table. The table is flushed full— intimidatingly so. The knights have come out tonight. Lisa and Jean cozy up on the same bench seat, while Kaeya (die) and Albedo sit across from the two. You offer the alchemist a timid wave, which he returns in kind. Some of the other knights have spilled out to the tables around you, chattering away with wine-stained lips.

And the night’s still young.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show,” Kaeya practically purrs (choke) and leans closer to you on an elbow. “Were you able to find some lodging for the festival?”

“Yeah, I found something that will work.” It’s not technically a lie. Besides, they don’t need to know where you’re sleeping.

Kaeya raises an eyebrow and Albedo elbows him politely in the ribs. You make a note to buy him a drink later.

“I’ll get this round,” Lisa says, standing and grabbing you by the arm. “My treat. A welcome home present.”

You let her tug you through the crowd.

You end up seated properly at a barstool while Lisa orders. She wove her way through the crowd and up to the bar so easily, like liquid. You hardly have to wait at all before a drink is passed to you across the bar top.

You gulp half the glass down, greedily.

You, notably, have chosen not to cessate from dandelion wine in your absence. It was a rare treat to come across outside of Mond and Liyue, so when you could get your hands on glass, you let yourself partake. Whatever melancholy it brought with it could be tempered with more of it anyways.

It goes down easy— it always does. Thicker than other wines, sweet but bodied, with some type of nutty and berry note to it. You never understood the process of winemaking, despite so many years spent at the winery. When Crepus or Diluc or one of the staff attempted to explain, it all easily went over your head.

The tannins sour your cheeks. You swallow down another mouthful, greedy, and slam down your empty goblet. Lisa looks at you wide-eyed.

“I don’t recall that you were ever much of a drinker,” Lisa remarks as she flags down another glass for you. She sips her own, mischief in her eyes.

You shrug, nodding to the barkeep who fills your cup. “I indulge, occasionally. Forgive me for needing a drink in this environment.”

You gesture to the carousing around you. A lyre and fiddle play in the corner, and you distinctly hear two different bard songs. One is significantly better than the other, and you may have even enjoyed it if you could hear it fully.

Being near the bar forces you to see changes. They’re hard to not notice. The signage behind the bar has changed. An old menu and drink list have been changed out for something sleeker. Paintings and their frames replaced. The glass you’re drinking out must be new, along with the tankards that the barkeep washes whenever he has a free moment.

There are still ghosts in the corners.

“Gods, you look like a wet towel.” Kaeya’s shouts, nearly in your goddamn ear, as he slips into the empty seat next to you. He drapes an arm over your shoulders like you’re old friends and not the byproducts of a dissolved relationship. You think about shrugging his arm off, but decide against it.

You throw back the rest of whatever is in your glass and shout for another.

Kaeya catches your eye for a moment with a nearly unreadable expression. You recognize it (and concur that you need to be far more drunk than you currently are in order to survive the evening.) His brow lays smooth, lips in a not-quite smile, and his posture is a bit too rigid. You know he’s picking you apart, albeit quietly.

The expression disappears a moment later, and he has a new bottle of wine in his hands (“For you, little sister.”) Your cup fills yet again, and you drink.

The world begins to feel fuzzier, easier, and the pain in your foot and leg dulls. God, you try not to indulge in drinking too often (it’s simply a recipe for reliance, given your condition. Regardless, you're a physician who knows better than to turn to the bottle rather than medicine), but you feel the temptation of it occasionally.

It’s an easy friend to indulge in under these circumstances.

One of the bards, the one with loose braids, strikes up a conversation with Kaeya, looping you in with an exchange of introduction. Your cheeks warm when you notice the slur of your words, sipping your cup to disguise any embarrassment. The bard must be drunk, with how much sweet wine he drinks, but he hardly acts it. Poised.

Lisa pats you on your back after your fourth glass, seemingly pitying you in your stupor.

The good bard, at some point, leaves Kaeya’s side. Kaeya’s back to leaning into yours, the furs of his outfit prickling your nose. If you were sober, you’d be spewing curses at him. But in your drunken mind... it was fine. Fine. Maybe the warmth of him against your side wasn’t entirely unwelcome either.

You loosen up, whether you want to or not.

Lisa drags you out of your stool after your fifth drink, to take pulls off a pipe a traveler offers and to dance with her in the main room of the tavern. The bards play a duet now, in tune, though the good bard from earlier carries the performance.

You laugh as she twirls you, dipping you near the floor. Some of the patrons cheer and whistle at the move, and you let loose a giggle that never would’ve left you in your right mind. Her face swims before you. Your insides are warm. Things are okay, maybe. For now.

So, you dance.

You dance with Jean and Kaeya, even dragging Hertha in for a round. Eula refuses, though apologetically. She’s a bit too drunk herself, and Amber insists on staying by her side to nurse her with water and pyro-warmed pets to the back of her neck.

(Do you envy them? Maybe. The skinship of it seems nice. They’re so familiar with each other, even from a distance. So lax and tender with each other even within such a setting. You cannot imagine receiving such treatment.)

Kaeya spins you back to the bar and buys you another glass.

“You dance better than you used to,” he croons in your ear. “even with that dreadful limp of yours.”

You bark out a laugh and punch him in the arm with hardly any force (you’ll regret not making it hurt more, later). “Wow, and here I thought wine curbed your silver tongue.”

“Unlike some, I can hold my liquor just fine.” He shrugs and sips.

You, on the other hand, turn the corner from ‘tipsy’ to ‘blasted’ as you hit the bottom of your goblet. Your stomach churns, spelling a hangover that will rot your stomach and the space between your eyes come the morning. The room doesn’t spin, not quite yet.

You lay your forehead on the bartop.

“Aw, had a bit too much?” Kaeya tsks. “How unfortunate of you, to not know your limits, even after all this time.”

You grumble something unintelligible.

He sets a cold hand on the nape of your neck and your ground yourself on it.

(You can regret it in the morning.)

You have absolutely no idea what time it is, though the tavern is still rowdy. You imagine late, at least near the high moon if not into the early morning. Windblume was a celebration of drinking after all. Angel’s Share stays lively, despite the hour, though the drone of voices and folk songs becomes lost on you as your eyes slip shut.

Amongst the din, there’s a firm thud— the sound of wood on wood. Another sounds just after, though much closer and more shallow. You only make out the sound because of its old familiarity. The sound of the counter flap falling and straining its hinges. It must be one of the only pieces of original hardware from the old Angel’s share— the sound is identical to the one in your memory (maybe, you’re drunk, you may just be nostalgic—)

The barkeep (Charles, he told you his name though you didn’t give him yours) shuffles away, maybe, based on the thump of feet amongst the roar of the tavern. A shift change.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show.” Kaeya’s hand leaves you. You can hear the grin in his voice.

There’s a huff from behind the bar. The clink of a glass. A squeak as it’s dried and shined with a rag.

“Do you think I’m unreliable?”

Your eyes stretch open, wide, in a flash. Horrible, wretched familiarity (with the way a voice can bring you so much anguish and warmth in tandem.) You don’t look up. You stare down at the floorboards, count the grains and notches in the wood. Steady your breathing.

You know that voice.

You look up, slowly, against all better judgment. If you were sober (Archons, if you were fucking sober—) you would’ve turned, held your eyes shut and ran out of the bar without looking back. You would’ve never dared to peak and pull the thread that dangled in front of you.

He’s blurry, but he’s there. A trim waist that leads up to broad shoulders, arms that bulge more than you remember, scarlet hair that falls in waves from a high-tied ribbon. Scarlet eyes, cut and polished like rubies.

It’s Diluc, who meets your gaze for the first time in almost a decade. Just as shocked and wide-eyed as you are.

The glass slips from his hands and shatters.

PART iii: the World (born)

You met Diluc Ragnvindr when you were just children, doing what children do best— playing while the adults talked.

Your parents— traveling merchants— and Crepus Ragnvindr sat down for wine and sweet rum after a lavish supper. Your parents shooed you off. They didn’t need you clinging to their legs while trying to discuss the intricacies of a potential (and lucrative) contract with Dawn Winery and its splendid dandelion wine.

Crepus takes you under his wing a bit, showing your parents to a fine vintage and you to his two boys.

“They like to play in the vineyard this time of day,” Crepus says, a bit wistful. He leads you by the hand. “The crystalflies soar lower when the sun dips beyond the hills, and the fireflies come out.”

You like fireflies.

He shows you out to the courtyard, and you catch sight of two boys scampering around amongst the greenery. Crepus calls them and they both dutifully bound over, the way young boys do, enthusiastic and fast. The one with the pretty blue hair follows the one with the pretty red hair.

Crepus introduces you. Kaeya. Diluc.

Diluc has round cheeks and a soft jaw. He carries baby fat still, pudgy in his arms and legs and round in his belly. His cheeks are flushed with the late summer’s heat and a day of play. He has a brush of freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His hair is shorter than it will become, but long enough that you think your mother would envy him.

His eyes widen when he sees you. You’ll never be sure why.

(Kismet turned for him earlier, maybe. All it took was you.)

You spend the evening with your side wedged into Diluc's, watching the lazy flight of anemo crystalflies by the water. You tell the boys about the constellations you know, and make up a few that you don’t. You trace them in the sky with the tip of your pointer finger. You ask to braid Diluc’s hair and he lets you.

Crepus finds you all, just after dusk, dozing as the fireflies begin to dance.

...

Your family visits the winery several times each year. You enjoy the visits immensely. You’ve grown quite close to the Ragnvindr’s, and Kaeya too. You always barrel off your family’s wagon, running ahead of them to greet the boys, who are always waiting for you too.

You play swords with them, though you aren’t any good at it. You always bring them trinkets from wherever you and your family have been. You like to gift Crepus a book or two as well, though you don’t know what they’re about. You choose them based on the covers.

Diluc lights up when you hand him a little shell from Liyue’s shore. You tell him about the cliffs where you found it, and how you’ll go there together some day. You’ll show him the geometric columns of stone that seem to climb all the way to Celestia. You will show him where the sand bars become one with the sea, and how to dig for crabs and shells with your bare hands.

Diluc likes you, you think. He always lets you slip into his room after the manor has fallen asleep. You sit across from one another on the velvet window bench. You hug a pillow while he tells you about how he’ll start training as a knight soon. He holds a vision now— he pats it with pride.

(He tells you how he obtained his vision in your absence. The first time he picked up a sword against an adversary, it appeared to him. It’s a grand thing, brave. He was protecting one of his favorite stray winery kittens from a boar near the edge of the property. He raised his rubber training sword and he was granted Celestia’s blessing.)

You think he’s lovely.

...

The boys start training with Ordo Favonius. They practice with the Gunnhildr girl, the older one, who wears a ribbon in her hair and has eyes like midday sky. She’s a few years older than you, and intimidates you with her maturity, but she’s kind.

The older knights let you watch their training when your family visits. You post up during their drills, watch their forms, their blunders, and their successes. A knight named Varka always takes Diluc aside to teach him how to best wield his vision with his weapon of choice.

(A greatsword. A claymore. It’s almost your size, probably. The one Diluc uses during training is Favonius issued, smithed with their crest near the base of the blade. You know the one he’ll really use. A family relic that Crepus brought up from storage for him— a rectangular blade, metal cast in black and red, with an elaborate furl stretching from the hilt. Crepus asks Diluc to wield it when he’s ready.)

Kaeya offers you his sword, one day, at the end of training. The junior knights soak in their own sweat as you take the blade from Kaeya. The knights make it look so effortless to wield such weaponry. They carry it at the hip like it's an accessory and not carved metal. When you wrap your hand around it, the weight shocks you. You barely heft it up, struggling with the balance of it. The trainees rib you a bit for it, and it makes you blush hot and hard.

Diluc scolds Kaeya, taking the blade from you when it's clear that brandishing it one-handed as intended is close to impossible for you. You feel some relief when Kaeya takes it back and shrugs.

“You won’t have to worry about wielding a weapon like that— ever.” Diluc says on your way home (home, home, home, it’s becoming your home—) that day. “Especially a sword.”

“Why?” You ask.

“I’ll make sure you never have to.”

“Hm... what if I want to?” You try to be cheeky with him.

He gives you a playful shove and you bump into Kaeya. The latter groans and makes a choking sound.

“You don’t,” Diluc replies, flashing you a smile. “If you did, you would’ve played swords with Kaeya and I more when we were little. You always liked to watch.”

“It’s more fun that way!” You hip check him. “It’s interesting to see all of it, rather than participate.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kaeya chimes in. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with how weak your arms are.”

He squeezes your bicep and you shriek at him, chasing him ahead down the path. You squabble all the way home (home, home, home), rolling down the hills back into the Winery’s valley. You belly laugh together, tears in your eyes. It’s good.

You only go silent when you notice your family’s wagon, packed and ready for departure, idling in front of the winery.

...

You don’t travel well, you never have.

Your parents had informed Crepus of this during your first visit (“Never well, even when my wife my pregnant— the little thing gave her the hardest time on the road.”) Despite this, you had always meandered with your family on their circuit from Liyue to Mond.

One of your visits to the winery, just around the turn of your childhood to adolescence, you fall ill.

Your parents brush off your complaints upon arrival. Chills, aches, and a cough— “It’s from the rain. Your clothes are still damp.”. Your usually lively arrival was dulled. You barely touched the dinner Crepus provided before retiring to your favored room.

You hate being sick. You hate how your gut churns and you feel so cold, despite the fire one of the maid’s stoked in the big fireplace. You sniffle and snot over the back of your hand, fighting tears. You fall ill so frequently, but it doesn’t make it easier. Even your softest clothes feel scratchy against your tender skin— you feel horribly breakable.

There’s a gentle knock on your door before it opens. Diluc joins you by your bedside, kneeling, watching you with wide ruby eyes.

“My father told me you’re sick,” he says gently. “You don’t look well.”

You give him a wilted look. “It happens.”

“... It shouldn’t,” Diluc says with a conviction that your fever forces you to miss. “He says that you get sick often.”

“I don’t travel well.” You parrot what you heard your parents say a thousand times, to innkeepers and merchant-folk alike. “It’s alright, Diluc. I’ll be well in a few days.”

Your teeth chatter. You bury yourself deeper in the covers.

Diluc looks unconvinced. He disrobes as much as is proper, and asks quietly if he can join you. He’s warm, from his pyro vision, he tells you. He can see how cold you feel.

Whether he had such a vision or not, you would’ve said yes.

You pull away the duvet, inviting Diluc closer. It’s innocent, a sharing of heat. You press your forehead to his chest and he lets his arms fall naturally to your waist. It cages you. It feels safe and warm, and you don’t think you’ve felt that before.

You give him the smallest ‘thank you’, voice burnt and charred with fever. Diluc chases off the chill and embers alike, replaces them with the hearth that he will become to you, and you think that kismet might’ve shifted for you then, too.

...

You leave, a few days later, still sick.

You return, several months later, still sick.

Whatever cold you had during your last visit had metastasized— or so your parents say. They seem moderately unconcerned as they sort through the inventory they’ll be taking for their run.

Crepus doesn’t look convinced.

Diluc helps you inside. You barely hold yourself on two feet, and need to stop and catch your breath several times. Kaeya loops his arm over your neck and Diluc hoists you by the waist, and the two nearly drag you to your room.

A doctor is called, a healer from Mond that knows the Ragnvindr’s well. Diluc and Kaeya stay by your side as the healer draws up tincture and grinds down herbs and oils into a soft balm to slather on your chest.

Diluc lays with you in bed again that night, over the covers, not daring to touch you. You seem so fragile, only half-there in the room with him. He resents your parents horribly for allowing you to carelessly decline in such a state. It shows in the way his expression twists into a scowl whenever they’re within his vicinity.

...

Crepus offers his home to you— no, rather he insists.

You’re still ill, lungs gunky and fever hardly waned, by the time your family deigns it time to leave. They plan to cart you along, never mind your condition. Diluc, if he had less restraint, would’ve cursed them out in the winery’s foyer.

(The wet sound of your breathing. The little whimpers when your fever spiked, signaling that it was time for more of the tincture the healer left behind. The way you balled your fist in his nightshirt during the worst of it.)

Crepus says it’ll be no trouble to house you, for however long you need. You’ve always taken to the winery easily, and clearly need a stable place to recover from your illness. He enjoys taking in a stray or two. One more, especially one he thinks so fondly of and that he knows his boys adore, is simply a blessing, not a burden.

...

Diluc ascends to cavalry captain of the Knights of Favonius just around the time that you make a full recovery.

It takes months— for both of you. Diluc patrols and trains with the knights when he’s not by your side. He’s incredibly well-regarded by Mond, beloved by his fellow knights and the townsfolk as well. He has ample support from all around, and his father glows with pride.

(Diluc bears the weight of his father’s expectations well. You don’t even notice Diluc squirm under the pressure of it. It all seems to come naturally to him— being a hero.)

You see your healer every few days, drink your teas and diligently rest while you recover. The illness sticks in your lungs and you take to reading up on medicinal plants and potential treatments. It gives you some understanding of the remedies that your healer makes for you. Your healer finds you promising, despite your sickly state, and offers you an apprenticeship, if you choose to pursue such a profession.

It’s success after success, a time bathed in thick gold sun that feels as warm as it tastes.

You and Diluc dance at his ascension celebration. He holds you by the waist, clumsy like the young man he is, but you don’t mind. You loop your arms over his shoulders, memorizing the blush that paints his cheeks, and the dimples that carve them. You twirl him under your arm and laugh up to the sun and moon alike. You pull the ribbon from his hair so it unfurls over his shoulder. You run your hands through it without a care.

(Diluc looks at you, when you’re not looking at him, with such a reverence. You can’t see it yet, but it’s a burgeoning thing. Love and devotion caramelized by innocence, by want and need intertwined. He doesn’t know how to say how he feels, not yet; the feelings are still loose and undefined. But smoldering kindling he is.)

...

Crepus offers his home to you, permanently. You have taken to it so well, and his boys— his boys adore you. The staff does. You have so much growing for you in Mond, it seems silly to pack up your belongings small and tight so you can ride out on merchants circuit once more. Only to return sick once more.

You accept, hesitant at first. It’s a scary thing to give up the life you’ve known, even if the one Crepus extends to you is far more comfortable. Your parents have no qualms. You think they enjoyed your absence too much. They seem content to leave you at Dawn Winery, promising to continue their circuit, so you’d see them a few times a year.

It makes something in your ache and cry, but there’s many things to balm it in the manor. A warm fire and Adelinde’s recipes, along with whatever new tarts and sweets Crepus brings home from Mondstadt proper— they all make it easier. Good company too. Kaeya always has new ideas for schemes and little adventures. Crepus brings you gifts and makes sure you’re settling in well to your new space. Diluc is ever-dutifully at your side, whatever the circumstance, and you at his.

You still sneak into Diluc’s room in the late night. You nestle up, side by side, on his plush window bench. You link pinkies and talk about everything.

...

“I thought this one was a bit boring.” You look up to Diluc, backwards, craning your neck. “The love interest was a bit shallow for me.”

“I agree,” Diluc answers from above you. He shuts the book deftly with one hand. “This author’s pieces usually have a bit more depth to them. This one was a bit flat.”

You tend to come to the same conclusion on the stories you share.

The Small Study (ow, ow, ow, ow) is a room most near Crepus’ wing of the manor. It’s exactly as it sounds— a small study. Something Diluc’s mother made sure was constructed for him, prior to her leaving. Floor to ceiling bookshelves line the walls, with a long table slicing the room in two. When you were young, very young, you, Diluc, and Kaeya would sit at the table and write your own stories. Color with paints that Crepus bought for you from Snezhnaya on recycled receipts and old ledgers.

These days, the table is mostly bare and a bit dusty. You use it more than Diluc, though most of your studying with your teacher happens at their cottage, in Mond proper. Diluc and Kaeya have a training room a few doors down, one that Crepus constructed, with mats and straw targets, and more armaments than Ordo Favonius probably knows about.

Most of your time in the Small Study is spent in the corner, tucked close to each other. You have amassed an impressive number of spare sheets, pillows, and blankets, and have constructed what could only be called a nest. You and Diluc take to lounging on it in the mornings and evenings, when you both have the time. You read together. Sometimes you aloud to him, and sometimes him aloud to you.

Diluc’s voice has taken to breaking lately. You find it adorable and can’t help teasing him about it.

“I’ll have to hunt for a new novel at the markets today.” You sigh. The sun is rising above the cliffs, bathing the shelves and columns of dust ichor gold. You throw your hand up, watching the beam soak your skin warm.

Diluc catches your wrist and brings the back of your hand to his lips.

Little things, skinship, he likes. He never says anything much about it, only asks quietly if it's alright that he keeps such proximity to you. You eat it up, his heat, his presence— you want all of it. You’re gluttonous in your youth (you have yet to know starvation.)

“Be careful on patrol today, okay? I’m helping Adelinde make that sweet bread you like before I visit Teacher.” You huff, maneuvering to you’re at his eye level. You tug his cheek, still soft with baby fat. “You better not have any extra bruises when I pick you up today.”

