I’ll Die Alone. Don’t Say That. We Should All Live. Yoon Chan Young & Park Solomon As Lee Cheong

did anyone ask for fatui found family hc’s?? no???? too bad anyway here’s my 300 page doc on why the harbingers + the tsaritsa are the ultimate villain found family trope and in this essay i will—

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yours truly,

yours truly, (part one). / sincerely, (part two).

premise: as a friend of the most attractive students in school, you're more than used to acting as the middleman between them and the people vying for their affection, often tasked with delivering presents or handing out their love letters. however, when you chance upon a small bouquet of flowers on your desk without a note indicating the sender or who you're meant to give it to, you start to wonder if this one's supposed to be yours.

includes: childe, xiao, diluc, kazuha, albedo, thoma & gorou !

a/n: hahaha why is this so long... anyways this is a college au + reverse harem of some sorts. enjoy. i really don't want this one to flop so likes and reblogs are appreciated thx

“Do you think it's a prank?”

“Why is that the first thing that pops into your mind?” Keqing sighs as she fixes her makeup in front of a compact mirror, smacking her lips to spread the color evenly. “You're really cute, [Name]. why wouldn't someone like you by now?”

Your face burns at the offhand comment. “You're only saying that because we're friends.”

Ayaka giggles, twirling a lock of your hair with her finger. “Of course not. You're very adorable! If anything, it'd be more surprising if nobody likes you.”

“Who do you think it's from, though?” Ganyu quietly asks from beside you, observing the handful of carnations laying on your desk. Scanning the students currently present in the room, she thoughtfully adds, “maybe someone on the shyer side since they couldn't give it to you directly?”

“Or someone who did it to be romantic,” Kokomi suggests, scrutinizing the flowers with keen eyes. “That's quite nice of them.”

You hummed in contemplation, trying to figure out who placed it on your table. “Are you sure it's not a prank... or a mistake? You all sit beside me, so maybe they mistook my seat for yours-”

“You're the only one who faithfully sits there, [Name]. We don't even have assigned seats so most of us sits wherever,” Keqing clarifies, staring at you with a disapproving look. “Don't deny it. You know it's yours.”

“But I can't think of anyone who would like me!” you exclaim in defeat. “I am curious about who gave it, though... I should try to find out who it is...”

“More importantly...” Ganyu smiles at you, noticing the blush dusting your cheeks. “Who do you want it to be?”

childe:

in all honesty, he's your first guess.

not because you think he likes you or anything! he's just a huge flirt.

at the beginning of the school year, you hardly got along. you know he's a friendly guy, but it's in the way that... intimidated you. he's part of the “mood maker” clique, attracting attention wherever he goes, and you're not sure if you could handle his energy...

you preferred to stay away from the spotlight though that's a bit hypocritical considering you're friends with the prettiest group of girls in your year, and he relished in it. you didn't know if you could get along.

you didn't become friends until you were assigned partners for a project that meant a lot for your grade, and you vowed to yourself if you couldn't be close to him, you should at least be close enough to work together without trouble.

in the end, you surprisingly hit it off, childe easing the awkward air between you with jokes and random stories to tell about his weird friends. your friendship didn't end when the project did, and you continued to hang out outside of school. you're sure he didn't approach you to get closer to your friends, either; though you had some doubts at first, he was nothing alike with the jerks who tried to use you.

you're no stranger to the pranks he pulled, nor were you unaware of his flirty nature; he occasionally entertained the lot who fancied him when he attended drinking parties. so it made perfect sense if it was childe who gave those flowers, along with the gifts that followed after. it would just be him messing around again, right? oh, definitely! it wouldn't be the first time he spent his money in reckless abandon, bragging that he has the cash to spare for it.

but unexpectedly when you bring up the topic, his expression darkens, showing no sign of joking around. he looks a little shocked, too, to know someone was pursuing you.

“it's not from me,” he admits, gently taking your hand. “but it's true that i like you.”

xiao:

xiao is one of the people you deliver presents to lol

due to his intimidating disposition (and the endless amount of nasty rumors swirling about him, thanks to said intimidating disposition), hardly anybody would dare to approach him, daunted by the perpetual scowl etched on his face. he remains as eye candy, but an entity no one could reach.

you avoided him at first, too. his face is admirable, you can say that much, but you've become somewhat desensitized from having been surrounded by pretty faces 24/7 so you can't really say it's anything new... and yes, you are scared of him to a certain degree. you could never guess what he's thinking.

you weren't sure if he's as scary as people make him out to be though, since people tend to exaggerate gossip for the sake of shock value. he once defended a middle schooler from high school delinquents (through persuasion and not with fists), but the story somehow twisted into another tale entirely detailing how xiao had brutally wiped the floor with their faces and painted the concrete floor with blood...

but as intimidating as he might seem, you don't think he's that kind of character. if you overlook his piercing glare and sharp tongue, he's quite decent.

... you thought that way until you caught him tailing you on your way home.

he crept up behind you, maintaining a natural distance, but after numerous twists and turns in hopes of leading him away, he had yet to cease heading towards your direction. you wouldn't be so suspicious if you hadn't purposely gone in circles around town, leading back to where you came from — which meant he didn't have a particular destination in mind, and fully intended on being hot on your tail.

tired of having bated breath waiting for his next move, you gathered all your courage and confronted him directly, cornering him to the nearest wall to assert dominance. xiao seemed startled by your forwardness, and you took his moment of vulnerability as an opportunity to interrogate him.

unexpectedly, he sheepishly confesses, “i'm not a stalker, i got worried since you're going home this late. haven't you heard about the crime rate these days...”

from there on, you suppose you could say you understood him better. though he's snappy and stern, he's not that terrifying, even sweet at times. when you become proper friends (and you stop suspecting him as your stalker), he saves you a seat next to him, or brings you coffee that you like when he notices you're sleepy in class.

it wasn't long until everybody came to know you were friends and a girl finally — you guessed it — asked you to send a love letter to xiao in her stead.

when you gave it to xiao, he was unusually flustered, flushed pink to the tips of his ears. his expression falls flat once you tell him it's from someone else, badly containing the disappointment to show on his face.

nevertheless, you continue to be friends, and xiao has learned not to expect much from you.

he's the earliest to arrive in class, so you ask him if he'd seen the person who gave you flowers. with a cold, hard look, he says no.

he's acting kind of weird, isn't he...

diluc:

the barista in the coffee shop near your university that has to put up with so much bullshit flirting everyday.

he has to reject people in a roundabout way, and you know he hates it, but of course he has to provide great customer service if he still wants customers right... directly breaking their hearts would only make problems.

but he takes no shit from rude customers.

no, you weren't one of them. in fact, diluc quite liked you a bit. first of all, you don't have any romantic interest for the staff, you genuinely enjoy his drinks (he knows because your face is like an open book), and you mind your own business. he tolerates you enough that he can make small talk with you and it doesn't upset him in the slightest.

so it really ticked him off when some idiot was bothering you in the cafe, starting an argument over a trivial matter that shouldn't be fussed over.

in normal circumstances, diluc would've done the usual protocol — reason with the angry customer, offer free products, and let them leave the premises peacefully. but the moment he saw the man grab your shoulders and you winced in pain as a result, he didn't even have to think of what to do next.

cold coffee rained down on the ill-mannered man's head, evoking a surprised scream out of him. his fingers left your body in favor of patting away the sticky liquid from his clothes, and you stared blankly at the seething figure behind him.

“your order,” diluc announced, his voice tinted with rage. then he pretended to remember something, looking at the empty cup in his hand. “oh, i apologize. you ordered it hot, didn't you?” he forced a smile on his face. “would you like me to brew another one for you?”

the man erupted to a new screaming fit, but he was promptly dragged aside. diluc immediately questioned if you were hurt anywhere, his voice a total 180 from before and turning into a soft tone you nearly didn't recognize.

“that stunt you pulled...” you nervously said. “will you be okay...? won't you get, er, dismissed because of it?”

“...you don't know i own this place?”

“???”

in any case, you've become good friends ever since that incident. so when your secret admirer gives you your customized drink from diluc's shop (that even xiao doesn't know the recipe of!), you ask him if there's a customer who ordered your exact drink that morning.

strangely enough, he changes the subject.

“he only gave you coffee?” diluc wrinkles his nose. “he's not fit for you.”

he proceeds to shove you a plate of pancakes for breakfast and won't let you talk about that topic again.

kazuha:

the soft-spoken boy working part-time as a florist. as one would expect, his good-looking features attracted customers left and right, just like how a flower allures bees with its colorful petals and sweet nectar.

he studies in a different university from you, but it's relatively close by and you run into each other a lot. you could say you're pretty good friends; you exchanged contact information and text every other day, phone each other up to have a meal together whenever you're both free, and hang out over the weekend.

he stirred up some drama with you once. on a rainy day, he invited you to eat lunch together, but you've forgotten to take an umbrella before leaving for school so you told him you'd be a little late 'cause you had to run to the convenience store first. however, he told you not to worry about it and abruptly ended the call.

fast forward to the afternoon: the glass doors to leave the corridors had a few people lurking by, covering what was beyond. you cocked up an eyebrow in question, confused over what was all the fuss, but then you see that familiar pale hair streaked with bright red.

kazuha stood innocently by the school gates, a crimson umbrella in hand, and a small bouquet in the other. he checked his wristwatch every few minutes, seeming to be waiting for someone. he completely ignored the gawking stares pinned on his frame, busying himself by humming a quiet tune.

you hesitantly pushed open the doors, approaching him with wary steps. he immediately perked up once noticing you, beaming brightly to greet you with enthusiasm. he offered you the bouquet, telling you it's nothing more than a small gift the owner had let him craft for free (who mistakenly thought kazuha had a lover, since he was always on his phone texting someone).

you might have known the reasons behind the present, but nobody else did. and what general implications could gifting a bouquet of flowers have?

thus, the school's online forum exploded with questions, asking for the identity of the pretty boy standing by their university, and the lucky person he'd given flowers to.

needless to say it was hard to convince your friends that no, he isn't your boyfriend.

but that was another issue! the issue NOW is the other bouquet you received, much more recent in nature. after suspecting childe, your next thought was to ask kazuha if he had any buyers who purchased the same flowers you had.

his lips twitch for a moment, faintly looking displeased. but he flashes a flawless, award-winning customer service smile, covering his initial expression easily.

