#osh x reader

He observes in silence, but no one pays him attention. It’s like he’s dead in their eyes, like he has already ceased to exist. He knows that it’s partially because they want to erase his existence from their minds and memories – like the existence of any other of his kind. The wounds they inflicted are a symbol of his vulnerability, or so they seem to believe. The symbol of victory of the mankind over the creatures of the night.

To humans, monsters and demons appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but Sehun knows that they share history for as long as humans had been on the Earth. Yet, believing that demons are strangers is a relief – because it’s easier to rely on that belief than to acknowledge that they has been here long before.

Sehun doesn’t care, though. He has shed enough human blood to know it all tastes the same. He’s not angry, even though they have humiliated and hurt him. It’d only be natural for them to fall victim into their own naivety. He’ll drink them up all.

A girl enters the room suddenly, a tray with drinks in her hand. She glances at the men, and eventually spots him as well. Her face visibly tenses, but she doesn’t dare to speak up. Yet, her gaze wanders to him every once in a while as she hands out the drinks in a submissive manner. One of the men comments on her skimpy skirt. She looks uncomfortable, but doesn’t react.

Something outside the room catches the men’s attention, and they all suddenly get up to go and check it out. The girl stays, using this moment to tidy up the area a little – just a bit, he doubts there’s much that can be done to make the cheap lounge look any better.

She checks whether there’s anyone outside and eventually moves over to his own side. Sehun observes her. He doesn’t move, as if frozen in space, but he feels there’s a small streak of blood running down his chin from having his lip split.

The girl’s face show pity when she eventually finds the strength to approach him.

“Hey… Just tell me and I’ll call the police, I can’t get you out, but…”

He snorts.

She cowers when he looks in her eyes. Something shifts within her, inexplainable fear crossing her features, as if, despite the rope on his wrists, his fingers just wrapped tightly around her heart. He knows, why. She’s clearly more human than the others – her instincts work the way they should, the fear that fills her is correct.

“Better run.”

“What?”

“Because I won’t stop at these fuckards. Get the fuck out of here.”

He doesn’t explain any more, there is no need to. But the girl stands still, watching him with her eyebrows furrowed. She doesn’t, however, look paralyzed from fear. More of pondering over what he just said. It’s as if she wants to say something, and opens her mouth, but then the yelling comes from the outside, distracting her. They’re not coming back just yet, but the noise served to take her attention away for just a moment.

“I don’t like them, either” she eventually admits. “Maybe the world will be better without them. There is a first aid kit under the bar counter if you need it. Make sure to run far, blood stains on the snow will not disappear easily.”

He knows that. He may not have been in this situation before, but he was in many similar enough to know how to survive after a macabre. There will be a hunt, there will be chasing, there will be news all over the media, and those of his kind will be even more feared, and even more stigmatized. But he will not back off.

“Get out of here” he repeats once more. His voice is much softer now; something shifted in him for these few moments, that small humanizing experience easing his thoughts and senses.

She listens and soon he’s alone again.

He hopes that she managed to leave the bar, but there is no thought of that left once he lets his monster free, and there’s only the smell of blood in his nostrils, heartbeats resonate through his bones.

His claws tear through flesh and screaming fills his ears. More wounds litter his body, but barely any can rip through what he has became now. His claws are aching until they dive into warm stomachs, tearing apart every bit of skin and muscle that they come across, crushing the bones and splattering the blood all around. The thick metallic smell fills the air.

He doesn’t know the last time he felt this hunger, but once it’s quenched, he feels so strong, so powerful.

This is right, this is the way things should be. The mankind is no match for a monster, and he is justice for the fools.

Only at the back of his head he wonders, if her blood really tastes the same, or if he came across her and could dive his fangs into her throat, would it be another kind of pleasure, another kind of bliss that would fill his hungry jaws.

Once the police arrives at the place, he is long gone, and it’ll take them a while to identify the bodies of his self-proclaimed oppressors.

Two months later

The smell of blood wakes him up one night.

It is nothing new. In fact, that scent is one of most familiar ones that he experiences in his life, so it shouldn’t surprise him this time, either. Be it his own, or some humans’, or other monsters’ – any bloodshed in the proximity of the few miles reaches his nostrils before anything else, and so in the world of violence and danger, he’s learned to ignore such stimuli.

But this one keeps him up because it’s vaguely familiar, although he cannot place his thoughts around it. It’s the curiosity that prevents him from laying back down.

He leaves into the night-ridden streets of the city.

The white street lights struggle to tear through the thick fog that fills the area, and he relies on his smell and hearing mostly, navigating through the district.