“I’ll try.” He rolls his eyes. “Even if I do, you’ll patch me up, won’t you?”

“I could have Teacher do it,” you huff. “I know you don’t like how rough they can get with you.”

Diluc scoffs, “They don’t like me—”

“They like you plenty—”

You squabble, soft in your chests, because it's all easy and slow. The romance novel gets tucked away into an overflowing shelf, bulging with others that you’ve already finished.

Kaeya is shining his blade in the armory, and you collect him before heading to Mondstadt proper. It’s a routine, each day, one that you enjoy and cling to. You enjoy your training and you feel only pride seeing your boys bud and grow in their strength. You fight, like young ones of your age do, but it's all in jest. Simple. Your squabbles get settled with wrestling by the river or when Crepus intervenes and fathers the three of you.

It’s good and you never want it to end.

...

Diluc grows into himself. He’s gangly in his teen years— long arms and bulging shoulder blades he’s yet to grow into. The pudge he’d had around his belly has disappeared, sucked away by a growth spurt or two. He grows a bit more into his frame, each year closer to adulthood that he gets. Muscle building on muscle.

Teacher says you’re doing well with your studies. You pour over books on medicinal herbs and medical techniques during the day, and watch Teacher heal when patients are around. You become adept enough to see patients on your own, for small injuries.

You fix up Diluc whenever he comes home to you. Cuts. Bruises. The odd fracture or two. He’s the person you ever stitch a wound together for. He doesn’t flinch. So trusting.

...

Crepus gets odd, at some point. You’re almost old enough to be considered an adult. He starts asking you questions you know the answer to, but it seems like he’s seeking something other than the truth. Sentiments that he wants to squeeze out of you, to satiate something in him that you can clearly see, but don’t know how to name.

(He’s a businessman— is it in his nature to be greedy—?)

(Forget. Forget. Forget.)

...

You wish it had stayed so kind and good for longer. You wish you appreciated it more, but you didn’t fully understand the goodness laid before you until it was so brutally ripped away from you.

The night Diluc turns eighteen, your world shatters. Burns. Immolates while you lay drunkenly dozing in a friend's warm bed. You don’t greet the wreckage until you awaken. Alone, drowning and with a new pang in your stomach.

PART iii: the stitch the wound the burning

You instantly slam your hands on the bartop. You whip your head around to Kaeya. He wears a wide, awful grin. So fucking smitten with himself.

You hate him.

“Fuck you,” you snap.

You push up, knocking the bar stool over with a bang. You turn on a heel and run from the tavern. Wordless.

(You run. You should’ve run. You should’ve never come back. Ever.)

You know the display caused enough of a ruckus that Angel’s Share fell nearly silent as you left. You know that your vision shuddered out of your control, sending dendro to liven the flowers around the tavern. It felt sick. To know that the blooms would be wider and more beautiful while you ran. Running, running, running.

Lisa and Jean, maybe, shout your name as you sprint away. You ignore them— you have to. The temptation to turn back and face them drowns in the wine that churns in your stomach. Your breath feels too hot and heavy in your lungs, like lead and steam. You feel like you might die.

(Diluc in the same room as you. Diluc in front of you. Not a ghost, a breathing body. Flesh. He would’ve been a bit too warm, to the touch. You know him to be. He’d grown so much— how much had you missed? Archons, you miss him—)

You barely get out of Mondstadt proper before you bracing yourself on one its outer walls, forcing your finger down your throat, and heaving your guts out onto the high grass. All of the splendid wine you sampled color the ground blood red, surely staining your lips. Tears drip from your lash line. You feel sticky as you draw your fingers from your throat, spit and dribble sliding down your wrist.

You curse and shake.

You wipe your hands down on your trousers and scrub at your lips with the edge of your sleeve. You spit pretty scarlet and nearly hurl again.

The sun has set, and the dark is a comfort. It cloaks you, allowing you to duck easily between shadows and firelight that other travelers warm themselves by. No one looks at you twice. You’re sure you seem like a drunkard, not— Not whatever you are. You drag yourself back to your campsite.

You fall to the ground, drawing up your good leg by the knee and press your forehead to it.

Fuck.

Fuck the healer. Fuck Windblume. Fuck seeing any friends or familiar faces. You discard the plans, crushing them down until you decide they’re not worth it. None of this was worth it. If you’d only ducked in and out of Mondstadt’s market, you wouldn’t have met Lisa. Gotten twisted up with Kaeya. Dared to enter Angel’s Share. Seen Diluc.

You knew the mere sight of him would send you. You knew. You feel foolish. Stupid. If you were a fraction more sober, you would’ve dragged yourself out of self pity and set up camp for the night. Instead you stew. You swallow back dread and bile and clutch your shoulders.

(You always knew this was a risk, coming back here, didn’t you? That’s why you never dared to even get near Mondstadt’s borders. Now you’ve done it.)

You certainly have.

You rub your eyes again, grimacing at the taste in your mouth. Forcing yourself up is a task, especially trying to keep weight off of your (now very) bad foot. You struggle to balance, propping yourself up on a pile of discarded crates and get to work setting up your campsite for the night. You resolve to sleep until dawn, pack up, and be on your way. You’ll head back to Liyue and catch a boat out of the harbor. You’ll go anywhere. Do anything.

(To be far away from here.)

You struggle with your tent and tarp. It’s infinitely harder to set up your sleeping arrangements when you’re hobbling around on one leg. Emptying your stomach of its content has made you lightheaded (or, it's the panic that is thick and porous in your blood. Burrowing into your flesh. Will you even be able to sleep tonight?) You fight to keep your breath steady as you struggle to stake the tarp into the dirt.

Someone says your name from behind you. Breathes it like it's lighter than air, weighted like a gospel.

You turn, for the second time, against better judgment.

Diluc stands above you, wearing the same shocked expression he had in Angel’s Share.

Your lips twist, your brow falls. You feel yourself sink. It’s the same feeling you get in your stomach when you’re put toe-to-toe with an adversary out in the wilderness. It’s the feeling you get when you get a patient a little too late and can’t be sure if you’ll be able to drag them back from the brink.

You breathe his name right back.

“... You’re here,” he says. His voice has evened out. Deeper than you remember, and rougher, but barely.

“I am,” you answer as neutrally as you can. You school your expression and turn back to your tarp. “Please leave.”

Diluc doesn’t answer. He’s frozen above you, so close that you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him.

“Don’t ask me to do that,” Diluc says, like a demand and not a request.

You bristle.

“I’m setting up my camp for the night,” you state plainly. “Then I will be sleeping. I will be gone by dawn tomorrow. I apologize for any disruption I caused at... at Angel’s Share.”

You press your hands over the top of a nail. The iron digs into your palms. You shove at it anyway, until it’s snug against the earth.

“I don’t care about that,” Diluc replies with an edge to his voice that’s unfamiliar. “That’s not of consequence.”

“... Then why are you here?” You crawl across the ground, brace yourself on a crate, and stand. Your weak foot hovers just off the ground. “Why follow me, Diluc? I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You say his name like it's a curse and face him.

(And it’s like coming home.)

(If you had any less of yourself, you would’ve sank into the earth and wept.)

“I don’t,” he says. Arms crossed. Shoulders square. You see him struggle with his words, chewing on the inside of his cheek, just like he used to. “You left so quickly, and Kaeya—”

“Bastard,” you spit.

Diluc muffles a laugh (a full sound so lovely— you used to do anything to hear it). “He didn’t tell you I would be bartending, I’m assuming?”

“He told me, expressly, that you would not be bartending.”

“... It is my tavern. Windblume is the busiest time of the year.” He looks a bit wounded. You can’t tell if you’re imagining it. “Kaeya sent word that Ordo would be at Angel’s Share in full force this evening. My presence was called.”

You scowl, “I realize that now.”

Diluc sighs, deep and hard and full, “You left so quickly, and Kaeya told me you were most likely staying outside of the city. I was... worried.”

You let out a breath through your teeth, maybe a laugh, some unholy thing and you shake your head. You can’t bear to look at him for too long, “Well, I’m fine. Promise. I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Clearly.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see me?”

“No.” Diluc sighs. “I... No. I wasn’t.”

You don’t know what else to say to him.

“Go.” You shoo him off. “I need to finish setting up and get some sleep. Sorry again for causing any trouble.”

You turn away, going to reach for your tent—

Diluc grabs your upper arm. He keeps you steady and upright.

“You didn’t.”

The contact burns. Sears through you like you’re just gossamer and old silk. You tense with it. When did his heat become unfamiliar?

You open your mouth, part your lips just barely, but nothing comes out. Your mind empties.

“Come back to the winery.”

His words cut you from any of your reverie. Your grief forces itself up in plumes, from the base of your spine to the corners of your damp eyes.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You tear away from him.

He lets you go. (You suffocate the part of you that mourns the loss.)

“It’s not safe outside the walls.” He takes a step back. Breathing room. “There’s no lodging available in the city, I’m sure you found.”

“I did, and I’m fine out here, Diluc. I can protect myself just fine.” You pat the dendro Vision on your hip. Your weapon remains unsummoned and out of sight.

“It’s going to rain.” Diluc frowns. “And, your tent is torn.”

He gestures behind you, and sure enough, a massive tear runs through an entire side of your tent. You hadn’t noticed.

(If you will not go where you are supposed to be, perhaps fate will push you there? Align the stars and cosmos just right—)

“I recall that you never enjoyed camping,” Diluc says and it's like a knife to the chest. The idea that he remembers anything about you. “You’ll have a bed for as long as you’d like.”

“Diluc—” You’re near to cursing him out, let the Archons, Celestia and the damn Stars hear it—

“I’m sure Adelinde would love you to see you too.”

Oh.

Oh— Adelinde. When was the last time you sent her a letter? Or read one of hers? You have a stack of them, sealed with purple wax and bound in twine, shoved in your bag. Among your most prized possessions. You’ve hardly let the ink smudge, despite time and condition.

“... She still works for you?”

“Of course.” Diluc’s voice sounds strained.

“Elzer too?” You ask.

“Yes, he’s been at my side since—”

“Since you came back to Mondstadt,” you answer for him. “Since you returned to the winery.”

Elzer had been at your side too, when you were running the winery in Diluc’s absence. Same with Adelinde.

Archons, you miss them.

“I’ll stay at the winery,” you say after a beat. “So I can see them.”

Diluc lets out a sigh, shaky and short. He flexes his hands, open and closed. Relieved. The moment of vulnerability passes.

“Will you be able to walk there with—” He gestures to your foot.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” You put weight on it, swallowing down any pain. You can bear it.

Diluc offers his arm, and you refuse it, striding past him.

You walk side by side back to Dawn Winery.

...

It does begin to drizzle, eventually. Nothing close to proper rain, but a thick mist that dampens your hair and clothes. The chill of it sinks into you, unpleasant but not unbearable. You cling to the discomfort of it. You and Diluc do not speak to each on the way back, other than the time or two you announce you need a short rest for your foot.

Fatigue hits you as you stumble down the valley paths leading into the winery’s main grounds.

You blame the wine.

The front door looks almost the same, perhaps the wood refinished. Diluc pulls forth a shining brass key (different, than the one that you had during your tenure as ‘master’ of Dawn Winery. That key was thick, old iron. Rusting at its corners. It always felt cold and heavy. An entire year it was tied to you. Tethered to your waist on the very same belt that now holds your vision.)

The lock was replaced.

The interior of the winery is different too, you find. It makes stepping inside less jarring— the floors, once dark, long-planked hardwood, has been redone to intricate patterns of lighter, warm-toned wood. Less candles, more electro-powered fixtures set into the walls and ceiling. The couches look different, brighter and fluffier with fresh cushions. Even the grand carpet that covers the main room, bearing the Ragnvindr crest, appears to have been freshened. Maybe even re-tuffed. It’s generally brighter.

“You’ve... updated things.” Your voice trails off as you shrug off your cloak and hang it on your arm.

Diluc follows your line of sight to a new tapestry on the east-wall. Not of the family crest, but the vineyard. It’s far more ornate than any you remember; you can see the metallic gold weavings shine, even in the lowlight. The tapestry is ringed by paintings, portraits and some landscapes. You recall Crepus commissioning many of them, or creating them himself. There’s a number of new photographs as well.

“I have over the years,” Diluc replies. “It was necessary.”

You hum, pausing. “... I like it. It’s nice.”

It’s nice because it doesn’t feel quite as much like you’re walking into a still-breathing cadaver. You expected to be greeted with an interior you had seared in your memory. Corners you’d still see ghosts in, picture frames that were askew that you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to fix. You know which floorboards were creaky and which windows had the worst draft.

This version of Dawn Winery from your memory doesn’t exist anymore, in any way or facet. What’s left certainly isn’t blank or void, but it’s more unfamiliar than you expected. It smells like rose oil and beeswax rather than cedar and tobacco.

“Master Diluc? You’re back earlier than expected.”

Adelinde breaks you from your stupor.

She looks much the same— the same uniform, though perhaps her hair’s a bit shorter? There’s new wrinkles around the corners of her eyes, sun spots around her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are still kind. They go wide when she sees you, and the mug she’s holding nearly slips from her grip.

Your chest tightens.

She says your name and it’s like you’ve been cut through. Flesh parting around a sharp blade.

“Hi.” Your voice sounds soft and so much more broken than you can accept it is.

“Welcome home.” She smiles, all the way up to her eyes.

If you were a little more weak, perhaps a few months more weathered— you would’ve broken then. You would’ve fallen apart in the foyer of Dawn Winery, drowning and hungry and soaked to the bone in something colder than rain water. You hold yourself together, barely, thin threads wound around you to the point of constricting keep you upright. Sure-footed. Almost-whole.

But, Adelinde knows... doesn’t she? She must. She has an uncanny ability for these things. It’s because she watched you grow, watched your toils and supported you. Mothered you when needed. You counseled and consoled each other, during the worst of it.

It makes you feel less guilty, less ashamed, when you nearly throw yourself at her. You wrap your arms around her shoulders and smother your face in her shoulder.

Adelinde hugs you in kind. She still smells like pine-cleaner and that jasmine perfume she imports. She wraps you, in herself, squeezing so hard you’re afraid she’ll undo the strings binding your heart together.

“H-How have you been?” you ask. Tears sting your eyes.

She strokes the back of your head, through your hair. “I’ve been well. And you?”

You smush your face into her shoulder. You don’t know what to say to her. Instinctual honesty climbs up in your throat— you suppress it.

“I’ve been better,” you say, softly. You hope only she can hear. “Excited to sleep in a real bed. Take a bath.”

Adelinde goes still, slack— then she almost crushes you. You feel her heartbeat and your lip wobbles.

“I’m glad you’re home, then. Let me fetch you a cup of tea. I’ll make sweet bread in the morning.”

“T-That sounds nice. Thank you.”

Diluc, who has been silent and watchful, clears his throat. “They can take whichever room they like.”

“I’ll prepare the west wing guest room.” (Far from your old bedroom.) She whispers to you. “There was a Fontainisian merchant we were hosting— she left all of her luxury skincare and bath supplies here.”

You pull away, narrowing your eyes, “Are you implying something?”

“Not at all.” She gives you a good-natured smile. “They’re yours. Let’s get you settled.”

You nod and she guides you with a hand on your lower back, up the stairs, to the west wing. Diluc has made himself scarce, seemingly disappearing into thin air to the northern wing of the manor. You only half notice.

Archons, you’re tired.

Adelinde helps you settle in. She sets your bag on a vanity stool, shows you a newly renovated bathroom with a tub that could easily fit you and a Rishboland tiger in it. The rest of the details of the room fade. Something stickier and older than fatigue works its way up through your bone marrow, leaving your body as a yawn.

Adelinde gives you a sympathetic smile when she brings you a cup of lavender and chamomile tea.

The world is blurry when you crash into the pillows. They smell like the herbal detergent you suckered Crepus into buying during your teen years. Diluc liked it. Whatever potential revulsion you could have has wilted with your exhaustion. Instead, something warm brews in you. You shove your nose into the silken case. The feeling is good. You don’t mind it.

(Fuck, maybe you even need it.)

...

You sleep for three days.

You don’t mean to, and it’s not continuous. You rise for your promised sweet bread, tea, and a much-need, thorough bath. You’ve spent the past few months using communal bath houses or washing in rivers and lakes, quick and rarely relaxing. You indulge in the massive, stone tub for a private soak that leaves you pruney and smelling like rose oil and Natlani bright grass.

The position of the sun feels arbitrary. You just sleep. Like the fucking dead. No dreams, thank the gods. Thick curtains keep your room dark and you relish every moment. You hadn’t realized how deeply fatigue had woven itself into you. You’d become so acclimated to exhaustion, it only hit you when you finally had a (safe and) quiet place to sleep with no end date.

Adelinde brings an armful of clothes at some point. (“We put these in storage, when you left. I’m sure some still fit.”) Some do, thankfully, and you’re grateful to have more than four garments, especially when they go together. It’s nostalgic to slip into skirts and trousers you haven’t worn in so long, and you decide they’ll suffice. Unideal, but comfortable.

The tiredness is an odd blessing. You feel too blurry and foggy to really pick apart your feelings. All of them. You’re aware of the knot that’s formed somewhere between your ribs and gut (or rather, revealed itself), and you ignore it for as long as you are able to. No one comes to you except Adelinde, who never presses you.

(You don’t know what you would do if she did. Adelinde knows discretion, she knows wounds and scrapes and bruises, and knew yours once. Well and thoroughly. You think she can see all of your ills now too.)

(You’re glad she doesn't pry at you. In your moments between wakefulness and sleep, you tend to dream more loosely. You imagine what you might say to Diluc, had you... the opportunity without damage. What would you say to him? The you that’s mostly a dream screams at him sometimes. Enraged. Sometimes you cry, asking questions that neither your sleeping or waking mind has answers for. They’re not... unfamiliar dreams, but they’re unwelcome. They’re more vivid now that you’re staying in the Winery.)

They feel more real. Diluc is only rooms away at any given time.

(He’s not a specter.)

On the third day, you awake midday to a frantic knock on your door. Adelinde, you assume. Stumbling from bed, and pull on a dressing gown and nothing more, and pull open the heavy oak door—

It’s Diluc. Of course it is. In working trousers and a loose, white top. Dirt stains his knees and the tips of his fingers. Pretty red hair spills from its loose tie, bouncy with a fresh wash. He tenses, when he sees you. Fists balling at his sides and shoulders going rigid.

Your jaw locks and the air in your lungs suddenly feels heavy and too hot. Your throat bobs with a swallow, and you gather up the satin of your robe before it has a chance to slip down to the crook of your elbow.

(Just seeing him sends you. Into a rage. Into a fit of grief. The visage of him forces you to reckon with something more awful and sticky and molten than you know what to do with.)

(You wish it was more avoidable.)

You freeze.

Your several days of rest afforded you the time to... ignore Diluc. Hide from him, and the knot that you desperately don’t want to unravel. Despite sleeping in one of his beds and eating his food, you need distance. It feels like you’ll explode if you don’t have it.

“The child of one of the vineyard workers is injured,” Diluc says, maybe a little out of breath. “Can you take a look?”

“Of course,” you reply without hesitation. A hurt child takes precedence over most things.

The child and his mother sit in Diluc’s foyer, you can hear them as you approach. The girl sniffles and clings to her mothers sleeve with one hand, the other limp in her lap. One of her legs splays the wrong way, equally limp.

You approach easily, introducing yourself. The air has an edge of crisis to it, but you wade through it easily. If anything, it’s comfortingly familiar. To be calm and confident in the face of serious injury or illness is often medicine in and of itself.

You set your large, leather-bound caboodle beside you and take to the floor. Your Tselostnyy insignia is pinned to the outside. The mother’s eyes dart to it as she pets over her daughter’s hair, and she relaxes at the sight of it. A qualified stranger, you are.

The mother is younger, someone before your time as the Winery’s temporary master which is a relief. Diluc lingers behind you, watching you work, probably. You attempt not to care.

You scooch forward, on your knees, knitting your fingers together and hover them over your patient. You focus on the spiral of dendro through muscle and bone, reading the injury:

Two clean breaks. Closed fracture of the left ulna. Closed fracture of the left femur.

It’s a miracle that the child isn’t shrieking in her mother’s lap.

“How did you get hurt?” you ask the child directly.

She sniffles. “I f-fell outta’ the big tree by the water. I was trying to climb it.”

Her mother almost scolds her, but you beat her to speaking. “That’s a hard tree to climb. The oaks by the stables are much easier.”

It’s just a slip of the tongue, to be so familiar.

You turn to the child and school a smile on your lips. “I’ll be able to heal your injuries with my Vision. You’ll get some medicine as well, and it needs to be stirred into juice. Do you have a favorite kind?”

The child looks unsure, and her mother answers for her: “She likes apple best.”

“Apple, master of the house.” You wave a hand behind you. “Can you fetch some?”

“Of course,” Diluc answers without missing a beat and you hasten him away.

