The words hung above (but never would form)

by Weeds_Through_Concrete

Summary:

It was raining the night Celine lost her life, though she was still breathing despite it.

Death came shaped like vermin. The mass of it small, nestled between unmoving legs and soaked grass, yowling like it dared to imitate her grief.

Celine should have pretended it was gone like it’s mother. It would have been easier to bury two bodies under the Old Tree and silently grieve. It would have brought her peace.

She didn’t deserve peace. So picked it up. With the rain muddling her vision, it almost looked like an infant.

 

——-

Or, a deep dive into what it means to have a half demon in your care, and what comes after.

 

Featuring body horror, PTSD, hallucinations- or are they?- and how I imagine KDH would be like if it wasnt meant for children.

Notes:

Hi!!!! Ya’ll can call me Bee or AnaBee. This is my first ever fic- though i have written multiple short stories and original work before.

English is not my first language and formatting on AO3 is weird. So please tell me if anything looks weird.

This work will touch on some heavy topics- which I hope I have tagged correctly- so please be mindful and enjoy with moderation.

Chapter 1: I couldn’t utter my love when it counted

It was raining hard the night Celine lost her life.

She was still breathing despite it, but part of her soul had drowned in those scarlet tinted waters that bathed the roots of the ancient tree.
She remembers it vividly, more than the day she first felt the Honmoon. More than the day she met her missing parts. This day would be the one to sit at the back of her mind forever.

Its funny that when she wants to remember something, her brain decides otherwise. But this, *this* it keeps.

She had handled death with a cold proximity, an ally, never a friend. She had seen and experienced first hand how it felt when a heart stopped beating, so she foolishly thought this would be the same.

The storm was at its peak when her life took its last breath. Her skin clammy and cold, her complexion grey. Celine knew she was dead before she started pushing. So she did as she always would, welcomed the End with a stiff nod. And then it came.

Not with the usual set of tusks and sickly purple skin, no. Death came shaped like vermin. Wiggling between entrails and a body yet to stiffen. It came like filth, like maggots crawling into her soft flesh, looking for give. The mass of it small, nestled between unmoving legs and soaked grass, yowling like it dared to imitate her grief.

Celine held her breath, squared her shoulders, and picked it up. As if sensing its body enveloped, it ceased its sound. Celine should have pretended it was gone. It would have been easier to bury two bodies under the Old Tree and silently grieve. It would have brought her peace.

She didn’t deserve peace. So she looked down. With the rain muddling her vision, it almost looked like an infant.

———-

Rumi knew there was something rotten within her from the moment she was born, about ten years now.

While it does sound like exaggeration, or maybe self deprecation- both cannot be fully rebutted by her, not that she’d ever bother to- it is the truth. She felt it right as she came into existence, bloodied, gored, sliding out of the body of her first victim. Onto the arms of her second.

She knows this, though some part of her refuses to understand. Celine had explained with extreme detail how she was a mistake. Answered all her questions about her demon half, how it was filthy and made her undeserving of love and quite unnerving to look at when her patterns are exposed. So why does she still want to question it? She assumed it was the stubbornness of a demon.

She was not allowed to play with other children when she was younger. They were pure, impressionable. Rumi debates if children are simply too curious and would tell their parents about the sickening purple markings that bloomed under her skin like veins. But she had still longed to. Begged her guardian for just five minutes, just to say hi.

Celine had said no. And pulled her along.

 

Rumi was not allowed to show her marks to her soulmates bandmates. They haven’t shown up yet, but Celine had assured her it would corrupt them. They needed to hate demons, loathe them as her guardian did as to not traumatize them when they do their duty. They must not feel guilty when they scorch the earth of its pest. Rumi agreed, but part of her still longed to one day show herself to them.

——————

Celine brought it home. Cleaned it, fed it formula meant for babies. It had quietened down, so she left it in the couch and dragged her body to make herself some tea. It was still raining out, the thunder a roaring beast. She knew she would have to bury whatever was left of her life at some point. She sipped at her flavorless tea quietly instead.

She had forgotten to turn on the lights, the smell of ginseng and honey the only comfort in the cold, dark kitchen. Her eyes wondered to the rumbling clouds, letting herself fade into the sound. Jumping from her skin when a piercing pain stabbed at her spine violently, it arrived with a aggressive shiver. Celine sat up from her place on the tile floor, steadying her body with the marble counter. A invisible hand squeezing at her heart. *Fear*. She thought she had outgrown it.

Her instincts told her there was a presence in the house. Danger, it clawed at her senses. She shot up, the cup slipping from her sweat slicked hands. Shattering on the floor.

But the sound of breaking ceramic went ignored by a pressure so heavy it almost made Celine’s ear drums burst. She needed to get out the of here, needed to leave *now*. She stepped on shards on her way to the living room. Using the wall for balance as she dragged her body to the couch. She just needed to get to the door. It was but a few paces away. Her trembling hands summoned her sickle, she didn’t manage to register it- her vision blurred- until it ripped a gash on the soft fabric.

She had controlled her emotions through the worst moment of her existence. Ground her teeth and she not a single tear as her life was ripped from her clutching arms. But this…

This made her want to hurl.

The pressure rose. She lost footing, falling into cushions.

There.

 

What?

 

*It’s here*

what- what’s here?

***It has arrived*** something cooed.

 

Celine looked down for the second time tonight, expecting the see white fabric, maybe a throw pillow. Maybe the-

She locks eyes with *it*

And it stared back.

————-

Rumi knew for sure that Celine despised her.

It bothers her, deeply. It cuts to her ribs and attempts to get to her heart, piercing her lungs in the process.

Rumi is five when she first feels it. Celine was sick, and she was drinking a lot of tea, tea that smelled funny. Ging-song and honey? So Rumi wanted to bring her some more. She picked up one of her cups in the low cabinet, used the chair to get to the microwave, and made the tea exactly how Celine likes it. Two sugar cubes- the water hot like its boiling, which, ouch?- and a mint leaf for gar-ish. Gar-dish? To look pretty.

She carefully padded across the house. Turning on all the lights as the sun was setting because Celine is afraid of the dark.

She found her in her study. Writing something in the pretty pen she isn’t allowed to touch. The lights were off, though she thinks she doesn’t need the big light as the small one on the desk was lit.

She loves seeing Celine write. She writes a lot. She always looks happy when she does. Like- a sad sort of happy. Can you be sad and happy at the same time? Rumi thinks Celine is. Her handwriting is loopy and perfect, the scratch of the pen against paper is satisfying. The sun was gone. Her eyes are squinted slightly, where are her glasses? Celine needs them to read, the doctor had said. Her mouth purses. She looks like she is thinking hard. Rumi thinks she’s never seen anyone so beautiful. Would Celine mind if she asked what she was doing? She likes hearing her voice.

When Rumi comes back to herself, Celine is staring at her. Her eyes wide, her mouth open like a dying fish. Rumi saw a fish die once. It stared at her the entire time.

Celine drops her pretty pen, summoning her sickle.

Rumi offers up the cup, now cold.

Celine doesn’t react. So she walks closer. She puts it on the desk as Celine gets up, pointing the sickle at her neck from a few feet of distance.

Silently, Rumi goes to the light switch and turns it on, now breaking eye contact with Celine’s beautiful eyes.

The weapon in the woman’s hand de-materializes. And she reaches for the cup.

“Get out” she whispers. Before throwing it at the wall.

Rumi doesn’t go back to the study again.

————-

Celine is sure this thing will kill her. She bore through cleaning it up, feeding it again, bundling it up with blood-crusted cloth. She considered giving it clothes, but those belonged to her life’s child. She laid it on a mat on the floor. It did not shiver. Celine isn’t sure it knows it’s supposed to.

A least it has the decency to not pretend to be what it’s not.

Leaning on the crib in the other side of the room, she exhaled deeply. The pressure was still there, lighter now. She knew where it came from, at least.

 

Then it comes back with a vengeance. Gasping and almost falling to the ground, Celine seethes at it. Footsteps almost as loud as the storm outside as she crouches near it. Her head spins, her stomach pulses. But she locks eyes with it anyway. She is a hunter, she will not cower-

 

She promptly faints.

And when she opens her eyes, it’s there, staring at her. Blank expression like a rubber mask pulled too tight over a mannequin. Its eyes are too large, its mouth blue. It reaches fake hands towards her. Imitating a infant. Imitating her life’s child.

Celine throws up.

 

And never looks it in the eyes again.

Chapter 2: Like the cry at the final breath

Summary:

The child’s presence reverses nature’s sacred cycle as prey bares its teeth.

 

Or,

Celine freaks out over baby milestones.

TW: non graphic animal death and im using some of those gore tags yall be safe.

Notes:

Hi!!! I know i said I’d wait till the chapter was longer but so exited to share :)

 

Hope the quality makes up for the shorter word count. Anyways, please leave a comment if you want to see anything specific or if you have any questions.

 

If you can find the video game reference you get a tiny spoiler! (If you want it ofc)

Rumi was fine.

She was! Promise.

She was also seven today. And Celine had promised to take her to an amusement park. And Celine did not take her to the amusement park.

Which is find since Celine is busy. So Rumi watches cartoons in her room instead. She flips through channels, from a musical to a puppet show that gives her the creeps. She settles on a nature documentary. One about lions. So she sits quietly.

Celine was tired today, Rumi made herself lunch and everything. She wasn’t mad, she likes doing stuff. But she had wanted meat and she isn’t allowed to mess with fire. Its fine, she ate a sandwich.

Theres something outside, by the tree. Rumi wants to go see it. It was eating Celine’s bitter vegetables and she wants to thank it. So she walks out of the house to the back, scanning the area until she finds a bunny. It was eating the kale. She silently names it Hero.

She approaches the tree, the bunny stops chewing, frozen. She takes it as a sign to shrink on herself. Walking closer and closer. It doesn’t move, its little heart hammering against a small ribcage. Rumi wants to grab it. But before she can, a fox jumps out of a bush and kills it.

Rumi has seen a fish die before, she thinks she likes the bunny’s face more.

That bunny was hers, though. So she chases after the fox and takes it.

It sits on her lap as she strokes it’s fur, soft and downy and covered in sticky blood. A piece of it falls on her leg. Its smells like the meat in the freezer. She grabs it. Studying it with quiet curiosity. Her tongue coming out to wet her lips. It’s soft, melty.

She thinks the color is pretty.

Which reminds her, she got a paint set yesterday! So she leaves the bunny on the floor of the living room, skipping to her room once again to paint. The lion in the documentary killing a zebra violently as she colors a sun in the corner of her page.
———-

Celine will break something if she doesn’t get ahold of herself soon.

The- it’s begun to crawl now.

It wiggles on the floor like it did that day and it nauseates her. Flashes of gore, copper coating her throat, the deafening thunder, her life’s wails-

Soon it will be walking. And she doesn’t know what she’ll do when it starts following her.