The closer he gets, the more he feels it – the scent of blood intensifies and his internal hunger is starting to deprive him off mind clarity. Something in him turns, his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears, with every pulse – his vision tunnels into the path straight to the source.

When he walks into a small valley, the people gathered there see only remains of his human self. The whites of his eyes already turned pitch black. His fingernails turned into harpoon-like claws, and the fog has taken the look of deep black smoke, extending from the entry to the alley and soon surrounding everyone present, growing so thick that it dulled out any and all sounds coming from the outside of the dreadful zone.

  Sehun is calm – calmer than he would usually be. The hunger is screaming inside him, but he’s doing a pretty damn good job at restraining it – for now.

“The fuck do you want?” comes the sloppy voice of one of the few men gathered in the alley. He must be either drunk or high, Sehun ponders, given he seems rather unaware of the change in surroundings.

The others start registering what is happening, and Sehun’s eyes, darker than the alley itself, serve to make their position clear.

But that is when he, also, finally sees what called out to him and brought him here in the first place.

Because between the men gathered in there, lays a smaller, feminine body, and it’s nothing but that exact body that reeks of fresh blood and makes his nostrils flare up. He’s so hungry.

“Fuck, don’t…!” The words reach Sehun half a second later than the glimpse of a broken bottle that the man swings, running towards him in a thoughtless outburst of bravery. Someone – smarter than the man, for sure – tries to stop him, but it’s too late, and Sehun dodges the hit with barely any effort, extending his hand forward, and the man impales himself on the claws. They tear through the flesh, going almost elbow-deep.

Sehun scoffs, relaxing the muscle, and the man’s convulsing body slips off and onto the ground.

The others waste no time, turning around and running into the dark fog surrounding the area, survival being the only thing on their minds the moment they realize what they got themselves into.

Sehun doesn’t feel like chasing them. He instead wants to investigate what they left behind.

He approaches the body curiously and soon realizes, she’s still alive. In fact, not only alive, but still conscious, although there is a deep cut in her leg that must have been the one that caused the blood shed, and so it doesn’t seem she is able to stand up.

But he notices something else, too – that her clothes are disheveled, and especially the black skirt is somewhat out of place.

Her breathing is shaky and she barely registers his presence, looking up and trying to see through the darkness to tell the details of his face. But it’s too dark again, and he knows it’s only him that sees her well and not vice versa.

He nudges her body with his foot, and she flinches.

He lets out a sigh. He is a monster, he knows, but there are a few drops of pity in the sea of cruelty that fills his black heart.

The sound of your own heartbeat wakes you up from the hazy state you were in.

Were you asleep? Unconscious? Or completely dissociated – you couldn’t tell, but something finally tears you out of this state and you push yourself up. There is pain in different areas of your body – some of which make you gag at the thought of, and you choose not to ponder about them, although your face twists in disgust.

But now what matters more is that you’re in a completely unfamiliar place.

It appears to be an old flat of sorts, with dirty, cracked walls and a dusty mattress that you’re laying on. A single bulb is the only light source that you have, but it suffices to showcase the nearest surroundings.

There is another mattress against the opposite wall and a man sits on top of it, all attention on what appears to be a takeout chicken that he’s eating. The smell of warm barbecue spices fills your nostrils, rather pleasant – but you silently judge the grease covering the man’s fingers that he’s using to dine in a primitive, greedy manner.

You clear your throat and he silently looks up at you, stopping with a half-eaten chicken leg up mid-air. At least the foam tray is preventing him from getting the grease all over his clothes, because the sauce is profusely dripping off his digits.

He reaches towards what seems to be the same foam box as he has, and pushes it towards you.

“Eat.”

“Who are you?”

“Strain your memory a little. I remembered you, so you better recognize me as well.”

You pout a little, but decide it will be in your best interest to listen what he said and at least try to take it upon yourself to think some before speaking up again.

Your stomach churns when you take a small bite of the chicken, and you feel yourself growing sick. You might throw up if you keep eating. It’s not that you’re not hungry. But more than hungry, you feel… gross.

You decide to take your time while peeking at the man, trying to put all pieces together and place his face somewhere in your memories.

Then you vaguely recall what happened before he brought you here – the darkness that surrounded you when he entered the alley, void more unsettling and terrifying than a mere night could bring. When the matter of what he is becomes crystal clear, it also brings you back to the only, really, situation, in which you could have met him, and you understand it now.

But the memory of the dark alley brings up other memories as well, and you almost drop the styrofoam tray, putting it away with difficulty, your muscles tensing, your whole body becoming heavy. Your breathing quickens again, heartbeat filling your ears.