Knitting your fingers together once more, you begin to work on her injuries. The child is holding up quite well, despite the immense pain she must be in. You work quickly regardless, but keep in mind you do have the luxury of time. There’s no one more broken or more sick just beyond her who needs to be treated as well.

Dendro sews together her bones. Encourages new flesh and muscle to grow where it is needed.

When Diluc returns, you instruct him further, gaze never straying from the knitting bones, “Take the third vial from the right on the top row of oils, will you? Stir half a dropper into the juice and stir for a minute. If you see oil on the top, keep going.”

“What’s the medicine for?” The girl asks.

“Relaxation and sleep,” You reply softly. “This type of healing is very effective, but it takes a lot of energy out of the person who is being healed. You’ll be tired once I’m all done, but you may have trouble resting since your body is still reacting to the shock of your injuries.”

The mother lets out a sigh of relief. Perhaps too wordy of an explanation for a child, but her mother seems grateful for it.

When the child’s healed into proper pieces again, you unknit your fingers and fall back on your heels. Diluc wordlessly passes the goblet of well-mixed apple juice to the child, who shakily gulps it town. The medicine doesn’t have much of a taste, more of an oily texture to it that requires it to be drunk quickly after being mixed. The juice must be from one of Diluc’s best stashes because the child beams after chugging it.

“... That’s it?” She asks.

You nod and crack your knuckles, now stiff. “That’s it.”

“... Nothing else?”

“Nope.” You crack your neck. “Other than the fatigue, but a few extra hours of sleep should remedy that. She’ll be back to normal after a nap.”

“Thank you,” The mother says and your chest feels sticky and warm. “I know that Barbara from the Church has similar skills with her Vision, but I’ve never seen healing like yours. Mondstadt could use a physician like you, you know.”

The feeling goes cold, but you keep your smile. Bear it.

“I’m sure they do.” Teacher’s shoes hadn’t been filled, apparently. And you’d departed to the Tselostnyy School and never returned.

The mother and her child give more thanks before leaving and you keep your facade up until they’re out the door. The girl’s no doubt ruffled still, even with the light sedative. The mother frazzled. The last thing you’d want to do is burden them with your own misplaced ire. They can’t know. They wouldn’t know.

Diluc, however—

He’s been the silent spectator to this whole affair. He idles by the couches and the hearth, arms crossed, still-dirtied from whatever vineyard work he’d been doing prior to fetching you. You’re sure he was working in the fields, heard the child shriek, and rushed to their aid. Typical.

Diluc stares at you like he could immolate you alive.

“You’re incredible.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like the sentence doesn’t implode something in you.

Your fists shake at your sides. “Hardly. It’s just my profession.”

Diluc works his jaw and considers his words. You note the way he looks stumped and lost. It’s not intentional, if you’re being honest— so there’s no harm in enjoying the way he stumbles to speak around you, is there?

(It’s only fair. Diluc had always been so sure-footed and sturdy with his words. To see him flounder now reminds you that he’s changed too. Something in him has paled and been mutilated, just like you. Two wounded. His suffering isn’t what you revel in, but the knowledge that he’s affected. Neither of you came out unscathed and you’ve spent the last years refusing to imagine how Diluc might’ve coped.)

“Will you have tea with me?” Diluc asks, the words ringing off the glass chandelier in minor key. “You don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“I will.”

...

Adelinde kindly brings you both tea, by the hearth and its embers. It’s served with a few small cakes and rounds of steaming sweet bread. Diluc takes his tea just as he did when he was young— a heavy dash of cream and a spoon and a half of sugar (“the half is very important” he had always said). Adeline leaves you a carafe of coffee and shoots you a gentle smile before leaving the two of you be.

You rest on one of the couches, leg pulled up beneath you and blow over the rim of your mug.

Diluc sits adjacent from you, in a resplendent mid-morning sun beam. The chair is high-backed, upholstered with the red and gold pattern of the Ragnvindr clan. He looks regal, like a king from the stories you used to read together. Sunlight halos the frizz in his hair and the dust that shifts around him.

He sits with one heel propped up on the opposite knee, cupping the tea cup from the bottom, unbothered by its heat.

(He’s pretty, just as beautiful as you remember. Maybe more so.)

It makes something in you feel rotten. You pick at your nails and curl over your core.

He glances at you and you look away into the hearth, into the small flames that eat at the last of a birch log.

Having Diluc in front of you is uncomfortable. Maybe worse than uncomfortable, as discomfort is bearable and the sensation crawling up from the back of your throat isn’t. It makes your skin itch and feel too tight. Your palms sweat. Maybe you want to puke.

(It’s dread, or something like it. Like just seeing him put you on a precipice you had convinced yourself didn’t exist.)

“When did you start drinking coffee?” Diluc asks, breaking you from your spiral. “If I recall correctly, you hated it. Too bitter for your palate, or something like that.”

Ah—

“In your absence. In the year I stayed here, when you left.” It’s the truth. “ Lots of paperwork. I got used to the flavor after a while.”

(You used to prefer tea, favoring some black variety that Crepus painstakingly imported from Natlan’s volcanic cliffs. The first time you tried to drink it following his passing, you retched it back into your cup.)

You both shift uncomfortably.

“I see.”

You pretend not to notice the way Diluc’s grip goes white-knuckled for a moment. Your chest feels tight, too tight, and you squirm under your skin.

“I don’t know how to face you,” you blurt out.

(You never thought you would have to.)

Diluc looks away from you, into the fire. “If you don’t wish to ‘face me’, then you don’t have to.”

“Are you suggesting I simply ignore you?”

“If that’s what you would wish to do.”

“That’s not what I asked.” You frown, something burning between your ribs.

Diluc chews on his words for a moment. “Allow me to clarify. I have no expectations of you while you’re staying within the Winery.”

“So, if I simply ate your food and slept in one of your beds, ignoring you, you’d be alright with that?”

“If that’s what you wish, then yes.”

(The answer hurts to hear. You refuse to think about why.)

“Alright.” You take a long sip of your coffee. You’re not sure when your stomach began to ache.

“You’re unsatisfied with that answer,” Diluc guesses.

“Entirely,” you reply. “You’re basing your wants off of mine. It’s bothersome.”

“It’s the truth. As I said—“

“You ‘have no expectations of me’,” you parrot. “Would you truly be satisfied if I didn’t speak to you at all while I’m here?”

Diluc chews the inside of his cheek (a new habit you don’t recognize). “My satisfaction isn’t of consequence.”

“Idiot,” You snap— you don’t mean to. “Of course it is. I don’t want to make this any more unbearable than it already is.”

“Do you think this is unbearable for me?”

“… Yes?” You feel yourself shaking. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

(It’s worse than unbearable. The feeling in your chest is blooming, radiating out into your arms and legs, down to your hands. There’s a buzzing in the base of your skull.)

“I understand that it’s difficult for you to be here,” Diluc grits out. “I do not want to make that any worse by some expectation or assumption you think that I carry. If you wish to enjoy the festival and ignore me, that’s more than fine. If it would be easier for you to stay here and think of me as only some type of… concierge, I wouldn’t resent you for it.”

(You hate it. You hate him. You hate Diluc Ragnvindr endlessly, perhaps. You want to burn Dawn Winery to the ground.)

“Do you really think I could ever think of you as anything other than yourself?” You spit, intending to. “It’s insulting— a fucking affront to think that I could view you in such a way.”

“I don’t know how you view me.” Diluc’s voice wavers with what you can only assume to be anger. “I’m trying to make this easier for you.”

“In what way?!” You stand. “Do you think ignoring you would be easier for me?”

“I am making a well-intended inference based on the fact that you haven’t returned to Mondstadt for years.” Diluc stares at you like he wants to— “I am assuming you’d like to continue to ignore me, given that you’ve never given any indication otherwise.”

“… You’re the one who left first.” You spit the words, like how a sword cuts through air. “You’re the one who left and gave no ‘ indication’ of returning.”

Diluc swallows, thick and hard with a bob of his throat and he rises to his feet. You instinctively take a step back. He opens his mouth, then closes it with a snap of his teeth. The fire cracks and a log loses its structure, tumbling in the hearth with a flurry of embers.

He looks lost for words. You let loose a laugh, something awful and torn that you wish you could stuff back down your throat.

“Nothing to say?”

“It was a long time ago—“

“Ah, it’s irrelevant to you. I see.” Archons, you don’t want this. You should’ve never come back. It can’t be worth it, can it? It feels like your ribs are being broken, one by one.

(How wretched it is, for him to have such a power over you.)

“Don’t twist my words.” Diluc rises, taking a step toward you. “I only meant to say—“

“I am well-aware of what you meant to say.” You want to vomit, maybe. “It was so long ago, so it’s easier, right? If I view you as nothing more than a doorman with a familiar face, and if you view me as a guest to be treated with pleasantries.”

(Let’s forget all the history. Etch a lie onto a slate that’s already been shattered beyond repair.)

Diluc’s expression twists. Your hands shake and you cross them over yourself, wrapping your arms over your own shoulders and squeezing. He looks… hurt. Gutted.

“Do you think me cruel enough to ever think of you in such a way?”

“Yes, actually.” You laugh with a shake of your head. “Not even a letter, Diluc? Couldn’t even spare me a thought, could you?”

(Meanwhile, you clung to the hope that he’d arrive home through the front door of the Winery for months. How many did you sit in front of this very same hearth, wrapped in his old blankets and left-behind clothes and pray to any God who’d listen that Diluc would return?)

The admission guts Diluc. You can see it in his face, the way his expression tears open and he balls his fist and he almost seems to shake with it.

(Despite everything, it hurts to see him hurt.)

You step away, almost toppling into the couch. Diluc catches you by the arm with a lurch and keeps you upright. The contact burns like you’re too close to a roaring fire. You feel singed.

“I can’t forget, Diluc.” You laugh, shudder in his grip and you feel the bits of you fray even further. “I— I don’t know. I’m sorry. I resent you. I hate you. I look at you and I’m struck by the feeling that I’m looking at a ghost.”

You watch Diluc’s jaw lock. “Pot, kettle.”

“Pardon?”

“You left Mond as well, dear.” Diluc says the pet name and then flushes. An old habit, unearthed by sparring. You maybe would swoon if you weren’t feeling light-headed. “You’re a ghost to me as well. Maybe something worse.”

“... Am I? ” you spit, writhing in your skin.

His expression tightens and you see the hurt. A crack. His lip twitches and he stands. He has to look down at you and you feel the height.

“Do you think I haven’t been haunted by you?”

Oh, it’s like being punched in the gut. You’re being flayed, surely, on his great room floor. If you’re not careful, your entrails will spill and you’ll die here. You’re sure.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“You’re impossible,” Diluc says, grip almost bruising. “Do you truly think I’m lying?”

(You don’t.)

You swallow and step away from him. The moment you pull against him, Diluc lets you go, and you stumble back.

(You’re too frayed for this. Burnt. Cinders at a masquerade.)

“I need some time,” you say, fire in your voice is gone. You burn down so easily. “I’m sorry.”

Diluc stays silent for a moment. You can’t be sure what he’s thinking.

“Take all the time you need,” he says, before striding past you to his office. You hear the door nearly slam.

#lore writes #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc reader insert #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you

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steddieunderdogfics · 6 days

Note

for monday's challenge (fics with colors in the title) i recommend:

The White Rabbit by fastcardotmp3 💕💕💕

this is SUCH a good fic

The White Rabbit by fastcardotmp3

@fastcardotmp3

Rating: Mature

63,722 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Temporary Character Death, Presumed Dead, Grief/Mourning, Drug Abuse, Drug Dependency, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, (except there are about 7 other steps in there), Unreliable Narrator, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eddie Munson POV, Hurt Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, (like there's a built in sequel planned slow), Eddie thinks he understands his own Narrative, The Narrative is pointing and laughing at him in broad daylight

Summary:

Because Eddie does a headcount. And there are five people, not four, standing at the bottom of this dried up lake, and one of them is tearing the final bat in half with his bare hands. Robin chokes, hunches over and vomits straight onto the ground. Fair enough, considering they’re looking at Steve Harrington. Fair enough, considering they’re looking at a dead man.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics with Colors in the Title!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#Challenge Monday #steddie fic recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #temporary character death #angst with a happy ending #enemies to lovers

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sungbeam · 6 months

Text

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 — part two (viii – xv)

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

▷ genre, warnings. strangers 2 reluctant allies/friends 2 lovers, slow burn, demon/supernatural creatures au, angst, action, murder mystery-ish au, forced proximity trope, suspense, gore, depictions of violence and blood, themes of death and grief, use/description of weaponry, swearing, a slightly unreliable narrator bc she has no idea what's happening, reader's sister is dead, humor bc coping mechanisms, almost drowning, drugged drinks, kidnapping, reader has hair long enough to braid sorry, beheading, mentions of skinning someone, blood drinking, the barest of proofreading and editing, ending might feel super rushed (_ _;)

▷ part word count. 25.1k words / 47.4k - read part one here

a/n: hi again 🧍🏻‍♀️ don't try to read this without the part prior. thanks bye!! don't forget to reblog. also big thanks to @justalildumpling for reading all this thru for me :') one of the biggest reasons why this exists finished.

#8—HELL'S FAVORITE ANGEL.

SOMETHING YOU NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT, funnily enough, was what the Hell did Ji Changmin keep in the trunk of his car?

At one point, you'd mused about a body. And then the musing became too real, and you swept it under the proverbial rug. Now, you had to lift the corner of the rug to let the demon crawl back out. You weren't sure if you were going to grimace or scream.

"I fear this won't just be dirty gym socks in the trunk," you muttered while trailing behind the angel and demon with a frown.

Jacob let out a laugh. "Oh, you'll see. It's a lot cooler than dirty gym socks."

That sparked your interest. "Cooler? Can Changmin even be that?"

Changmin whipped an unappreciative scowl over his shoulder at you to the melody of Jacob's second laugh within thirty seconds. "For your information," he drawled with a huff, "Hell is cooler than Heaven."

"Okay, which part of Hell are we talking about?" Jacob snorted. "Do you still have my blade?"

"Oh, yeah. The human has it."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, so I'm 'the Human' now? And what do you mean I have—" You stopped short and unsheathed Clyde from your pocket. "You mean Clyde?" You gawked at the switchblade in your hand, then at the angel who peered curiously between you, the blade, and Changmin. The lines between dots were materializing in your horizon. "Wait, so when Changmin said he won this in a poker game?—"

"Yes, that's Jacob's blade," Changmin finished with a rather smug gleam in his eyes.

Jacob tilted his head. "You named it Clyde?"

You pursed your lips slightly, your fingers curling around the weapon. "Yes."

"That's cute."

You smiled. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

Changmin made a noise of indignation and marched onward across the town square to his car.

You and Jacob fell into step beside one another as you followed after the tempestuous hellspawn.

Clyde, in your hands, seemed to warm at the presence of his original owner. You chewed on the inside of your cheek before extending the switchblade out to him. "I think this belongs to you."

Jacob shook his head. "No, no. He won it fair and square, and I see he's given it to you. It's no longer his to bargain."

"What do you mean by that?" You asked.

He chuckled, "Ah, well you see—back when he won the poker game, I was salty enough to challenge him to a sparring match to win the angel blade back from him, but we had to put it on hold for reasons."

"So what's gonna be put up for grabs from the sparring match now?"

He pointed to the trunk of Changmin's car. "You're gonna love this."

Practically jogging over to where Changmin was already stationed behind the trunk of his car, Jacob hurried you along. The lid of the trunk rose unceremoniously as you rounded the back end and you found only a long, black case spanning the width of it.

You made a face. "What is it?" You asked, silently thanking whoever was looking after you for not putting a dead body in the back.

Changmin stood between you and Jacob, seemingly reluctant to lean down and unlock the case.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of what laid inside.

There was a long, slim blade made of a metal similar in looks to obsidian, but you highly doubted Changmin would covet a mortal mineral like this. It seemed to hum, in fact, something you knew no human material could do on its own. There was something about its surface that made it wink in purples and blues.

Changmin gently pried the sword out from its molding and held it by the handle. When it was brought to the light, shadows seemed to swirl and curl around the length like creeping vines up a trellis. "The Bonnie to your Clyde," he said lowly, fondly, even as he brushed the pads of his fingers over the flat side over the foreign characters carved into the material.

"You know what an angel blade is, Yn. Now you've seen a demon blade," Jacob said with a wide grin splitting his face in awe.

You couldn't help but share that sentiment. Thus was cool as fuck. "You're telling me you had a demon blade back here this whole time?" Where was this when you'd almost gotten murdered on a motel bedroom floor?

Changmin was just as careful returning the blade back to its case as he had been taking it out. "Yes, and it's gonna stay back here."

Jacob gave a sprite-like giggle. "Wah, your audacity is appalling. It's just gonna make kicking your butt even more fun."

Well, this should be interesting.

The rules of the match were simple.

"No claws or teeth," said Jacob.

"No wings," Changmin shot back.

It looked like Jacob was about to stick his tongue out at his opponent just then. "No tail!"

From your perch at a safe distance away from the two of them on the inn porch, you called out, "You have a tail?"

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Changmin almost seemed bashful. "In my demon form," he stammered. "Okay, so no supernatural appendages."

"And no out of realm abilities," Jacob added. "Just plain and simple fisticuffs."

With a large majority of the pack members having cleared out go down to Moonstone Creak, it left the entirety of town center for a showdown between an angel and a demon. The atmosphere reminded you of an old Midwest duel with a pistol per man, and ten-paces-fire mentality. Part of you was sorry you weren't going to see their non-mortal forms, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized that was probably a good thing to keep your dreams clear at night.

You weren't sure what to expect from this.

"Best out of three?" Changmin drawled, shaking the hair out of his eyes.

Jacob brushed his own mane back. "Sure. It won't make much of a difference anyways. Count us off, would you please, Yn-ah?"

You straightened at the sound of your name. "Uhm—yeah, okay. How will each round end?"

"With Jacob's back on the ground."

Jacob's eyebrows flew up, and his smile grew teeth. "Oh, hoo! I see we like talking smack with an audience around. Okay, fine." To you, he said while pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, "Each round ends when the other yields."

You nodded warily. "Okay… ready then?"

The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect as both of them sunk into position, their facial expressions morphing into twin slates of stone. While they were different creatures, they seemed to share the same predatorial sharpness in their eyes.

You swallowed. "Set—begin."

You were certain that they both agreed to prohibit the use of "out of realm abilities," but the ground rumbled when they pounced at each other. It was fascinating, really, how well they both performed hand to hand combat. Each hit seemed to be just as calculated as the next—one predicting the other's moves.

A complicated dance played out before your eyes and you sat on the porch steps too enraptured—or too nervous—to move. Changmin twisted Jacob's arm behind his back, but the angel was swift to counter and slip out.

You had never seen so much power behind an uppercut; never seen any human force their opponent back so hard that dust kicked up when his heels dug into the ground.

You weren't sure how or when it would end—

Changmin swore as Jacob grappled onto his forearm from behind and swung the demon over his shoulder.

You thought it was over.

Changmin's feet hit the ground though, and on they went.

It was during this drawn-out match that you realized there was probably only one way to really beat an equally matched opponent. They were trying to tire the other one out.

Lost in thought, you all but missed it—the maneuver that Changmin used to suddenly have Jacob pinned to the ground, knees digging into the latter's neck.

"Yield," the demon grunted.

There was a flash of movement, and Changmin swiftly released Jacob from his hold.

He locked eyes with you. "He yielded."

"I didn't think you would let him go if he hadn't," you replied, your thumb running over the butt of the angel blade.

Jacob laid on his back with his face to the sky. "Dude, I think we're finally getting the hang of these mortal bodies."

Changmin smiled, shaking his head, "Yeah, and after how long?" He offered his friend a hand and hauled him to his feet. "I remember when you almost jumped out of a tree and forgot you couldn't just sprout wings."

"Listen," Jacob lamented with a wince, "that was one time. And you said we were racing, and my instinct was to fly."

"Born cheater."

"Born hater."

You raised your hand from the sidelines. "So, one to nil. Shall we continue, boys?"

It seemed once you'd reminded them of their purpose for roughing it in the town square, they were back to focus. This time, both were a little out of breath. You guessed that they were pretty damn close to evenly matched then—there was a balance to the pair with Jacob having grander, stronger movements, and Changmin doling out smaller, agiler maneuvers. They were two sides of the same coin, angel and demon.

The second round always generated a heightened bout of tension compared to the first. For the winner of the prior round, this could be his game point of the match; to the loser, it was his opportunity to get even.

You watched their stances steel over, the backs of their heels firmly on the earth. "Ready—begin."

It started off similar to the first time, Intl a little more calculated. With the stakes rising, it was crucial to make the right hits.

Changmin struck first—he had less to lose. An attempted double kick to the stomach ended with his foot caught in Jacob's grasp. The angel twisted; the demon tumbled, taking his foe to the dirt with him.

On they went, and at times, you couldn't even decide who had the upper hand.

From somewhere to your left, you heard the wood on the porch creak. You turned to find Kevin hopping over the railing and making his way over to you, a blue-colored bandana hanging from his fingers. He offered you a smile. "Hey."