“no such customer ordered for those flowers that day. but i am curious about this matter... could you humor me and explain more in detail, by any chance?”

albedo:

the med student fawned over by students and teachers alike. he's simply brilliant, idolized by the entire student body. though he's mainly studying science, he's been praised for his art as well, his paintings hung in the art room proudly.

you're not very familiar with him, only knowing him through hearsay. you don't know what he looks like, so you've never confirmed for yourself if he's as beautiful everyone says he is.

he's well-known but you haven't heard anything bad about him, which is an impressive feat. his name is only ever mentioned in concert with endless compliments.

you meet him by chance in exam season. unsurprisingly, the library is filled to the brim, tables stacked high with books and each chair occupied by agitated students sipping energy drinks and coffee to stay functional. amidst all the chaos, one student remains radiant and carefree, leisurely flicking pages through his notes. he's situated by a corner table, unbothered by the mindless zombies despite having plenty of free seats beside him and everyone else is squished together like canned tuna.

and you, carrying binders, books and stationery, are visibly desperate for a place to rest. his eyes leave the words in his notes briefly, beckoning you to come closer. and you, still unaware of his identity, gladly plop on a chair and heave your heavy supplies atop the table. it shakes for a moment as it bears the new weight, rattling his items, and the zombies gape at you in question. ironically, the person you've been bothering is not offended at all.

you sneak glances at him when you need to freshen your eyes from studying, nauseated by the letters that never seem to come to an end no matter how many paragraphs you've read. you're at awe by his fair skin, not a single blemish in sight, and he doesn't even have dark circles under his eyes. truly mysterious. either he has a magical skincare routine or he's not human. if anything, you'd think he just came from a relaxing vacation, not in the middle of hell week.

you snap out of your trance, and you scold yourself for being bewitched. you have more pressing concerns, and so you grill more information into your brain, oblivious to the turquoise eyes that begin to stare at you.

the next encounter comes when exams are finally over, and you celebrate by buying the pricey food set in the cafeteria. the crunch of golden breading is rewarding for your taste buds and you shovel more food towards your mouth, minding your own business.

the seat next to you is pulled back, and you pause from chewing. it's that guy again, his refined beauty easy for you to recognize. he places his tray on the table, smiling amiably as he asks if it's fine with you should he sit there. you nod, but there's plenty of vacant tables around. it's also pretty weird that he sat next to you, not across...

well, strange as it is, that's how you befriend albedo. you've yet to learn why he came on so strong, almost aggressive. like he really wanted to talk to you. but whatever.

the more you learn about him, the more his image of “golden boy” withers away. picture of elegance? the standard of sophistication? sure. but this guy doesn't hesitate to do the weirdest shit sometimes.

he doesn't fear anything. he puts anything edible in his mouth. one school trip to the countryside taught you a few things. if he's offered fried bugs, he'll eat it. if he's given frog legs, he'll eat it. he doesn't care. he'll eat seemingly anything. because of this, you worry his admirers will put something strange in the food they give him, but that possibility doesn't cross his mind at all. (well. not that he eats it. he rejects gifts most of the time. exceptions are when they come from you.)

you're starting to think he really doesn't fear anything. when you start to scream in fright like a headless chicken while watching a horror movie, he calmly studies the anatomy of whatever horrifying creature is on screen, questioning their ability to walk when half of their body is split apart. why is he questioning horror movie logic. “ghosts are supposed to be transparent and can pass through walls, how come she can grab the main character's hair and drag him to the incinerator?” “albedo, please.” (he comforts you when you get scared, hiding your face in his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. he softly whispers in your ear to tell you when the scary parts are over.)

he's also an overprotective older brother. for good reason, actually. his little sister, albeit cute and outwardly harmless, is an explosive child who likes to make trouble. if he takes his eyes off her for more than two minutes, she will undoubtedly set fire to his little garden.

she's the reason why he's so observant. he can tell you trimmed your hair because he's all too used to klee chopping off her own hair with craft scissors. he also notices when you feel a bit under the weather. klee is the type to hide her sickness so she could play outside, and albedo would often have to forcibly tuck her back to bed. you're no different. he will, quite literally, drag you to your house and make you rest.

but aside from being a pain in the ass, his observation skills can help you — surely albedo can make a few guesses for your secret admirer's identity?

albedo blinks at you, uncharacteristically silent. he purses his lips, and gives you a small smile. he asks a few unassuming questions, things like what traces your secret left behind, or if they'd sent a love letter and he'd check the penmanship to see if he found it familiar.

he's not the most eager to help, you know that, but you're still slightly disappointed when he says, “sorry, i can't help you with something like that. it'd be better if you figured it out yourself.”

thoma:

the cute neighbor living in the apartment next door. just like kazuha, he studies in a different university, but you run into each other a lot because... well. obviously.

you find him rather silly. he'd signed the lease not knowing pets weren't allowed in the premises, and tearfully waved taroumaru goodbye when he moved in. to cope, he started staying at the park near the apartment building, playing with the dogs there and getting hit on by their owners in the process, but let's not talk about that.

despite being a newcomer, he fit right in with the tenants. he made effort to learn everyone's names and chatted with them whenever presented a chance, thus winning their favor. it isn't a strange sight to see him with middle-aged ladies and looking at home, listening earnestly to their complaints about their husbands or rowdy children. (his hard work pays off when they give him their special recipes and inform him of supermarket deals lol)

he seems to get along well with old men too, invited to their drinking parties. except thoma isn't good at rejecting alcohol from older adults, so when you save him from such situation — pulling him away from the old men prying into his love life, because surely a good kid like him would have someone to love him dearly — he's become eternally grateful.

he's honestly too good for his own good.

exhibit a: thoma is prone to cooking too much food for one person to eat in one sitting, so he tends to invite you to eat his hotpot with him or bring you packaged food you can easily pop into a microwave. after your one act of goodwill, he's become strangely attached to you, pronouncing you best buds. he then admits he used to live with a larger group of people (hence his cooking habits), and he's thankful for your company. (you'd argue you're getting the better end of the deal, receiving free food like this)

exhibit b: he's always available to help you in your troubles. need a hand with heavy groceries? he's on his way! ran out of soy sauce? just wait a bit, he's gonna grab some from the cupboard! forgot your key inside your apartment? then stay at his place for the meantime before the locksmith comes! your shower isn't working well?... he promises he won't peek in the bathroom, so feel free to take a bath h a h a h a. need someone's opinion on what outfit to wear for a date? sure, he's- wait.

YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE?

his face twists weirdly as you showcase two different shirts, asking which one he likes better. you raise an eyebrow when he doesn't dare to utter a single word. “are they both bad?”

he blinks rapidly, then shakes his head laughing. he half-heartedly points to the shirt in your left hand, but you can tell he doesn't really think much of it. he excuses himself fairly quickly, saying he had chores to do, and scurried back to his own home.

(you were only going to a date with ayaka's older brother because she insisted you both needed a love life, but it's not like you actually feel anything for him.)

it doesn't end there. thoma acts weird sometimes. he's strangely cold when he sees you inviting kazuha to your apartment to hang out. he also stiffens when he spots xiao walking you home.

but by far, he acted the weirdest when your phone number called him, but when he answered, he heard a different voice respond.

it's childe, whom you went drinking with. he doesn't know where you live, and you're not nearly sober enough to return home on your own, and it's not like you'll agree to staying over childe's house. you also refuse telling him your address, so childe is left with no choices but to call for someone he knows.

he uses your fingerprint to unlock the password in your phone, heading straight for your contact list, and dialed thoma.

it doesn't take long for thoma to arrive where you are, panting after running for a while, and childe is almost impressed. thoma hoists you up and you obediently wrap your arms around him.

“sorry for the trouble. [name]'s dead drunk as you can see,” childe comments, chuckling to himself. thoma doesn't look amused and replies with, “it's no trouble at all. i'd be glad to help [name] anytime.”

then in a way that almost seems possessive, thoma leaves childe behind.

so now when you arrive home, bouquet in your arms, red dusting your features, thoma is displeased once more.