It grabs at her pant leg, pulling it. She looks down at its cheeks, noting the baby fat built on what was meant for a child. She still puts it on the mat on the floor, having put away all the baby items on storage. She should feel bad. And part of her does. But not at it, at the baby it imitates. She supposes it a natural reaction.

She also supposes it is almost cute. If she doesn’t look at it for too long.

It pulls her pants again. Insistent. It doesn’t babble, not a sound from it. Celine feels a prickling sense of pride when she catches on to these little details, it is not winning when she can see right through it. She will not let it around other children. Lest it learns what its supposed to act like and becomes better at pretending.

It tugs again. And she pulls its hand off her leg and puts it further away from the couch where she sits.
——

Rumi knows all of her alphabet now. She was the smartest nine year old. She was sure.

She lifted the page to Celine. Showing off all her letters in a neat manner on a blank page. She even made them line up!

Celine continues to look down at her paperwork.

Rumi thinks she’s probably not the smartest nine year old.

———

Celine did end up breaking something.

Another cup, great.

 

The- God she needs a name for it- crawled silently to the kitchen when she was not looking. Pulling at her pant leg when she was pouring some water.

She listens to every sound in the house like a hunted mouse now. It cannot catch her off guard again. It’s too dangerous. She just needs to sit down for a bit and she’ll think of something. She settles on her bed.

She hears a sound, a quiet wheeze of air. The corner of her room darkening with a crimson stain. She needs a minute, she’ll figure it out.

The stain grows, leaving the wallpaper sopping and dripping onto the hardwood floor. Her eyes are fixated on it. The pressure on her head forcing her neck taught.

The smell was crawling into her lungs, choking her. There was a puddle on the floor now. The steady drip and wheezing the only sound she could make out. She only needs a moment.

Her fingers crumble the neatly tucked comforter.

It sounds like dying.

Her eyes a wide open. Her jaw slack. She cannot move. She feels like a dying fish. She wonders if she will go up or down.

A shadow moves in the peripheral of her sight. The sound of flesh faintly slapping against wood.

Celine should not have eaten lunch.

Her neck is stuck, she just wants to see what it is. The shadow, she needs to know.

The pressure in her head squeezes it like a wrestler does a watermelon. She swears she feels blood dripping down from her ears- she just needs a second.

Her breathing picks up, her mouth dry as cold air cuts at her throat. It makes the blood there clot.

She just needs-

 

Oh. Oh fuck.

 

The universe means to make a collection of disturbing images to burn into Celine’s eyelids for her sins. This once will be there every time she blinks.

She doesn’t throw up, this time. But it’s somehow worse.

 

There’s a body on the floor. It stares at her with dead eyes and a broken jaw. Its pale, rubbery skin a mockery of the sweet, rosy cheeked baby that Miyeong carried in her womb. It is still, it is alive.

It speaks.

 

A broken syllable, not a word. It should not be able to produce one. It’s throat deformed and mouth unable to close. Yet it gurgles out, spit dripping down its toothless maw.

She won’t remember what it spoke, but her soul will not let her forget it did.

Notes:

Rumi: gugu gaga

Celine: *has panick attack*

Chapter 3: Like the pelt of some prey you had worn

Summary:

The cycle continues.

Notes:

Hi again! Guess who didnt keep her promise and couldn’t wait to post?

Yeah.

I like writing in a stream of consciousness style so if you find any plot holes or contradictions please let me know and I’ll fix it.

 

No horror this time! Just some gross imagery. Im not sure if I should add a trigger warning for this but here we go,

TW: Mild substance abuse. Celine’s A+ parenting.

Celine was sure she lost too much weight. She’s supposed to keep up the fringes of the honmoon by herself. But she can barely hold her body up.

The pressure on her head has lessened, ginseng and honey adding to the familiar comforting buzz her oxycodone tucked her with.

The morning was quiet, her paperwork done. A new chapter of her life beginning, Sunlight Entertainment. Celine smiled, it pulled her facial muscles uncomfortably. Her brows pulled down. Its been so long that she’s grown unused to happiness.

It’s for the best.

 

She has been looking for orphanages. Ones that’d accept donations, someplace quiet and off the grid. That would accept a… child.

But every time she met with a representative, she broke out into a cold sweat. Her hands shook and her plaster smile cracked.

They always assumed she had second thoughts about giving it away. She knew the truth, it wanted to stay.

She had considered killing it. Multiple times. Her ears had bled when she raised her sickle to it.

God, what the fuck is she supposed to do?

 

So Celine came to a conclusion. It wanted to stay, right? Okay.

It can stay.

 

The next day she ties a bell to the thing’s wrist. It flails its arm around, face contorting in disdain. She simply releases it to crawl on the floor.

She finds she hates the sound of bells by the second week.

All is good, at least. She takes a deep breath and moves to her bathroom, scowling at the new grey hairs that insist on growing. She needs some dye, but that would involve leaving the house as the store she buys it from does not do delivery. She supposes it a good reason as any.

Turning around to see the- fuck.

She needs to practice not looking directly at it, even if it’s eyes are not locked with hers, just knowing that they are millimeters away from latching onto her pupils is enough to make her sweat.

So she looks at it’s mouth.

No. Absolutely not. It hangs open and she can see incisors tearing through gum, it’s tongue lapping at them wetly. Drool spills on the floor.

So she settles on its hair. A dark inhuman purple. There. Not disgusting, but not human either.

_____

Rumi’s room had always been the downstairs. Her Celine called it a basement. Rumi loved the little nook where the squirrels had made a nest. Even if one bit her once.

She loves the dust bunnies, the old books she couldn’t read. The smell of tea where her Celine kept her stash of it. But what she loved to most was her TV.

It was old and made a shhhhhh noise when it rained out, but it taught her so much stuff! Like, she is six now. She knew how to show that with her fingers. And she knew how to sing the alphabet song. It made the floor shine with strands of glitter. She thinks it means the floor likes her voice, even if her Celine doesn’t.

Her Celine says she will graduate to a room with a real bed one day! As soon as she learns to blink normal and to not appear in her room at night. Rumi can’t help it, her Celine looks so happy when she is sleeping. The TV told her people have dreams when they sleep. She wonders what she dreams about. Maybe she dreams of a Rumi that’s already learned to blink normal. It makes her feel fuzzy, to be the reason she smiles. Even if only in dreams.

And so the door to her room stays locked at night. And Rumi learns all she can from the television. And maybe sneaks tea leaves in her mouth when she’s bored.

Don’t tell Celine.
———

She moves it to the basement. The mat laid upon creaky wood. She doesn’t bother to clean it up, or furnish it. She expects the demon’s mutated spawn to not last very long. Accepts it with a pleased smirk, it stares at her unmoving like a two headed mule.

There. She’ll call it Hinny. Celine laughs for the first time since she had to bury Mi-

There’s a strangled sound coming from the mat. Its skin had been pulled tight to it’s cheeks, its jaw opened and air squeezed itself out of it’s lungs in short bursts. It sounded like a yowling, dying old fox.

Her headache is back. She rushes towards it with the wrath of a kicked dog, she feels like one, too.

How dare it? How dare it laugh at her misery? How dare it breathe when her love cannot? How dare it wear her infant’s face and take her place and stain her life’s honor with hacked up blood?

 

She is livid, her face red and wet with sweat. The corners of her vision blurring- her hands clench so hard her palms are slick with blood.

She looks down at it, disgust clear on her face. It ceases its mocking, frowning it’s brow.

It is imitating her. Learning from her emotions. It is growing, fast.

She will not allow it.

————

Rumi is a big girl, now. She has a room and everything! With a real bed. She misses the TV, though. She was learning how to spell.

She can spell “her” name, at least. R-U-M-I. Written in broken crayons. She just needs to learn how to spell what she’s called. Rini? Celine calls her that when she’s good.

It was one of the few lessons Celine gave her. She has three so far! She’s twelve now and she counts herself so lucky Celine spends so much time with her.

Okay, lesson One: Her Celine is a person, the delivery man is a person. To be a person means to be human. Rumi is not human.

Two: Rumi is what her mother was meant to call her daughter. It is what other people are meant to call her, since they cannot know what she is. Rini? Hini? She is not her daughter, she is something that replaced her, so what she deserves to be called is not a name. Hinni- Rinny- Hinny! Thats right. Hinny is not a name, but it is what she’s called.

Tree-nope!- Three: No one, under any circumstances, can find out what she is.

She doesn’t know what will happen if they do, but Celine said it would not be good.

She also said to stop making faces when she talks to her, but she isn’t, she swears!

Notes:

Okay, so:

Oxy is a opioid and has as side effects nausea, headaches, sweating, mood swings, etc.

Living with Rumi apparently also has this side effects.

A Hinny is a type of Mule, donkey mom and horse dad. Not as common as mules due to being small and sometimes killing the mom on the way out. (Plz correct me if im wrong). Celine thinks she’s hilarious.

Rumi is her legal name and the name other people are supposed to call her, Rumi herself thinks of it as a borrowed name. Hinny is what Celine calls her when she absolutely has to refer to her with a name.

Once again comment any questions or suggestions you may have :)

Chapter 4: What did you bury?

Summary:

Teeth around her throat, Celine stills.

 

Or,

Rumi finds out about her mom.

 

TW: non-graphic substance abuse.
Some gory/gross descriptions.

Notes:

Hi! I can’t put this fic down, can I?

I need some feedback, do ya’ll like shorter POV’s with a more bouncy style (one story with two sides)or longer POV’s with a less linear feel (two separate stories per chapter)?

This one is on the short and bouncy side.

Also, no more baby Rumi :(

(I can bring her back later if yall want lol)

Rumi did good today.

She made sure to make her footsteps silent, her voice low, and to wear her lucky bell.

She also made sure to stop making faces- which was easy since she wasn’t making any in the first place- when she was talked to.

Yeah. Today was good. She was the most well behaved fourteen year old in the world.

So she thought maybe… maybe Miss Celine would tell her a story?

Not a long one! It could even be one that she knows, she wouldn’t mind. She got a DVD of the sleeping beauty last year for her birthday and its still her favorite. She could hear that one again.

So she approaches Miss Celine when she steps out of her study, bowing politely and making sure to ring her bell, for extra luck.
Miss Celine pats her hair absentmindedly. Wow. The bell really does work. Not that she ever doubted it.

“Miss Celine?” Her voice is at a polite volume.

Her guardian looks down at her head. Nodding almost imperceptibly, speak, it implies.

“Would you tell me a story?”

The woman almost frowns, but manages to smooth her features out.

“Can you not read?” She scoffs.

“I can read, yes ma’am. I am almost done with Charlotte’s Web.”

Miss Celine smirks, it feels cruel.
“Dull child.” Is her answer.

Her eyes don’t tear up like they’re supposed to. Her lip doesn’t wobble, her breath not hitching. She feels as if there’s something wrong with her. She knows Miss Celine sees it, too.