"Hey," you said, scooting over to make room for him on the step. "I thought you were heading the search party?"

"Yeah, I still am," he replied. He wasn't even paying much attention to the duo brawling out in the square, just you. "We were about to leave when I realized that my entire party doesn't know what the pendant smelled like, so I was wondering if I could just clean your pendant off with this to carry the scent?" He gestured with the piece of fabric in his hand. "That way, you won't have to be uncomfortable with a bunch of people coming to smell your necklace," he reasoned while cupping the back of his neck.

"Oh, that's a novel idea."

From out in the dirt and sun, Changmin's eyes caught the two of you on the steps of the inn and got half his face rightly smashed into the ground. It was only a split second, but even a split second was mistake enough.

Jacob pressed him down with his entire body weight, and leaned in close with a grin, "Yield, little Hellspawn."

Changmin groaned, but yielded.

As he had done for Jacob, the angel yanked him up off the ground, spitting dirt out from his mouth and wiping it from his eyes.

"Sorry," Jacob said, not very apologetically.

Changmin grimaced as he stumbled over to the fountain at town center and dunked his face in. He furiously scrubbed the dirt off his face and rinsed his mouth. Yuck.

He pulled himself out of the water, refreshed. Brushing his dampened hair back, he blinked the water out of his eyes to see if Kevin had left yet. He hadn't, actually, and still sat next to you. Something he said made you laugh, but then he was leaving, your gaze following—Changmin noticed the slowness in Kevin's gait, how reluctant he was to leave.

"Hmm, didn't think you'd ever eat dirt again after all these years, but I guess there will always be exceptions," Jacob mused. He stretched out his calves and arms, keeping his muscles alive and perked up for the final round. It was one to one after all.

"I was distracted," Changmin said simply. "He wasn't supposed to be here."

Jacob hadn't been blind to Kevin's presence at the inn steps either. His smile turned sly. "Now why would Kevin being here distract you? Curious, curious."

Changmin raised the collar of his shirt up to dry his face as the two of them strolled back to their sparring ground.

You were currently sending him a look with your head tilted to the side in question. Did he dump you in the fountain? You seemed to ask.

He shook his head, making a motion with his hands about how Jacob won the match. To his opponent, he murmured, "She's getting attached."

"And that's a bad thing?"

His automatic thought was no, you getting attached to these people, this place, was not a bad thing. He remembered your state of being back at the college town and how alone you'd been there. Here, it seemed you had people who would care about you, at least. With so much time spent in the mortal realm, he'd learned just how much humans needed each other.

But then again, you and he had a job to finish. "We have to leave soon."

Jacob adjusted the sleeves of his shirt once again since they fell at some point during the match. "Doesn't mean you can't come back."

He wasn't wrong. You seemed, upon reflection, content here. He passed you a glance, but you took that as a signal to start the match.

Changmin and Jacob dropped into their respective stances and charged when given the word.

As soon as Jacob's back hit the ground, you knew it was over. The last round drew out much longer than the preceding ones, and though they both fought fiercely, it was done with exhaustion sewn between each huffing breath, each reeled punch. A fight like this wasn't worth wasting all that energy on, anyway.

"Bonnie stays with you for now, I suppose," Jacob chuckled as the two of them clasped each other's hands in a show of good sportsmanship. Sweat dripped from their bangs and down the slopes of their noses and sculpted jawlines.

Changmin shook his head, "The sword is permanently going to be called Bonnie, isn't it?"

"You did this to yourself, you know." You walked over to them, hands propped on either side of your hips.

"I did," he agreed with his lips pressed together. The dimple in his cheek still threw you off your rocker. "Well, since I have so much dirt in my hair now—"

"Hey! I have to go switch shirts because of you!" Jacob chortled, motioning to his own white T-shirt stained a dusty brown on his back and front, and more on his pants.

"Ah, you need to shower anyways," Changmin quipped back.

Jacob made a waving gesture over his shoulder as he headed back toward the pack house to take that shower. "Yeah, yeah. I can say the same thing about you, Ji."

While Jacob went in his own direction, you and Changmin trudged back over to the inn so he could clean himself up. You wondered how much he really did need to get cleaned up, since you noted no blood or bruises, but the latter wouldn't show up for another couple hours if there were any.

Wait, was that how demon bruising worked—?

"I can hear your mind racing, Yn," Changmin drawled as he hiked up the stairs next to you.

"Not literally, right? I just have to make sure," you added on at the end when he looked over at you.

He absentmindedly scratched his jaw. "No, not literally. You're just easy to read."

Your expression flattened. "Oh."

"Hm."

"Okay, well you owe me some answers." You amended, folding your arms over your chest, "A lot of them, actually."

The sigh that fell from his lips was a familiar one, and he turned his head over his shoulder to check that there wasn't anyone else around. There wouldn't have been since it was only the two of you staying here, and the auntie who ran the inn was somewhere downstairs. "Let's talk in my room."

"Your room?" You squabbled incredulously. To you, Changmin seemed like the type to like his privacy, especially when he got a room to himself. But you questioned no further and he made no additional comments as the two of you entered the space that was his bedroom.

The room itself was similar to yours, but flipped. The wall on the far left was his room shared with yours, his bed pressed up against the far right. The shutters in here remained closed and angled upward so the sunlight outside could peer through, but only at a faint glow. It was enough to get around, at least. The space was spotless, bed unslept in. The sheets were still tucked tightly into place and his backpack sat in the armchair in the corner.

"You didn't sleep?" You voiced aloud, shutting the door behind you while he made a beeline for his backpack. You knew sleep wasn't a demonic necessity, but even so, sleeping for leisure was still something he indulged in, right?

He dug through its contents for a spare shirt and pants to change into after his shower. "No, I went out last night."

Your head perked up from where you'd settled on the very foot of the bed. "Where?"

"The woods—where else?" As if that were obvious. "The circles of Hell are pretty much dark all the time anyway," he said while passing by you to get to the bathroom door. He dumped his clothing items onto the counter and you heard him rip the shower curtain open. "It was—it was just, you know, like exercise and shit. Nothing important."

You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it, losing your train of thought.

The bathroom door shut, but you could still hear the stream of water running behind it.

Did living like this make him uncomfortable? Was he used to moving from place to place, never making a permanent home?

"Changmin." You raised your voice so he could hear you from through the door and over the water.

A faint, "Yeah?"

"What you said, back there during the advising board meeting, when they asked if there was more of this pendant—" You fingered the stone again. There was no one here to gawk at it. "—you said that this wasn't the only one."

For a moment, he didn't answer, and you thought that perhaps he didn't hear you.

Then, "Your sister, she—she had the other half."

You peered down at the stone in your hand and watched its blood ruby surface pulse. If you were careful, you could just barely make out the duller edge versus the sharper one, no doubt where Sena's half would have been. It hadn't even occurred to you that this was only half the necklace, like a locket.

You asked him the next reasonable question. "Where is it?" It hadn't been in the lockbox, nor had it been on her person when she died or at the funeral. Did he have it?

"I'm not sure actually."

Those four words settled heavily over your shoulders. He didn't know. There had to be some connection with how she died then. Someone took it off her body—

"Is that—" The bathroom door opened. You hadn't even realized he finished and was dressed, "—what we're looking for then? You said we have to go to one of her safe houses to find the thing she messaged you about. Is that the thing? Is whoever was following us earlier—were they after my half?"

Changmin leaned against the bathroom door's frame, freshly rinsed off of dirt and grime and sweat, a new set of clothes on his body. He crossed his arms over his chest with a pensive gaze. "They probably were after your half, yes. I didn't really know what she wanted me to find, to be honest. I thought you would have her half, too, but when you only said you found one pendant in the lockbox, my mind shifted into believing she stashed hers in a safehouse somewhere."

That must have been why he reacted like he did that day… how he wanted you to be sure there wasn't anything else in the box.

He continued, "Sena was the one who poured over ancient texts and researched about this. I gave her context about supernatural things and was the muscle where need arose. She knew everything, and now I'm kind of kicking myself in the head for that." He massaged his jaw. "She mentioned something about an activator of sorts. I can't remember all the details, but it would be in one of her notebooks."

"We just have to find them," you murmured.

You and he locked eyes, and he nodded, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "Yeah."

You fiddled with a spare thread from the duvet cover by your hand. "And about the demons—you know, the lower level ones who have been popping up everywhere?"

"Those are easier beings to summon," he breathed out. "Anyone can summon them through a ritual and they'll do your bidding for the price of a sacrifice. Those are usually the ones people are calling upon with their… Ouija boards and pentagrams and shit." They seemed a lot more vicious than the ones that came with pentagrams, but you couldn't speak from experience.

You shuddered at the memory of those teeth engraved into your mind. If anyone could summon those kinds of demons, then it wouldn't necessarily be a demonic entity after your pendant. More details to consider, you supposed.

A thought occurred to him and you saw it come to the forefront of his mind like a lightbulb turning on. He disappeared back into the bathroom and returned with a little paper cup in his hand. He stirred something inside it with a wooden popsicle stick used for coffee and crafts.

"I, uhm…" He stepped toward you, apprehensively, with the paper cup. "I consulted the resident medic for some of that salve the wolves use for bruising. She didn't have anything on hand for humans, but she told me what herbs I could grab from the woods."

When he was close enough, you could see the greenish paste at the bottom of the cup. Your eyes widened in surprise, uncertain of what to do with all this information.

He stood in front of you, teeth biting down on his lip. "Can I see your neck?" His voice quieted at the end, and he cleared his throat.

You could feel your heart stutter in your chest. "Uhm, yeah. Sure." You carefully swept any stray pieces of hair from your neck and to the other side of your shoulder, tilting your head slightly to give him access to it. You didn't know exactly what this was going to do, but for some reason you trusted that it would help.

He took some of the paste onto the end of the popsicle stick and carefully dabbed it over the places where the demon teeth marks vandalized your skin. It was still purplish in some areas, darkened where the teeth had sunken in the deepest to pierce your esophagus. Shallower places had already begun to sallow, but clearly, it wasn't at a supernatural creature's pace by any means.

When he was finished he stepped back to inspect his handiwork. Neither of you had yet to say anything.

You let your hair fall back into place. "Thanks."

You couldn't read him again; you wish you could. "Yeah," he said.

#9—OUT OF REALM.

THE NIGHTS WERE WARM here in the little town of Moonstone Creak. The air was comfortable and settled so comfortably on your skin. No gooseflesh or raised hair or anything.

You sat on the front steps of the pack house to the sound of music being played in the square before you, and wondered if Sena had ever come across something like this in her travels. If she and Changmin had been business partners, so to speak, she must have come across a myriad of supernatural and divine beings.

A couple days had passed since you and Changmin first got here, and the wolves unfortunately were unable to find the source of your pursuers in the white car, who bore the same scent as the pendant around your neck. You almost forgot that was why you both were here in the first place.

A blur of fur flew past you as two wolf pups scrambled down the steps, one chasing the other's tail, in a game of tag. Seeing mothers hold their infant children between jaws of teeth was becoming less and less of a shock, and you found yourself smiling at the kids playing around in the square, beneath the hanging lanterns.

"This seat taken?" You glanced up to meet Kevin's boyish smile, a white dress shirt and board shorts hanging from his frame.

You welcomed him next to you with a smile. "Busy day?" You asked after having not seen him since he left breakfast this morning.

He gave a sigh, leaning back onto his palms. "A little, but it's always nice to take some of the younger ones out into the woods. It's how they build community and stamina."

The two of you peered out at the town center as those dancing around Lily and Sangyeon with their guitar and keyboard cheered to the end of the song. It was merry and vibrant and full of life; no wonder they lived in this pocket of the world—it was to preserve their serenity, and perhaps even their ways of life.

Kevin turned his head toward you. "What about you? How have you filled your day today?"

"Well," you started with a chuckle, "Haknyeon and Eric and I went down to the creak and they taught me how to snatch a fish out of the water with my bare hands."

His grin widened. "Oh, I see. So dinner tonight was on you?"

You snorted, shaking your head. "I would like to take credit for that massive hunk of salmon, but I could barely get my fish out of the water."

"It comes with practice," he assured you, eyes turned up in amusement. "Plus, Haknyeon and Eric have a bit of an advantage over you."

Ah, that was right. Wolf shifters were, for lack of better phrasing, “built different,” as you liked to say. They were stronger, faster, and more alert, with their five senses heightened to a scale you couldn’t put into words. You imagined that shifting between human and wolf forms took a lot of strength and energy, so it made sense in a way. There were also a few humans living among the wolves here besides yourself who either married into the community or simply moved in after visiting or doing business with the town’s inhabitants. You couldn’t blame them for that either. (A part of you, stewing in the back of your mind, humored the possibility of moving here yourself. It seemed almost too good to be true.)

You and Kevin watched as Jacob joined the fray with Eric in tow, the two of them starting a game of “Simon Says.” A thought occurred to you while you observed the angel; there was something distinctly absent from his silhouette. “Kevin?”

“Hm?”

“Why doesn’t Jacob have wings if he’s an angel?” For the entirety of your stay since you met him, he lacked the white-feathered wings characteristic of an angel. Of course, there was also a lack of halo, too, but you thought Jacob’s radiating warm personality was enough to make up for that loss.

Kevin straightened. “Oh, that’s an easy one—he’s in an energy-conserving form. That’s why you don’t see Changmin with the demon horns or tail and stuff. This human form is the base level of this realm, so it’s the most energy-conserving for them while they’re away from their native realms.”

You didn’t expect that your question would lead to a conversation about the mechanisms of the universe. You blinked, then shot him a look you expected told him exactly how you were feeling. “What?”

“Realms,” he repeated with a chuckle. “We have the mortal plane, which is where we are now; the Heavenly sphere, which is where the hierarchy of angels are; and then the circles of Hell.” He nudged your knee with the back of his hand and gestured for you both to move to the bottom step of the porch so he could draw you a diagram in the dirt. Kevin found a small rock lying by his feet and diagrammed the three realms.

“It looks like that,” he said once he was done. “Think of each as not levels, but more like separate rooms.”

You tilted your head at the drawing. “So Heaven and Hell really are just above and below us?”

“Not… exactly?” He winced. “More like pocket dimensions. That’s why energy conservation works how it does when it comes to bodily forms, rather than how humans usually explain it in physics.”

“Don’t expect me to know anything about that.”

He grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure this’ll make a lot more sense—there’s a whole lot less math involved. But then again, maybe human physics and this concept is more similar than I’m making it out to be.”

You lifted your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I’d confirm or deny, but science was never really my area of expertise.”

“And what’s that? Your area of expertise,” he asked, dropping the rock back onto the ground and resting his cheek against his fist to turn his attention to you.

“Me? Well, I’m in finance and accounting.” You made a face at how human that sounded compared to the subject of your current conversation. Accounting did not measure up to talks of energy conservation and supernatural pocket dimensions. “It was just… kind of the practical route that I had in mind when going into college.” Practicality had driven so many of your decisions throughout your life. It was for the sake of keeping yours and your sister’s heads above water. Sena had never been afraid of chasing her dreams though, so you figured that you would support her and let her go out to do what she wished. But by the looks of where that got her, should you have done that? You didn’t really know.

Kevin bobbed his head. “Practicality is good,” he said softly. “You know, we just lost one of our bookkeepers in town. We could always use another.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest at the sentiment and you couldn’t ignore the tenderness of his gaze, but maybe you were making things up. Your heart pitter-pattered and the pendant at your collar echoed it. “Good to know.”

His lips curled into that pretty smile of his, and he sat up and waved his hand around. “But, uhm, going back to what we were talking about earlier… because Jacob and Changmin are both far away from their home realm, they need to exert a lot more energy to sustain a form that is less supported in this realm.”

You squinted, pursing your lips. “So like… a supernatural version of home court advantage?”

Now it was Kevin’s turn to pause. “Home court ad—I’m guessing that’s a human thing.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about it,” you dismissed. To be fair, your high school had drilled the concept of home court advantage into your head in order to encourage more people to come to sports outings when your school was hosting. The phrase lived in your head because it was etched there. “Ah, so wait—if, let’s say, Changmin went to the Heavenly sphere…”

“If he had any reason to go there,” Kevin said with an ill-concealed grimace, “pray for him.”

That reply did nothing to reassure you. You swallowed, trying to imagine what would happen should Changmin find himself in Heaven, and if Jacob went to Hell. If this was their supported form one realm away… then what would it be two realms away?

“But don’t worry too much about it,” he added swiftly, “demons don’t usually find a reason to go to the sphere. And if there is a reason, they usually don’t stay long enough to find out how much energy it takes to maintain out of realm bodies.”

“Out of realm—I’ve heard that saying before when Changmin and Jacob were sparring a couple days ago. They both agreed not to use any out of realm abilities.”

He hummed cheerily, nodding. “Mmh, yeah. Out of realm usually just refers to the mortal plane here, and any form or abilities that aren’t ‘supported’ like flight or magic—”

“Magic?”

“That’s just what I’ve heard,” Kevin huffed a laugh. “I hope you never find yourself in any of the circles of Hell, Yn, but if you’re ever down there with Changmin, then ask him to turn a rock into a diamond necklace.”

Your eyebrows flew up to your hairline. “So you’re telling me he’s an alchemist?” You hadn’t even thought about what other things your demon counterpart was capable of besides attacking people and brooding.

“Not quite—”

“Alchemy isn’t really the word I would use to describe it,” came Changmin’s drawl from behind you.

You nearly fell backwards off the stairs if it hadn’t been for Kevin’s arm shooting out to grab your wrist. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you shot Changmin a dirty look. “You—” you sputtered, trying to get your bearings, “—need to stop doing that!”

He quirked a single brow upward, quietly shoving another forkful of blueberry pancake into his mouth. “Not my fault you didn’t hear me coming.”

“I smelled you coming,” Kevin laughed, the sound brightening at the sound of your snort.

Changmin’s expression flattened. He swallowed his bite and impaled another. “Can I talk to you?” He directed the question to you, nudging you with the toe of his boot.

You and Kevin exchanged glances, but you hoisted yourself up from the porch steps, dusting any dirt from your pants. “Uh, sure. What about? Also, where did you get pancakes from at nine o’clock at night?”

The demon motioned with his chin to start walking in the direction of the inn across the square. “Lily had leftovers,” he said simply.

You hmphed and let it slide.

Since Changmin revealed to you that there was a second half to your pendant, you hadn't shared another long discussion pertaining to the real reason you were on this quest. He would often linger at the edges of crowds here, keeping to himself and the limited number of people he knew. He seemed to avoid interacting with most, and you wondered why that was. He wasn't… that scared of social interaction, was he?

Changmin leaned up against the wall of the inn and you perched across from him with your back to the porch railing. "I've been thinking."

"Is this a good thing?"

You raised your hands in innocence as he scowled at you. He sawed a chunk of pancake in half with the side of his fork before impaling it with the tines. "Sometimes you sound exactly like your sister."

"Sarcasm runs in Ln family blood, what can I say?" You mused. "So you were thinking."

He hummed. "Mmh. Well, I was thinking that—" he cleared his throat, his fingers brushing over his throat. "We've been here for a couple of days and nothing has seemed to crop up. There hasn't really been any immediate dangers and—" He wrinkled his nose, apparently annoyed at something.

You sobered a little. "What is it?"

He knocked the back of his fork against his skull. "You look—happy here. And safe, of course. You're safe here," he finally pushed out. His jaw worked as he speared his last piece of pancake and shoved it into his mouth.

Your eyes widened slightly. You didn't realize he was monitoring your mood like that, but you could agree that you definitely felt safer here than out there. "I… agree?" However, you still didn't know what direction this conversation was heading.

Changmin sighed, his brows creasing in frustration. "Yes, you agree. So, I think the best decision is that I leave you here and I go out and find the second half of the necklace."

What.

"Changmin, you—"

"Just hear me out," he said. "We've already been attacked twice because of that thing, and if we step foot out of these bounds, it's liable to happen again." He wrestled down a swallow. "You're just—better off here."

You idly rubbed the pendant over the fabric of your shirt. "You're serious."

"When am I not serious?"

Did he not trust his ability to keep an eye on you? Or no, it had to be you that was the problem. If you could fend for yourself, he wouldn't have to worry about being attacked all the damn time. His logic had grounds, and though you could breathe easy here, for some reason, letting him go after the second half didn't sit right with you.

You chewed on your bottom lip. "I think we should—"

The world stilled, the music screeched to a halt. The night air filled with the chilling sound of a howl.

You instinctively leaned away from the railing and came to stand beside Changmin, scanning the immediate premises for danger. The hair on your skin stood on its end, heartbeat quickening—

From the far end of town by the conventional entrance, a dark-furred wolf, followed by two others, charged in. You recognized the one at the front as Juyeon from the advising board.

The town center cleared; Lily was already corralling little ones into the pack house, her head on a swivel between Sangyeon and the wolves barreling back into town from the night watch. Kevin and Jacob were swift to join them.

Changmin's expression turned troubled. "Stay here."