(yet he is envious of those who can freely profess their affections, because he's certain if he were to ever admit his feelings to you, things can never be the same.)

gorou:

you first suspected childe because you thought the bouquet of flowers was a joke, but if it wasn't and it was real with the intentions of sweeping you off your feet...

then you might have another suspect in mind.

gorou is... a funny guy. can you put it like that? you don't know what to think of him. he's nice, you already know that very well, kokomi's good friends with him and told you a few stories about him, all of which are sweet and amusing. your first impression of him was that of a pure-hearted boy that can do no wrong.

he's younger than you by a year, and kokomi was fairly excited when she first told you he would be attending the same university soon. she promised to introduce you to him in hopes you'd be friends as well.

and okay, you could get behind that. there's nothing wrong with meeting new people. gorou sounded like a great guy too, and it'd be nice to take care of someone younger. you've been coddled by your seniors the past year as a freshman, and you thought it would only be right if you did the same to the new batch of students.

so you attended the welcoming party kokomi dragged you into. it was just a small gathering to get the freshmen familiarize themselves with older students, and she told you you'd get to meet gorou there, her eyes carefully scanning the crowd in pursuit of a specific face.

just as you were reminiscing over the past where your sadistic seniors encouraged you to drink a lot in the last welcoming party, shuddering in fright, kokomi tapped your shoulder and gestured to the brown haired boy standing before you.

it must be him. per courtesy, your lips curled into a practiced smile, exuding an amicable air. kokomi briefly exchanged a few words with him, but it looked like she was doing all the talking, the male frozen in spot as if he'd seen something strange.

he stared at you blankly, eyes slightly widened, and you slowly became unnerved with his vacant gaze, your smile faltering. you made eye contact with kokomi, silently questioning her, but she gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders, also confused by his behavior.

then, completely out of everyone's expectations, he'd dropped to the floor.

gorou had knelt on the ground with one steady knee, solemn in his endeavors. in an instant, your hand was seized, fingers enclosed in his warm palm. his piercing stare was impassioned, sincere at its core. heat shot up to the tips of your ears.

“marry me!”

his voice resounded in the entire room, earning unwanted attention. the chatter halted immediately, all eyes dedicated to the spectacle that was the both of you, and your mind began to spin, cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

your voice was caught in your throat, not knowing what to say, and all you could formulate was a garbled string of incoherent mess. undeterred, the grasp on your hand was unrelenting, gorou committed through this act until the very end.

everyone was thinking the same thing: we haven't even started drinking yet, but this little guy is drunk already??

shameless. crazy. a head with loose screws. you're probably the only one who'd describe gorou that way.

but what kind of sane man would say that upon first meeting???

kokomi quickly tried to mediate the situation for him, pulling him away and patting his back to knock him out of his dazed stupor, and pushed you to the farthest corner.

she vouched for him when she saw your puzzled expression, thinking of him as a weirdo, and she insisted he's normally not that odd. she swears he was never interested in dating before, and she isn't sure what changed for him to... propose... all of a sudden... to you, who he'd barely seen for ten seconds, no less.

naturally, it feels strange for you to see him. after that disastrous encounter, gorou — who did feel embarrassment for what he did, horrified at his own impulsiveness — tried to make amends, backtracking steps (he skipped way too many and immediately went to propose lol) and treating you normally like a friend of a friend, slowly trying to make the atmosphere between you casual instead of a freezing blizzard that kills off the amicable mood.

in spite of all that, however, you do feel as if his feelings are actually genuine. he can be clumsy, and incredibly so, you don't know who else could propose to another person within a span of a minute meeting them for the first time, but he means well! you started off on the wrong foot, and maybe this bouquet of flowers is him trying to curry your favor... or something...

yet all he gives is a disbelieving look, and that's enough to provide a clear answer: it's not from him, and he's upset.

it,, probably wasn't a good idea to ask someone who likes you about another person who likes you.

but if it isn't him, who else could it be?!

drop your guesses in the comments but im pretty sure it's already obvious lol

every fucking time

all of us are dead — incorrect quotes (spoiler)

y/n : I'm so ugly

cheong-san : beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

y/n : you mean 'eye'?

cheong-san : ... istg

gwi-nam ver

y/n : I'm so ugly

gwi-nam : bitch i fancy you wtf? you're fucking attractive in my eyes!

y/n : take out the s.

gwi nam :

also gwi nam : cHeONg-sAn

— bleed

corrupted!hyunsu x gn!reader | 3.8k words

genre: exes reunited in the weirdest circumstances ever

warnings: swearing, blood, fake blood in the gif, canon-divergence, killing, mentions of hallucinations, suicidal ideation, death, bullying and self-harm scars. when i say “corrupted hyunsu” i mean uimyeong got what he wanted basically lol

synopsis: there’s a lot of blood on your face. and apparently, according to a boy you've never met before in your life, it must mean you're above everyone else.

author's note: i love this gif so MUCH it's so pretty He's so pretty... and uimyeong in the back like hello there... love them

You didn’t get nosebleeds often. Actually, you couldn’t recall if you’d ever gotten a nosebleed at all, before.

So the sight of your own reflection in the mirror, blood flowing down the bottom half of your face in inhumane amounts was a bit terrifying, at first. Your hand had come up to stop the bleeding but it simply wouldn’t. It kept on flowing like it was some sort of unending bloodfall, and you honestly thought you were going to die.

And then it stopped. And you looked up. And everything was normal. You breathed heavily, eyes a bit wide as you stared at yourself. The red was painting your skin like a drop of watercolor flowing down a canvas. It was smudged, from your attempts at stopping it, and movie-like. You’d never seen this much blood at once in real life, before. You took a moment to calm down, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath.

Well, you knew what this meant. You’d been confining yourself to your apartment since the news were announced, but never expected it would happen to you. The virus… Thing. The world was in shambles outside the comfort of your room and you’d been fine with it until now. You were just playing a game on your console when your nose started bleeding. Why did it do it at this moment precisely?

The lights of your bathroom flickered and you stepped back, looking up. There was a inaudible, clicking noise, and then all the lights turned off. The sound of powering down was so loud you wondered if it was only your apartment, or if the whole building’s electricity had shut off.

You gulped. Being in the dark was never really reassuring, much less when it was night and you’d just got the first symptoms of monsterization. You slowly moved towards your living room, dimly illuminated by the light of your — thankfully — open laptop. You followed the light while tip-toeing for no reason, really, and then settled down on your bed. You found your phone and turned it off sleep-mode, only to realize your hands were literally bloodstained. The realization came a bit too late and now your phone and bedsheets had blood on them. Great.

You sighed and tried to find the number of the building manager to ask him if the whole building was down. Your fingers scrolled through your contact list a bit frantically, as you struggled to find his name in it.

And then there were footsteps. You heard them, quite loud and clear and terribly frightening. You lived alone and they most definitely came from inside your apartment. You looked around, to no avail due to the blackout, and only took a deep shaky breath as you backed away towards your wall.

You decided your mind had been playing tricks, or that the noise was simply coming from the outside hallway and felt closer due to the lack of sound caused by the electricity cutting off. And, the sound had stopped, anyway. There was no reason to make yourself more scared than you already were. Yet, you couldn’t stop the shaking of your fingers as you continued to search for this damned contact name.

“Nervous?”

You jumped and screamed on instinct, dropping your phone and jumping off your bed. Someone had just spoken into your ear. Directly next to it. Like they were sitting behind you. Had someone been sitting behind you this whole time? No way. The light of your laptop would’ve showed it. Then had someone snuck up behind you to sit there withhout you even noticing? You couldn’t tell which was more terrifying, and in this moment you frankly didn’t care. You held a hand up towards your bed, now seeing the traces of a black coat on someone’s figure.

“Who are you?!” you managed to exclaim.

No response. The silence felt deafening. Suffocating, even. Your breaths were coming out short due to the overwhelming anxiety you felt. Your fingers were trembling and your head was spinning. Was this part of the virus? Hallucinations? Was none one really there? Your head was whirling with an inordinate amount of scenarios as you waited for whoever was there to speak up.

Then you saw them move, and instinctively took a step backwards. Except your back hit something. And before you could register that there was supposed to be nothing for your back to hit at this area of your apartment, a hand covered your mouth and you started screaming. The grasp wasn’t harsh but it was firm, effectively keeping your head from moving and thrashing in all directions as an attempt to get away. You heard an amused chuckle come from your previous spot on the bed and the stranger moved forward until they sat at its edge. Their face was completely covered by a black hood.

And then the lights turned on.

The stranger pulled their hood off and a face you didn’t recognize came into view. A young man, probably around your age, smiled in an overly-friendly manner and waved his hand so casually one would believe you weren’t being… Held captive in your own home? You unconsciously calmed down for a little bit, before you started thrashing around again. The stranger’s smile fell into a disappointed pout.

“Aw. Don’t tell me my instincts were wrong and you’re not actually a special case? It’d be a pain if you actually turned completely.” he mused, eyes searching your face like he was analyzing you. You yelled incoherently onto the hand on your mouth snd the latter finally let go. But the other hand still held your arm, strongly enough to refrain you from moving much.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in there?!” you yelled, this time angry. You were still scared, but once you could put a face and aura on what was at first just a frighteningly mysterious voice in a pitch-black apartment, you felt less terrified. You furrowed your eyebrows at the lack of reply and finally turned your head around. Your eyes widened and your arms fell limp. “… Hyunsu?”

“Two special cases who know each other. How delightful.” the stranger spoke from your bed, still. You paid him no mind, eyes focused on the boy holding you. This was Cha Hyunsu. Cha Hyunsu. Your ex from high-school, before he broke up with you during the mess that happened there and distanced himself as much as he possibly could. He had the same haircut as he used to, the same face but… Not the same look in his eye. There was something darker there, now. And you couldn’t tell what it was.

“What… What’s all this? Why are you here? How’d you get in, how… Who…” you paused to try and even out your breathing, before frowning. “What are you doing?”

“We came to take you.”

His voice was rough in the way it sounded, like he barely spoke and the results of that could be heard. It was dry and devoid of any emotion, as far as you could tell. You shook off his grip on your arm and stepped aside to take turns at looking between the two boys.

“Take me?” you scoffed, “Might I know what the fuck you mean by that? And who are you?” you said the last word with a pointed look towards the boy sitting on your bed. He offered a gentle smile.