“Very well, make us some tea, Hinny. I will tell you a story”

Rumi thinks she would cry if she could.
The kitchen is a sterile white, the lights are the kind that hurt Rumi’s eyes and make them water. She makes Miss Celine’s favorite. The woman watches her like a hawk.
—————
Celine is tired of playing nanny.

She has work to do and places to be, but it continues to yearn for her attention like some sort of parasite buried under her skin. It’s little legs hooking onto her flesh.
She tells it to sit down on the couch, anyhow.

It is silent, none of the excitement a child would have present. It’s expression is frozen into the same one it always had. It refuses to cry when she insults it, refuses to laugh except for when it watches it’s shows. Imitating the exaggerated characters of cartoons with a human face. Pulling at it’s skin until she is sure it will rip.

It irritates her. How above emotion it is. She imagines how much it belittles her in it’s mind. She will get something out of it.

 

She takes a deep breath.

“Once upon a time, there were three warriors. They used their songs to light people’s souls and vanquish demons. They passed down those powers and knowledge to three chosen women every generation.
It is their duty to protect the Honmoon, the sacred barrier between worlds and stop demons from crossing it and killing humans.”

It’s paying attention,
“Once there were three women chosen by the Honmoon. They were perfect warriors, beloved by the people. They brought sunlight to the darkness.
Those women were fierce, but one of them had a weakness.
Her heart”
—————
Rumi is entranced.

She has never heard this story before. Miss Celine is such a good story teller. She could listen for days and remember every word.
She tells her of warriors, of demons like her being killed in gruesome ways, of humans being delivered justice.
She liked this Ryu Miyeong. She sounds nice.

Miss tells her she felt pity for a demon, and that mistake cost her life.
Rumi didn’t know one could feel pity for something so filthy.
Miss gets serious, something in her eyes tells her she is hurting. Why would telling a story hurt? Rumi remembers to stop looking into her eyes before the woman notices.

Wait, she missed something. What happened? She is telling her Ryu was dying because the demon put a cursed baby in her. Why didn’t she fight it? Kill it? It's what demons deserve. They are the hyenas and the hunters are lions. It makes sense.

She doesn’t get that answer, what she does get is the tale of how she was born.
—————-
Celine hasn’t felt this good in years.
She knows she should not be giving it that many details.

She can’t help it. It should know how it poisons her.

“… and when it came out, it dragged her guts with it. The blood on the floor was clotting when a fresh wave came, burning hot and viscous.
It fell onto the grass like a severed limb, and the last of her life force was torn from her flesh.
I should have killed it when I had the chance.”

She sees the way it’s hands clench on it’s knees. Yes, it should feel it.
She looks up to it’s face expecting tears. Focusing on the plump cheeks that a scant diet has not been able to undo yet. They’re dry.

“I will, one day”
————-
Later that night, Celine pops twice the amount of painkillers she is supposed to take. Her skin still burns with hatred, it leaves an ashy taste on her tongue.
She has failed to hurt it yet again. It seems like every time she tries it grows stronger.

She lays on her bed, it is closer to morning than midnight now. She still has a few hours to rest.

The ringing of a bell wakes her just a few minutes before dawn. It gets closer and closer. Her breathing picking up reflexively.

No, she will not allow it.

It will not scare her into submission, it is small and weak and it’s only a decade and a half old.

She tries to sit up, and finds herself stuck.

 

Shit.

 

The ringing is closer, almost here. She needs to get up before it arrives. She must not be weak where it can see. Her brain sends her endless images of what would happen if her body refuses to cooperate. Its teeth are sharp, she has seen it tear through tough meat like it’s butter. Her neck is exposed. It could climb up on her bed and bite down, breaking her trachea with a crunchy pop. It would pull on her muscles like they’re elastic bands until they snap. Her blood would gush everywhere-

It poisoned her. Thats why she won’t move. How? The tea was made in front of her, she made sure to track every movement.

The tea that she stores in the basement.

It she could, she would scream.
She feels the telltale pressure of it’s presence. The bell has stopped ringing.
A dark figure climbs up on her bed, twitchy movements that remind her of half-dead deer. she catches the sheen of a blade clutched on it’s claws. It drapes itself over her. This is it, huh? It has taken her threat seriously and come to save itself.

Something wet falls on her face. The drooling beast licking it’s lips before a meal. She hopes it chokes.
————
“Miss Celine? Please. Look at me.

Please, kill me.

Kill me before your heart kills you, too.”

Notes:

Rumi: *freaks out and cries*

Celine: oh so this is how I die.

Chapter 5: Carving through the dark

Summary:

A fate is changed

 

TW: graphic descriptions of injury. Harm to children. Slight gore.

Notes:

This one made me cry a little bit, it has a happy (sort of) ending, tho!

 

This is the end of Act 1 (Rumi’s childhood)

Next chapter is movie territory and the consequences of Celine’s actions

Celine is aware it’s lived long enough.

It no longer makes her head hurt nor her ears bleed when it feels threatened. No longer staying in it’s room, pacing through the house cleaning like it can remove the stain and smell of rot it leaves behind. It can smile, and she sees it force tears out of it’s eyes from where it lies shivering on top of her. If it lives any longer it will soon escape into the world and bring forth destruction.

She has made a promise. And it seems to understand.

She removes the knife it held in its hand. Kicking it’s body off of her. Her movements are weak, her limbs still need to thaw out the poison it slipped into her tea.

The knife is more shiv than cleaver, it will have to do.

Hunter eyes her prey as it crawls on the floor.

“Pathetic” she growls.

“Get up, face your end with dignity”

The little thing, wobbly and confused, but certain of it’s fate. Gets up.

The world itself thrums with anticipation. The ground buzzing and soft. The temperature in the room rises, she let’s the warmth loosen her muscles.

Celine, the proud carnivore, slowly corners her next meal. The irony of this night not lost in her. She knows this creature is no weak deer as she allowed herself to pretend it was. The moments when it slipped fear and penetrated submission into her soul were it’s true form.

The flesh it wears is stolen.

She will peel it off.

 

It whines, it only makes her teeth sharper.

 

Celine wastes no more time, she pounces.

———-

 

Rumi knows this is the End.

 

She is fine with it. Death cradled her before Miss Celine did, it accompanied her as she grew with the bodies of mangled animals, with videos of graphic ways people had died. She knew what human insides looked like before she knew how to spell.

It wears her Celine’s face today. She is glad she will die by beloved hands.

Celine tells her to get up, to face her End with dignity. She doesn’t know what that means, but she thinks it means she should be proud of herself. So she stands on weak legs. And waits.

She will not let her rotten soul kill her only family.

 

The woman’s warmth is on her skin as she is held by the arm. Her favorite knife- the one she uses to hack the weeds off the flower garden so Celine has something nice to look at- is pointed at her jugular vein. It will be quick, then.

She opens her mouth to warn her guardian about the mess when it gets buried on her collarbone instead.

Rumi doesn’t feel pain. She found that out when a cartoon explained to concept to her and she realized she never felt anything like that, ever. She had thrown her own body down the stairs just to be sure.

Why isn’t she dead? Had Celine missed?

She looks down to see her markings being peeled off.

Oh.

Her life wants her to know what it feels like to be a person before she dies. Skin untainted and human. Rumi attempts to will grateful tears to come, eyes burning. Instead her muscles pull her flesh into a smile.

Why can’t she even do death right?

Celine’s hand slips on warm blood. The knife falling to the floor.

Part of Rumi is disappointed she couldn’t get all her patterns in one go.

Its okay, Rumi can be patient.

“Be still, I will be back” And her Celine is out the door.

Rumi sits down, reminiscing on how beautiful her life was.
————-

Celine is livid, though its been a while since she’s felt anything else. The damned knife slipped and her clothes are sodden with fetid blood and bits of hide.

Even more. It apparently can’t feel pain, the final glob of saliva spat on her face by fate. She grabs another knife from the locked area of the kitchen. She made iron locks for it the first time it showed up in her room in the middle of the night, watching her sleep.

The one she picks was left here by the previous owners of the house. It’s heavy and old, made for de-boning and chopping. It will not kill it completely. She is counting on it.

 

She returns to her room reeking of dried blood and sweat. With pieces of skin falling to the floor like a trail of abuse for the sick and filthy to follow. A warning to other demons.

 

There’s humming coming from the other side of the door. The purity of the voice stopping Celine in her track. It vibrates in her heart, beckoning her soul softly. It whispers in her ear, “I know you. Come to me.”

Her footsteps cautious, she cracks the heavy wood open. The Honmoon. It shines on the floor, flowing like gentle waves of glitter and virtuous light, lapping at her blood stained feet. She has not seen it harmonize with a voice since her life ended.

It leads her to it’s source. Enveloping a mangled body where it sits on the floor.

Celine drops knife.

 

And summons her sickle instead.

————

Rumi has never felt this happy. It will all be over soon, her Celine will be safe, and she will be with her mom.

She starts singing her favorite lullaby from her childhood. And her body has never felt lighter.

She had never gotten the meaning of it until she was told the story of her mother’s demise. She cherishes the song like a prayer.

“They are hunters…

 

Voices strong.”

 

Celine came back. She’s holding her magic sickle. Her stomach drops.

It shouldn’t, she wants to die. Why is she shaking again? She won’t feel pain, won’t suffer from it. The gentle waves of light become a dark indigo. She can hear them screaming.

Why are they- what is happening? Her breathing becomes shallow. The screaming is too loud.

LEAVE

What?

YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.

The waves shriek at her Celine, holding her back. She is welcome. This house is hers. They hum around her, wanting her to continue singing. She’s so confused she does what she does best. Obey.

“Slaying demons with their songs…”

Celine pushes through crashing waves, shielding her eyes from light that aims to blind.

Rumi feels like she’s glowing, too.

“Fix the world and make it right..”

Celine’s voice joins the chorus of screams, though her’s is more a harpy’s screech.

 

The sickle is at her neck now, the only thing keeping it from tearing through her like a weed a shining wave.

The woman’s arm trembles, goes taught, then burns.

Rumi will never forget the smell of charred flesh.

She keeps on singing, the glow rising and enveloping her.

“‘Till the darkness meets the light.”

The Honmoon has chosen.

Notes:

I have no joke for this one :( give me your best shot!

Chapter 6: Foreigner’s God

Summary:

Perfect golden threads unravel.

 

TW: self-harm, religious trauma????, Celine.

Also, say hi to Zoey and Mira!

Notes:

Hi yall! Sorry for not posting yesterday, I was busy making a detailed outline for the fic when i realized I cant just rawdog it and have to actually plan ahead, expect next few chapters to be longer, tho!

Mira and Zoey are perfect, Celine’s love a clear testament of it. They bathed in it, kind words and gentle touch. Gorged in affection she had once worked to the bone for a bite. Rumi didn’t hate them for it. She could see it, the perfection Celine found in them. She agreed they deserved everything. It didnt make it sting any less.