"I'll hold your plate," you murmured, taking the plate and fork from him and backing up toward the entrance to the inn. The auntie who owned the establishment appeared at your side, ushering you in so she could lock the doors. This had to be some kind of protocol.

You set the plate and fork on the table in the parlor and pressed your face up against the window to watch the congregation at the town's entrance. From this distance, your sight wasn't nearly good enough to make out their individual expressions, but it didn't look good.

"Auntie?" You asked, fumbling for Clyde in your pocket. "What's going on?"

She peered over from where she was twisting lanterns to the off position. "Intruders," she answered.

You leapt out of your skin when the inn's front door handle was forced open.

Changmin and Kevin's heads whirled about the room until they found you. "We're leaving," Changmin said, already charging toward the stairs. "Pack your things; Kevin's leading us out."

You scrambled after him in the dark. "Changmin. Changmin what the fuck is happening—"

He threw a stern look over his shoulder. "I'll explain in the car," he said before disappearing into his room.

You tossed your hands up into the air and did as you were told. There wasn't much to pack for yourself. You tossed your clothes haphazardly into your backpack, located any other spare items you left in the room, checked the bathroom for anything else. By the time you were done, Changmin was slapping his palm against the door jamb and hustling you out.

Kevin waited for you both in the lobby, his wolf form anxiously pacing the area like he was itching to get out of here. You could hear snarling and hissing and crashes and crackling from outside the door. What were you going to see when you stepped foot out of the inn?

"Let's go," Changmin said, nodding to Kevin, and shoving out into the night.

You lost your breath.

The pack house was on fire.

Wolves brawled against demonic forms, teeth gnashing around necks and snapping them. Black and red blood stained the dirt—they had come for the pendent. And they would take the pack down with them if they had to.

"Yn." A hand hauled you down the porch steps to round the building to Changmin's car.

Horror and panic and everything in between poured into you as you threw yourself into the front seat of Changmin's car. Your eyes, wide as saucers, could not leave the sight of violence happening before you.

You blinked—dark, whirling masses in the sky appeared out of thin air, and out of them spilled more and more creatures of Hell. Their jaws of daggers made you sick to your stomach; what was this? A small army?

Changmin swerved the car after Kevin, who was leading you not through the fray, but behind the inn house and straight into the woods.

You twisted in your seat. "Are they going to be okay?" You whispered, hands shaking as they dropped onto the headrest.

He was quiet for a beat. "They have Jacob."

But was one divine being enough? There were so many of them, oh fuck. And Jacob wasn't at full power, was he?

"They'll—they'll leave when they sense we're no longer there," he added quietly. "I hope."

You hugged the back of your seat, murmuring prayer after prayer. Please be safe. Please be okay.

The road Kevin led you both down was twisted and hazardous with winding paths that sent your shoulder careening into the side of the car and bumps that jostled your organs. Changmin somehow was able to keep up with Kevin without the headlights on and you didn't have the mind to question it.

You sunk into your seat to face forward, eyes glued to the side view mirror. You could see the glow of flames from here, could see how far up into the sky the fire went.

Oh god, this is all your fault. You brought trouble right to their doorstep. It's all your fault. All your—

The car broke out of the woods and into a small clearing with a worn path that led up to another road that hugged the side of a small mountain. This was where Kevin stopped.

Changmin nodded to Kevin in the front windshield.

You jammed your finger against the button in your door to roll your window down. "Kevin," you said.

The wolf trotted over to your door, and you stuck your hand out to meet his head. Your chest ached. "I'm sorry."

He couldn't communicate with you in a way you understood, but you liked to think you got good at reading his eyes. They seemed conflicted—the way they glistened like moonlight with the silver lining the edges, but burned like molten gold when he turned to motion toward the smoke in the distance.

"I'm sorry," you repeated. "Stay safe."

With one last look, he took off back toward his home.

Changmin passed you a glance, eyes softening at the corners, then turned the car up onto the road.

You pulled yourself back into the car and rolled the window up once you couldn't see Kevin's form anymore. Your eyes stared at the front console, brain muddled—you focused on taking deep breaths.

"Are they going to be okay?" You asked again. He had given you an answer before, but—fucking Hell, you were going to be sick—

"They'll be okay," he assured you. One of his hands lifted from the steering wheel and rested on your shoulder.

You broke down, face burying itself into your palms. Sobbing filled the silence of the car with the weight of lead. First, there was Sena. Then, it was whatever the fuck you were doing on this ridiculous task. Now… now, you'd gotten bystanders involved. Good people. They were good people.

You couldn't lose anyone else.

One person was more than you could take—more than you thought you could take.

You lifted your head, dragging the back of your hand across your eyes, your palm over your cheeks. "I want to go home," you whimpered as the back of your head hit the headrest. He had spoken too soon—you weren’t safe anywhere.

His hand was still on your shoulder and it slid down to your forearm, his fingers curling around you in a tentative form of comfort. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured. "I know."

#10—HOLD YOUR BREATH.

"PULL OVER, CHANGMIN."

The demon's head whipped over to you for a second, taking his eyes off the barren highway. There wasn't anyone else around this early in the morning, especially on this road that hugged the coast rather than a more straightforward freeway like the main interstate. "What?"

"Pull over," you repeated.

"We're almost there."

"Please."

He stopped the car.

He just barely put the vehicle in park before you were clambering out and headed in who-knew-what direction.

You heard the driver's side door slam shut as he followed after you. "Yn. Yn, where the Hell do you think you're going?"

"I don't know," you said, wrapping your arms around you. The salty sea air brushed past your clothes and your skin, and it felt nothing like the warmth from Moonstone Creak. The sky before dawn was a white-ish purple with clouds blanketing out where one might see the sun creeping up to its perch. The two of you were on the road for nearly five hours, and you didn't sleep a wink of it.

He caught up with you and grabbed your shoulders to face him. "I know that was a lot of shit to take, but we can't be out here."

"I can't do this anymore," you told him. "I can't risk any more lives, I can't risk mine or yours—I don't want to end up dead in a ditch. I—" You yanked the necklace around your collar and unclasped the chain, the weight falling from your sternum feeling more akin to an empty cage than a freed one.

You ripped out of his hold and stormed across the highway.

"No, no, no—YN. Yn, let's talk about this—"

You were getting rid of all your problems. If they wanted the pendant, then they could fucking have it—

Changmin appeared in front of you, expression stormy. "Don't do it."

"Get out of my way."

"If you lose that necklace, Yn—"

"THEN WHAT?" You practically growled in his face. Your hand fisted around the stone in your palm, and you waved it around wildly. "If I lose it, then what? Changmin, I don't even know what the fuck it does. You haven't told me why it's important. My sister sure as Hell didn't tell me jackshit. What, in the name of all things fucking holy, is so important about this red rock! Why am I risking my life for it?"

Changmin balked and his lips pressed firmly against each other.

Disappointment churned in your stomach. "Why won't you tell me?" You asked him, dropping the stone to hold it by the chain.

His eyes flickered to your movements. "I'll tell you, but just—we can't talk about it out here." He turned slightly and pointed out a building in the distance. It was a lighthouse, and it was erected on the edge of a rocky outcropping that jutted out from the coastline. White-foamed waves crashed against its shore like drums. "You see that? That's the safehouse."

That was the safehouse? "She bought a lighthouse?" Oh dear god, she had not listened to any of your advice about investing.

"Yes," he said. "Don't ask me why. I don't know the answer to that one, but if we can just get over there…"

You eyed the building. It was a standard cylindrical-shaped tower painted in white with a large glass cap at the top, housing a spotlight to guide ships home. A second, much smaller building the size of a shed was attached to the base, and you could just make out what looked like a chimney on top. Against your boring financial advice, Sena had been a romantic at heart. You wouldn't be surprised if one of her other safehouses was an idyllic cottage in a meadow.

You swallowed your pride, reaching up to reluctantly clasp the necklace back around your throat. Changmin visibly relaxed. "Fine."

The two of you made to turn around and head back to the car, but something in the water below caught your eye. It was a long way down from where you stood, and the jagged, dark cliff face didn't make the drop any more appetizing. The water was a deep, murky shade of gray-blue that screamed a cold, watery grave. You squinted down at the water in search of the glint of something you thought you saw.

Changmin glanced back at you. "What is it?"

When you came up empty-handed, you followed him to the car. "Nothing. I think I'm just tired."

The car was still quiet when Changmin pulled up outside the lighthouse. The building sat on the lower end of the outcropping, surrounded by a field of overgrown grass watered by sea spray and rain. The thrashing of waves was much louder here, like rolling thunder, and they threw themselves up against the shore bedecked in dark rocks, eroded into rough edges to make them appear akin to teeth.

You grabbed your backpack from the backseat as usual, eyes peering up at the lighthouse and trying to drink it in.

So… this was where she had been hiding. At least, some of the time she was away.

Your fingers drummed along your bag strap. What were you going to find inside? The last time you opened one of Sena's locked things, you ended up on the run.

Changmin's hair whipped up in the wind. "I think I can pick the lock," he said.

"She didn't give you a key?"

He began making his way to the front door. "I've only been here a couple of times, but only when she was around. Sena only had one—copy." When he jiggled the doorknob and it drifted open, he stiffened.

You frowned. "Awful lock."

"It wasn't locked," he said. He put his arm out in front of you. "Stay behind me."

That feeling you knew all-too-well—like a spider crawling down your spine—returned. You shoved your hand into the pocket that held your angel blade, slowly creeping in after Changmin.

The first floor of the lighthouse looked as if a tornado blew right through it. The couch cushions were torn off their perches, the rug was thrown aside, the bookshelf devoid of its occupants who lied scattered about the room. You took it all in with wide eyes, gently trekking through on the balls of your feet like you were going through a minefield. The connecting shed was for the kitchen and dining needs, and that too did not look much better. All of the porcelain plates and cups and silverware were in pieces on the stone floors.

Changmin blew out a breath, hands burying into his hair as his eyes wildly searched the area for any signs of who had been here for you. "Shit."

You made your way over to the couch-side table where a small lamp was undressed of its shade and a picture frame left cracked and picture-less. But you recognized the shoddy paint job on the frame from your childhood when you'd painted it in an arts and crafts class in first grade. You felt the picture's loss like an empty void. Whoever had been here took it with them.

Failure burned through you like hot acid. It made your body scream as it incinerated you from the inside out; you would never figure out what your sister was doing or what was going on. Not at this rate.

You set the empty frame down and brushed past Changmin to the front door.

"Yn—"

"I need some air." You didn't wait for his response.

The sun was making a gradual ascent now, turning the sky above you a more aggressive shade of lilac and egg yolk. You rounded the circumference of the lighthouse until you were descending the hill at its back down to the dock. It was a short, wooden platform where you could sit down and breathe in ocean air for a moment.

You lowered yourself by the edge with your feet crossed beneath you upon the sun-soaked planks. In the distance, you heard the cry of a seagull as it made landfall.

For all of the noise the waves made, it was awfully quiet. Disturbingly quiet.

It didn't occur to you right away. You were more focused on the hot tears trailing down your cheeks and the pressure building up in your head to start a killer headache. Goddamn, what were you doing? What did you think you were going to accomplish?

You yanked the chain out of your shirt collar with an angry frown marring your face. "Stupid fucking necklace." This was all its fault—and there you were, blaming an inanimate object for all your troubles.

"What if I just tossed you into the ocean?" You gazed out at the infinite horizon. It would be so easy. Would it not solve all of your problems?

You sighed, rubbing the space between your eyes with the pads of your fingers.

For a moment, you soaked in the air around you, the warmth of the boards beneath your thighs, and the sweet song drifting through your ear. What a beautiful sound the ocean made… it crooned something melancholy to you, luring you closer toward it in wonder. How sad the ocean was… its loneliness resonated with yours… it sang it so in the song.

You were enchanted by it, scooting closer to the edge of the pier to see if you could figure out the source of the serenade.

It's the ocean, something told you. It wasn't coming from a person or a thing, but the entire body of water before you. It heard your pain, could feel your suffering… it wanted you to come into its arms so it could lovingly embrace you.

"Yn. YN? YN!"

The song coaxed you closer to the edge. Almost there, love.

Your legs dangled over the side, eyes glazed over and glassy. The dark waters beneath you were so lovely and lonely. You could keep it company, couldn't you?

"YN, SNAP OUT OF IT."

Don't listen to him. He doesn't understand your pain. But I do.

You murmured. "Who does?"

Come a little closer, pet. I can make the hurt go away.

Thunderous stomps down the hill became muffled in the background. "YN. LN. WAKE. UP."

For a moment, your eyes shuddered. His voice was familiar. You turned your head back to look, and saw Changmin charging toward you with his eyes wide and—

Look at me, the voice demanded.

Something wrapped around your ankle, and you had little time to understand what was happening before you were dragged straight under.

As soon as the water swallowed you, the cold seeped into your bones and snapped you out of whatever trance you had been put under. Panic seized your chest, and you thrashed around, holding your breath, in a desperate attempt to free whatever had your leg trapped in a death grip.

You screamed silently, the surface getting farther and farther away.

You desperately kicked out with your other leg, the sole of your shoes scratching and scraping and chipping away at the hand holding you. You fumbled in your pants pocket, then brandished Clyde. With as much might as you could muster, you stabbed at the appendage wrapped around your ankle.

When you made contact, it retreated instantly. There was a trail of something dark down below, but you couldn't quite tell between it and the bottom of the water.

Running out of air fast, you desperately pumped your legs and clawed your way up towards Changmin swimming toward you. He extended his hand to you, his eyes flickering between you and something behind you—you didn't have time to think about what it was.

Your fingers made purchase with his, and you grabbed onto each other with a mutual vice. He hauled you up to the surface before him, and you gasped for breath, arms bracing onto the wooden deck.

You hacked out sea water and your throat felt like it was closing in on itself. It burned like Hell.

Heart pounding, you lifted your head to find Changmin and—wait. Where was Changmin?

"Changmin?" You whipped your head around, eyes going down into the water. "Fuck."

You gagged from sea water again. Could you stomach going back down? You had to, for fuck's sake. Your demon was down there.

You wielded Clyde tightly in your other hand, took a deep breath, then went back under.

You could now make out the figure who you assumed held you captive earlier. He had Changmin wrapped tightly in his grasp, the demon thrashing in the half-man half-fish's arms. You knew you were probably staring death in the eye, but you continued swimming straight for them.

You and the fish man made eye contact, and he grinned menacingly, the smile tinged with a set of sharp canines. In any other circumstance, you would have thought him beautiful.

Changmin saw you coming and his eyes widened. I just saved you. What are you doing back here?

But he realized something key with your presence reappearing. Changmin's jaw clenched—you didn't realize what was happening until he threw his arms back behind him to grab ahold of his captor's head. His fingers had grown darkened claws, razor sharp, and he gouged his thumbs into the eyes of the siren.

If you could hear screams underwater, it would have rattled your bones.

You watched, frozen, as the siren attempted to thrash around an escape Changmin, but your demon counterpart had too good of a grip on his skull.

You knew what the dark trail was now, and there was so much of it pooling in the water.

When Changmin was satisfied with the limpness of his captor's body, he shook his hands out and the claws disappeared. You didn't know where they went—didn't care, only that they existed in the first place.

He urgently swam up toward you as both of your supply of oxygen dwindled with each passing second.

When you broke the surface a second time, you clung to one of the posts of the dock, body shaking from the icy cold and the chill of witnessing a piece of Changmin's violence first-hand.

Changmin gasped for air and threw his upper body onto the face of the dock, his muscles trembling as he struggled to pull himself out of the water. Both of you were soaked to the bone, clothing and shoes heavy with seawater.

You stuck Clyde into the wood of the pier above you to anchor yourself onto the boards.

The two of you laid there on the dock to regain your breath and strength. Despite Changmin's demon-ness, he was still a creature of land, not water.

The sun had managed to climb up into the sky now, its hot rays piercing through clouds, and yet, all you could feel was the wind.

"You should have stayed…" he managed to say, "...up here."

You rolled into your stomach and braced your palms onto the wood to push yourself up. "You're stupid if you thought I was gonna—let you die." You glanced over at him, eyes finding his fingers—they looked normal again, save for the dark red rimmed beneath his fingernails.

You shuddered.

Changmin squinted his eyes open at you. "Don't ever… do that again."

You could only nod.

For a moment, only the waves and gulls existed between you. You hunched over your legs, dry heaving any more of that stinging salt from your mouth and eyes. Your brain kept rewinding the struggle over and over, repeating the look of pure survival instinct in Changmin's eyes as he mercilessly drove his clawed fingers into the creature's eye sockets.

You heard him stir again, and you asked hoarsely, "How much energy did it take to summon claws?"

After a beat, he replied, "Let's just say, I'm rusty and winded."

You turned your body over so you could face him. His white shirt was drenched all the way through, but you could still see the dark red seeping in places over his ribcage. "Oh my god, you're bleeding."

You reached out to examine him, but he slapped your hand away. "I'm fine," he insisted.

"Let me see," you argued, fixing him with a hard look. When he relented, you gently peeled the fabric away from his skin.

His skin, pale and wet, looked like a watercolor canvas of blues, reds, and purples. Bruises bloomed in splotches and blood made up the rest. You delicately ran your fingers over the bruised areas, hearing him suck in a breath at your touch.

"Does it hurt?"

"I'll survive."

"Don't be an ass. Does it hurt?"

He lifted his arm over his eyes. The scratches there were still an angry red. "...Yes."

"Did he get you anywhere else?"

"No."

Relief soared through you—or, the dispelling of fear from your body—and you racked your brain for a solution. There was nothing you could use down here to heal him to get him up to the…

Who were you kidding? There was something.

You wrenched Clyde out from the board you'd impaled him into and held the sharp end against the plush pad of your thumb. How much human blood did he need to get back on his feet? How much would get him up to the lighthouse, and how much could heal him fully like at the motel—?

He lifted his arm off his eyes. "Don't even think about it."

You met his eyes. "And why not?" Once, a long time ago, you managed to slice your finger open from cutting a lime in your palm rather than against a board like a normal person. If you used just enough force to break the skin—

"I'm not—drinking your blood—" He grunted while attempting to sit up. The stubborn bastard fell onto his back, face screwed up in pain and frustration.

You leaned over him to block the sun from his eyes. "You were saying?"

He narrowed his eyes up at you. "I'm not drinking your blood."

"You've done it before."

"That's because you were dying. You're not dying now, and neither am I."

"Your ribs are broken, aren't they?"

He huffed air out of his nostrils. "Yeah."

Returning to your original plan, you pressed the blade back against your thumb, wincing slightly as it split your skin. Dark red welled into a little pocket, before breaking form and dribbling down your finger. You moved it in front of his mouth, waiting to feel his tongue against it.

Reluctantly, he stuck his tongue out and licked a neat stripe up the length of your finger, all while giving you a stink eye. This isn't my choice, he seemed to say. It didn't matter though. He knew that he needed this, even just a little bit, to get up to the lighthouse and the car.

There could be more sirens, after all.

You pulled your finger away already feeling your skin cells knit themselves back together from his saliva. "Better?"

He licked his lips. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

"Asshole."

"Human."

You snorted, clambering to your knees, and then your feet. You lifted pressure off of your right leg where your ankle ached from being anchored onto. "You say that like it's an insult."

He raised a brow at you, clasping onto your forearm when you offered it. "Take it as you will," he said with a half grunt as you used gravity and momentum to pull his body up.

You threw his arm over your shoulders to begin the trek up the hill. Trying to avoid putting weight on your right foot was a little difficult, but you were determined. Your joints and chest ached and your socks squelched grossly in your shoes.

"Your ankle," he started.

"I'll survive," you repeated his words from earlier. "It's nothing compared to broken ribs." The thought occurred to you that if the siren could break Changmin's ribs with his arms, then… he could have easily shattered the bones in your ankle.

A shiver slithered down your spine. You were thanking every divine being who existed for keeping your ankle intact.

"You know I'm not letting you drive, right?"

He let out a noise of indignation. "I can drive, Yn."

"You're not driving."

You could feel his eyes roll. "Whatever."

#11—THE DRIVER'S SEAT.

IT WAS A MIRACLE THAT both you and Changmin fit into your sister's clothes. There was a decent stash of clothing left in the second floor wardrobe of the lighthouse, and you both dressed in relaxed pants and t-shirts as you recuperated. Once you were cleaned up, for the most part, it was back to the car.

Changmin watched with a pained look on his face as you settled into the driver's seat and began adjusting everything for your personal preference.

"Are you going to seatbelt or should I do that for you?" You asked as you finished checking the side mirrors.

He slowly buckled himself in. "I hope you know how much I despise this."

"You despise a lot of things."

"I can drive, Yn."

"Okay, yeah. I almost died for the third time five hours ago. I don't want to risk my life a fourth time." You shoved the keys into the ignition and twisted the engine to life. Leaning back in the seat, you put the car into reverse to begin taking the vehicle up the road to the mainland. "You said to get onto the interstate and keep following until—"

"Deer Ridge—can you be careful," he hissed, eyes slicing toward your movements, before gritting his teeth at his swollen ribs.