“Name’s Uimyeong. I’m a monster. Just like your boyfriend here.” he said. You furrowed your eyebrows. You’d encountered monsters during your only trip down to the nearest grocery store to take everything you could before indefinitely confining yourself in your home. And they did not look so… Human. Was it a play on words, of sorts? It didn’t feel like one. Did that have to do with him talking about a “special case”?

Your eyes widened in realization. The flyers that dropped around your neighborhood, one hitting your window with the wind. It was red and hard not to notice. It talked about the military and calling them if we knew of a special monsterization case, or something of the sort. Now you pieced the few pieces you had together, and came to the conclusion that Hyunsoo and that boy Uimyeong were like the aforementioned special cases. But then…

“What did you mean by take me? And instincts? Can you just… explain yourselves?” you sighed, leaning against the wall.

“Hyunsu-ya told me about you. He said you lived nearby and that knowing you, you’d probably avoided contact with anyone entirely.” he paused to look around your apartment with a satisfied nod, “He seemed to be right on that. He told me about you when I asked if he knew if there was anyone who could’ve turned and could be like us.”

“Be like you?”

“Monsters.” he said casually, and then his eyes turned completely black, as if to further insist on his point. Then they turned back to their former state and he smiled. “That can control it.”

You gulped. So that was… What the military meant by special cases. You took a deep breath and glanced at Hyunsu, who was blankly staring down at the floor. “Why do you think I could be like you? What makes you think I even got a single symptom?”

“Well, I’d say I can’t argue with that, but the…” he grimaced a bit, vaguely moving his hand in front of his mouth, “… Blood on your face is an obvious tell.”

You instinctively looked away and tried to rub it off. It was dry, by now. You looked back at Uimyeong who only smiled casually. “We came here because I trust Hyunsu and I have this… This gut feeling. That you might be one of us. So what do you say? Come with us? Stay in your apartment?”

You knew that whether you completely turned or truly was a special case like he claimed you could be, you’d be alone in your apartment. At least with them… Well, you’d have company. Who understood you, instead of fearing you.

You looked down. “Whatever. I’ll come.”

You saw Hyunsu perk up at the words and he walked towards you. His hand slowly came up to your face and settled on your cheek. He rubbed the skin softly with a starstruck look on his face. His eyes were turning black. “Really? [name], it'll be perfect. We can wipe off every pathetic human that bothers us with this power, now. Just like we wanted to back in the day, remember?” he said with a frighteningly cheerful tone. Then his expression dropped and he blinked the darkness off, like he was confused.

“… We’ll find more people like us.” he said, and this time his voice was blank, hand dropping back to his side. You furrowed your eyebrows at the change in demeanor and glanced at Uimyeong, who only shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner. You looked back at Hyunsu and sighed. There was something odd going on.

“… Hyunsu. I’m glad to see you again.” you said. He nodded slowly, expression unchanging but feeling reciprocated.

Then you were out of the building. To be frank, it was terrifying. You hadn’t left your apartment in ages and the world outside was in shambles. You knew it from the news and the view you had from your window, but seeing it up-close was definitely worse. There was something extremely interesting, though, and it was how easily Hyunsu and Uimyeong made their way through the swarm of monsters that would try and attack each of you. Uimyeong was on a league of his own, for sure, his arm capable of turning into a literal blade to slice any monster’s head off their shoulders. Hyunsu was different. He looked unfazed at times while sending monsters flying, and sometimes you could see the hints of a manic grin overtaking his features. And well, during thw whold ordeal, you felt awfully useless. You didn’t have any super-strength or powers so all you could do was use your best dodging skills to prevent yourself from getting killed.

Not that Hyunsu would let you.

You found yourself in a black, military van. Uimyeong sat at the front and started driving off like it was nothing, and then began to answer every question you had but hadn’t even voiced out. Special cases, monsters, the martial-law, the military’s plans, and at last, Hyunsu’s whereabouts during the entirety of this mess. He was staying in an apartment complex of the name of Green Home Mansion Apartment, that Uimyeong described as “a place with weirdly resilient people with a fear of the unknown. You know, like every other human.” and you quickly understood the boy bad developed a worrying superiority complex over the duration of the experiments the government had done on him.

Well, it made sense. But he was still terrifying in his own calm, smiley and friendly way. Even more so with the amount of blood on him. But you supposed that considering your face was still drenched in some, you didn’t have much to say about that.

You looked at Hyunsu who’d been asleep during the whole time Uimyeong was speaking.

“How did you two meet each other?”

“How did you two meet each other?”

You laughed at the synchronization of yours and Uimyeong’s question and he glanced your way with a grin. “Alright. I’ll go first.”

He talked about the group of thugs he joined, mostly out of boredom. He talked about how they eventually came to the place Hyunsu lived at, and the chaos that happened there. He talked about the fact that Hyunsu grew out of his, as he called it, “human-liking phase” and finally understood and acknowledged his true power… Or something like that. That basically, Hyunsu left the people of Green Home and left with Uimyeong before one of them called the military to report a special case, as the flyers you’d seen asked people to.

“I think part of him is trying to understand that change.” Uimyeong mused, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “You know, when his eyes turn black and he goes manic? I think that’s the monster part trying to fully take over. And then you have our introverted, anxious Hyunsu.. The one you seem to know best.”

“Ah. We’re not dating anymore.” you suddenly said, reminded of Uimyeong calling him your “boyfriend” earlier. “And contrary to what you seem to think, I’m actually more familiar with the other part. On certain aspects, at least.”

In front of you, Hyunsu was asleep. You sighed.

“Then. Your turn, answer my question.” Uimyeong said cheerfully. You hummed.

“Well, we dated in high-school. He was extroverted and friendly, and very joyful. He wasn’t the number one popular boy in the school, but he did have popularity.” you reminisced out loud, “Then things changed and he somehow got bullied. This new guy transferred and started treating him really badly. The higher-ups at the school didn’t give a fuck, and his family were… Practically blaming him. The point is, I stayed with him, but after things finally calmed down, he broke up with me. He said he wasn’t good for me and I’d spent too much time on him already, or something of the likes…”

Then you sighed, scratching your neck.

“What you call the “monster part of him” looks, to me, like what he’s been bottling up. It’s like a version of Hyunsu that didn’t completely close off emotionally after the bullying. One that went batshit and started beating up people. That’s how it feels to me. It’s strange.”

Uimyeong hummed. “Well, the monster isn’t something separate from him, anyway. That further proves my point... The monster is part of him. I guess it would make sense. He’s just battling his own self, isn’t he?”

Hyunsu woke up with a gasp and looked at you with wide eyes. There was a moment where things seemed to slow, and then he moved towards you so fast you barely registered it. He held your face in both hands and looked at you with a worried look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah?” you said, confused. “Did you have a nightmare?”

His eyes turned black momentarily, then he looked away, moving back into his seat. “Yeah.” He looked down at his lap, where he fiddled with his fingers. Uimyeong stared at him from the rear-view mirror with a squinted eyes and pointed interest. There was something in the way he looked at him that screamed obsession. You were practically certain Hyunsu himself hadn’t realized.

“Hyunsu-yah.” you said. He looked up. You beckoned him over to sit next to you. Slowly, he got up from his seat to move beside you. Then he went back to looking down and fiddling with his fingers. That was just like the last time you’d seen him, but worse. When he broke up with you he was starting to lose life— Starting to lose the will to live. It was visible and it was worrying but he put great effort in pushing you away whenever you tried reaching out to help him. You hesitantly reached a hand up to his hair, and when he didnt move, started brushing through it. You brushed off the dust and all, and them you moved his face towards you. You tried to rub off the blood on him but it was dry. Then you inspected his features, and his hands, his arms, his neck. Then you hummed in content. There weren’t any new scars since the last time you’d seen each other. You were glad.

You covered his forearms back up with the long sleeves of his sweater and held both his hands. During the whole ordeal, Hyunsu had been staring at you with barely a single blink. He had this adoring look in his wide, innocent eyes. It was different from the way he used to look at you. Hyunsu had lost part of him during his last years of high-school, so of course he’d changed. But it was still Hyunsu. And you still loved him. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Are you okay?” you asked, but he only frowned and reached out to your face. You furrowed your eyebrows when his thumb swiped over your upper lip, but then realized it came back with fresh blood. Your eyes widened and you covered the lower half of your face entirely in anticipation for the nosebleed you now knew was coming. Hyunsu grabbed your hands and slightly shook his head as he brought them away from your face.

“There’s no use in trying to stop the bleeding.” he said monotonously, “Since it’s the second time, we might see how you hold up to the monster. It might be hard.”

“Huh?” was all you could get out before your head started aching really badly. You held the sides of your head with your arms and closed your eyes tightly, eventually falling over onto the floor of the car as you winced in pain. You felt like you'd never felt such excruciating pain before. When your eyes were open there was blood, and you’d blink then there’d be nothing at all, and at some point, the pain stopped. You opened your eyes and sat up.

This was not the car.

A dark, dark space with a mirror. You slowly sat up and looked around. There seemed to be nothing other than the wide mirror in front of you. So you got up and walked over to it. The more you stared at your reflection, the more distorted it became. Slowly, your eyes turned black and your smile widened. Yet you were certain you were not smiling at all. You took a frightened step backwards and the reflection did not move.

“The weaker me. I've been waiting for you.” the reflection said, “Waiting for you to accept me. You’ve lost so much hope lately it became so easy to awaken. You see, the more hopeless you became, the more easy it was to trigger a physical reaction in you. The nosebleeds and headaches and all… Mhm. That was me. Or rather, you. After all we’re the same, aren’t we?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” you scoffed, then pinched the bridge of your nose, “Will you stop monologuing like a fucking idiot and let me place a damn word in? Thanks. As it happens I’m far from being hopeless or whatever bullshit it is you were spewing out. I’m fine, and I want to live. And I will live. As a human.”