She had them now. Her missing parts. Even if they could not have her.

———
Rumi is so excited she could jump out of her skin.
Scratch that, Hinny is so excited she will jump out of her borrowed skin if she doesn’t put that energy somewhere.

Yeah, she deserves to be Hinny today.

Why wouldn’t she? They saw GOLD!

Her whole body is buzzing, her gums itch to let out sharp teeth and she is sure her eyes are dilated. Every light hurts but it’s so worth it! Gold! Can you believe it?

 

Mira and Zoey want to rest, but how can they? They are so close! She runs to their closet to find her Golden outfit. She should be smiling, so she pulls her lips so far she feels them split. This should do to show them how happy she is.

She has their costumes on her hands and she just needs them to promo and they can all rest up. When it’s all over.

When she’s fixed.

————-

Mira thinks this is bullshit.

 

No break after a world tour? She wishes she could sue someone. Well, she wishes she could punch someone but Zoey says that’s an unhealthy mindset, so she opts for an American threat instead.

Rumi is fucking crazy. The girl is lucky she loves her too deeply to tell her to shut the fuck up. And to leave her alone with her couch and caloric food.

But that stupid, dopey smile stops her on her tracks. No one is more enthusiastic about the Golden Honmoon than Rumi. The girl practically worships it. And to tell her to wait for it, even if just a little longer. It makes Mira feel cruel in a way that sickens her.

So she puts on her outfit and attempts to convey her feelings in a less harsh manner.

Deep breath in, Mira. It’ll be okay.

And then Rumi is showing her a calendar of fan signs and other events and she can feel a vein pop.

Her therapist will be hearing about this.

——-

Zoey’s back hurts.

 

But Rumi looks so happy and Mira hasn’t broken anything yet so it’s a little worth it.

She offers Rumi her lip balm, the girl’s lips are bleeding. She makes sure to grab Mira’s hand to stop her from clenching her fists and she’s all set.

Let’s do this.

Zoey chooses to ignore the trembling of her hands.

———-

Hinny’s happiness has nowhere to go.

She tries everything, she jumps in place and squeals in the bathroom so try and spill the access out. It works some, but her face can no longer hold the smile so it just looks like she has the jitters.

It’s fine. Even if it feels like there’s a tiny lizard inside her brain tapping a button that says GOLD every time she tries to have a normal thought.

She knows something that can fix it. There are new razor blades in the cabinet, and her patterns are slowly crawling down her arms like mosquito larvae writhing in dirty water. She’s due for some maintenance. It should only take a bit.

It feels calming, bleeding out the filth. It reminds her of the night she was chosen, of her caretaker’s gentle hands. she has it all under control. Her Celine should be proud.

The rest of the day passes in blurred bliss. She forgets words after uttering them, and she is sure Mira and Zoey will have questions she can’t answer later, but the numbness lingers like a warm blanket. It protects her.

 

And then she misses the note. Her throat closes, she’s not breathing. The blanket has become a suffocating barrier between her and fresh air. The world going black around the edges as she throws herself against her changing room’s vanity hard enough to bruise.

She is the fish she once watched suffocate with nothing more than mild curiosity. Dread washes icy over her body when she locks eyes with her reflection.

The patterns, they are getting worse. Her neck is rotting like her arms did. She scratches at it desperately, meat catching under her nails. Trying to will dead flesh away. Blood staining her once white collar. No, it cannot happen. Rumi has to keep control of them until the Honmoon is golden. They will be gone, then. She just needed a few more days. Why now? Why poison her voice now? Why ruin her only chance at salvation now?

Her sweat is cold, her lips tinged blue. She doesn’t remember leaving the venue but she does know where to go.

Her demon soul might be rebelling against her duty. It knows it’s close to it’s End. Injured but not out of hope. She has to fix it. It will not get in the way of her cleansing.

She runs.

——————-

Celine’s hand is tired after she’s done with the Thing.

It crawled back to her, claiming it’s voice poisoned and in need of repentance. She winced when she heard it speak with the deep timbre of a demon. With the Golden Honmoon so close it was easy to flick the whip in her good hand and let out her frustration on it’s bared back. It will heal by sunrise anyway.

It had asked her to whip it’s chest, too. She raised her arm to give it a good firm strike when it closed it’s eyes. Leaving her with only the beautiful face of her dead lover and the decaying body it was stitched to. She almost wished it had made eye contact with her, she preferred throwing up at the sight of it’s dead eyes instead of the reminder it wears her Life’s face.

She couldn’t defile it further.

She made it sing to her when she was done, just to be sure. And hummed contentedly as the angelic tune made her briefly forget where the voice came from.

If it keened in pain as it walked back to it’s den, she didn’t see.

———-

Hinny… Rumi goes back to the Huntr/x penthouse feeling clean. Her inner shirt is covered in dry blood, but her skin never felt more pure.

She nods, entering the living room to see Mira and Zoey waiting for her at the couch, looking worried. She disappointed them. She wants to explain why so badly, wants to confess her sins and receive the deserved punishment so much it makes her seeping wounds ache.

She apologizes for missing the show, and goes straight to bed.

Notes:

Should I change the tags/summary? Yall help me out.

 

This is the last of Celine for a while ;)

Chapter 7: I slithered here from Eden

Summary:

Demons are made to serve, its part of their very being. Yet so is yearning for freedom.

 

TW: Celine (No Celine POV), this one is not too bad gore wise.

Notes:

Bigger chapter, yay!

 

Also say hi to the new POV!

The night is drowning with shouting and shrieking the first time something tears the Honmoon from the human side.

It is small, quickly stitched together, but it does not go unnoticed.

The tear is searched to its source, and while one could safely assume a building with hunters present should have a stronger barrier, this is an interesting exception. The perpetrator runs off into the night, leaving frail edges and the perfect portal behind them.

Their scent is rancid with fear, spoiled vinegar and the sting of alcohol leaving a trail easily followed. So do the droplets of blood that are too far to be sniffed. Yet no hunter trails behind them.

And then the demoness responsible for such a ruckus is running straight into a trap. Something unknown is calling her to what is certainly the residence of a retired hunter.

She doesn’t notice, she should be warned. Demons don’t usually help each other but seeing kin walk right into their slaughter is not something anyone would want to watch.

And so he follows.

The air around the towering Estate is damp. There’s a clinical cleanliness to it, the kind that makes you want to take your shoes off and stand five feet away from every piece of furniture. His feet make no noise against the white tile, the unlit hallway welcoming him with cold disinterest.

He is thankful for his lack of a need for oxygen when he locks eyes with the scene occurring just past the glass doors to the yard. He would have passed out were that not the case.

He can see the shadows of an old, mighty tree framing the form of the Old Hunter. Branches casting darkness like arms extending towards her, skin peeling, ready to drag her to hell. He knows by the look of sadistic delight in her eyes that’s where she belongs. The whip she wields cracking against the purest skin he has ever seen on someone like him.

Jinu is grateful his Master accustomed him to torture. His shriveled stomach stirs in protest anyway.

Her victim, the demoness who escaped earlier lies on the sharp blades of grass in a bloody puddle. Crimson mixing with mud. She wasn’t fighting, nor was she begging. Instead, she whimpered apologies and presented gratitude with a mutilated back. This was not how it worked. Hunters are merciless but they are not cruel, it’s part of their holier-than-thou doctrine. A demon would never kneel to a mortal, not unless they had a deal, not unless their very soul was bought from his Master’s claws.

Something dawns in him, the red of his kin’s blood. The strong iron is missing something, the spice of sulfur… is there, but is mixed with the oxidized copper of human blood. He roams his sight over the hunter again, she’s unscathed. He leans from behind a curtain just to be sure.

It all belongs to her.

He stays on her trail as she leaves, his mind running through theories and explanations, attempting to pierce together why and how she could harbor human scent. The demoness doesn’t return to their realm. And so he finds her home.

—————

Zoey is not freaking out.

She’s not, because she can’t be. Not now. Not when the Honmoon is so close to Gold.

But Rumi’s voice is in trouble, she heard her raspy cry when the woman thought she had gone to bed.

And they had just released The Song! Because she had wanted to! Why would Rumi do that? When she knew her voice was like that?

Mira wants to barge in and talk to her, get her to spit it out. Zoey is sure she will come to them when she is ready.

It will be soon, right?

She needs to take something for the shakiness in her hands, she feels jittery. But she ran out of water and Mira is sleeping in her own room tonight and can’t hold her hand-

Breathe, Zoey!

She will get some water and take her meds and she’ll sleep it off. C’mon, it’s way past two AM, she needs the rest.

Her feet are loud as bare skin slaps against linoleum. Zoey is aware she would be the first to die in a horror movie. Stop it, Zoey! Not the time.

The hallway is dark and cold because Mira is a living furnace, she is sure Rumi is in her fourth blanket by now. Cold as she always is.

 

The kitchen isn’t too far away. One foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other.

Yup.

And she won’t turn on the lights because she’d wake the whole house- her two bandmates in her apartment- and she can’t have that.

Something creaks in the peaceful silence.

Shit.

Okay. False alarm. Its probably just a door.

She grabs a cup from the cupboard, filling it up with the fridge filter. It’s blue automatic l.e.d the only light source in the room. Okay. Water acquired. Time to dip.

She turns around to be on her way.

Something is watching her.

Her Shin Kal are pulled from the threads of the Honmoon before she can blink. Glass cup clutched so tightly she is afraid she’ll break it. Mira likes these.

She is sure something is here. Watching, breathing down her neck. She can smell sulfur and rot in the air. A demon.

In their most sacred place, the safety of their own home.

 

She is shaking, she is alone. She knows it will strike if she scrams. So she leads it to the balcony, searching for a sliver of it’s form in the dark. A little light is all she needs to pierce through it’s ribcage into it’s lungs.

The city is bright even at this hour, perfect.

 

The living room is sparse, she keeps looking back at where she thinks it is. Celine would kill her if she saw her awful form, her weight is distributed all wrong.

 

No time, not the time!

She gets distracted with the bright turtle plush she left on the floor. One second enough for her to trip over the rug and crack her skull on the coffee table.

She knows the cup breaks and her Shin Kal de-materializes.

Her vision gets clouded and Zoey hears the most nauseating thing to ever exist. It’s like she’s already dead, rotting. She can hear the flies buzzing at her ears, the wet crawling of worms and centipedes. She can feel them all over her skin, their little legs TV static that burns. Even the smell sends her mind reeling, it corrodes her nose and she can feel her lungs weep.

She can see it, now.

No features, no body, only dead, expressionless eyes burying themselves into her very soul.

The buzzing increases, claws raking down her body. She thinks to beg. Kill me, kill me here and now and make it stop. MaKe iT sToP- PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.

It gives her no such mercy.

Zoey can only muster to turn her head to the side before she throws up and promptly passes out.

—————

Jinu will be damned.

 

That’s twice now.

The demoness is at the new hunter’s home. He sees a poster just outside and is impressed at how well she copied the lead singer’s appearance.