You swatted his micromanaging away. "I am so surprised you have never made this much of a fuss about your car before."

He brooded, eyes never leaving your hands on the wheel. "I should've learned stick shift."

You rolled your eyes. "You're such a baby."

Because the lighthouse was of no use and not safe, you were going to drive yourself and Changmin to the next closest safehouse. It was another five hour drive, give or take a needed food stop at some point because you hadn't eaten since dinner at Moonstone Creak. You were afraid Changmin would use that against you at some point so he could be in the driver's seat again. Stubborn brat.

If he wouldn't drink your blood to rejuvenate, if he wouldn't let you drive when you were clearly the most capacitated, then what the Hell did he want from you?

You followed the road signs and his passive-aggressive mutterings about how to get to the interstate from here. You hadn't driven in a long time, mainly because your apartment was so close to everything you needed, and gas cost an arm and a leg. Maybe that was why Changmin was so prickly about you driving his car… but some things were a necessary evil. He would have to put on his big boy pants and deal with it.

"You know," you said after you'd officially hopped onto the highway. "Now would be a great time to start explaining things about the necklace. Since we were supposed to talk about it at the lighthouse and all."

You heard him push out a breath. One of his hands cupped the side of his body that was battered the most while his other rested on the center console. "Right."

You waited.

He struggled to fit the words into the right places for a decent explanation, nothing seeming quite adequate, but he eventually came up with an answer. "The necklace—" he paused, amending, "I guess I should call it more of an amulet—the amulet is something made of very ancient, powerful magic. It was something forged from a combination of all three realms, and so the energy that it stores within itself is complacent with all three realms.

"I can't remember exactly the mythology that came with the damned thing, but your sister did. She knew all the ins and outs of the legend—she obsessed over it."

"Obsessed over it?" Your eyebrows furrowed

"Yes," he said. "Which is why it's crazy to me she was even able to keep it a secret from you in the first place." Changmin brushed a hand through his hair, shifting in his seat awkwardly. "Anyways, the amulet is kind of like a key. It needs a vessel to be the—the gate or the portal of sorts to activate it, but it would grant the creature who wields it the energy and power to travel through realms as if it were their own."

You checked your mirrors and flicked on the signal to change lanes. "Wait, not to sound like a YA fantasy book protagonist—"

"A what?"

"Human thing," you dismissed airily. "So if someone got their hands on this thing, they could hypothetically conquer whole realms that aren't their own? Hypothetically, of course."

Changmin nodded slowly. "Hypothetically," he drawled. "If that's what they wanted to do. You'd have to have one Hell of an army to do so, and the amulet can't really give power to other people, only the one."

"It's a portable charger for one person's plan of mass destruction?"

He huffed, turning his head to the window, and when you glanced over for a millisecond, you swore he was smiling. "You're so…"

"Funny, clever, charming?" You supplied, the corners of your lips curling upward. You licked your lips, then pursed them in thought. While you were driving and pondering the weapon of otherworldly conquer seated upon your neck, you also kept a look out for any restaurants at nearby exits. Maybe an all-day brunch place with blueberry pancakes… "Changmin?"

"Hm."

"Is there a way to destroy this? To ensure that no one can ever use it?" There had to be some method of self-destruct for something potentially so dangerous. Then again, you weren't an expert on magical artifacts.

Changmin's eyes moved back over to you. "If there is, it'll be somewhere in Sena's notes."

Oh.

The car ride chugged on for another hour or so before you gave up. Your stomach growled its disapproval of going so long without something sustaining, and you marked the billboard of a gas station at the next exit. The car needed to be fed, too, anyway.

It was a standard little pump-and-wash with an option to fill your tank, take your car through the little Soapy Joe's car wash in the back, or both. The gas station building was a camel-colored sandstone with deals on gas station snacks printed in massive, red block letters on bright yellow paper. For the most part, it seemed pretty empty, with only an SUV of a family on a road trip and another sedan with a rather disgruntled looking business man.

You swung the car into the pump station closest to the gas station store's door and began searching for the gas tank button.

"Bottom left, second from the right," Changmin instructed, already clambering out of the car. He suppressed the urge to make a noise as he did so with his still-bruised and battered torso.

"What are you doing?" You asked after locating the button and giving it a push. The muffled pop sound followed right after.

He braced one hand on the roof of his car as he peered back in. "I'm filling up my tank."

You deadpanned. You should have known the stubborn cretin would insist. It was better for you to not fight him if he was gonna be this anal about driving his own car while injured. "I'm getting snacks then."

"Have fun," he muttered, pulling his card out of his bifold. Where did even get money to put on that thing?

You mused upon that thought as you dug around your backpack in the back seat for a couple twenties. You wouldn't need much, just enough so you could indulge a bit.

Ten minutes later, you walked out of the gas stop with a plastic grocery bag in one hand and a blue and red swirled slurpee in the other. It was no 7/11, but goddamn did the sugar hit your system just right. After nearly drowning in sea water, it gave your body the perfect amount of zip.

You found Changmin in the driver's seat (were you surprised? Of course not), with his seat and mirrors adjusted back to how he liked it, and his phone plugged into the USB port in the center console. You clambered into your designated seat with the grace of a car sale balloon because of your sore ankle.

He glanced up from his phone, hand carding through his hair. "Ready?"

"Wait, before we go—" You sorted through your bag of treats and looked for the little, brown paper bag amongst all the other junk. You pulled it out, the bottom beginning to seep through from the grease of the pastry inside. Childlike glee rushed through your veins, and you couldn't tell if that was just the slurpee or the thought of getting him a treat. Beaming, you extended it toward him. "I got you a blueberry muffin."

For a second, Changmin just stared. His eyes widened at the expression on your face, and you couldn't tell why something felt like it had shifted. He glanced at the grease-soaked paper vessel, then back to you, then the bag, then—

"Thanks," he said slowly, grabbing the bag from you and unrolling the top edge to open it up. (If you'd paid attention longer, you would have seen the darkening of his cheekbones. A rare sight.)

"They don't exactly sell blueberry pancakes," you prattled on and decided between a bag of kettle chips or a packet of dried seaweed; you decided on the former and popped the bag open. "So I got the next best thing. And the woman running the store looks like she bakes them fresh. Oh, I saw that it had this crumble on top and thought it had to be a sign it was top notch stuff."

Changmin inspected the muffin, then took a generous bite, cupping beneath it to catch any crumbs. His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned. "Fuck—me. That's so good."

You brightened. "Glad you think so," you chuckled in amusement.

He hummed in reply, already going in for his next bite.

With a car of slightly more content campers, you hit the road. The remainder of the journey would add up to a little more than four hours from here, as long as there weren't any other pitstops made. Hopefully, you would arrive before it got dark and you wouldn't have to deal with another situation like this morning.

The bag of snacks rested at your feet and you had tucked away the chip bag for later. It was concerning how fast your body became accustomed to this seat again, how it knew exactly what way to sit in order to be comfortable.

Changmin glanced over at you just as he made it onto the interstate ramp. "You should get some sleep. It's been… a long day and night."

Right on cue, you yawned. "Do you dream when you sleep—if you sleep?" You asked, instead of heeding his advice.

"Huh? Oh." He used his free hand to adjust the AC coming in through the vents. "I only really sleep if I'm bored, or if I know I'm not under threat, I guess."

You frowned. "Do you not feel safe a majority of the time?"

"It depends," he lifted his shoulder. "When we were at uni, there usually wasn't much threat around, so I slept sometimes. I only sometimes dream though."

You hummed, acknowledging him. "I think it's kind of funny that you're a demon studying anthropology."

His laugh was breathy. "Yeah? A little ironic?"

"What? Did you think it would help you blend in or something?"

He snorted. "No… I mean, it seemed like an interesting topic when I perused the website when applying."

You made a face, eyes staring out at the vast road before you. It was just before a typical afternoon rush hour, so there wasn't much traffic. "How did you even have the credentials to apply and get in?"

"A little white lie never hurt anyone," he said innocently.

You threw him an incredulous look, and a chuckle fell out of his mouth. "Despicable."

"I am a demon."

You fiddled with the hem of your sister's shirt, then reached up to play with the chain and pendant around your neck. You'd become so used to its weight that it felt wrong when it was gone. "Would you ever teach me how to use Bonnie?"

Changmin's hand felt around the middle console blindly until he met the lid of your slurpee. "I'm drinking this."

"Wait, I have an extra straw—"

"What, you don't want my magic spit?"

Your gaze flattened into a deadpan. "Oh, so now it's magic spit?" You watched in melodramatic disgust as he took a generous sip of the sugary drink from your straw. You didn't really mind, of course; you weren't going to finish that thing all on your own. "And you didn't answer my question."

He replaced the cup back into its cupholder. "What's a Bonnie?"

"I hate you."

He let out a loud laugh that made your forced scowl nearly shatter. Who knew a demon could look so pretty when he laughed like that? "I don't even use it, you know that, right?"

"And I haven't the slightest idea why you keep her locked up like that." You shoved the pair of sandals you'd stolen from the lighthouse off so you could fold your legs onto the seat with you. Your finger brushed over the flesh of your ankle, where it was gradually splotching with blueish purple.

It was a familiar scene, that of Changmin taking his eyes off the road the briefest moment to inspect your bruise and frown. Humans are so fragile, he'd said before. The bruises on your neck from the motel had faded by now, thanks to the miracle salve he gave you at Moonstone Creak.

He cursed under his breath. "I forgot to bring the cup of salve from the inn," he sighed.

"That's fine," you murmured. "We were… in a rush." You swallowed, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the pack house in flames. "I hope they're okay."

"Yeah, same."

"Would it have mattered if we stayed?" You asked.

You expected him to simply say that it wouldn't have mattered, because that wasn't our goal. He knew what the wolf shifters were capable of, what Jacob was capable of, but you didn't. You'd seen them in bliss and peace, without the ferocity of what he might have been used to.

He thought about it and confessed, "I'm not sure. They can take care of themselves, but I—" he stumbled over his words, reeling them back in before he could say them out loud.

"You…?"

He shook his head. "It's not important. What's important now is that you—we—got out alive." When you couldn't find anything to say after, he reached over across the console to find your forearm again. His fingers curled around you, like they had when you'd left the woods. "If it makes you, uh, feel better, we can reach out to them. Send them a message once we get to the safehouse."

You nodded, moving your arm so his hand rested in yours and your other hand patted the top of his. "I'd appreciate that."

Changmin's nod was small, and he kept his hand sandwiched between the two of yours.

#12—ALL HER SECRETS.

WHEN YOU DREAMED, your sister was drunk and stumbling across a dark road for help. Your throat lurched with air, but your scream was completely silent as her eyes went wide in the glare of the car lights. A deer in headlights, in a literal sense. It never occurred to you how morbid the saying was until you witnessed it in action.

Her body laid sprawled over the stretch of road as the couple driving scrambled out to check her vitals.

Dead on impact.

You awoke with a start.

Everything was fuzzy and muddled, and you sucked in oxygen through your nostrils, hands reaching up to rub your eyes with the heels of your palms. The place on your thigh where your hands had been resting grew cold at the lack of warmth as Changmin retracted his hand to his own side, putting the car into reverse to back into the driveway.

Cirrus clouds blotched the bruising sky, golden hour long since passed and the highway far out of view. You noted the residential street you faced through the front windshield with the sounds of children biking and drawing chalk masterpieces on sidewalks in the cul de sac down the road. You'd only ever really experienced this kind of tranquility in movies, never for yourself.

Your heartbeat, once erratic from the dream, calmed. (It was crazy how real a dream could feel.)

Changmin shuddered off the headlights and the engine died down. "We're here," he cleared his throat. He cracked his knuckles, one hand cradling the other.

You peered through your side view mirror, only catching part of the house in view. How had she afforded a whole house in the suburbs? Granted, it didn't look as large as the others on the street, but the fact that this was under her name… she hid all of this from you.

"I dreamed about her," you murmured in a voice hoarse from sleep.

He glanced at you. "Sena?"

"Yeah," you hummed. "How she died—or I guess, how I imagined her death to be." You met his gaze, and it seemed like he was searching for something in your face. You reached down to gather your belongings in the gas station grocery bag, then popped the car door open. "So this is the place, huh?"

Changmin shook his hair out of his eyes. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I've only been here once or twice, too, but it's nice."

"How'd she afford this place anyway?"

"I think she found a vampiric sundial for a client." Crazy. Must have been one well-off client.

He hadn't been wrong about the place being nice. It was one of those cookie-cutter houses with white shutters in the windows, a garage big enough for two cars, and a driveway flanked by twin beds of emerald green grass. A little metal mailbox sat at the end of the driveway by the street with a red tab and the house number branded on the side. It was the dictionary definition of suburbia.

Changmin walked right up the front porch and stuck his hand in the potted plant hanging from a hook. Out of it, he withdrew a key, rusted and dirtied, but the perfect fit for the front door. It was a massive change from the lighthouse's situation.

Inside, you didn't expect anything less cozy than what you found. The entryway was confronted by a staircase that led to the second floor, and there was a hallway that led further into the home, and a doorway to the right that went into the living room. You took this all in with wide eyes, your breath held at the sight of unlit candles on tables, quirky baubles beside them, and picture frames—dear god, the picture frames.

You stopped in front of one of them and picked it up. In the dimming light, you traced the lines of your sister's smile and yours right next to hers. You both looked so young in this photo—way more carefree and innocent. You wondered how she had saved all of these photos when you only had them encased in your memory.

Changmin had disappeared up the stairs, most likely heading straight for Sena's room or an office, anywhere that might hold the notebooks you and he had been looking for. The wooden planks creaked slightly under your weight as you climbed the stairs, and you ran your hand along the smooth railing as you went.

"Hey Changmin?" You called out, head swiveling around the upstairs landing to find which doorway he'd disappeared into.

"Yeah?" He asked from somewhere within the furthest doorway. You followed the sound and stuck your head into what looked to be a home office. It was outfitted with a desk and office chair, a few bookshelves, and an armchair in the corner. Changmin brushed his finger along the spines.

You joined him at his side and picked a random one to pull out. "How are your ribs?" You asked him, moving your gas station grocery bag handles to hang on your forearms you flipped through the journal. This one didn't seem to have much; maybe she wanted to start a planner in this and never finished.

His movements paused for a second, then resumed. "My ribs? Oh, they're, uh… they're fine now."

Your face screwed up in incredulity. "That's insane."

"Supernatural regeneration plus human blood," he said like he was explaining one plus one equals two.

"But patching up broken bones?" You replaced the book back in its slot and wandered away from the shelf. The office space was decorated comfortably enough but there were no other personal additions besides the furniture.

You stepped back out into the upstairs loft to search for the bedroom. The master was located on the other side of the office door, and when you opened it up, you were hit by a wave of nostalgia.

That was her. That was what Sena smelled like. And where you knew she always kept a bottle, there sat a glass vial of her favorite perfume on the nightstand table. It was as if it said to you, "Welcome home, Yn. We've been expecting you." Except, you never got to be welcomed here, not by your sister, at least.

It was like going into her locked room at the apartment all over again. There weren't as many things here as there were back at your place, but the subtle things left around reminded you of her, besides the scent lingering. It was uncanny how such a thing could stick around for so long, clinging to the walls, the sheets, the floors, until even the air vents recycled that same smell on its own.

You settled on the edge of the bed and just sat there.

It seemed you were returning to the same questions over and over again. Why had she hid any of this from you?

Changmin appeared in the doorway, his hand bracing the doorway. "Hey."

"Did you find something?" You asked.

He pursed his lips, the miniature mole beneath his bottom lip popping out at you. "Nah, not yet anyway. I just… wanted to, uh, see where you'd gone."

"Oh, I came to find her room, is all." You pressed your hands flat on the comforter to feel the fabric. You didn't quite know what to think. "It's weird knowing she lived here at some point."

"She had her reasons for keeping things a secret," he said quietly while venturing a step into the room.

You exhaled sharply. "Yeah, I figured." At the motel, he had confessed that he and Sena both agreed to keep you out of this business unless necessary. He had sisters, did he not say? It didn't seem too far-fetched to assume that he could sympathize more with Sena than you. "You mentioned once that you have sisters."

He stiffened, and you wondered if you'd crossed a line.

"I do," he replied slowly. "I'm not as close to them as you were with Sena."

Your smile was thin. "Yeah, well, based on the past few weeks, I'm not so sure we were that close."

Conflict flickered across his face, and he crossed the space between the doorway and the bed, and took a seat on the edge adjacent to you. "She talked about you a lot," he said. "Thought the world of you."

Your eyes were pinned to the floor as tears welled up in your eyes and blurred your vision.

"Always talked about her baby sister, and how you were the one with your head screwed on right."

If she could see you now… you were going half mad, but the corners of your lips curled upward at the sentiment. You sniffled, wiping your eyes and cheeks with the side of your hand. "You know," you mused, your voice watery, "for a demon, you're getting good at this empathizing thing."

Changmin's shoulders lowered, his hands laid out over his legs as he chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. It's not as hard as you make it out to be."

"Liar."

"Human."

"You need new insults," you groaned, shoving his shoulder.

His bangs hung in his eyes and you couldn't see his expression quite clearly. "Who said it was ever an insult?"

Changmin let you check the state of his still-slightly-broken torso (liar) as long as you let him examine your bruised ankle. You chalked it up to your demon being a big baby again, but you figured there was no harm and no foul in letting him take a peek. It wasn't like the injury hindered your movement an awful lot anyway.

You hissed as he jabbed at a blossom of purple on your ankle and you tried to retract your leg. He kept a firm enough grasp unfortunately. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"So it does hurt."

"No," you quipped, "you're just a sadist."

The two of you sat on the couch in the living room with a first aid kit opened up on the coffee table and a legal pad next to it. In your lap sat one of Sena's many, many journals propped open to a page that you were scanning for anything that might be of help. Changmin had set aside the journal he was reading to drag your foot into his lap.

The top leaf of paper on the legal pad was impressed with the message you had scrawled out for the wolves of Moonstone Creak, asking about their state of health. Changmin had summoned a sprite (???) from over the fence in the backyard to ferry it over. Apparently, it was the supernatural equivalent of medieval pigeon messaging.

You couldn't even begin to wrap your head around all of it. The point was that he had kept his word, and now, you were keeping yours.

The words scrawled in your sister's handwriting blurred in your vision, and you glanced up to watch Changmin again. "What are you doing?" You asked, leaning your head against the couch cushion. "You're not… gonna lick my ankle, right?" You scrunched your face up. As much as you appreciated him trying to heal your injury—

"That's not how saliva works," he replied, holding your leg with one hand so he could lean forward and dig around in the first aid kit.

"Oh, I'm sorry I don't know how saliva works."

He arched an eyebrow up at you, and you recognized the silent "Really?" in his expression.

You lowered your eyes back to the journal in your lap and tried to suppress your amusement. "I don't know how you plan to heal a bruise, but usually ice and time are the best—oh shit, that's cold!"

You squealed and attempted to wrench your foot away once again, but he yet again prevailed. He anchored your foot down as he pressed a bandage-looking adhesive around the circumference of your ankle. As the sharp, icy pain gradually diminished, your muscles loosened up.

"Don't ever do that again," you told him with a scowl, successfully pulling away your leg from him (because he let you).

He sent you a flat look. "You'll thank me later. It's a good thing she had some stashed away," he said, flipping the first aid box lid closed and returning to the journal he picked out.

You gave your ankle an experimental roll. The ache had numbed and there was no longer a jab of pain when you moved the joint around. "What is it?"

"Some magical bandage that is specifically for mortal species," he said offhandedly with his eyes glued to the pages. "You have to find a witch apothecary to get them, and even then, they sometimes scam you and jack up the price."

"Huh." There was still much for you to learn, it seemed, but even the supernatural world fell victim to capitalism.

With your foot patched up, the both of you descended into silence to return to your respective journals. There were interesting things scrawled between the lines and the margins. Your sister liked to sketch things, and so you figured out pretty quickly that this journal was used to document supernatural herbs she came across while on her adventures.

You ditched that one to move onto the next. This one seemed like a standard, hard-covered journal with a lilac-colored ribbon used as a bookmark. It wasn't marking any specific page, however, but was only tucked between the cover and the first page. You flipped through the entries, noting the dates—wait.

Wait… these were recent.

"Changmin," you muttered, tapping his shoulder as you scanned the inky scrawls.

Changmin put his notebook down and the two of you converged onto the same couch cushion, your shoulders and thighs pressed together, and the book opened between you.

"Do you recognize when this was?" You asked, pointing out the dates in the top corners. "I remember she told me she was going up north to study abroad during this time."

His forehead creased between his eyebrows. "Yeah… I remember. She was being vague with where she said she was going."

"She didn't tell you?"

"She didn't report to me, if that's what you're asking."

You turned your attention to the diary entries. This particular one was labeled with the third of November, the year before:

A note to self: never choose the Holiday Inn off the I-375. It might literally smell like a dead body in here, and I'm keeping my window open the entire night.