You think you’re going to pass out, when…

“Look at me.”

You snap your eyes up and towards his own. They’re black, but not patch black – reflecting light like two polished pieces of hematite, and you stare at him, mesmerized.

Your breathing slowly calms down, so does your heartbeat. Pain disappears, as if erased. Your thoughts start to dissolve, everything is blurring around you, and right before you’re trapped in a complete apathy, the sensation disappears, but you’re left much calmer, much more at ease.

“What… did you do?”

“I’m a monster. There is many things I can do. Consider this a type of hypnosis.” It seems that he’s finally done with his chicken, because he puts the tray away, wiping his fingers with a tissue and tossing it into the tray as well. “So. What were you even doing out there at this hour?” It takes you by surprise that he wants to start a small talk, and he doesn’t look like the type to talk with people – especially humans – often to begin with.

The dull pain in your leg reminds you of the earlier events, and you glance down only to see it somewhat patched up. It appears to have bled through some layers of the bandage before the bleeding has stopped, but at least the injury itself is secured.

“After you demolished my workplace, I had to find a new one. All the clients moved to another bar, so they took me in easily. But the opening hours are… suboptimal. So I was going home when…”

“Were these bastards clients as well?”

You hold your breath for a few moments before nodding curtly.

“Maybe you should get into a better career” Sehun scoffs.

“Late night shifts get along with studying during the day” you sigh. “But… maybe I wasted my chance to find better folk. I thought the… the ones you got, were the worst, and that it would be over. But it wasn’t the case. This goddamn city is rotten from the inside out. Fucking scum hydra, you killed a few and a dozen came in their place.”

Sehun snorts at your snarky voice.

“We can kill these too, if you wanna.”

You stare at him blankly.

“You… are joking, right?”

“Was I joking last time?” He winks at you.

Given the context, the expression is grotesque.

You glance outside to where the sun is starting to lift from the horizon. You feel as though you haven’t seen it in ages, the shades of purple and orange seep through the rare clouds that sprawl across the firmament.

“They will be there tonight, I’m sure. They come there every day at the same time.”

Sehun watches you with a knowing smile on his face. That smile is dark and full of underlying bloodlust, but all you’re seeing right now is the bright glow right outside.

The last time you were here felt starkly different.

It is like visiting an old school years after graduation, except it is less than twenty four hours from the last time you were here.

But you are more than certain it is no longer your place to belong to. The small, rusty bar at the corner of the two empty streets will no longer be yours to spend nights at, and you feel nervous for the future, yet relieved at the same time. You genuinely hate your workplace, as much as you hated the former one.

Sehun stands right behind you and the two of you observe the entry from the safe distance of the opposite end of the sidewalk. You feel his calm, warm breath on top of your head. Your own is shaky.

“I’m going to get fired for this” you mumble, trying to lighten the mood a little. Sehun’s breath hitches in a silent laughter, but he doesn’t say anything. “Can’t you, you know, get this done yourself?” You’ve seen him in his element before, you know that it might scare you for life to see it in close detail like this.

“You can still back out of this” he states. His tone is considerate, making it clear that, truly, he has no intention in forcing you into something you don’t want. The aura between the two of you appears light and friendly, not matching at all the scheme that you’ve made up.

“Nothing will change if I don’t do it” you ponder aloud.

“Not much will change if you do” Sehun corrects. “You won’t change the world by killing off half of it. It will be just the same, only more secluded.” There are years over years of life experiences that accumulate into this simple statement, you realize. How many times has he been in this situation? How many times has he taken it upon himself to bring some wicked idea of justice?

No, that is not justice. It is nothing more glorious, nothing more magnificent than a simple revenge.

“I will change” you finally state. “Just me and them. It’s about enough for me.”

Sehun nods slowly. The decision is made.

The two of you enter the bar with your heads lowered. He’s silently wondering what’s on your mind; are you thinking of a plan, or just hoping for him to take the initiative? It doesn’t matter much. There needs to be no plan, he can just destroy everything in sight. But it’s a wonder, he’s entertained seeing the cogs turn in your head, so he doesn’t want to rush anything. There is all the time in the world to watch the downfall you prepared for yourself.

You bite on your lip and look at him, seeking reassurance.

He grins, nodding towards the bar.

Your gaze drifts over the silhouettes that are present in. It has been barely a minute, but some men already sent not-too-subtle glances your way. The bar owner behind the bar is busy cleaning. Yesterday, you asked him to let you go home earlier because the bar was almost empty on that day and you were scared of being out at night. He declined.