Is she taking revenge on the Old Hunter? He’s not sure how close the sadist is to her little huntlings. He honestly thinks her incapable of love. He’s judging the book by the bloodied cover in this one.

The smell of human still clings to her as he watches her prowl. Good tactic, scaring the black haired small one half to death, classic.

Did she already kill their leader? No, Master would have already called to boast the victory. Credited to him, of course. Her own Mistress would not have allowed it.

She doesn’t kill the tiny one. She wacks her own head on the coffee table and Jinu has to stop breathing for five minutes to not laugh.

Instead, she picks her up with delicate reverence and brings her to bed.

What is she planning?

There’s no way.

Maybe she’s… an experiment. He heard of the last generation, of a hunter that fell out of line. Maybe it made her fellow comrade sick with disgust. Made her crave control.

Demons are puppets, they need a master, it’s part of their biology to serve. This must be it. The demoness was chosen by the Old Hunter and bought to become part of the new generation as a safeguard. Being tethered to a human must change one’s scent. She isn’t physically capable of stepping out of line. Not when her leash is so tight.

But… this means she has the voice. The capability to shape the Honmoon.

She could be the key to his freedom.

He wanted to have her, free her.

And Jinu has never deprived his greed of anything that didn’t serve himself.

Notes:

Im hesitant to keep my polytr/x promise, guys. My Rumi is too traumatized for romance. What do ya’ll think?

Also how do we feel about this Jinu?

Show me your theories on how this will change the plot! I love hearing from u guys.

Chapter 8: It slips through your fingers, love

Summary:

A proposition is made

 

Tw: cringe reference.

(Allusions to torture and slavery)

Notes:

Hi! We are slowly getting bigger with these chapters lol.

 

Enjoy more Jinu ;)

Rumi goes to bed, but refuses to sleep.

Zoey is at Mira’s room now, after her fall. The taller woman looked so worried Rumi almost dropped to her knees to apologize for harming their sweet Zoey. But bowing would raise questions, and she isn’t sure she can speak around her fangs.

She thought the whipping would help. It only made her sore and her muscles convulse. It ruined her favorite undershirt. But now her claws are out and her gums itch. Maybe she needs to go harder next time? Like how you can grow used to painkillers and need more.

(She hopes she won’t overdose).

Her sheets smell like her laundry detergent. She loves aloe and lemon, it makes her feel clean. The weather is perfect for sleeping, the pitter patter of rain soothing the static that often comes with a post punishment bliss. She can feel her chest rumble and wishes she could rub her cheek against her girls’. She settles for the satin pillowcase instead.

There’s a knock at her balcony door.

Her eyes snap open in the darkness.

Before she can react, a figure materializes in her room. She gets up so fast she brings the comforter and two pillows with her.

(One of her wounds definitely opened)

The white pillows are going to get dirty, her hands twitch to pick them up. She scoffs and her sword is pulled from the Honmoon before she gets distracted by trivial things. She cannot let her stupid habits get Zoey and Mira hurt.

(More than they already did).

She moves the Saigeom forward, pointing it at the shadow near the wall.

“Show yourself” she barks, biting back a snarl.

From the shadows comes a man draped in black. No, the scent of sulfur is enough to tell her this is no man.

The demon bows to her, purple skin cursed with markings like hers. It lacks the decency of at least trying to hide it’s shameful brand. Disgusting vermin. Stinking up her room.

“State your business” she should have killed it by now, but she has never met a demon that didn’t attack on sight. She’ll indulge it, just this once.

———-

Jinu is sure he has never laid eyes on a demoness so pretty.

He does as is customary, enters her territory with a bow, waits for her to address him first and decides not to comment on the lack of territorial barriers stopping him from simply barging in.

She’s polite, it surprises him.

He schools back his scent before she can catch that, instead reaching for his pocket and retrieving his offering. A blue orb, freshly harvested from someone innocent. Their soul should be clean enough from sin to sate her for a few weeks.

“Lady of the House. I come in peace. How may I address you?”

He feels her scent become bitter. Great, Jinu, you made her mad and it hasn’t been two minutes.

“…Rumi.” She circles him like she’s sizing him up for dinner. The holy sword clutched tightly the only thing betraying her confident stride.

“Rumi-nim. I ask of you only a hour of your time. I come with a proposition” He holds out the soul.

Take it. Take it, please. I can see how you hunger, kin.

His mummified heart begs, and he allows a sliver of soothing jasmine slip into his pheromones.

All that healing would have put him in a four day coma, the food should allow him some lenience.

“This is a gift for you, I spent hours scouting for the most filling soul. For you, my Lady”

He sees her nostrils flare. And then she’s strangling his neck, crushing him to the wall.

He can’t help but buck, flail and growl behind her palms. Lips pulled back to sharpening teeth.

“…I offend you? For coming to you as custom dictates? Is my polite company an affront to you?”

She only snaps at him further.

“You offer me a soul? You dare flaunt how my moment of rest has costed someone’s life?!” Sour vinegar burns his nose, fear clouding anger. Not from him, from her.

 

Shit,

Shit,shit shit.

Demoness or not, she’s a hunter. Another human life taken means a job failed to her, a job failed means punishment. Flashes of red and mud and the crack of a whip send his lungs into near collapse.

“Forgive me, Rumi-nim. I do not- agh- mean to get you in trouble with your Mistress. It came from a place of- jeez you’re strong- a place of care.”

Her hands freeze, still choking him, but he doesn’t need air anyway.

“Care? Demons don’t care for anything.”

“I saw you- ack- carrying the tiny one- do you not care for her?”

That makes her pause.

 

“What do you want?”

“Your hands off my throat, first.”

He rubs the indigo bruises she left there, a bit afraid and a bit impressed.

“You shouldn’t be wasting your strength. Your lashes aren’t healed yet”

“How-?” Her eyes widen.

“I followed your scent there, I came here when I saw the tear. Wanted to investigate it, your sleepwear is staining” He winces at how hard she presses against it to stop the flow.

“Is it still..?”

“It’s closed, don’t worry. No one followed us here.”

“Just you” bitter, a hint of spice.

“Yeah, just me” he smiles.

———-

Rumi is sure it has something up it’s sleeve.

She isn’t sure what. But it does, it has to.

It offers her a soul and her stomach clenches for a what’s definitely disgust.

(She can’t afford it to be anything else)

It sits on the fluffy carpet, gesturing her to follow. She squints, but decides she’s too curious to simply gut it and get this over with. Her hand slips on wet blood. She’ll have to throw away this shirt, too.

The world is confined to her room, her white walls and whiter decor. The smell of lemon and bleach. She takes a deep breath to welcome the familiarity of it to her lungs and catches something else. Sulfur and… jasmine? Is it wearing perfume?

“You okay?” It wears fake pity now, great.

“Are you wearing perfume?” She says, her intrigue is obvious.

 

“What? No.” It sniffs at itself. “Thats just my scent. Is it too strong? I can try to tone it down if you don’t feel comfortable having your room smell like me”

“Why would you think I’d want- never mind. Just tell me what you want.”

“I have a plan, something that can set us both free.” (She doesn’t want freedom, she wants Gold, she wants… to be free of her patterns).

She scoffs.

“And why would I help free you?”

“Because if you do, you and yours will be safe.”

“I can keep us safe just fine-“

“Qwi-ma is coming. He has gathered an army of a hundred thousand soldiers. He knows you are close so Gold and he will not go out without taking you three with him.” (She needs them safe)

“How do I know you aren’t lying so I help you.” (It isn’t)

“Do you want to take the chance?”
(She can’t)

 

“…what do I get?”

——————

 

Mira hasn’t been this bothered since her little brother put roaches in her room seven years ago.

Damn it, Mira, can you be any more dramatic?

Zoey hit her head pretty hard on the coffee table, and while she is conscious now she’s still pretty out of it. Mumbling about flies buzzing and insects crawling on her skin. She spends twenty minutes Googling concussion symptoms.

Nothing.

Rumi was out of it, too. And that’s somehow worse than Zoey being clumsy again.

She looked lost, her hair was disheveled. She didn’t speak, didn’t tell her what happened or how Zoey fell. Just handed the youngest over and practically dragged herself to her room, shaking.

Mira’s sure something bad happened. No one disappears right before a show and comes back looking like she got hit by a car without something happening.

She’ll figure it out. As soon as she finds out what the fuck is a ‘mandela catalogue’ and why Zoey keeps mentioning it. And how to get the girl to let go of her favorite pillow.

 

“Scooch, that’s my side of the bed”

Notes:

I wanna see how Im doing with characterization (my weakness), so what are some quirks/personality traits you have picked up from our beloved characters?

Ty for reading!

Chapter 9: To hold me like water

Summary:

Seeds of doubt are planted.

 

TW: graphic injury, brief description of corpses. Dehumanization.

Notes:

Back on track yall!

 

Tensions are beginning to rise as the plot finally starts!

Zoey will never sleep alone again.

 

Its been eight days and she hasn’t rested a wink. Every time she closes her eyes all she can see is that…

thing.

Mira bought her a nightlight. It helps. It’s turtle shaped and too bright for any normal person. She loves it anyway.

Mira has also become the big spoon.

(She misses being the human backpack)

Mira brings her water and snacks and a weighted blanket in advance and she feels awful for imposing on her personal space but her room feels claustrophobic and she-

She can’t sleep.

They are on a two week hiatus because of what a stupid dumb doctor has called “night terrors”. She doesn’t skip her Zoloft anymore.

She wishes she could just… nap. Maybe. At night, instead of 3pm with all the blinds open.

And Rumi was horrified when she found her there and that’s another thing she feels bad about. Something new to keep her up.

And Rumi has been avoiding her, Mira says it’s because of all the blood. Head injuries and all. That she’s just scared. But Zoey knows she’s hiding something. She knows Rumi blames herself for it.

She just wants to hug her. And a good night’s rest. Preferably both.

Yeah.

Both is good.

————

 

“The answer is no, Jinu.” She clenches her jaw so hard he can hear her teeth grinding.

 

“Wha- why not? Didnt I tell you this is all urgent? I need a way to break the Honmoon for my Master before he brings hell upon the earth!” They have been at this for hours now, he can see the sun peaking out.

“I am not teaching you how to break the Honmoon! I worked my whole life to make it go Gold, im not throwing that all away!” He has to hold his nose shut to block out the worst of the bitter anger.

“It’s the only way! You think I didn’t plan this? That im doing this all on a whim? I need a way to weaken the barrier so the Qwi-ma will believe we are winning again. He holds back his army, we have enough time to prepare for the end of the World. I get my wish from him, you get your girls safe. With your freedom from your Mistress included since the Master wants her dead.

Its simple”

“And you think he’ll just let me and the other hunters live, just like that?” He can see her human mask slip, her face no longer contorting into a fabricated frown. He smells annoyance and a hint of emotional hurt on her skin. The unfamiliar sight of her real face making him smug. She’ll break soon, it’ll be beautiful.