You snorted. Noted.

—drive was long and I don't think Yn expected anything. She had this massive exam today, so I think she was a little preoccupied, but she sent me off as usual. (Fighting Yn!) It's tough keeping this from her, but at the same time… I'm not sure if she would understand.

She's always been in the right headspace—not whatever dream world I've been living in. I don't know why I always invalidate myself when I know this is all real. Maybe it's not?

That's besides the point. I'm supposed to meet the amulet owner in a couple days and there is still a laundry list of things I need to do before that exchange happens.

"The amulet had an owner before her?" You voiced aloud. And what did she mean that you wouldn't understand? Was that why she never told you the truth?

Changmin gave a head bob. "I wouldn't mark it as a ridiculous notion. A lot of magical artifacts sit in basements and get pawned or sold as antiques." He shrugged. "It's not like they come with manuals that say I'm not just a Tiffany lamp; I'm a magic carpet."

You squinted at him. "I never realized how silly you were."

"I'm not silly," he scoffed.

Sure you aren't, you thought. Demons and their tough guy act.

Changmin flipped past the pages, both of you skimming each as you went for any words that jumped off the page.

"Stop," you said, bumping your hand against his. "Go back."

You thought you had seen something… there.

It was dated several weeks after the first entry, and her writing looked more scratchy, more frantic:

I translated one of the passages wrong. The amulet doesn't use the wearer's blood as an activator, it BINDS them to it. The wearer is an amplifier, NOT an activator.

What.

You stopped reading there, digging the pendant out from beneath your shirt collar and watching the red upon the stone wink at you. The blood drained from your face—what did that mean, amplifier?

Next to you, Changmin kept reading on. His eyebrows braided together in concentration as he soaked up all the words on the notebook like a sponge. This was all of the information he hasn't gotten from Sena before, and what she might have wanted to tell him beforehand. At least, that was what you thought. That was what made the most sense.

It's too late for me anyways, I already pricked my finger against it and it sucked it all up. It's been done, was what your sister wrote. I don't know how magic reads blood types or genetic code, if it even does that, but for some reason I'm less scared and more curious.

Things to note: it seems to match my heartbeat. The full amulet should ideally be the shape of an infinity loop—supposedly. It's a little off, but it might be from the wear of time. It's missing a piece though, a middle portion that slides over it like a connector or binder of sorts. Neither half will stay together without it, and without said third piece, the amulet won't work.

I guess my next course of action is to find out who does have the third piece, and to make sure this damn thing will never EVER be used.

Changmin flipped the page, and you began unclasping the chain.

He stopped you, placing a hand over your own with wide eyes. "Woah, what are you doing?"

Your mouth dropped open. "Did you not just read what she said? This is an amplifier, Changmin. I don't know what the Hell that means, but I don't want it on me." No matter how much the emptiness left behind protested, the word "amplifier" made your heart drop.

He protested again, stopping your movement. "Yn—Yn, listen to me. We cannot lose the one piece we have."

Your heart was moving erratically now, the pendant pulsing in perfect time. If it had your sister's blood in it then why did it match yours? "I don't want it on me," you croaked. You fisted the pendant and held it away from your chest. "It matches my heartbeat, Changmin. Do you know how fucking unnerving that is when it's supposed to be my sister's?"

Changmin faltered at this revelation. He blinked. "I—since when did it match your heartbeat?"

"Since the moment I put it on."

His eyes went to the amulet in your hands, and his expression rearranged itself into something you couldn't read—worry, maybe—

He froze.

You just barely picked up on the sound yourself while descending into panic, but it sounded like wheels rolling on the street in front of the house. Both of you peered out the window shutters to the front lawn space as a white colored sedan pulled up along the front curb.

A white sedan.

Changmin's hand tightened on your arm as he assessed the car. The headlights remained on, but the driver had yet to step out and reveal themselves. "You have Clyde?"

"I do, but… what if they're here for the neighbors?" You whispered even as the hair on the back of your neck stood up. Not here, not again. You and Changmin were finally getting answers.

He looked like he was about to counter when the driver's side door opened.

Instead of a big, scary monster or creature, the person who clambered out was quite petite. Then again, you weren't quite sure what to expect. She wore a big, white knit cardigan that hung off her frame, and she had platinum blond hair with dark purple highlights. The car door slammed shut behind her as she trudged up the grassy lawn toward the front door and rang the doorbell.

Changmin seemed just as surprised as you did.

"Girl Scout cookies?" You suggested under your breath. It definitely wasn't Girl Scout cookie season, and the woman didn't seem young enough to still be a Girl Scout. (And usually, Girl Scout sellers came with something to sell. This one just had her car keys and a phone.)

He passed you a look. The muscle in his jaw told you he was still on the offense. "Stay here," he said, then got up and quietly made his way to the front door.

The doorbell rang again, the sound echoing throughout the house loud enough to wake the dead.

Changmin made eye contact with you once more before he began unlocking the door. He pasted on a smile, with one hand on the doorknob to keep the door angled so the woman couldn't see past him, and the other lingering around his middle "Hi, can I help you?"

You didn't even think he had the vocabulary to be polite.

"Oh, uh, hi!" Chirped the visitor. Her voice was bright, but with a raspy quality to it. She neither looked familiar nor sounded familiar. "This is probably really strange, but did you recently move into this house?"

Changmin moved his hand up to his opposing shoulder. "Yeah, actually. My partner and I just moved in. Why do you ask?"

Partner? He meant the strictly-business kind, right?... Right?

You stood up and began making small steps toward him in the entryway. He must have heard you, because you saw his eyes flicker toward you in his peripheral vision, and he stuck his hand out behind the door to swat you away.

Like you were going to listen.

"Ah," said the woman, "I just…" she chuckled, shaking her head. "One of the neighbors texted me about seeing you guys come in earlier today. I used to know the previous owner; we were pretty close, I guess you could say."

His eyes darted to yours for a millisecond. You heard that, too, right?

You approached the door, standing just behind the wall and out of sight.

"Oh, you knew Sena?" Changmin asked.

"Yeah," she answered easily. "She was my ex-fianceé."

#13—NO SUCH THING.

"SO HOW LONG HAVE YOU TWO BEEN TOGETHER?" The question nearly had you snorting tea from your nose. Beside you, Changmin had a similar reaction, turning away slightly to catch the water that trickled out of his mouth.

Mika, the woman with the platinum blonde and purple hair, the woman who had shown up at the door, the woman who was Sena's ex-fianceé, widened her eyes in alarm. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry—is—is that not what you both are? I assumed when he said partner, but I shouldn't have—"

You shook your head, thumping your chest. "Oh, no, no," you said, pretending your voice hadn't gone up four octaves. "It's—it's okay! You just caught us both off guard, is all."

As soon as Mika revealed her identity, you said "screw it all" and practically ripped the door open. Any skepticism was dashed when she recognized you immediately as Sena's little sister—as stupid as it sounded, that was enough proof for you.

You invited her in.

Now, she sat on the armchair adjacent to you and Changmin. Sena's books had been kicked under the couch in the haste to clean up, leaving the first aid kit and legal pad out. To Mika's credit, she didn't comment on either one, just accepting your offer for a drink.

"We're uhm…"

"Kind of together," you said, but it sounded more like a question.

Changmin swallowed. "Uh, ish."

"It's complicated."

You hoped your face hadn't gone too red because it burned like the pits of Hell. Changmin didn't look any better; even his face was brushed in pink.

Mika let out a delicate laugh, lifting her mug of tea to her lips for a sip. "No, I get it. You don't owe me an explanation."

You could have sagged in relief. At least she seemed nice.

"I really appreciate you both letting me into your home," she continued and nursed the mug in her lap. "I know neither of you know me, but I suppose we have one mutual friend."

You nodded. "Yeah no, of course. I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you. Sena…" Hid so much from me. "Sena and I both had pretty different lives." Understatement of the century.

Mika straightened. "Oh, yes! I completely understand. She actually told me that she traveled a lot, and that you're studying—I believe it was accounting?"

You blinked. "Yes, actually."

"That's lovely, by the way," she said pleasantly. "I've never been great at math, so I admire you for that. Definitely not my cup of tea, but good for you."

"When is math anyone's cup of tea?" You mused, and she gave a little laugh of agreement.

This was… unexpectedly nice. But while the moment was sweet, you were divided internally. Sena told Mika about you, but didn't tell you about Mika. Had you done something where she didn't trust you enough to disclose this very important part of her personal life to you? It wasn't like you hid anything from her—you just, well, didn't have anything to hide.

"I didn't realize that Sena even told you about this place," Mika said, gesturing around at the house.

Oh, right. Back to the reality of your current situation. "Heh, yeah," you drawled and scratched the side of your neck. "She wrote all of the details down in her will for me." That seemed like a logical lie to tell.

"I'm surprised you weren't included in the will reading, Mika," Changmin suddenly jumped into the conversation. Your eyes were wide as you whipped your head toward him. His expression was carefully blank, words and movements executed with a lethal casualness. Because that was who he was—lethal. You just couldn't understand why he was putting it on for this lady.

"Changmin," you whispered sharply in reprimand, setting your cup down on the coffee table.

"No, it's okay, Yn," Mika replied good-naturedly. "It's a perfectly reasonable observation. I told her not to include me in her will, if she ever wrote one. I just… I have a lot of material things already, and it sounds kind of corny, but I didn't want anything like that from her—just her and her company." You noted the way she played around with the empty spot on her left ring finger absentmindedly, as if something—a ring—had once sat there.

Your chest warmed. At least you knew your sister was properly loved, as she should have been. A bittersweet sort of sadness wormed into the back of your mind still. "Ah, I see. I wish I would've known how to contact you after…"

"After that, yeah," she nodded. She swallowed, setting her mug on the table and shifting in the armchair. "Same here. Sena never gave me any means to get in touch with you, but I'm sure it was for a certain reason."

"How did you know that Sena was dead?"

You slapped your hand over Changmin's mouth. "I am so sorry about him. You don't have to answer that—"

"I just assumed that Sena had me as one of her emergency contacts, besides you, of course." Mika gestured to you with her expression still light and unbothered. You removed your hand from Changmin's mouth, nodding along. "Somebody contacted me about how her sister identified the body, but that Sena was dead, nonetheless."

That made sense. The morgue had been cold when you stepped foot inside it to confirm it was your sister there. You could imagine what Mika must have felt when authorities contacted her to give her the bad news. It must have been something close to how you felt.

With one hand resting in your lap, the other fiddled with your pendant. You'd forgotten to tuck it away earlier.

Mika's eyes darted toward it after following your hand movement. "Oh, that's an interesting necklace."

You enclosed your fingers around it and straightened. Every time anybody else noticed the amulet, you always felt like a deer in headlights. "It's—it's nothing really. I just—"

"I have one exactly like it."

Your fidgeting slowed. Heartbeat racketing against your chest, you could feel your counterpart tense next to you. "You do?" You stammered.

She bobbed her head. "I'm pretty sure, yes. Sena gave it to me. At first, I wasn't sure exactly what stone it was—I kind of just figured it was something precious, but I knew it had a level of sentimental value to it." Mika smiled, the corners of her lips curling sweetly, eyes misting. "I guess it makes sense that you have the other half."

Of course. Of course Mika had the other half. That was why Sena split the halves of the necklace and gave one half to you. Maybe this was her way of connecting you and Mika together by giving either of you a half of the very important necklace. One question that still remained was why hadn’t Sena mentioned anything to you about Mika or the other half of the necklace? Had she forgotten to write it down in her haste? Perhaps she hadn’t thought she was in danger just yet, and didn’t have a moment before her untimely death to sit down and explain everything in a letter.

“Do you happen to have the other half with you?” You asked her, leaning forward onto your knees. “I’ve been so puzzled as to what it is these past few weeks.” A blatant lie, but you needed to know how much Mika knew. She hadn’t mentioned anything about the dire importance of the necklace yet, but she said “sentimental value.” That wasn’t the same thing. Was it?

Mika pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t, unfortunately. It’s at home with my other accessories, but I’d gladly bring it for you to see, maybe over dinner?”

Changmin delivered a swift nudge to your side with his elbow. “Can I talk to you?”

You pressed your lips together. “Sure,” you said, and he immediately stood from the couch to head out into the hallway. You supposed he assumed you were going to follow him. You sent Mika an apologetic look, then trailed after your demon.

You found him waiting for you in the kitchen, leaning against the island with his hands folded over his chest.

“What did you want to talk about?”

He looked at you in earnest and pressed a finger to his lips in a quiet signal. You fixed him with a look, coming to stand beside him. “I don’t think we can trust her,” he murmured to you with his mouth by your ear. He had leaned over so close, you could see the pores on his skin.

The two of you pulled away simultaneously.

You coughed and braced an elbow against the countertop. “Why do you say that?” You asked. You didn’t mean for it to sound so defensive, but you bristled at the thought that you couldn’t trust the one other person who might have more insight into your sister’s life than you or Changmin.

Changmin cocked his head at his tone. “You believe her?”

“She hasn’t given me any reason to not believe her.” You pushed out a breath. If you stepped out of your own head for a moment, it was clear that something was bothering him. Considering he was the one with the supernatural experience and he had yet to be wrong yet, there had to be a good reason for him to not trust Mika. “Okay, why don’t you trust her?”

His eyes roamed over your face—he was doing that thing again—looking for something, but what, you weren’t too sure of. “I…” He sighed, “I realize that this—this is your chance to reconnect with a part of your sister’s past, but she… her presence just doesn’t sit right with me. The timing, her answers… sweetheart, there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “So you think she’s here because of the necklace, or something to that effect?”

“Yes, something to that effect,” he said.

“But all of her answers make sense to me. If Sena had both halves of the necklace, giving two halves to two of the people she deemed close to her would make sense. And I think what she said about the will was a little corny, but…” You admitted, “It was a little strange that Sena didn’t mention anything about her in the will.”

Changmin bit his lip. “I know we probably shouldn’t villainize her right off the bat, but there’s something so weird about this, Yn.”

“Okay,” you said, “I don’t fully agree, but let’s say yes to dinner and then go from there, yeah?”

He seemed to be in agreement after that, and the two of you returned to the living room where Mika glanced up from her phone. “Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Oh yeah. No need to worry; just a personal thing,” you said casually and took your seat from before. “You were saying something about dinner, right?”

As Mika told you about a neat, little restaurant nearby themed like a Prohibition-era speakeasy, you absentmindedly reached for your cup of tea on the coffee table. Before your fingers could make contact with the handle, you felt another hand bump yours out of the way. The cup was suddenly not there.

Instead, you glanced over at Changmin as he swept your tea mug up into his grasp. “Sorry, I wanted some. I hope you don’t mind.”

Your expression was quizzical. He must be a lot more comfortable with sharing things with you after he stole half your slurpee in the car ride. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really that thirsty,” you said slowly.

But his gaze wasn’t on you; it was on Mika. His eyes narrowed at her over the rim of the cup, and he drained its contents in one gulp, like a challenge. You would have to ask him about it later.

Mika didn’t look the least bit fazed. She continued on about dinner plans, none the wiser to Changmin’s dagger-sharp eyes. You had to give her credit for sitting there under his gaze without shrinking into herself, because you probably would not have survived.

The remainder of the visit went without a hitch. Mika didn’t say anything else that drew a snarky response from Changmin, and the three of you (really, it was just you and Mika who participated) decided to meet at the restaurant she mentioned the next day for dinner.

“Well, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Mika laughed lightheartedly, and the both of you stood at once.

Changmin stayed on the couch, but you figured it would be fine if you just walked her to the door. You frowned, though, noting the way his eyelids fluttered, like he was trying to keep himself upright. “Nonsense,” you said to her, “it was really nice to meet you, Mika.”

You opened the front door for her, and Mika fitted her shoes back on. “You, as well. And your partner.” Her lips curled up into a sweet smile. “Can’t wait to see you both tomorrow again, and to get to know you better. We have so much to catch up on.”

You nodded. “Yes, definitely. Get back safe, Mika.”

“I will. Thanks, Yn.” She gave a wave before marching down across the front lawn. You lingered by the door to make sure she got into her car okay, and returned her final, little wave through the driver’s side window.

With one hand braced on the side of the open front door, you craned your head around to look at Changmin on the couch. “Hey, you doing okay?” You asked, eyebrows creasing at the way he was hunched over now. “Changmin?”

“I think she—”

You didn’t hear what he said.

From your peripheral vision, you saw something swoop in toward you fast. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening—just the blur of feathers, the scream you let out, and the sound of Changmin yelling your name.

He was so sure that Mika drugged your tea with essence of sloth.

After you and Changmin came back from the kitchen, he’d seen the way the surface of your tea swirled as if something had just been stirred into it. The tea, which had been a mild green color before, looked a shade deeper, with fresh steam rising from it. He recognized those properties so distinctly to that of supernatural essences modeled after the seven deadly sins. He hadn’t even needed to think about it—he just reached for it and drank the entire thing. The worst case scenario was that Mika put enough of the essence in there that Changmin would be slightly affected, but only that much; either way, he would be able to stomach it better than you could. He couldn’t let you consume even a drop of it.

But now that his eyelids were as heavy as lead curtains and his brain felt like cotton, he was thinking it had to be sloth. But even if it was sloth, he wouldn’t have been this affected by it.

It had to be something different. Something he hadn’t taken before, something she knew a demon wouldn’t already have tolerance to.

He tuned into the conversation happening, just as Mika was excusing herself to head home. Good, she would leave and he could sleep this fucking drug off. You would be none the wiser.

“—will. Thanks, Yn.”

Almost gone.

Changmin’s eyelids shuddered closed as he leaned forward onto his knees with his head ducked to his chest. This… whatever the fuck this was, it was hitting him… hitting him… like… like a truck.

A familiar voice—no, more than just familiar—came to him. Your voice reached out to him, a lighthouse guiding his ship through a storm to shore. “Hey, you doing okay? Changmin?”

Could you close the door and come closer? Come over to him and sit next to him again. He gave a rough shake of his head in an attempt to knock some sense into his head. “I think she—”

Your scream sliced him right through the chest, and he jolted. “YN?”

“Changmin! Changmin—”

Everything blurred in his vision as he tried to stand. The floor wobbled beneath him, and he swayed toward the polished wood violently. “YN,” he yelled. Please, please, please—he needed to get to you.

He could barely make out the shapes in his vision: the flurry of gray feathered wings, your legs kicking out as you fought your captor. Changmin’s body lurched toward you, but stumbled pathetically, nearly tripping over the coffee table. Panic seized him by the ribs, but he trudged onward. He… he had to get to you. “YN? YN.”

“Chang—”

He swore.

His knees hit the floor. He would fucking crawl if he had to.

A pair of boots came into his blurred vision. “Well, isn’t this a lovely sight?”

Something in the back of his mind told him to RUN. But he couldn’t. Fucking Hell, he couldn’t even push himself up.

His chin was tilted upward, and he made out the shapes of eyes staring into his soul like a cat to a mouse. “She’ll be alright,” the voice purred. “You have bigger problems now.”

#14—DON'T TRUST ANYONE.

OUT OF FEAR OF FALLING STRAIGHT TO YOUR DEATH, you didn’t struggle in the arms of your angelic captor. Your heart ratcheted around in your ribcage as you dangled from the powerful grasp of one divine being you didn't recognize. His feathered wings, colored a medium gray, would have been beautiful to you if you weren't currently one slip away from splatting to the earth. This angel was nothing like Jacob.

All you could do was wait for doom. Whenever it decided to take you.

You hoped Changmin was okay. You prayed to anybody listening that he was okay; the way he stumbled toward you… the desperation in his voice. You swallowed. Oh god, you hoped he was okay. You couldn't stomach the thought of it—of losing him.

(You hoped you were going to be okay, too.)

The night sky looked akin to a dark void. No stars hung tonight, and you couldn't even see the houses beneath your feet. You screwed your eyes shut—better to not look down.

It wasn't much longer that the angel dove down into the dark mass of clouds and your voice became entrapped in your throat again. When you opened your eyes, there was a large estate coming into view with small lights embedded in the grounds lighting the way like a private airstrip. The angel followed, letting your arms go when your feet were close enough to the ground.

You rolled into the grass—he grabbed you up but the back of your shirt to stand upright.

"Come on," he grunted, "let's go inside."

"What the Hell do you want from me?" You gritted out as he practically dragged you across the lawn and toward the mansion ahead.

Shit, where did he take you? The grounds sprawled around you for what seemed like acres. You didn't have the mind to appreciate the architecture though, if this was your final resting place.

The angel didn't answer your question. Rude.

When he wrestled you into the front foyer, he threw you to the cool, stone floor. Your hands and knees caught the stone with a sharp slap, and you winced, rolling onto your backside.

"Stay here until—" Something embedded itself into the side of his neck. He scrunched his face up in mild annoyance, feeling around for the dart and pulling the needle out. He scoffed at the puny thing, flicking it to the floor.