Your reflection hummed curiously. “As a human?”

“I’ve done so for all of my life. I'm pretty certain I can keep doing it.”

Your reflection smiled, then laughed. “Oh, my. Maybe you might actually manage to overpower me… That would mean getting my monster powers and keeping a human form. How lovely that is. Please, keep trying your best. I’m looking forward to it.”

"Please," Despite the confusion you felt, you knew one thing for sure. This so called reflection of yours was pissing you off. You punched the mirror and the glass shattered around your fist. “go die”

“Gladly.”

You yelled in fear and jumped awake. You looked around you with anxiousness, and slowly came to the realization you were still in the military van. It had stopped, and Uimyeong and Hyunsu were looking at you expectantly. Uimyeong smiled and held up Hyunsu’s hand by the wrist, shaking it in the air. “I had to keep him from trying to wake you up.”

Ah.

“Anyways. Seems you’ve met the monster?” Uimyeong said, sighing as he let go of Hyunsu’s wrist. He leaned back in his seat and smiled to himself. “I’m satisfied. If this was a game in trials I’d say you passed the first one. Congrats, [name]. You might just really be a special case.”

You looked up at him, then at Hyunsu, who kneeled in front of you and wrapped his arms around you. His hold was tight and he didn’t say a word. You could feel he was scared. Anxious. Or at least, that he had been. He felt relieved now, you could feel it. You figured he was hoping for Uimyeong to say that. After all, considering you already had symptoms, it seemed like being a special-case was the best thing that could happen. So you exhaled in relief and let your head fall onto the boy’s shoulder, rubbing his back comfortingly. “It’s okay, Hyunsu.”

He nodded, but didn’t let go.

“Hyunsu.”

He finally pulled away and he was kind of pouting. He looked like a kid and it made you laugh. “Come on, now. It’s fine. I’m sure you went through worse, too.”

“It’s not comparable. This isn’t about me.” he mumbled blankly, pulling you to sit next to him on the seats. You heard Uimyeong sigh and mumble something about love in the midst of an apocalypse as he went back to the driver’s seat and started up the car. You leaned against Hyunsu’s shoulder and he let his head rest on top of yours. Well, this was as fine as things could get, it seemed.

— THE SEANCE

↳ part of the ghouls just wanna have fun collab.

pairing; seokjin/reader ft. ot7 genre; ghost hunters au, demon au, horror words; 8,780 rating; mature

— synopsis;  you and your friends go exploring in an abandoned house in the middle of the woods surrounded by mystery and ghost stories; what you find there may not be what you were looking for.

contents; major character death, horror, demons/ghosts, graphic violence, gore, blood. pov switch in the middle. based on the movie “demonic.”

“You really wanna go there?” you asked, skin buzzing. Jungkook looked at you and smiled, nodding his head excitedly.

Hoseok picked at the sleeve of his sweater. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

“Scared of some ghosts, Hobi?” you teased, snickering along with the other boys.

“Don’t be a scaredy cat, Hoseok,” Jungkook continued to tease.

Keep reading

Hah. Barely two words in and you already look like you want me dead.

Deep Sea Chapter IV. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Yandere themes, mentions of amnesia, misgoynistic language, minor violence.  >Word count: 6k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER IV // ORPHAN SPIRIT

The fortune slip in your hand is heavy, even if it bends to the slightest breeze.

Mt. Yogou overlooks the rest of Narukami Island as if it were nothing but an insignificant speck. The buildings down below are tiny, the people tinier. You stretch your hand out into the horizon and grasp the distant Inazuma City and hold it in the palm of your head. How perfectly it fits, you muse. If only the same could be said for myself.

High up on the mountaintop, past the torii gates that welcome you into the realm of the divine, you fooled yourself into thinking the gods might hear out your plight. The dark ink painted on by elaborate brushstrokes echoes the same premonition it always has: great misfortune.

You sigh and consider what to do next. Last month, it was purchasing an omamori, but your luck remained as lackluster as ever. What should you try next?

Keep reading

OKAY IMAGINE A HISTORICAL AU WHERE YOU'RE IN AN ENGAGEMENT WITH ZHONGLI BUT YOU SUFFER FROM UNREQUITED LOVE BC HE LOVES GUIZHONG AND THEN YOU DIE OF HANAHAKI BUT THEN YOU GO BACK IN TIME??? BUT WHAT YOU DONT KNOW IS THAT ZHONGLI WAS SECRETLY ALSO VERY UPSET ABT YOUR DEATH AND ONLY THEN REALIZED THAT HE LOVED YOU AND HE ALSO WENT BACK IN-TIME BUT WHEN HE TRIES TO COURT YOU YOU REJECT HIM EVERY SINGLE TIME MAKING HIM SOMEHOW YANDERE??

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Y/n=your name

L/n= last name

Fem reader btw

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CW: unhealthy relationships , cheating, unrequited love, historical au, death, forced marriage, Yandere and hanahaki content.

Angst to kind of less angst?

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Honestly, never in your life did you think that you were gonna fall in-love.

Yet here you are, weeping over your fiancé who didn't return your love.

You kept coughing and choking on those stupid glaze lilies.

They reminded you of her.

Of guizhong.

They were her favorites, bouquets of glaze lilies decorated every imperial palace.

We're they there just to remind you of your unrequited love? His love for guizhong?

It was practically already known in high society that zhongli didn't love you, he loved another.

The flowers came out of your mouth as you coughed and coughed.

Your lungs felt clogged, as if something was blocking you from breathing.

Dried blood stood at the corners of your lips as well as flower petals that were present on the floor.

Would you grow to hate plants in your next life? Who knows?

Not to mention the corset that was hugging your waist.

It was suffocating, it only made your disease even harder to handle.

Why didn't you pick up the signs he did with his eyes that screamed 'don't come any closer' whenever you leaned in for a kiss? The ‘I don’t like you’ whenever you said ‘I love you’.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp pain throughout your body, nothing like anything you had ever experienced before.

It felt numbing, you couldn't move, as if some kind of poison was injected inside of you.

Was this the end? Was this how you were going to die?

If it is then, i'd just like to say: what a shitty (love) life you've had.

In the end, your love for Zhongli didn’t falter.

And then that was it.

Your vision went from blurry to black, your body went limp and hit the cold floor of the estate you were living in.

Some maids were alarmed by the sound and went to check it out, only to find your dead body, covered in bloody glaze lily petals and flowers.

High society was shocked, a case of hanahaki hasn’t been recorded since a few centuries ago.

News spread fast around the nation of Liyue.

It wasn’t until his friend, tartaglia came to give his condolences when he found out that you died.

Why wasn’t he immediately informed?

Wait, why did he care? Didn’t he want to be with guizhong just the other day?

It was a big shock to Zhongli and while others may have thought that he was delighted to finally end the relationship he was forced to be in.

That was not the case.

He cried and cried because of your death.

He blamed himself fully, he cut contact with guizhong and removed the ever so delicately cared for glaze lilies out of his palace.

He wished that he had paid more attention to you, he would do anything for another chance.

And with that, the next day he woke up as himself 13 years ago, when he was still a teenager, 16.

Funny thing is, as soon as you died everything was a blur.

Your memories flashed in front of your eyes until you awoke 13 years prior to your death.

You were a teenager once again.

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Extra context: you come from one of the most powerful ducal families in liyue.

Zhongli is the prince of the nation and already at the age of 15, had a fiancé.

That fiancé was you, who loved him the moon and back, but he didn’t.

He already loved another, his childhood friend.

Her name was guizhong.

You noticed how he preferred her over you and you tried to get his attention.

He was so polite about telling you about how your love was not reciprocated.

And after a few months of being his fiancé, you started coughing frequently.

One days you coughed out a petal.

It was then that you realized that you had hanahaki.

You tried even harder to make him love you, but it didn’t work.

In the end, you died.

He found out that he had actually fallen for your charms, and now is also the reason you died.

He was so disappointed in himself and stopped contacting guizhong as she just reminded him of your death.

He grew to hate glaze lilies since they also reminded him of your death.

One day, he miraculously went back in time along with you, but neither of you knew that you both had gone back in time.

Oh what adventures were ahead?

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Should I write a part 2???

Also I finally got a fic written, sorry to keep y’all waiting, and I promise that I’m writing your requests.

Stolen Orbit

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: alien au, yandere jk, dark horror, enemies to lovers,

summary: you were meant for eradication with the rest of your planet—erased without a trace, just another speck in the galaxy's endless purge. but jeongguk saw you. fragile, insignificant... human. and something his kind had long forgotten stirred in him. Instead of erasing your existence, he took you, stole you from extinction and made you his.

now you live in a celestial cage, adored and possessed by something not quite capable of love, but desperate to keep you. he doesn't understand your fear, your resistance, but he craves your surrender all the more because of it. and if it takes breaking you to make you his completely... he will.

warnings: slow burn, mass extermination, alien jungkook forced captivity/proximity, psychological manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, ritualistic copulation

word count: 5,857

The Beginning

The sky split open the night they came. You didn’t see it at first, no one did.

You brushed your teeth that night. Standing in your tiny bathroom beneath flickering fluorescent lights, humming faintly to music you can’t remember anymore. A song that cut out mid chorus when everything else did.

You paused, frowned, the mirror vibrated faintly, a shiver running across your reflection. Confused, you flicked the light switch. Nothing.

Reach for your phone. Dead.