 

“He will if there’s a deal involved” he smirks, he knows he doesn’t have to, his scent is enough to show his overflowing confidence. But he has a point to make here. And the faint spice of her attraction to him is a nice bonus.

 

“What deal?” And the mask is back. It was a good shot. He isn’t disappointed.

(He isn’t)

 

“The deal we’re making. I agree to have you and the girls under my protection, you agree to teach me how to affect the barrier”

 

“Under your protection? Hah!” She laughs, cruel and mocking. Its the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. Even if it burns shame into his patterns. Even if she insists on smiling, like he’s some stupid human she has to fool.

“Fine. Safe. No need to phrase it that way to make the deal work.

 

So?”

 

She exhales, taking a minute to think.

“Nope.”

But her scent is playful. He’ll take the win.

 

———

Mira is on a mission.

 

Well, the three of them are, but she’s got some extra objectives.

Demons have been bolder, lately. Harder to kill. More have been able to escape. So they’re sending a message.

If she’s putting her frustration out on them? No she isn’t.

 

Zoey slashes the neck of one to her right. Rumi goes straight for the heart as she always does. Mira? She wants to make it hurt.

She crushes the ribs of the scaled one underfoot, squeezing harder against the cheap linoleum of the ransacked family home they desecrated. Reveling when she hears it gasp. She points her Gok-do to it’s arm, slicing it open slowly. Zoey is yelling at her to not waste time, but she’s go a point to make.

Demons don’t deserve to walk on Earth, they don’t deserve quick, painless deaths.

This.

She sees muscle melt around her blade like butter, the shining weapon snapping tendons like rubber bands as it goes deeper, further.

Is.

It catches on cartilage, and she has an idea.

What.

She jostles the blessed edge, positioning it between bone.

They.

CRACK

Deserve.

The limb hangs limply as it owner wails. She bends down and pulls.

Then she lets it go.

And gets back to her job, leaving it staining the rug with it’s foul-smelling blood.

She thinks she can hear someone retching, but now is not the time.

—————

 

Rumi can’t bring herself to watch.

Mira is angry at something and when that happens she… gets a little aggressive.

Not at them! Never at them.

Mira is the perfect angel of kindness, all her spite evaporates when she looks at either of them. The demons, however, aren’t so lucky.

She can still see flashes of her following the lines of the demons patterns as she cut it’s arm open every time she closes her eyes. She needs a break, just one. She takes the hallway.

Zoey still getting headaches through the day and being unable to rest has taken a toll. She has been working over time to pick up her slack, not that she’d ever let the small one notice.

Truth is

She has been a live wire since she met Jinu last week. First it was the failing punishment, her markings are still slowly festering and crawling up her throat- her singing voice is gone and she hopes the girls won’t notice because if they do-

Then there was Zoey’s fall. Her fault for not turning on the lights- she knows what she looks like when it’s dark, she shouldn’t have walked to the kitchen to get the sushi knife to cut off that annoying piece of purple skin- and look what happened. The youngest is too nice to even be mad at her.

 

Then, there’s Jinu.

The jasmine smelling siren-of-a-man that knows of her demonic heritage, looks at her in the eyes- she never knew what that felt like before- and wants to talk to her. Like she’s a person. After he- it has seen her patterns, her shame, bloodied and gored.

She’s slipping fast and there’s razor blades at the bottom.

(If she’s fails, she’ll be thankful for them)

It was such a short conversation.

(Hours)

So simple.

(The End of the World)

And it was enough for her to forget who she is, what she is.

(She felt like a person)

 

She is weak. Celine’s years of training were for naught.

For what? For eye contact and sweet-smelling banter?

(This is how your mother was taken, this is how she was cursed with you. The child she didn’t want, the parasite that dragged her guts on the way out-)

Rumi fights back a dry sob, hunched over the house’s sink, dead woman she failed to protect still laid on the bathtub, body cooling. Her faulty body unwilling to produce tears, her face plain and expressionless.

She will work harder, she’ll make up for it.

Make it up to Zoey, to Mira, to Mistress.

——————-

Notes:

Yay! Rujinu! (Not the romantic kind lol, Rumi is just getting whiplash from being treated as a equal).

Disclaimer: the girls never treated Rumi as anything other than an equal. Rumi was just taught by Celine they are above her.

 

Can ya’ll see the previous chapter fine? I had some issues with ao3, its the one that begins with “ Rumi goes to bed, but refuses to sleep.”

Have a great weekend!

Chapter 10: Falling from you drop by drop

Summary:

Rumi realizes she is not as strong as she thought.

 

Aka: I put Rumi and Zoey in a blender and forget to cover it before turning it on.

 

TW: Graphic depictions of injuries.

Notes:

Sorry for it being so short I was driving for 4 hours straight to get my cousin to the airport and I wrote this in 25 mins on a gas station parking lot.

This is starting to get exhausting.

Between re-organizing the schedule due to the Golden performance, taking care of Zoey, attempting to pacify an increasingly suspicious Mira and making sure Jinu doesn’t throw her entire plan up in flames. Rumi is running on fumes.

She might be out of them already.

 

Slumping over the bathroom sink, letting the smell of chlorine and disinfectant lull her senses into a false sense of safety. Scrubbing the tiles has always made her calm down.

Her muscles ached, the dull knowledge that they are done for the day slipping past her reeling mind. She hasn’t done the laundry yet. That should put her back on track. She needs to wash the turtlenecks anyway, the heat has got them smelling like something died in them.

(Hah. She’s hilarious)

 

She passes by the bed, making sure to fluff back up the spot on the carpet that keeps flattening. She needs to get that checked out.

She doesn’t make it to the door before her legs give up on her, hitting her hipbone hard against the wood on the doorway. Agh, no more shorts for today, unless she wants more questions.

The Honmoon calls for it’s hunters when she’s halfway into a pair of leggings.

———-

Zoey is so, so sure she will sleep good tonight.

 

What? Isn’t it true that when you’re physically exhausted you sleep like a baby? She does, at least.

Did you know sea turtles can sleep underwater? She wishes she could sleep in the hot tub without the risk of drowning.

Anyway,

She is on her seventh demon tonight. Mira is on her tenth. They like keeping score like this, it makes it feel less like murder and more like a game. It is, though, technically murder.

Mira disagrees.

Rumi slips on the wet floor of the middle school’s locker room- their current hunting ground for demons praying on the poor janitors and teachers working overtime on assignments for their students- hitting her tailbone with a sound that makes Zoey flinch in solidarity.

The demon atop her is two seconds away from biting a chunk off her neck when a Shin-kal hits him in the eye. Score! One more to it’s throat and its dead! Go Zoey!

She can’t help but let out a happy shriek.

 

There’s one running to the teachers lounge, she wishes she did track in high school instead of skipping P.E. To write lyrics under the bleachers.

Her breath huffs and she feels the condensing sweat drip onto her comfy jim jams. Her hastily tied sneakers squeaking along the dark hallway. She should have yelled out for Mira, it’s starting to feel like an ambush and her eyelids are too heavy and she won’t react quickly enough, she knows this.

It turns and shoves it’s body into a janitorial closet. She has good memories of those, she kissed a cheerleader in one of those once. She kicks the door open to see it- chugging bleach?

The fuck?

She has like half a second before it pounces it’s entire body weight onto her. Her back smacking against the cold ground.

——-

Rumi is going to die,

 

Fuck, it’s hot in here.

Two layers of long sleeves and a hoodie in the height of Seoul’s humid summer will do that to you.

She chases a creature down a shadowed hallway she is quite sure Zoey ran down a few minutes earlier.

It has been mocking her, calling her names. She usually doesn’t care for a demon’s opinion, but it has been getting creative. It’s pissing her off. She wishes she took the anger management classes Mira did. Even if they didn’t work all that well. She supposes slaughtering it with a little more force than necessary counts as re routing her anger into a healthy outlet.

Her neck is itchy.

 

She has it on a headlock now, getting her Saigeom in position to pierce the ribcage when is slithers it’s slimy body and suddenly its touching somewhere it shouldn’t and she sees red.

The blade is buried two inches deep when she hears a gasp and a gurgle a few paces behind her.

Zoey.

Her neck cracks so hard her vision goes black at the edges with how hard her head turns.

Zoey.

A demon atop her, gripping her shoulders with slicing claws, maw opened wide, practically sucking her entire face in. Rumi jumps away from her prey to attempt to wretch it away from her precious Zoey. Her brown eyes are rolling to the back of her head, her hands and limp and trembling. Her muscles convulsing with lack of oxygen. She has to, she has to-

Crack!

The forgotten prey lunges at her with rotten vengeance, the sound of a bone snapping- hers, probably as she falls to the ground- adding to the chorus.

She tries to fight it off. She does, she promises. But demons have been stronger than normal lately. More organized, synchronized movements instead of usual animalistic instincts.

This one planned an ambush.

 

It succeeded.

Her achilles tendon is pulled apart by curling fangs with a resounding pop. She can’t get up, Zoey’s gonna- Zoey can’t- she’s supposed to protect her.

She pulls her ankle from it’s mouth, fangs tearing further into wet flesh. She forces her knees to work, they slip on the blood. Just a few centimeters more and she can- there are claws at her hips a rush of adrenaline tells her something is about to happen when fangs- once so far, when did it get up here?- pierce into her shoulder, injecting something that makes her sight blur.

Wait, NO!

NO!

With one final push, she summons her holy sword and slices the demon above Zoey at the neck, the head rolls on the ground.

And Rumi is dead to the world.

————-

Mira walks into a bloodbath.

 

She’s freaking out, bad.

She throws a passed out Zoey onto her shoulder, trying not to stare at her partially corroded face, lest she pass out herself.

Rumi’s too injured to move, laying on the ground where she assumes another demon left her, bleeding enough to kill a grown man.

She cant carry them both, they need urgent medical attention. She…

 

She needs to call Celine.

Notes:

I had a extended scene with the bleach i was gonna include but it was way too graphic lol.

 

Next chapter is the graphic one lol. Dw I will make it skippable for those who dont want to read it.

As always, please leave questions, comments and suggestions below!

Chapter 11: I’ll crawl home to her

Summary:

She finds herself home.

 

This is not the graphic chapter! Thats tmr :)

Also not as graphic as implied, I wanted to focus on psychological aspects.

Notes:

Not much to say, enjoy!

Zoey wakes up somewhere familiar.

 

The room is a warm, there’s sunlight seeping through the window and someone is holding her hand.

She might have thought she was dead there for a second, though assuming she will go to heaven might be a little egotistical from her part.

It is heaven, anyway.

Because the hand she’s holding is Mira’s. The calloused and always warm skin soothing her cold fingers, she can see a blur of pink hair right in front of her face. It smells like her favorite caramel scented shampoo, the one she steals all the time and the woman pretends she doesn’t notice. It’s nice.

