The candlelight flickers low against crumbling parchment, smoke curling like restless fingers toward the ceiling. Dust hangs thick in the air — not disturbed by time, but by the constant flipping of brittle pages, yellowed and ink-stained with a language long dead.
Baekhyun doesn’t look up. Not yet.
“You’re grinding your teeth again,” he says, voice low, frayed at the edges. “Second time in five minutes.”
There’s a pause — not for drama, but thought — before he continues, one elegant finger tracing the archaic sigils scrawled along the margin of the book sprawled between them.
“Headache still bad?”
He already knows the answer. He can feel it radiating off Seungjun like a curse. That dissonant hum in the air — the kind that prickles at his centuries-worn skin — has grown more unbearable with each passing day. He’s seen souls before. Held them. Drank from them. Sent them off. But whatever’s lodged inside Seungjun? It’s not staying quiet anymore.
“I found something. Not much. But it mentions soul-bearers.” Baekhyun finally meets his gaze, crimson eyes dimmed by the candle’s glow. “It says they were rare. Usually chosen. Usually… unwilling.”
He lets that sit. The silence between them stretches, heavy and metallic.
Then, like an afterthought — but not really — Baekhyun closes the book and leans back in his chair, leather groaning beneath him.
“You're not dying,” he says flatly, “at least not yet. But you are holding on to things that don’t belong to you. And they’re starting to eat you alive.”
A pause. He ponders his next words on a scale for a moment.
“I can help you. But I need you to stop treating me like the monster you think I am.”
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Dark eyes stare at the blur his previous messages had become, waiting, as if they’d somehow process--like a photograph or a telescope, but the longer he looked at the text, the more he wanted to succumb to the static ebbing away at him, little by little. Minhyuk shook his new apartment keys in his hands, in hopes that the jingle was enough to deter rodents of the people kind, and the rat bird pigeon kind. But, one thing he knew, was that it didn’t take this long for a text to be answered, -- not when he needed him to answer--he could feel that right, Seungho could feel it, right?
Minhyuk hugged his hands, shoving them between his armpits in attempts to warm the chill from the onslaught of rain pouring down. His phone rang as he called this time, neck craning, knees buckling as he searched again for something even remotely familiar, or in the very least the landmark he’d left behind. “ I can’t find it,” his voice is clear as day, but the long sniffle after and the shudder that reaches even his ears makes his raspy voice waver. “I l-lost my car, ..I know exactly where I left it, exaaactly where it is , but where it is ... i can’t find it,..arhgk” the sound of the phone hitting the ground, and the sight of the dusty clouds in the sky, the fading neon lights far off in the distance and the sight of the grown man, fumbling to pick himself out of the asphalt heavy puddle he found himself in as well as his phone, red cheeks, pale blue lips, dark wavy hair plastered to his face he cusses. “rotten, fucking luck,” @ofkngs
was it unfortunate for hyejung to feel so vulnerable around him? given their history, it was difficult for hyejung to feel anything otherwise. still, it was weird. there was a sense of empowerment linked towards their relationship that had been worked on for years. for someone she had labeled as her king, he clearly fit the title. she catches the smirk- maybe she shouldn’t have asked. there was always a lingering thought that she’d want to understand, though ignorance is bliss at some parts. their journey wasn’t exactly linear, if she were to describe it, it was more of a roller coaster full of broken railings.
“i’ll remember.” or at least, she would try her best to. a singular touch from him had sent chills down her spine, leaning in unconsciously. she lets out a sigh, eyes wandering while his hand travels along her body. she knew what this meant. it was a silent conversation, and she acknowledged it with a nod. looking up at him with doe eyes, she stays still, resists the temptation to takes his thumb in and plays along. the girl captures his lips for the kiss, indulging in the moment as if his lips were sweet wine. she adjusts her position, propping herself up on the bed, eyes trailing to his complexion. she’ll remember to ask him tomorrow.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Well, this was a back alleyway so anyone could have shown up. But still, this wasn’t supposed to happen.