Outside, the city dimmed as though someone had thrown a heavy blanket over the world. Buildings blinked out, window by window. Cars stalled silently in the streets.

Then came the sirens. Low and unearthly, vibrating deep in your chest rather than ringing in your ears.

You pressed your palms to the vanity, trying to pinpoint the source.

No alarms.

No helicopters.

No dogs barking or people yelling in the distance.

Just… stillness.

Until the sky broke.

You saw it from your window, face pale in the glass as blackness carved itself across the heavens like a wound tearing through flesh.

It didn’t glow or rage, it hummed.

And through that terrible void came beams of sterile white light.

You watched—paralyzed—as they swept through the streets, swallowing people whole. No fire, no blood, they simply ceased.

Your neighbor clutching her husband on the balcony. The delivery boy halfway up the stairs. A child pedaling frantically on his bicycle.

Gone.

Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. By the time your legs remembered how to function, chaos had bloomed outside.

Screams.

Desperate, useless prayers. People running without knowing where safety even existed.

It didn’t matter.

Your chest crushed inward as panic overtook you. You grabbed your phone, screaming into dead silence, dialing numbers that wouldn’t connect.

Your father’s voicemail.

Your sister’s disconnected line.

The beams moved without emotion, erasing everything they touched as easily as wiping chalk from a board. You don’t remember deciding to run. You don’t remember leaving your apartment. You only remember the maintenance tunnels.

You shoved yourself beneath concrete and metal, nails splitting and bleeding as you slammed the hatch shut above you.

And there you stayed.

For minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Time broke.

The silence that followed was not peaceful.

It was dead.

::::::::::::

When you woke, it was worse. Not because you survived. Not even because the world was gone.

But because you weren’t there anymore.

Your eyes opened to sterility. Smooth, seamless walls of faintly glowing white, like pearl carved from bone. No corners or seams. Just endless smoothness in every direction, as though the room itself were grown rather than built.

There were no windows.

No doors.

Only a faint humming, familiar and yet not. Not the gentle whir of an AC or the buzz of old light bulbs. This was deeper, vibrating at a frequency that scraped against the base of your skull. It sounded like something alive.

You sat up too fast, your breath catching painfully in your throat.

The bed beneath you was impossibly soft, molding to your shape like memory foam, but it didn’t feel right. It smelled faintly of something sweet and sterile, like a flower that had never known dirt.

You clutched the sheets tighter to your chest, your head spinning.

“Hello?” you rasped. No answer, just the never ending hum.

You tried again.

“HELLO?”

Your voice echoed strangely, rebounding without substance, as though the room itself were swallowing the sound.

A prickling sensation raced down your spine as you scrambled to your feet. Your legs were weak and shaky, like you hadn’t used them in days. You stumbled toward the nearest wall and pressed your palms flat against it.

It was warm.

Not cold like metal. Not smooth like glass.

Warm, as though the structure around you was some kind of living skin.

You recoiled instinctively.

“What the fuck,” you whispered.

Your chest heaved as you tried to remember.

Where were you?

Where was your family?

Had you died?

The last thing you remembered was hiding. Listening to the world end. And then— nothing. Your stomach twisted violently. Panic set in like lead poisoning, slow but lethal. You began slamming your fists against the wall.

“LET ME OUT!”

“WHERE AM I?!”

Nothing. No doors appeared, no voices responded. But the hum grew louder, though, it didn’t feel or sound angry. Not mechanical.

It sounded oddly interested.

You froze, pressing your back against the bed as a low chime resonated throughout the space. The wall directly across from you rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone, and opened.

A doorway formed from nothing, and something stepped through.

At first, you thought he was wrong. Everything about him felt off in ways your mind couldn’t fully process.

Tall—towering—with limbs too graceful and too fluid to be comforting.

Skin pale and luminous, glowing softly from within, threaded with faint iridescence that shifted as he moved. Hair dark and weightless, littered with braids adorned with glimmering otherworldly metals, drifting as though underwater. Framing features too symmetrical, too perfect.

And his eyes.

They were unsettling, solid black at first glance.

But as he drew closer, they shifted—illuminated galaxies of silver, violet, and deep cosmic blues, swirling softly in patterns that hurt to stare at for too long.

You stumbled backward, your legs colliding with the bed as your pulse thundered.

He did not flinch, but instead stepped closer.

Graceful. Effortless.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Every primitive instinct screamed at you to run, but your body betrayed you. He tilted his head as he regarded you.

Not cruelly, not kindly. Curiously.

His voice slid across your mind rather than your ears.

“You are… fragile.”

You flinched, shaking your head as if a bug was caught in your hair. The words felt invasive, sliding into your consciousness without permission.

He stepped closer.

“I am Jeongguk.”

The name thrums with alien cadence, yet tastes almost familiar in your mind. His glowing eyes flicker faintly, as if pleased by your terror.

“You reside aboard Virexum,” he continues calmly. “This vessel collects and preserves what remains after eradication.”

“Eradication?” you whisper, voice hollow.

“Earth was terminated.”

A pause, as if considering how much you can process. “Your species had reached decay. Pollution. War. Rot. The Kaereth do not preserve weakness. We cleanse.”

The words hit harder than any weapon. You shake your head violently, sobbing openly now.

Your father, your sister. They’re…gone?

“No. No, you can’t— you didn’t—”

“It was mercy.”

His voice softens slightly, but not kindly. “Existence without evolution is entropy. The Kaereth do not allow suffering. We end it.”

You can’t breathe.

You drop to your knees, pressing your palms to your face as the horror swells and breaks inside you.

But he does not.

Tears flooded your vision, hot and blinding as your sobs shattered the sterile silence, ugly and helpless.

He watches you the way one might watch a dying star—quietly admiring, deeply fascinated.

When you finally stilled, he crouched before you, his claws retracting as he reached out. You recoiled instinctively, but he only touched your hair, brushing it back from your damp face with a tenderness that felt foreign.

“I did not erase you,” he murmurs.

You flinch, but his hand cradles your face delicately, tipping it up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You glowed,” he says, softer now. Almost enthralled.

“Amidst destruction, you clung to life. You burned brighter than the dying world around you. You will not suffer,” he said quietly. “You are mine now. You will be kept.”

Kept.

The word echoed as he stood again, gesturing to the room around you. “This is yours. Safe. Nourishing. You will adjust.”

You choked on disbelief.

“Why me?”

He paused.

And for the first time since he arrived, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened. His lips parted just slightly, almost pious.

“Because,” he murmured, as though speaking to himself, “you glowed brightest before death.”

With that, he turned and left, the wall sealing behind him in silence.

Leaving you alone with the hum, and the terrible, hollow truth that you were the last of your kind. And you were his now.

Whatever that meant.

Whatever that would become.

::::::::::::

You don’t remember sleeping, but when your eyes open again, raw and heavy from hours of silent sobbing, the room is dimmer. The walls, once glowing faintly like a moonlit sea, have softened to a deep, low shimmer, as though mimicking the concept of nighttime.

You’re still here.

Still locked in this dreamless nightmare of seamless walls and soundless air.

Still wearing the thin, pale shift you woke up in, neither warm nor cold, but irritating in its neutrality.

Still alone.

Except… you aren’t.

You feel him before you see him. The hum of the room changes. Deepens, sharpens as though the ship itself reacts to his presence.

You sit up slowly, wiping your face, throat dry from hours of ragged breathing.

When the wall ripples open again, it’s almost gentle. Less like a command, and more like the way curtains are drawn back to allow moonlight in.

And there he stands.

Jeongguk.

Alien. Impossibly elegant.

Unfathomably tall, framed in the soft glow as though carved from the bones of dying stars.

You freeze when his eyes meet yours, not because they’re cruel. But because they are intent.

Hungry.

Unblinking.

“You are awake.”

His voice slides across your mind again, as smooth as silk and as cold as space.

You swallow tightly, sitting rigid on the edge of the bed. Your legs are weak, but you fight to keep your spine straight.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely, the word tasting hollow in your mouth. “Please just tell me what you want from me.”

He pauses.

“I have told you,” he says, moving forward, soundless as shadow. “You are mine. You will be kept. That is what I want.”

His words make your stomach twist violently. You push up from the bed, backing away until your shoulder blades press into the wall behind you.

“You can’t just— keep me!”

Your voice cracks, teetering between hysteria and disbelief.

“I’m not some… some thing you can collect!”

He stops mid step, considering.

His expression doesn’t change and yet, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny press down on you.

“Incorrect,” he says softly, as though correcting a child. “You are precious. Not a ‘thing’. Not to me.”

You open your mouth to argue, to scream, but your breath catches as something changes.

The bioluminescent lines across his body shift subtly. They pulse gently.

You don’t know why, but the sight makes your heart stutter.

Is that emotion?

Before you can question it, he raises one hand.

A low chime echoes through the room, and from the far wall, a smooth panel unfolds. It reveals a strange, device that emits fragrant steam.

Your stomach clenches painfully as your senses recognize what it is before your mind does.

Food.

Or, at least, something meant to replicate it. Soft, pale orbs float in an iridescent broth, giving off a smell not unlike fresh bread and honey.

It should be comforting.

But in this place, nothing feels comforting.

“You have not consumed nourishment in sixteen of your planet’s hours,” Jeongguk says calmly, gesturing toward the offering.

“Your body weakens. This is inefficient.”

You hesitate, eyeing the bowl warily.

“I’m not hungry,” you lie.

His head tilts, faintly reptilian in the gesture, and for the first time, a flicker of something sharper edges into his tone.

“You will eat.”

The words are not barked.

Not threatening.

But absolute.

You stare back at him, shaking slightly.