She takes a deep breath, doing a little shimmy to get more comfortable on the cotton blankets. The bed is on the floor, there are traditional Korean mats on the ground instead of the tile on the penthouse.

Oh.

She knows this place.

Its where they first met. Celine’s house.

She misses when they used to train here, play outside, catch frogs- she would chase Mira with them as Rumi made sure she wouldn’t slip on the mud and snap her neck- and make picnics. Simpler times. Quieter, too.

It’s not quiet now. Someone’s crying.

Is it her? No, her cheeks are dry.

Is Celine crying? No, the woman never showed any emotion other than calm pride.

The pink hair leaves her view, her eyes instinctually follow it.

Mira? Mira’s crying, why is she crying? Whats-

Flashes of last night shake any remaining exhaustion from her body. She sits up- at least, she tries- and manages to hit the mattress again with a muffled oof.

“Zoey?”

“Mm..?”

 

“No, no, hey, don’t move. It’s going to be okay.”

Gentle hands cup her face, and all she can see is her soulmate’s pain displayed on puffy eyes and a face so red it could color match a tomato.

“Mi-mm… ah?”

“Shhh… don’t speak right now. Your throat is burnt from the inside.” Black hair is brushed away from her eyes.

“Mm…” she tries again.

“What did I just say, Zoey?”

She huffs, crossing her arms.

“I guess you’re doing better than I thought, and here I was crying for you.” Mira wipes at fresh tears, anyway.

“You must be thirsty, I’ll get you some tea.”

“Mmm… mh.”

“Zoey, do you ever listen?”

“N.. no.”

The older woman barks out a laugh, only their youngest to try to speak with a life threatening throat injury.

“Okay, okay. Shush. I’ll stay.

Are you in pain? Nod or shake your head” she warns.

Zoey shakes her head.

“Good. Now, where did I leave the tea….” She looks for it on the table next to her.

 

“R… uuumi”

“What was that? Actually, don’t answer”

“Uuu-“

“Zoey! Shush! I will not tell you again!”

That shuts her up.

Instead, she tries Rumi’s hand sign, the one they use in stealth missions. And then hits her own forehead for not trying it earlier.

‘RUMI’

“Huh?”

‘R U M I’

‘WHERE?’

“Oh! Listen… Zoey… I-“

That was all it took for her to panic.

‘RUMI WHERE RUMI FINE RUMI ALIVE?’

“Zoey, hold on!”

‘RUMI ALIVE?’

“Yes! She’s alive!”

She slumps back onto the bed, letting out a sigh of relief

“She’s not doing too good.

Celine said the poison went to her heart. She’s working on a antidote as we speak.. the last few days have been rough.”

‘DAYS?’

“Yes, its been three. You have substantial injuries because of that bleach, and Rumi’s achilles tendon was torn and her leg was broken and I could see the bone and she hasn’t woken up yet- and we have two months until the Idol Awards-“ she takes a deep breath, counting to ten, in through the nose, out the mouth.

“Its not like me to panic. It’s just… I almost lost you and I thought I had lost you and I don’t know how to live without you anymore.”

Its the most vulnerable Zoey has ever seen her.

‘MIRA MARRY ZOEY?’ She signs with the upmost confidence.

“W-what? Zoey-“ Mira from sheer shock falls back and hits her shoulder on the table “ouch- I was baring my heart to you, asshole!”

“I guess that’s what I get for trying to be emotional for once in my life”

‘MIRA MY WIFE NOW?’

“Shut up, or I’ll tie your hands to the bed”

Zoey has the gall to look shocked.

‘NOT BEFORE MARRIAGE’

“Shut the fuck up.”

_______

 

Rumi wakes up somewhere familiar.

Her senses come back in waves. The scent of rotting wood and old tea the first to make it’s appearance. It sends her back to nights learning calligraphy with her Celine, of using the wrong grip on the pen and not getting told about it until her wrist cramped, her mentor sipping at her tea quietly.

Feeling is next, the thin mat underneath her almost lulling her to sleep again, she sighs in content when she feels the small rip she made as a toddler. When thin but sharp little claws burst out of her nail beds, tearing into the only soft surface in the room. The cold follows, she feels herself shiver and revels on the way it envelopes her, she is so tired of overheating.

Hearing sends her into another beautiful memory, the drip in the corner of the left wall rhythmically falling, she danced to it before she knew that was what it’s called. Tiny feet thumping wooden boards in time with the water. She will never be as good as Mira, never perfectly on tempo like Zoey. But moving makes her rotten scent sweet, like fermenting apples in the harsh summer sun.

She opens her eyes, looking for her favorite thing in the world. They land on it instinctually. The old TV is covered by a piece of cloth. She longs to reach for it.

She is stopped by the drying blood on the floor, it makes her knees slip on it like she had just yesterday-

Happy memories are replaced by despair.

Zoey.

Oh, no. No. Not her sweet Zoey. Is she even alive? Has her failure killed one of her few reasons left to live?

What is she doing sleeping when they could be in danger?

She needs to get up.

 

She needs to-

Celine is here.

Her body freezes on impulse. Her weight incorrectly distributed in a way that makes her core muscles tremble and fail, sending her back onto the ground.

“Awake at last, are we?” She was sitting on a chair in the opposite side of the room.

Watching.

___________

 

Jinu knows he is a creep.

He’s ashamed of it, clearly, his markings burn a bit whenever he goes back to her place.

He can’t help it. He needs to see her.

He doesn’t bother to lie to himself and say it’s to gather ways to convince her to accept the deal. He only goes there to watch her sleep. To see her shoulders relax and her scent mellow.

He wishes she could be as relaxed with him.

God, Jinu, you’ve known each other for barely a couple of weeks.

But… it’s different, with her.

She makes being him so easy. She doesn’t care he’s a piece of shit sometimes, she’s one right back.

The fact that she so… peculiar about her nature also intrigues him. He had never met a demon so stuck on hiding their patterns from other demons. It’s like waring a ski mask to hide your face and act like you’re not wearing one whenever someone mentions it.

Its… odd.

And so Rumi.

She’s repressed, a lot. Her scent is pushed down so hard he wonders how she hasn’t had a stroke from all the pressure. It makes him want to tease it out, get under her skin.

He slides her balcony door open silently. Closing it behind him. Looking for his favorite spot on the carpet, the one she fluffs up for him.

He settles for the night when he realizes she’s not in bed.

Is she working? Hunting? Singing on some far away venue?

No, he didn’t see any packed bags. Sleepover with the other hunters? No, her aversion to showing her patterns makes that too dangerous to be worth it.

Where would she be…

He checks around the penthouse, lifting scattered blankets and fixing pillows back on the couch before she can see them and freak out the way she does about her things.

Okay. He might need help.

He whistles out the window. Hearing a magpie call answer back. The small bird already annoyed with him.

“Can you call the Tiger?” It looks at him, unimpressed.

“Please?” It sighs. And takes off.

It takes maybe ten minutes for him to be head-butted by a massive mountain of blue fur.

“Hello, gentleman.” He pets his massive head.

“Do me a favor?” It purrs so loud he might believe it swallowed a lawn mower. He holds out one of Rumi’s blankets, letting it sniff at it contently before sending it off to its mission.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!__________!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Again.”

“Im sorry!”

 

The basement echoes with the sound of sobbing, ragged breaths matching the sound of ripping fabric.

“Again.” The dagger peels back the sleeves of it’s arms. Revealing the soft, decaying flesh underneath. It curls on itself, with it’s shame bared to the cold.

“Im sorry!”

“Why didn’t you tell me they were getting worse? That my re-education did not help.”

“T-the golden Honmoon- we were so close-“

“Not. What. I. Asked” her face is so close to it’s skin she can smell the death that lingers on it.

The sleeve is torn off.

“I thought- thought I had more time.”

It was trembling already, she hadn’t even started yet.

“Look at yourself. You look like one of them.” Disgust, clear and burning.

“No-no! I- I can hide still!”

“Can you?” She tilts her head as if considering it.

“What would your plan be, then? Cover yourself head to toe in rags? Makeup? Maybe blinding them would help?”

“No! I would never hurt them, i promise!”

“You already have, my dear. Was yesterday not enough? Was Zoey’s corroded face not sufficient suffering for you?”

“I tried to-“

“I had to peel off part of her lower lip, you know? Had to pump her stomach out of the chemicals you watched be poured into her. There was just so much blood. It’s a miracle she’s still alive at all” All of this shaking and yet it does not shed a single tear, oh how naive it is that she’ll believe for a second it’s hurting like it deserves.

“Is Mira’s despair not enough? She cried so hard she couldn’t help me. She wailed until she passed out. I could see it in her eyes, she was disappointed in you” It gasps. She needs more.

“I failed, I know I did. But we can do better! We can still win! The Idol awards are in two months and we can sing Golden-“

“With how injured Zoey is? With how tired Mira is?” It cannot be this stupid.

 

“I- I can.”

“You can what?” She presses right on it’s wrist, hearing bone crack with tired detachment. It cannot feel pain, what’s the point.

The whip used to be for her, to let her anger out. The fact it also temporarily erased the patterns was a nice touch. Unnecessary but welcome.

She needs something new.

Getting up, she pulls the cloth from the TV, giving it a smack to turn it on. Dust flies into the air and it sneezes from where it lies on the mat.

It turns on an old little kids show. One that stopped being made when she was a girl. Turning the volume all the way up, she walks to the supplies she brought.

 

It was quick work, getting it tied to the chair, the cartoon was enough to calm it down some.

She makes sure to cut circulation as much as possible just for the sake of it.

Going around to tear the rest of it’s clothes, revealing all of the skin she has to work with.

“Sit still. I will only help you this last time.”

——————

Notes:

Comment for this AU’s demon fun facts!

 

Zoey will be fine guys! This is the last time i put her in the blender, promise!

 

(Mira smoothie next)

Chapter 12: The creature still moving, that slowed in your arms

Summary:

There’s a certain relief to giving up, a weight that slips off your shoulders onto the floor. It will still be there. So will you.

 

TW: graphic descriptions of injuries, psychological torture.

Notes:

Strap in and get ready, its about to start.

 

This fic will be gaining more TW’s soon, make sure to check for them to ensure you are well aware before reading.

THERE WILL BE NO DEAD HUNTR/X GIRLS

 

-60 days before the Idol awards-

 

The room was loud, children’s songs pounding through the dusty air into trembling walls. The T.V glitched and stuttered, but kept on its assault as the two beings in the room conversed.

 

“I thought I had more time, I really did” the purple haired woman pleaded. For what? She didn’t know.

Her eyes were glued to the screen.

“I know you did, but don’t you think you held out long enough?” Her mentor replies casually, tearing pieces of decayed skin off the arm of her tied victim with calm nonchalance.

“No, I still needed to achieve my purpose.” The younger attempted to argue back.

 

“The Golden Honmoon took generations to even be discovered, what makes you think you could achieve it?”