The knife thrusts into the victim a second time, twisting around and sinking further into flesh. Blood now seeping even more so into her clothing and coating her hands further. The sound of footfalls against gravel signal her that someone is approaching. Coming closer and closer until she can feel a set of eyes peering at her. Hikari removes the knife from deep within the unfortunate man’s gut, blood splattering against the ground in the process. Slowly she turns around. Lifeless eyes peer back at him.
He now knows of what she’s capable of. Or maybe he already knew. He didn’t seemed too bothered at the fact that he just witnessed a murder. A hand comes up to wipe the blood off of her face with her sleeve.
“Are you going to turn me in now?”
For a moment she wonders if she could perhaps convince him somehow to keep this a secret. After all, no one is supposed to know about this. About her past or the fact that she’s a serial killer.
Figures slide away from each in a perspiring and sticky mess, pants are only audible in the darkroom. Dropping to the bed next to his partner’s side he let out a felicitous exhale, “It’s fucking hot…” He whispers an arm covering his eyes momentarily to shield it from the threatening sweat.
Seungjun simply agrees, with the nights enhancing a more humid feel it was difficult to stay satisfied in the house with a busted air conditioner; he practically feels if he converses he’ll dissolve into a puddle of sweat. He shifts realizing the layers beneath him are soggy from their prior ventures, letting out a cry of frustration he shrugs himself back down into his mattress. “I’ll have to call them tomorrow,” he murmured, “aren’t you supposed to be used to the temperature?”
“I mean, yeah?” Brows groove under his arm, “I’m in a form that overheats like the rest of this world, unfortunately, I still have human attributes.” There’s a soft confirmation from Jun, “There’s a downside to everything for everyone.” Blue orbs shift to look at the alarm clock on the others nightstand, it’s nearing two o’clock. “Come on, let’s take a shower, and instead of enduring the night here; you can come back to my place.”
There’s no room for further discussion, Jun moved as quickly as his overheated form would let him. “Deal.” He was sold, to him Lucifer’s bed was cozy, inviting, and smelt nice; home. Oddly enough thinking about it made him hesitate as he reached for the lights, home, that didn’t come out right. Fox-like eyes squinted, taking a moment to actually think - but nothing more would come to mind. Home. Flicking on the light he turns to look at his exposed partner, admiring him only to stop once their eyes meet.
“What?”
“Can a guy not admire what is in front of him?” Humming a grin slipped across his face, “I relish in the fact that the King of Hell takes pleasures in sharing a bed.” Opening the door to his bathroom he holds up towels, “Quickly now, I yearn for central air.” Closing his eyes his head lulls back in a silent want, only opening again when the creak of his bed frame to ensure Lucifer was moving and getting ready.
“I feel like you're using me for my central air now.” He joked, playfully nudging Jun away from the bathroom door.
“Nah, I'm definitely using you for your bad habits and –” The door shutting in his face cuts him off, his own brows knit together opening it to glare at the other, “I was talking.”
“I know.” Lucifer's smug grin stirs a pit of anger in his stomach, yet it calms as the icy hues land on him; sending a chill over his skin he shivers. “I fucking hate you.”
—
Their shower lasted long enough for them to wash up, somewhat cool off and be on their way. Jun still agitated with Lucifers’ playful nature lagged behind the slender King, arms crossed, eyes trained on the back of his dark wife-beater. It’s hard to remain angry at the other, again he admired the males’ stature - Lucifer was an angel at one point, it would be hard to be an ugly creäture if you were once a ‘beautiful’ angel. Right? Orbs took in the sight of the Leviathan cross and the inverted cross on his inner bicep, all of them were covered - modest. Snorting to himself he shook his head, Lucifer was modest on the outside. Dressing in dress clothes most days, hair was pristine, tattoos covered or in places they’d never be noticed to the public eye.