And when you make no move to comply, he steps forward and takes the bowl himself, walking closer until he is far too near. He crouches, folding gracefully in front of you like a predator settling in for the kill.

But instead of violence, he offers you the bowl directly.

Holding it out, waiting patiently.

“Eat,” he murmurs.

His eyes glow faintly as they fix on your face.

“For me.”

Your lips part helplessly. Something in the way he says it. Quiet, almost intimately, sends your skin crawling and burning at once.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

And yet…

Your body obeys. Your fingers tremble as you accept the bowl, lifting one of the pale orbs to your lips.

It tastes… nothing like food.

But it dissolves softly on your tongue, leaving behind warmth that creeps slowly down your throat.

Not unpleasant, not pleasurable. Just… filling.

Sustaining.

You eat in silence, aware of his unwavering gaze as you do. When the bowl empties, he takes it back carefully, setting it aside.

“Better,” he says quietly.

You can’t meet his eyes.

The tears come again without permission, sliding hot and heavy down your face. You curl in on yourself, trying to muffle the broken sounds that escape your throat.

And then… a touch.

Featherlight at first, fingers ghosting against your temple, sliding into your hair.

You tense, but he does not press.

“You fear me.” His words are not questioning. “Good. It is natural. You are fragile.”

Your breath hitches painfully.

His hand slips lower, knuckles grazing your cheek with maddening delicacy.

“But fear will fade,” he continues softly. “In time, you will see. I am not cruel. I am constant. You will not be harmed. You will be… cherished.”

You turn your head away sharply and his fingers slip free, but you feel the weight of his focus intensify.

“You misunderstand your position,” he murmurs. “Earth is gone. You are alone in a universe that has no place for you. No one will come for you. No one can.”

You clench your fists tightly in your lap, the truth cutting deeper than his touch ever could.

“Why me?” you ask, voice breaking. “Why not let me die with the rest?”

He leans in slightly, his presence invading your every sense.

“Because when others knelt and wept… you raged,” he whispers. “You burned. You clung to life with ferocity. That is rare.”

His eyes soften, if such a thing is possible for something so alien.

“I collect what should not exist.” A faint smile, too serene, too knowing. “You are an anomaly. You are mine.”

You bite down hard on your lower lip, forcing back another sob.

“This isn’t cherishing,” you whisper bitterly.

“This is prison.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he rises slowly, towering over you once more. His hands fold neatly behind his back. The perfect image of composed, regal authority.

“No,” he agrees softly. “This is preservation.”

He steps back toward the door, but his voice reaches you again as it ripples open to accept him.

“Rest. I will return when you are calmer.”

A pause.

“And eventually… you will thank me.”

Then he is gone.

And you’re eft in the silence once more—but not alone.

Not really.

Because his scent still lingers. His voice still hums faintly in your mind. And worse, you realize part of you is already listening for his return.

::::::::::::

You don’t see him again for three cycles. You don’t know how you know this. There’s no sun here, no night and day, no ticking clock on sterile walls—but your body remembers.

It remembers the ache of hunger.

The slow unraveling of sanity when left in isolation. The bone deep dread that blooms in the absence of any other voice but your own.

For seventy two hours, maybe more, maybe less, you are alone.

The ship hums softly at all hours, the walls glowing faintly like a slumbering beast. Your room, if you can even call it that, remains locked.

No doors.

No windows.

Just blank, seamless walls and a bed that conforms to your every restless shift.

Food appears twice, delivered silently through a hidden panel in the wall, but you ignore it. You sit curled on the bed, stomach clenching painfully, but you refuse to give in.

Not again, not after last time.

He’d fed you like a child.

Watched you with something sickly tender in his eyes while you cried and ate and fell apart in front of him.

No.

You will not make this easy for him. Your anger is all you have left. The only shield between you and the quiet, desperate terror that creeps in when you allow yourself to feel anything else.

So you don’t eat.

You don’t sleep.

You don’t talk to the empty room, no matter how loud the silence becomes.

You wait.

Because you know he’ll come back, of course he will.

Men like him, things like him, always come back.

And when he does, you are ready.

—

He appears on the fourth cycle.

Not like before, there’s no grand entrance. No rippling doors or ominous hums.

You wake to find him already there, standing at the foot of the bed like a phantom who has always belonged in your nightmares. He watches you in silence, arms folded behind his back, eyes glowing softly in the low light.

You glare at him, lips cracked from dehydration.

He says nothing.

“Fuck you.”

Your voice scrapes like gravel against your raw throat, but it feels good to say.

Good to bite, even if your teeth barely graze.

His head tilts slightly, that same alien gesture that makes your stomach turn.

“You are weakening,” he observes softly, almost clinically. “Your refusal to consume nourishment endangers your cellular structure. This is illogical.”

You laugh, sharp and brittle.

“Good. Let me die, then.”

For the first time, his expression shifts, not dramatically, but his brows knit slightly, his mouth drawing in the faintest sliver.

He doesn’t like that.

“Negative,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “I will not allow termination.”

You push yourself up on shaking arms, baring your teeth in something that feels more animal than human.

“I don’t belong to you. You can’t keep me like this. Feeding me, locking me in this—this cage! I’ll starve before I let you win.”

His eyes narrow faintly, glowing brighter. “You misunderstand,” he murmurs, his voice lowering dangerously.

“This is not a contest,” he moves closer, slow, deliberate steps that make your pulse spike and your limbs tremble. “This is inevitability.”

You scramble off the bed, stumbling backward until your spine hits the wall. His presence consumes the room, filling every atom of available space, as though the ship itself responds to his shifting mood.

He stands before you now, towering and still.

“You may resist,” he allows softly. “You may cry, scream, refuse… for a time.”

His hand rises, not threatening, but steady as his fingers gently, maddeningly, brush your jaw. The touch sends a bolt of revulsion and something more complicated spiraling through you.

“But you will acclimate.”

His voice vibrates softly in your bones, dangerous in its certainty.

You slap his hand away, the sound cracking through the air like gunfire.

For a moment, nothing happens.

He simply stares at you, the tips of his fingers still poised where they had been, motionless, as though stunned.

And then…he withdraws, silently. Without anger or words. Simply steps back, gaze unreadable, and turns for the door.

Panic flashes hot and instant through your chest. “No—” you gasp, confused by your own terror at his sudden departure.

He stops just before the wall seals behind him. For the first time, his voice emerges aloud, not through your mind, but spoken.

Low.

Flat.

Cold.

“You have chosen isolation.”

Then he’s gone, and so is everything else.

The hum of the ship fades, the lights dim to near darkness. The temperature drops, not enough to freeze, but enough to chill your skin, to make your breath puff faintly in the air.

The bed retracts into the wall.

The food panel vanishes.

You are left standing in nothing.

Cold.

Alone.

—

For hours—maybe days—you are abandoned to the hollow, oppressive silence.

Your tears dry.

Your voice fades from hoarseness to nothing. Your legs give out, and you curl on the hard floor, clutching yourself tightly as sleep eludes you in the endless dark.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when the wall finally ripples open again, soft, warm light spilling through and his tall, silent figure appears in the doorway once more, you sob.

Relief.

Humiliation.

Rage.

You don’t understand which emotion is which anymore.

He crosses the threshold slowly, eyes glowing faintly in gentle shades of blue and pink. Soft, careful, like a predator soothing prey after the kill.

Without speaking, he kneels before you, gathering your shaking body into his arms. You don’t fight him this time.

You can’t.

You’re too cold.

Too broken.

His hand strokes your hair as he murmurs something low in his language, soft syllables that sound like lullabies from a galaxy you will never see.

“I will not harm you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your temple. “Do not make me hurt you through absence again; I ache.”

Your fingers clutch his robe weakly, sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but it’s empty.

Weak.

He hums softly.

“I know.”

He pulls you closer, cradling you as though you are delicate and rare, because to him, you are.

“And yet you need me.”

You can’t argue.

Not right now.

Not when his warmth is the only thing that feels real in this endless void of stars and silence.

::::::::::::

You don’t sleep, even when your body begs you to.

Sleep would mean trusting the silence, surrendering.

So you lay awake on the strange, pliant surface that the ship has provided. Not quite a bed, but softer than the floor that left your bones aching and cold during your punishment.

You are still recovering from that.

The ache of isolation.

The terror of being truly, utterly alone.

But more than that… you are recovering from the humiliation.

Because when he returned, when he found you curled and trembling, teeth chattering and face raw from tears, you clung to him.

You didn’t mean to.

Your body simply reacted, desperate and starved for anything warm and familiar.

Your fingers twisted into the dark folds of his robes, your face pressed into the cool planes of his chest, and you wept like a creature broken open.

And Jeongguk did nothing but hold you.

No words.

No threats.

No cruel satisfaction.

Just stillness.

Just presence.

His hands stroked your back, slow and repetitive, the way you imagine one might soothe a terrified animal.

His head bent low, his breath ghosting against your temple as he whispered words in a language your mind couldn’t translate, soft and melodic, making you feel drunk with the weight of them.

Even now, hours later, his scent still lingers on your skin.

Warm and metallic.

Alien and oddly sweet.

Like lightning woven into silk.

You hate that you find comfort in it now. You hate yourself more than you hate him, but the truth is suffocating in its simplicity.

You needed him.

And he knew it.

—

The door ripples again, seamlessly and without warning. You stiffen instinctively, heart leaping to your throat.

But when Jeongguk steps through, he does not bring the same oppressive energy he had before.

There is no towering, silent menace, or sharp glint of irritation or frustration in his starlit eyes.

Instead…he looks calm, serene, even.