There is no one in this place that you would pity.

With determined face, you walk up to the nearest table. You already hear whistling. You’re not going to regret any of this.

You grab the beer bottle off the table and with all the force you can muster, crush it on the man’s head. Glass shatters and scatters all over the place. The noise it makes drowns out everything else, and for a few painful seconds, the air is still, and nobody is saying a word, and you suddenly realize what you have done, and-

Black smoke starts to fill the space. Everything darkens.

In any other circumstances, you would be so, so scared of it.

Right now it brings comfort. You’re no longer alone.

The man with his head bleeding falls to the floor first, pierced through spikes of black matter that come out of his gut, making him look like a bloody hedgehog.

Screams fill your ears, chaos arises. People start to run, yell at each other, trying to rip through the black matter that starts to surround them from all directions. But the smoke is tangible, it chases down every living soul in the bar like it’s a sentient creature, it draws blood and fills its mouth with flesh like a beast.

You stand in the middle of mayhem, frozen in your spot. The smoke doesn’t hurt you, doesn’t notice you. The only pain you feel comes from the wound on your leg, and from your hand, because you’re clutching on remains of the shattered bottle so hard that it cuts through.

Your head is empty.

Through the noise, you hear Sehun chuckle behind you and place a hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn around and look at him.

He devours the sight of terror on your face.

Prying the glass from your hand, he brings your wrist to his face. His lips brush your skin, staining it with blood. It’s like a wake up call. You pull your hand out of your grasp and turn around frantically, slowly coming to realization of what is going on, of what you’ve done…

But it’s not like there’s any backing out from this. Bodies start to pile on the floor and you trip over someone’s head as you step forward, taking in the sight. So many still running around, still fighting, still trying to get out, hide or survive.

Sehun grabs your wrist and pulls you further into the bar. It’s spacious, along with all the lounges, but he finally brings you behind the counter. Your manager cowers on the ground underneath, covering his head. He must think he’s going unnoticed.

“You can do it, strong girl.” He takes a knife off the bar counter and puts it in your hand, guiding you forward. The man doesn’t notice you, he’s covering his head and shaking, trembling so much.

You think that Sehun must read your thoughts to know the kind of bitterness you’re feeling at the sight.

“He didn’t care you would end up in that alley” he utters into your ear, lips brushing your hair, almost intimately.

“I-I can’t…” you mumble. You feel sick in the stomach.

“Take your time, have a drink if you need” he points at the glasses of cocktail on the counter, still untouched by a miracle. You’re tempted to do it. You’re tempted to drink all alcohol in here, to forget all that you’ve seen, all that you’ve caused. Maybe if someone finds you later unconscious, drunk out of your mind, they won’t even think it was your doing. Maybe you can pretend to be yet another victim, only lucky enough to have passed out before the hells opened for the people gathered in here.

But at heart, you know that you won’t. That there is no way in hell – or on the earth for that matter – that you can go back to regular life after this.

You’re corrupted beyond salvation.

With the last ounce of bravery, you turn around on your heel. The blade is heavy in your hand, but you aim it perfectly.

Into the Monster’s chest.

Your heart stops beating for a second. Everything goes quiet, so quiet that you cannot even hear your blood buzzling. You’re frozen to the ground, realization dawning on you. You did what you felt would be right. You did what could potentially save someone. You did what the world would thank you for.

But Sehun stares at you with a quizzical smile, as if there was no knife sticking out of his chest, as if it was all nothing more than a joke.

“Really?” he muses.

You step back. The sounds of surroundings come back to you now, and you’re overwhelmed with their intensity. Your body trembles.

“You were going to kill me anyway, weren’t you?” The simple realization hits you as you speak out your thoughts. What else could he have wanted from you? He helped you, went out of his way, despite you being of no use, completely hopeless in the world.

Sehun is still, after all, a monster, and his empathy is not a trait worth trusting.

“Maybe” he replies. “Do you want me to?” He steps towards you without hurry. He walks through the inferno like it’s his personal catwalk. “Don’t you want to forget what you’ve done?” He extends his hand to you in an invitation.

And despite everything, you’re tempted to take it.

You let out a small sob. You’re tired. So tired of this, so tired of everything else. So tired of this world.

“Will it hurt?” you utter in a small voice.

You don’t take his hand, but when he finally catches up to you, his arms wrap around you in a manner that could pass as protective, if you by now didn’t know any better.

Sehun lets out a small hum.

“I’ll make sure it does.”

This time, it’s your turn to succumb to the justice.