“If you stare any harder I may actually go to back to hell, you still mad?” He barely glances over his shoulder, his side profile being noticeable with damp air covering his shoulders. Fingers thread through the blonde waves, pushing it back with a hum.
“No, just thinking.” Jun moved to walk at a quicker pace, gazing at the other.
“About?”
“You. You’ve been around for years, why are you so modest for being Lucifer?” Genuine question, had anyone else noted this? He was the literal epitome of sin, yet he was modest. “You embody sin to everyone and you wear a blazer and dress pants, why?”
“What were you expecting?” He questioned with a laugh, “A fuck boy?” Juns brow quirk answered his question, “Sure, I get it. If I gave off that appearance of a fuck boy more people would be inclined to believe I was someone to feared, distrusted, or a troublemaker.”
A nod came from the other, “So you purposely deceive people?”
“Have I deceived you?” The question stopped Jun in his tracks, Lucifer turns to gaze at him.
“Actually no…” It was odd he hadn’t actually thought about it, “But you do other people right?”
“To an extent, I do enjoy the feeling of these clothes. They are snug, professional, and look nice. Don’t you agree?” Holding up his blazer and dress shirt he smiled. “I suppose you are right, I do enjoy this tank top look though. Your arms deserve more spotlight…” Digits reach others to squeeze at the warm skin, aside from his eyes and hair – Lucifers arms were his next favorite feature. He was slender with muscle where it mattered, Juns gaze dropped to his thighs. Nope, that was a subject for another day.
Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. “Any other questions or concerns?”
“Actually yeah,” this next question often bothered Jun not on a personal level but on a worried level, “why when you talk about relationshi–”
“Pass.” A hand rose and he shook his head.
“No, why do you do that?” A finger jutted towards Lucifer, “Why is it difficult for you to actually talk about that?”
He can see dark brows furrowing, “Because I’m not the type for relationships,” raising his shoulders he shook his head. “Do you honestly see me, Lucifer, Satan in a relationship?” Jun nodded, “Actually, yes.” The elders’ nose wrinkled, “No.”
They continued to walk in silence, Jun contemplated what to say next - unsure of how far he’d actually want to push him. Lips rolled together, yet again, he always pushed Lucifer's buttons; was this any different?
“Who hurt you?” The question slipped out almost in a whisper.
“What?” The annoyance had transferred to Lucifer, a common thing they did to each other.
“I said, who fucking hurt you? Why are you so closed off towards the world of relationships?”
“Why are you inquiring so much about it Jun?” His head shifted off to the side his body turned toward his partner in a full stop. “Why do you want to know about this, it doesn’t matter. What is there to take away from this?”
Juns eyes scanned his surroundings, searching for a question or answer; something. “I just– you’re literally one of my closest friends and I’m trying to figure out why it doesn’t matter to you! Is that so wrong?” His head shook with his question, “Its pretty evident someone hurt you enough you are so agitated that you can’t even fathom to listen to a damn question.”
Again silence enveloped them, “I’m not built for lovin’.” Eyes looked past Jun, avoiding any type of encounter he could have. “I’m not built to care for people in that regard.”
“The truth, Lucifer.” Eyes bore into his companions’ face, “Stop deflecting it.”
A long sigh escaped the king, “Fuck… Okay.” There wasn’t any getting out of this, Jun was persistent and he knew if he didn’t answer he’d be hounded for the rest of his immortal life. “I just – fuck. I fall for the wrong individuals or maybe it’s just HIM fucking with me.” Lucifer vaguely motions towards the sky, “They die and are sorted off to other realms that aren’t my realm, what’s the point if everyone either dies or casts me out?” Blue hues locked on Juns, “Its an illusion that the humans made to feel good, it’s not necessary. I tried, I didn’t enjoy it. So again, what’s the point. It’s all temporary so it doesn’t matter.”