His robes have changed. Still dark, but lighter now. Softer. He wears no armor, or sharp adornments. His hair hangs loose, gleaming faintly in the ship’s low bioluminescence.

He looks… domestic.

If such a word could ever apply to him.

The ship itself seems to respond, the walls brightening subtly, soft, ambient pulses that make the air feel warmer somehow.

More intimate.

Less clinical.

It unnerves you more than his previous coldness.

“Good,” he says quietly, his voice sliding into your consciousness with practiced ease. “You remain.”

You glare at him, but your body betrays you again, relaxing minutely at the familiar cadence of his presence.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?” you mutter bitterly.

Jeongguk tilts his head slightly, considering.

“No,” he agrees softly. “But you remained nonetheless.”

The phrasing makes something twist painfully low in your stomach. Before you can respond, he approaches, slow, careful steps as though approaching something fragile.

Which, in his eyes, you suppose you are.

He lowers himself gracefully beside you on the bed like surface, close enough that you feel the subtle hum of his energy brushing against your skin.

“I have observed,” he begins, tone thoughtful. “Prolonged isolation causes distress beyond simple physical discomfort in your species.”

You scoff, wrapping your arms around your knees protectively.

“Yeah. That’s called being human.”

He hums softly, as though filing the information away like a precious resource.

“I have no desire to harm you, little star,” he murmurs, and his hand lifts, pausing in the air between you, as if seeking silent permission.

You don’t give it.

But you don’t pull away when his fingers brush lightly across your hair, tucking it back from your face.

His touch is careful.

Maddening.

“I desire only your peace.”

You choke on a bitter laugh.

“Peace? You abducted me, destroyed my planet, locked me in this ship and act like that’s kindness.”

His expression softens, strangely fond despite your venom.

“You misunderstand,” he says gently.

“I did not destroy your planet. I spared you from its fate.”

His fingers trail down, brushing against the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, and you shiver despite yourself.

“You were meant to end,” he continues softly, voice almost hypnotic. “But you burned. You raged. You survived.”

His thumb strokes softly against your lower lip, a touch so tender you forget, briefly, how much you despise him.

“You are rare,” he murmurs. “And rare things are not discarded. They are treasured.”

The words settle in your chest like poison wrapped in silk. You should recoil, should slap his hand away, curse him until your throat gives out.

But instead…you close your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to feel the soft press of his palm against your cheek, anchoring you in this strange, terrible reality.

He takes your silence as permission.

Of course he does.

“Good,” he breathes, satisfaction humming softly in his voice. “You are learning.”

You force your eyes open, glaring weakly at him.

“Learning what?”

His lips curl faintly, not quite a smile, but something disturbingly close.

“To accept.”

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when he shifts closer, pressing his body flush to yours, wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders, you don’t pull away.

You are cold.

You are tired.

You are alone.

And he is warm.

He is steady.

He is here.

You rest your head against his shoulder before you can think better of it, disgust warring with relief in your chest.

Jungkook says nothing, but the ship hums softly around you, glowing faintly in shades of rose and gold. Contentment radiating from every surface.

You don’t realize how tightly you’ve curled against him until his mouth brushes the crown of your head.

“You will see soon,” he murmurs, words sinking deep into your bones. “I am not your enemy. I am your only constant.”

You fall asleep before you can argue. And for the first time since Earth fell, you sleep through the cycle without waking to scream.

::::::::::::

You wake to warmth.

Not the clinical, neutral temperature of the ship. That engineered comfort that feels more like a lack of discomfort than real heat but true warmth.

Soft.

Heavy.

Alive.

For a moment, your mind refuses to grasp why.

You are tucked beneath something impossibly smooth and weighty , fabric like liquid silk draped over your body, cocooning you in decadent softness.

And behind you, against the curve of your spine, something solid.

Firm.

Breathing.

A heartbeat thrums, steady and deep, so close it vibrates through your back and into your bones.

Not the ship.

Him.

Jeongguk.

You go rigid before you can think. Your hands clench the sheets, alien and faintly iridescent m, as you strain to control your breathing.

You are being held, no, you are being kept.

His arm is heavy across your waist, claws retracted but still unsettling, his fingers resting just beneath your ribcage with terrifying intimacy. His face is pressed lightly to the crown of your head, long hair brushing against your temple like ghost silk.

For several agonizing seconds, you debate your options.

Pull away.

Wake him.

Escape—if that’s even possible anymore.

But as your heart hammers and your stomach twists, you realize something worse.

You don’t want to move.

Because for the first time in what feels like forever, you are not cold, you are not alone, or terrified of what silence might bring.

You are simply… held.

And that, somehow, feels more dangerous than anything he’s done so far.

He stirs before you can make a decision.

The shift is subtle, the faint tightening of his grip, the softening of his breath, the way the ship’s hum lifts faintly, mirroring the change in atmosphere.

Then his voice slides into your mind, quieter than usual.

Thicker.

“You are awake.”

You flinch slightly, but he does not move away. Instead, he exhales slowly, the sound almost… content.

“You slept well,” he murmurs aloud this time, his voice low and textured, as though speaking in words costs him more effort than using your mind.

“You did not cry.”

Shame burns through you instantly. You twist beneath his arm, trying to put space between your bodies, but his hold tightens slightly.

“No,” he says softly, head dipping lower so that his breath brushes the shell of your ear. “Stay.”

Your heart races painfully.

“Why?” you whisper, hating the smallness in your voice.

His answer is simple.

“Because you do not truly wish to leave.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t say it cruelly.

He doesn’t taunt or mock.

He speaks it as though it is a fact he has long since accepted and is merely waiting for you to do the same.

Before you can respond, he shifts, drawing back just enough to allow you to turn and face him. The sight steals the words from your throat.

Up close, he is devastating.

More than alien.

More than beautiful.

His features are carved from something you do not have words for, too elegant to be called soft, too precise to be human. His silver violet eyes glow faintly in the dimness, framed by dark lashes that cast delicate shadows across high cheekbones.

But it is the way he looks at you that truly leaves you breathless.

Not with desire.

Not with hunger.

With… possession. As though you are the first and only star in his universe.

You turn your face away, pulse hammering.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He does not obey.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m—”

You falter, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“Yours,” you finish bitterly.

His hand moves, fingers brushing your jaw, guiding you gently to meet his gaze again.

“You are mine,” he murmurs softly, as though stating something as mundane as the time of day. “You remain only because I desire it. You live because I allow it. You breathe because I have given you this sanctuary.”

The words are cruel in logic, yet his voice is gentle.

You tremble beneath the weight of them, but he only continues, thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone.

“But you do not need to fear that.” He leans closer, voice dropping lower, coaxing you like one would soothe a frightened animal.

“You do not need to fight so hard. You are cared for. Sheltered. Treasured.”

You want to scream. Want to tell him how wrong he is, how suffocating this is.

But your body remembers the days alone in the dark.

The cold.

The ache.

The crushing silence that left you frantic and desperate for any presence at all. And your body, traitorous and desperate, does not want to return to that.

So instead, you say nothing.

You simply let him hold you.

Let his touch stroke soothing patterns against your spine.

Let your eyes slip closed, not because you want him, but because for now… he feels safe.

—

The days that follow blur together.

Jeongguk becomes a near constant presence, no longer leaving for long stretches. He is always near. Quietly watching, quietly touching, quietly existing in every corner of your small world.

Meals are no longer delivered in silence.

Now, he brings them himself, sitting beside you as you eat, observing your reactions with soft fascination, as though memorizing every flicker of expression.

He asks questions, though never demands answers.

“Why do you frown when eating this?”

“Does this flavor please you more?”

“Do you enjoy these colors?”

It’s strange. Stranger still when you find yourself answering.

Not out of obligation or out of fear. But because the emptiness left by silence is worse.

You talk quietly, giving short answers at first, but over time, they grow longer. You explain foods you miss. You describe music, books, seasons. You speak of snow and rain and laughter, and though he listens with alien detachment, he seems oddly enchanted by your words.

“You will show me,” he says one cycle, after you describe autumn leaves falling in lazy spirals.

You blink at him in confusion.

“Earth is gone.”

His head tilts.

“Virexum can make what you desire.”

You do not know whether to be horrified or grateful. But when the next cycle arrives, your room transforms.The walls ripple and shift until soft amber light filters through projected trees.

Illusions of wind rustle leaves that glow faintly gold and crimson.

You laugh, startled and disbelieving.

And Jeongguk…

He smiles.

Not wide.

Not human.

But soft, and faintly victorious.

As though every small inch you offer him, every smile, every word, every sigh, is another chain wound tightly around your wrists.

—

It happens one night as you sit side by side on the bed, eating quietly. Your hands brush when reaching for the same dish and you both freeze.

The contact is brief.

Innocent.

But it lingers. His fingers slide softly over yours, slow and intentional as though mapping the shape of them.

You don’t pull away, pulse racing, your cheeks flush, but still, you let it happen.

Something shifts in his gaze.

It’s not hunger, not cruelty…longing.

The moment stretches and the ship grows impossibly quiet, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath. You’re the one who breaks it, pulling your hand away with a nervous laugh that sounds too loud in the stillness.

Jeongguk says nothing.

But his eyes follow you all the same, glowing softly in the dim amber light.

Watching.

Always watching.

—

That night, as you lay down and let him pull you close, his arms wrapping securely around your body as though sealing you in, you don’t resist.

You let him tuck your head beneath his chin, your hands curl lightly against his chest.

And when he whispers against your hair, voice low and factual, “you are becoming mine.”

You don’t argue.

Because deep down, beneath the remnants of your rage and sorrow, beneath the tangled mess of shame and longing—

You know he is right.

two | masterlist