Somebody leapt out from the front window curtains, screeching like a bat out of Hell. The creature, the person, launched themselves onto the angel's back and reared their armed hand back, before plunging the blade of a knife between his shoulder blades.

Gold-tinted blood arced across the ceiling and walls. You were frozen in horror as you watched Mika cling to the angel's wings and stab him over—and over—and over—and over—

The angel fought well, but the blade—fucking Hell, it had to have been laced with something.

He fell face first into a pool of his blood, dead, you presumed.

You scurried backward, trying to put space between you and the angel corpse. The golden ichor was slowly trickling toward you over the polished floors.

Mika huffed a strand of hair out of her eyes, sweat dampening her forehead. Her entire front and hand was covered in angel blood. She swiped the back of her hand over her forehead, leaving a streak of it there like gruesome war paint.

She smiled at you—you shivered. "Sorry about that," she said, stepping over the corpse unceremoniously. "Had to get rid of him. This one was a pain in the ass to work with anyway." She gave the body a kick in the side, and you flinched.

"What—" you choked, "—who the fuck are you?"

Mika's cheerful disposition was still present in her face. Her eyes still turned into crescent moons when she smiled. She was still the Mika you met less than two hours ago, but also not. Nothing about her softness before brought you any comfort now.

"We just met, Yn, don't you remember?" She walked toward you, and you scrambled away. "Now, don't be like that. We're on the same side." The blade in his grasp glinted gold and silver in the foyer lighting, and she gestured with it. "Oh, this? I put a little something special on it—it's the same thing your demon drank. In this world, we need as many advantages as we can, Yn."

When you had yet to say anything, she sighed, disappointed. "Don't tell me you're not impressed. Your sister was the same way when I showed her the thing I made."

You had one hand behind you, inching toward Clyde in your back pocket. "What… what do you mean? Is Changmin going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine," she dismissed with a flick of her wrist. "Well," she reconsidered. "I don't know if he'll be okay. Depends on the mood of the angels who have him. But that's not our problem."

"If you want the necklace, you can have it."

Mika laughed. "Goody! I was gonna take it from you anyway, but no, that's not the only thing I want."

"What else could you possibly want?"

She towered over you and you stuck your angel blade out between you and her. She raised a brow at the knife, slowly leaning down to be eye level with you. "Your sister really didn't tell you anything, huh?"

You gritted your teeth in frustration.

"Yn, let me tell you a story." Mika settled into the floor in front of you, crisscrossing her legs. Gold clung and dried against her clothes and skin, but it didn't bother her. "Not long ago, I discovered a little thing in my grandfather's attic. It was two halves of a pendant, and when put together, it made the shape of an infinity sign—or something to that effect. I had no idea what it was, but I figured there was no use keeping it around; I didn't need it. I put it on Craigslist and waited.

"Lo and behold, I got a notification from someone interested. Her name—can you guess? I bet you can," Mika mused.

"Sena."

"There you go," she said, leaning back onto her palms with a wistful smile. "Sena and I arranged a time to meet, and the first time I saw her—do you believe in love at first sight? I do. I fell in love with her, and I like to think she did, too."

You attempted to put a stop to the shakiness in your hands. "Where are you going with this?"

"Impatient, are we?" Her eyes narrowed. She drawled, carrying on, "She introduced me to her world and the necklace. This little amulet that my grandfather had tossed in an old jewelry box could conquer worlds, in the right hands. Could you imagine that? Jumping from realm to realm in a supercharged version of yourself without losing energy?"

Your mouth pressed into a thin line. "Dangerous."

"That's the boring answer."

"You're sick."

"I like to say ambitious," she countered. "You're just like your sister. Sena wanted to figure out how to destroy the thing rather than how to use it. Waste of time and talent, if you ask me. She didn't get it."

Mika cocked an eyebrow at you. "She cut her finger on it one day and it drank up her blood like a sponge. It was too late for her to back out then—she was bound to it." She waved a hand in your direction, and you clutched at the necklace. "And now you are, too. Your blood is the closest thing to Sena's, and you're the only one who can make it work."

You felt the blood in your face run cold.

"Don't look so surprised. That's why the demon kept you around."

Your head was spinning. "You're not making sense," you sputtered. Changmin—Changmin wanted to get rid of this as much as you did—but… but he hadn't. He hadn't, had he? "Why should I believe you?"

Mika frowned. "What reason would I have to lie to you?"

"You just murdered someone you worked with—"

"Oh, and you don't think he has?"

Your mouth snapped shut.

She leaned forward a little. "You and I, Yn, would never have to live in fear of the supernatural. The power that lies in your hands now, around your neck?" She started pulling herself to her feet, and you swiftly followed so you wouldn't be on the ground anymore.

You didn't need her to have any more advantage over you.

"It's priceless," Mika said, opening her arms wide. "You know what your little demon was going to do with the finished pieces of the amulet?"

"He was going to destroy the pieces—"

"He was going to take it for himself and use it to get back in his family's good graces," Mika corrected sharply. She took a step toward you, and you took one back. "You never suspected why he was so desperate to make sure you both 'finished what your sister started?'"

Oh god, you were going to be sick. You couldn't believe her—you weren't just going to believe her. Everything was spinning.

He was so insistent.

He was always so damn insistent. And he had never mentioned anything before about destroying the amulet.

The demon that day… it had addressed him as Your Disgrace. Oh God—

"I don't," you forced out, "believe you." Were you a fool? Were you a fool for believing in the goodness of a demon who saved you from death more than once, made sure you were fed and healing and happy and safe? Had you made a grave mistake?

Don't trust anyone.

Why hadn't Sena mentioned anything about Changmin?

"Then you're an idiot," Mika quipped. "Even Sena knew better than you."

"Oh, shut up," you snarled. You backed up all the way into the next room—the kitchen. Yn, look for a way out, damn it.

"He figured it out. That you were linked to it, and you were the ticket to accessing its power and the other pieces." You both came to a stand still. The ichor crusted over like caramelized sugar all over her face and clothes and hands.

"You have the third piece," you said tightly.

She shrugged. "Of course, I do. Money can buy you so many things."

"Clearly, it can't buy you a moral compass."

Mika barked out a laugh. "Oh, you're funny! It's almost a shame you're resisting; I'd hate to pick off another Ln sister."

"What—"

She pounced.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you moved out of the way, barely missing the graze of her knife. You gripped your own in your fist and swung it at her, adrenaline rushing through your veins and urging you to win—because who knew what would happen if you lost.

She came at you again with teeth gnashing and stained in blood that wasn't hers. You'd seen her take down that angel with a wild ruthlessness.

You caught her wrist as the counter dug into your spine, the point of her knife glinting in the kitchen lights.

"It brought me—" she grunted, applying more force down on you, "—no pleasure to do what I did to her, but she wouldn't—listen."

You bit your lip and got one leg free to kick her off you. "Fuck you!" You grabbed the vase behind you and chucked it at her head.

You heard the glass shatter, but hadn't seen the damage done as you made a dash for the front foyer again.

"Not so fast, little Ln—"

Something snagged into the back of your shirt, and you and Mika went tumbling to the stone floor. Your head hit the marble with purpose, a sharp pain piercing through your temple. Your vision blurred for a second and you put your hands out to fight for your fucking life.

"You killed her?" You caught her knife hand again and managed a slice with Clyde to her side as you shoved her onto her back.

"I wasn't—trying to," she grunted.

You yelped as she attempted to claw at your face, your head swerving out of the way just in time. "What the fuck does that even matter?"

"It wasn't my fault she was dumb enough to leave the bar." Mika kneed you off her body and your knife flew. You swore under your breath and she immediately fisted a portion of your hair and yanked you back toward her. "You should've seen the way she stumbled like a baby deer. Your older sister—such determination. That car didn't even see her until it was too late."

With ferocity, you knocked your head back against her face. You heard the satisfying sound of bones crack.

"Fucking Hell—"

You dove for Clyde, your fingers wrapping around the handle just in time to roll out of the way as Mika came down over you for a killing strike. Her knife struck the stone, and she growled at you, dark red oozing from her crooked nose, with one hand cradling her face. The vision of bared teeth and blood sent a shock of fear down your spine.

"You little—" she screeched, licking the blood off her lips and staining her teeth. "I'm going to have so much fun using your blood and bones for the amulet. Don't worry, it won't hurt—me."

You swore as she came at you again without abandon. She brought her knife down, time and time again, trying to catch you at some point.

Your blade sliced across her cheek, but hers caught you in the side. You felt it break skin, and you had little time to mourn over the sting in your stomach before you were rolling out of the way again.

You scrambled to your feet and with a war cry for encouragement, you charged at her, leaping onto her back and sending her crashing back to the floor. You grabbed the back of her head and smashed it against the floor. "You murdered my sister."

Mika screamed, and she used all of her adrenaline to flip you over onto your back. Bloodied and bruised, she drove her elbow into your gut, sending the wind straight out of your lungs. "The only thing I regret—" she said, turning over to face you with half her face drooling with blood and her mouth curled into a wicked smile, "—is that she won't be here to watch me skin you half-alive and use your body parts."

She crushed your knife hand under her knee, and you screamed as the pain made you see white. Mika pinned you beneath her weight with her knife raised high above her like an executioner's axe. "Goodbye, Yn. Just know that you had a choice."

You braced yourself for impact, head turned away and eyes screwed shut. At least you would see your sister soon, right? Was that some reprieve?

But the blow never came.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see a sword made of living shadows arc up in the air and slice across Mika's neck. Her eyes went wide for a split second, and you choked in horror as her dismembered head hit the floor with a dull thud.

Her headless body fell listlessly to the side. Dead and rigid.

Her blood was splattered all over your face and the stone floor, and you could taste the iron of it on your tongue. You gagged violently, a gross sob ripping out of your mouth.

Changmin stood over you with his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed like daggers, and Bonnie in his grasp. His limbs trembled, his body covered near head to toe in golden ichor and some dark trails of blood from himself. Gold stained his palms and crusted beneath his fingers, and feathers of varying colors stuck out of his hair dampened in sweat and more blood.

The sword clattered to the ground and you startled.

Relief came crashing over you and you attempted to push yourself off the ground, but crumpled under your near shattered wrist.

"Yn," Changmin breathed, collapsing onto his knees before you and crushing your face to his chest. You fell apart—oh god, it was the breaking of a dam. His grip tightened around you, cheek pressed against the top of your head. "Fuck, I thought I lost you. Hey, we're—shit, we're okay. I got you."

For a moment, you let yourself fall apart against him. All of the fear and adrenaline dissipated into body tremors and tears.

You could feel his grip on you loosen, and you took that as a signal to pull back.

You knew the signs well enough by now—how his eyes drooped and fought to stay open, how he swayed with his world tilting on its axis. "Changmin, how much energy—"

"Had to… had to get to you," he slurred. He crumpled, and you struggled to keep him upright with your one good arm. "I don't—know—I'll be fine."

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was your face, scrunched in worry, haloed by the lights over your head. Yeah, you were safe now, and so was he.

#15—FOUR LETTER WORDS.

JI CHANGMIN CAME TO GROGGY AND LIGHT-HEADED. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was, because the last thing he could remember was defeathering an angel prick one stupid bird feather at a time. He made sure each one hurt.

Why? Why had he done it? It was—it was for information. Information about what? …it was… it was about—you. He was trying to find where their friend had taken you. You—

His eyes shot open and he jolted upright, a groan escaping him at the way his entire body ached.

He collapsed back against the armchair he sat in and took in the room. He didn't recognize it at all. The drapes were too heavy and embroidered with gold flowers, the floor looked too polished and expensive. The couch sectional adjacent to him was made of leather too soft to be the one from Sena's safehouse.

The room was dimmed slightly with only the lamp next to him providing light.

He smacked his lips together as he recognized the taste on his tongue. It was metallic and thick; he'd tasted it before, could name it blindfolded at this point.

Where were you? You'd dripped blood into his mouth while he was out, hadn't you? He didn't remember drinking it or—

Something rattled when he tried to move his left arm.

He glanced down at his wrist hanging over the side of the armchair to find that he was cuffed to the lamp next to him with a sterling silver necklace. It was made of chunky links, the band twisted in a figure eight with his wrist in one side and the lamp in the other so it would tighten around him every time he tried yanking.

Smart.

He sighed. Great.

The sound of a throat clearing drew his attention away and to the far reaches of the living room. You stood just where the light touched you, one wrist wrapped in something like gauze and Band-Aids littering your face and body.

His chest tugged and lurched painfully at the sight of you. You were so badly hurt when he finally got to you, but he had got to you nonetheless. He had grabbed Bonnie and ran.

"Feeling better?" You asked him.

His voice was scratchy and he coughed. "Y—yeah. Kind of. I'll survive." He could feel his body stitching itself back together. He would definitely survive.

The angel bitches had reignited the pain in his broken ribs before, but it was slowly being mended again. They were all strange sensations.

"You're okay?" He asked, swallowing. He didn't know what he'd do if you weren't. You seemed okay standing so far away. Why had you… why had you chained him to the lamp? Why were you so far away?

Your nod was slow and you braided your arms over your chest. He noticed Bonnie leaning up against the wall next to you and the damned pendant still hanging from your neck. Only there was an extra chain beside it with the second half present too, the halves facing away from each other. "For the most part, yes," you said. "Scrounged up some things around the house to tape myself back together. Mentally and emotionally? That's a little different."

He had heard what Mika said to you right before he lopped her head off. "I can imagine. I'm sorry," he murmured. "I don't regret doing that."

"Beheading her?"

"Yeah, that." And he would do it a thousand times over if it meant you would live.

You glanced down at the floor for a moment. "I need you to be honest with me."

He let out a breath. "Okay."

"Why did the demon who attacked me at my apartment call you Your Disgrace?"

Changmin's blood froze over like the lakes in the seventh circle of Hell. Something akin to panic clawed at him from the inside and up his throat, and every instinct of his was telling him to shut down, reel back the drawbridge, and lock the gates.

But this was… this was you. You asked him to be honest. There was something in the way you looked at him, the careful mask you'd put on, that told him to fight whatever cowardice was trying to shine through.

He wrestled down another swallow. "My family—my father is a Duke of Hell. I'm the youngest of my family, but the only boy—" Changmin's knee bounced up and down to channel his nervous energy toward something else. "—and I didn't want the responsibility of being his heir or to be associated with any of that. I wanted freedom."

He could still remember the day he decided to run away. It was stupid that he thought he wouldn't get caught.

He bit down on his tongue so hard it bled. "Long story short, my sisters saved me from punishment, and my father did the one thing I wanted him to—disown me. I was banished from my home and exiled to the mortal realm." He pursed his lips and made a weak, vague gesture.

It wasn't a history he was proud of. For the first few years, it was all he wanted and more. But family was still family, and sometimes it was impossible to fill certain voids. Even for a demon.

Your voice carried across the room, "Did you ever consider trading the amulet to get back in your family's good graces?"

"How did you—"

"Yes or no."

His shoulder sagged. "Yes."

"Did my sister know?"

"Yes." He hated every single second of this conversation. Every yes he pushed out, he could feel your voice getting colder.

You cocked your head to the side. "Did you know how I related to the function of the amulet?"

"Yes," he said. "But it wasn't until you said it matched your heartbeat at the safehouse."

"And when did you plan to betray me?"

He gripped the arm of his chair. "I didn't—"

"Don't lie," you snarled.

His mouth snapped closed and he moved back like a flinch. His eyes shut for a second, before opening again to fixate on you. "I'm not lying," he drawled. "When I opened Sena's parting letter, I dropped any will to trade that thing to beings like my parents. I swear on my immortal life, Yn, I never intended to betray you at any point."

He didn't know how to get through to you. He didn't know how to convince you. Who was he but a creature of evil? He understood why you wouldn't be able to trust anyone, especially after the events of the past week. You were doing the best that you could… but fuck, you were so far away.

He'd fucked up.

You were quiet for a moment, and he couldn't read you. When he first met you, he thought he could read your thoughts and emotions like an open book. But now, it was near impossible.

"Okay."

A single word. Who knew four letter words could make him feel like this. "Okay?" He echoed, uncertain. Hope was so dangerous a feeling.

You nodded your head, shoulders lifting and dropping with exhaustion. "Okay," you repeated. "I believe you."

"You believe me? Why?" He asked against his better judgment.

You exhaled. "Well, for starters, you could have killed me like Mika tried to. You could have broken through that chain at any point, but you haven't. It's flimsy as Hell."

He glanced down at the silver chain around his wrist and gave it an experimental yank. It hadn't even occurred to him to break free; he hadn't the reason to. He was safe.

"And second," you continued, drawing his attention again, "you haven't given me any reason to not believe you." He didn't want to mistake the tenderness in your gaze now. Maybe he was seeing things. And it made his chest ache. "There have been so many times where you could have done away with me, but you always came back. For me, and not the necklace. I mean—keeping the necklace with me was one thing, but maybe I'm just stupidly convincing myself that you care."

Changmin shook his head in earnest. "It's not stupid." I do care.

You scoffed, raising a brow. "I sound like the dumbest person in the world, trusting a demon."

He hung his head for a moment, fighting for the right words. He grappled with himself, desperate and uselessly unable to describe the way he felt toward you because in demonic culture, this thing—this yank, this gravity he felt toward you—didn't exist. Demons used, stole, purged, devoured, but never whatever this was. This had to be wholly human.

"Yn," he began, feeling your eyes on him again, "I don't know what it is. And I can't describe it in a way that matters or might matter to you. But I'm—I'm… drawn to you." He wished he could shrink under your gaze, to be swallowed by the earth. Dear fuck, the way you pinned him down with that stare like you could see straight into his soul.

Changmin swallowed. "My chest aches, Yn. I don't know what it is, but it aches when I'm around you, and it aches when I'm not. It aches when you laugh, and it aches when you fucking say my name. And I—" He blew out a harsh breath, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he scavenged for the right words. He wanted it to matter because it had to. He wanted it to matter to you as much as it was coming to matter to him.

"I don't know what it is," he said again uselessly. "But I feel like you could just reach into my ribcage and I would let you. I would let you do whatever you want. Even if you—you wanted to just leave me here. If you would leave content and satisfied, then..." He would watch you go. But he didn't want you to. Please don't leave.

He wondered if he got the message across. He could barely possess half the meaning himself or wrap his head around it.

But he raised his head and watched you limp across the room toward him, his chest stuttering and stumbling the closer you came.

He could see you in the lamplight so much clearer now.

There were scratches all over your body, bandages littering your skin. But your eyes could devour him whole and he would sink forever.

You cupped his face with your good hand, and the organ in his chest flipped. There was a distinct softness to your touch, like the day your hand ghosted over his battered torso on the dock, and the way you tucked your cheek against his shoulder at the motel.

He shuddered, lips trembling.

"I love you, too," you said.

He knew you understood.

You pressed your lips against his, beautiful and perfect. Everything soft and tender he never thought he'd crave for all his life. It all melted into place. You were safe, and so was he.

The passenger side seat dug into your spine and your back molded against it like second nature. The sky was the color of darkened ash sitting at the bottom of a burnt fire pit, and the only light for miles around were the car's headlights. The road was barren, stretching on farther than your eyes could see. The time on the dash read a quarter past three in the morning.

Changmin sat behind the wheel with one hand steering and the other clasped between yours. Your dominant hand was wrapped up in a brace to support your broken wrist bones, and you'd replaced all your bandages with fresh ones. Bonnie was stashed in the back, and Clyde was tucked into your pocket as usual. Neither of you had any more of someone else's blood on your body, but you would feel the effects of the night's events for a while longer.

You were headed back toward Moonstone Creak. It was a place you looked forward to returning to, where Changmin knew you would be safe and happy, and where you knew you could be, too. Once you tied up matters at your old apartment, then matters about moving permanently could be settled.

You were playing it by ear, at this point.

Changmin's thumb ran over the back of your hand, gentle but with purpose. "You should sleep. It's a long way back."

The twin halves of the amulet hung from your neck with an equal, balanced weight. The third piece was tucked into your back pocket. You'd found it stashed among Mika's other accessories in her room. You and Changmin agreed it should be thrown somewhere over the side of a cliff. It needed to be lost and to stay lost.

Maybe you would give the second half to Changmin to wear.

"Why do you like blueberries so much?" You asked him instead of heeding his suggestion, as always. Your mouth opened to yawn, and he passed a sidelong glance at you.

He said, "They were the first thing I ate when I arrived on the mortal plane. They're a reminder of how far I've come."

You turned to him, and he met your gaze for a brief moment. "I didn't expect them to have such sentimental value."

The corner of his mouth curled upward. "That, and they taste good."

You smiled to yourself. "So about Bonnie—"

"I'm not teaching you."

"Asshole."

"Human."

You gave his shoulder a playful shove across the center console and he fought the grin on his face and lost.

He chuckled. "It was never an insult, by the way."

You settled back in your seat and curled your legs up. Brushing your lips against the back of his knuckles, you heard the breath that fell from his lips. "I know," you murmured.

a/n: i realize that you probably have questions... take it as an excuse to come visit my inbox! if you liked this, pls reblog :] thank you so much for reading mwah

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