There it was, the heartbreak, the letdown. Jun nodded, “Thank you.” Dark orbs gazed at his friend, “There’s a downside to everything for everyone.” He repeated to Lucifer, the words had been spoken earlier by Lucifer himself.
“Yeah… There is...”
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It is not as though Hwanshin is neglecting his duties as the ‘leader’ of Despotic. Quite the contrary, he approaches his job with such reverence that is it almost unhealthy ( a common troupe, it seems, in his life as is ). He cares much for the group that has become his home when his way of life had been abandoned to follow the lead of the man who is his current obsession. Seungjun, is perhaps, the light of his entire life and he would want to make the male proud in his time away that he does things as best that he could. There are very few people who might speak back to whatever decision he makes -- his height is quite imposing alone but the darkness that lines his eyes is something only few had questioned in his tenure thus far.
Yet he is still very much a human, however odd the sentiment may seem to be. He is prone to distractions on occasion and the woman who had commanded him for just a moment was one of them -- he’s not particularly attached to her and he is aware she is only doing this because of the role he assumes....but who is he to turn away obvious attentions when he wants them from someone who is not there? She is a good place holder, as most of them seem to be but the moment Seungjun makes his appearance, she is immediately forgotten. She is pushed ( quite literally ) to the wayside, removed from his laps like an irritant which only earns him a noncommittal huff. “You make it sound as if I’m following pretty well in your footsteps, isn’t it what you wanted?” He asks with boldness stemming from parted tiers, eyes flashing as he waves the woman away.
“You can leave.” He tells her without even glancing her way again, eyes glued to the man in front of him. “If you were going to watch, it would be much better to join me instead.” He tells the other, the essence of control as his fingers twitch against the armrest of the chair that he occupies. His head just barely cocked to the side as he soaks in the curve of his jaw as if he’d not seen it in such a long time. The adoration that he feels shining through, like a man who has been without water for too long. “I think you'd look much better on my lap, surely.” When had he grown so bold? He does not know but it is a good feeling.
wrong place at the wrong time, this isn’t anything new when it comes to sik; not even new having someone else with. though, he’s usually flying solo on missions or marks like these. “ you think i don’t know that? ah—shit! ” he hisses, biting down on his tongue only for his fangs to soon protrude as they prod at his lips, eyes glowing ocean blue before they’re back to normal. sure, his being manages to heal much quicker than that of an average healthy human, but he’s not immune to the pain that every other human will feel. so, yes, he’s feeling all the pain and when a substance is poured onto his cut, he hisses and curses, letting that word draw out in a hushed whisper.
and this is what he gets for being fucking reckless. he shifts, despite the pain and grabs the other’s face. where the fuck is personal space? nowhere to be found. eyes flash ocean blue before back to brown as he gazes into the other’s eyes; he’s panting through his words, the pain taking a good portion of his energy. “ oi.. oi! fucking breathe, you’re literally painting the whole place with your blood. ” he’s seen the other frantically moves about—is sik being far too calm about this? maybe just a bit. “ calm down or i’ll have to do this myself. fuckin’—come here. jesus, shit. ” he rips a piece of clothing from his shirt, wrapping it around the wound to at least stop yukwon’s wound from dripping even more.
“I’m not staring at your boobs. I’m staring at your heart.” - Yukwon to Ebony LOL I have a vague memory of him being like this with her.
cheesy pick up lines.
Typically a comment like so would elicit a sharp palm against the side of his face, dislocated jaw at most. She holds back the temptation, only because it was a game of trust now. And, it was Yukwon. But at the same time, it wasn’t. So instead, she’s clearing her throat ( simultaneously clearing her head ), a familiar roll of her eyes following the action. The feeling of deja vu lingered in the air between the two, heavy with a past locked away. After a moment’s time, she’s quick to grasp his face between an index finger and thumb to force his gaze to meet hers. Although her actions were abrupt, the small grin on her face contrasted the harshness of her grip. “Don’t stare at either, they say the windows of the soul are through ones eyes. And my eyes are up here, love.”