“You told me I had to, that it would cleanse me of my sins.” She was sure it would.

“I did. It would have.” She peeled a particularly long piece, discarding it with the rest upon the floor.

“Have you given up on me?”

“I never believed in you.”

“… I see.” Her shoulder muscles contracted by the sensation of their only armor being slowly torn.

 

“This was meant to be punishment, you know?” She stood, only to turn the button on the machine, making it louder. Blood smears on the table it rests on.

 

“I don’t understand.”

The guardian was tracing greying hair with blood sodden hands.

“This,” she lifts the blade she had been using. “Was supposed to hurt.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t it?” She wiggled her arms, she was losing feeling on her hands. This was all so familiar, so… intimate. She can’t think of a time they were this close, talked this much.

“Humans feel pain. Demons do, too. Your… mismatched biology, it came with a few… errors.” She circled the hybrid like a specimen, ready to impale her through a needle to a wooden board. The ropes will be enough for now.

“Why didn’t you-“

“Tell you? Had I any reason to? I didn’t expect you to make it through the night.”

That shut her up.

Celine wipes her hands on Rumi’s ruined sleep shirt, batting dust away from her own shoulders.

“I am done, for now.”

“Wait- what else do you know? Please! I need to know, what else is wrong with me?!”

She turned the Television up on her way out.
————

 

-55 days before the Idol Awards-

 

Zoey is all better now, promise!

 

She can walk around, drink room temperature broth and tea… yep, thats about it.

She has the Honmoon to thank for not dying. And Rumi. And Mira. And Celine, but mostly Rumi.

 

Speaking of her, Mira promised she’d get to see her soon. Not now, since she’s still in the woods (as in, deaths door, but she’s not allowed to say that), but soon!

Zoey is fine. She’s also on drugs.

 

Hehehe. Drugs.

‘MIRA’

“Huh?”

‘MIRA!’ The woman in question gets smacked in the face.

“WHAT? Jesus, what do you need?” She grabbed the smaller one’s wrists, mumbling softly for her to breathe.

Zoey takes a theatrical deep breath, before pulling her hands from the gentle grip.

‘RUMI’

“Yes, Celine talked to me this morning. I told you, she’s in a medicine induced coma right now. Celine’s antidote is working, slowly, but working.”

‘SEE RUMI’

“She’s in a delicate state right now, we can’t go see her, no one can”

‘WE GO SEE RUMI. NO TELL CELINE’

“We’re not doing that”

‘PUSSY’

“What does that even mean? You know I’m not good at sign like you are.”

She gets flipped off, that one’s self explanatory.

“Let’s just watch that movie.”

She thinks she sees Mira’s eyes frown, oh, she got her. Won’t be long ‘til she breaks and they get to go hug Rumi.

——————

-50 days before the Idol Awards-

 

Static.

It rained hard at some point, so the video began glitching. Right during her favorite show, too.

 

The sister bunny was about to tell her little brother off, she was waiting for it.

Now all she can hear is static.

The drip in the corner.

Her own breath.

She feels cold, without most of her skin.

It’ll grow back soon.

She doesn’t bother to look down, she knows what it looks like.

She wants her show back.

But all she can hear is static.

The drip in the corner.

Her own breath.

 

It’s dark, besides the greyish tones of the lack of signal bring. She remembers being told by a show she is not supposed to sit this close to the screen.

She will ask Celine to move her farther away when she comes back.

She exhales slowly, then faster. Trying to make some rhythm, something, anything.

She can’t sing anymore, she tried. It’s the closest she ever felt to pain. She tried removing her rope, but it’s too tight. She lost the feeling of her fingers hours-days? A long time ago.

She wonders if they’re still there.

“Keep your eyes open.” A voice comes from behind her. The shock almost sends her falling forward.

“I said, stay awake, we have much to discuss.”

“Celine?”

 

“Zoey’s dying.”
————-

-45 days before the Idol Awards-

 

Mira has a plan.

 

She needs to see Rumi.

Celine has been more and more careless with her lies, she knows liars, she was raised by them.

Rumi is a liar, too.

But that doesn’t matter right now, she’s not getting any better. She has to see it with her own eyes.

She has to see what Celine’s hiding.

 

“Zoey, listen… I need to talk to you about something. “

The girl in question lifts an eyebrow.

 

“I know i’ve been acting strange and all, more aggressive than usual. It’s just… before the accident, Rumi was acting a bit off.

I wanted to talk to you about it but we never had time because of all the hunting- I was not keeping it from you on purpose. I promise.”

Zoey places a cold, small hand over hers. Nodding along as if to say ‘I’m listening, go on’.

God, how she loves that woman.

 

“I wanted to confront her about it, break her door down and interrogate her on all I know she is hiding from us, but for once… I wanted to listen to you.

I wanted to take it slow, let her come to us like you said. It seemed like every day before that golden performance it was working! She was less and less cold towards us, less skittish.

It’s like a switch was flipped in her head. She keeps flinching, her clothes are getting more and more modest- which not a problem!- but it didn’t feel like it was her decision, in a way?”

 

Zoey nods along.

“I think… I think Celine is lying to us, Zoey.”

Zoey freezes.

“I think she knows something about Rumi we don’t and she won’t let us see her while she recovers because she knows we’ll find out if she does”

 

Zoey sits up, but Mira has to cut whatever crazy plan she has at the bud, no matter how much she loves them.

“No, we are not sneaking in to see her. I do believe a lot of it is cover up, but I also believe- no, I know for sure- that if Rumi could, she would be here already. She’s too injured for us to make a big fuss like that and I don’t want to aggravate her state by fighting with Celine.”

Zoey looks offended.

“She will catch us, Zoey. All that we know comes from her, remember? We’ll need to play the long game if we want to find out what Rumi is hiding.”

———-

-40 Days before the Idol Awards-

 

Zoey’s dying.

 

Zoey- she gasps around her tongue, it feels heavy in her mouth, saliva drips freely from her swollen gums. Rumi had asked Celine to get rid of her fangs, they were getting too large.

Zoey’s dying.

 

Rumi begged to see her, pleaded until she lost her speaking voice, Celine had assured seeing her- demonic, half skinned, rotting- would end her.

Oh, how she begged the Honmoon to heal her faster, just one last time. She would kneel if she could move. She would. She would.

There’s something over the noise of her breathing, something passing the static of the TV that has yet to signal back on. Crying.

Someone’s crying.

 

Is it Mira? Is Zoey gone?

No- she needs to see her. She needs to say goodbye. She can’t leave like this, can’t leave her like this. She needs her sweet Zoey, how will she know when to smile without her beautiful, younger hunter.

She still needs to Golden Honmoon to fix her, Zoey needs to stay, to help fix her.

“Celine, Celine!” She spits blood onto the puddle on the floor.

Static

Her own breath

The drip in the corner

Crying.

“Celine!”

 

The door bursts open, it brings no light with it.

“Silence!” Her Celine looks awful. Her clothes are sweat through and her face red, her beautiful hair frazzled and half-dry.

“Can you let Mira grieve in peace, you selfish creature.”

“S-she, Zo-“ her eyelids close, she wretches them open.

“Not yet.” (She will, soon).

“No! I- I still need her! We need to sing together- please! Let me see her… let me see her.” She knows she has no soul, the place it was supposed to be aches, shrivels, yowls. It feels empty in a way she felt before she met Them. Her soulmates.

(Does it mean she’s gone?)

“I need her, Celine, please.”

She can’t cry. It used to be so easy to command her tear ducts to, why can’t she cry?Celine needs to know how sorry she is.

“You rotten being. You care only for yourself.”

“No! I want her well, I want her alive!” She says, her face neutral, unchanged by her despair.

“You want, you want, you take.” Purple hair is pulled from her scalp, making her neck extend. Celine’s eyes are on her arms. The wet meat that refuses to heal into unmarred flesh.

“You want to be cleansed, but you sin again and again, greedy, selfish…” hot breath against her ear. “Lustful.”

“No… no!”

“Yes. You want to keep her like all demons keep their pets. You want to use her, for your own benefit. Suck her dry until all there is left is her very soul.”

“I.. no… I want…”

“You want.” It’s an accusation. It’s a life sentence.

“Yes.”

She lets her head hang how it was left.

 

Static

The drip in the corner

Her own breath

Crying

It grows louder.

Her claws grow back so fast, they tear at the flesh of her hands, fraying the ropes without noticing. She wishes she could gauge her eyes out… maybe then she could sleep.

 

———————

-35 days before the Idol Awards-

 

There’s a monster in the basement.

 

It hungers, wails, yowls and mimics the cries of the ones above.

It lingers in the darkness, eyes unseeing, face pale.

It is starving. Weak, cornered.

It’s restraints lie on the floor, wet, filthy. Intermingled with pieces of discarded hide. The more it pulls, the more of it’s nature exposes to the air.

Fangs are sprouting from gnawed gums, claws regrow into broken fingertips. It’s mask flakes away like the last of old bone.

It’s Mistress no longer entertains it. Left only with the sound if it’s victim. The monster learns, once and for all, that it should no longer exist.

—————-

- 30 days before the Idol Awards-

 

“Rumi-nim?”

Notes:

Thoughts? Prayers? No?

 

I’ll settle for bricks lol

 

I promise I’ll start kissing them before throwing.

 

————-

 

Celine is forgetting to feed Rumi like I used to forget to feed my tamagochi, but with bigger consequences.

 

Shout out to all who comment, ya’ll keep my motivation up :)

Chapter 13: Not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt

Summary:

And the plot thickens…. Rubs hand like evil fly.

 

Here’s a brick! It’s kissed!

 

TW: manipulation, effects of psychological torture, some non-con actions taken for the health of a person.

Notes:

Sorry if the quality of this one isn’t as good, my wrist is killing me lol.

 

I think this fic evolved way past what I had first intended. It’s writing itself at this point.

-30 days before the Idol awards-

 

Jinu knows death would be mercy.

 

Not for the cold, nor the hunger. He has already slipped his overcoat off, already retrieved the soul he kept for her. He will keep her warm and fed.

The wounds would be harder to deal with. Weeks of agony awaited her, even well nourished and kept safe, but no. Those would heal. She would have been able to move past them, and the torture, at some point. He would have taught her not to fear touch. One gentle caress at a time.

She would have made it.

Jinu knows he should end her now, anyway.

Because no one deserves the fate he has just given her.
——————

 

-10 days before the Middle School accident-

He keeps coming back to her place. He can’t help it. She is alluring.

God, he is so superficial.

She talks endlessly when prompted, words spilling out like they were never allowed to. He clings to every single one. He knows all he can about her.

He knows she’s allergic to cats. That her favorite kind of movie is a Hallmark Christmas Romance- none of the words of that sentence make sense to him, but he raids a run down VHS store and watches five of them in a single night- and that she gets sad every time she watches them.

He knows she is not allowed to show her markings, that the others don’t know.

Only her Mistress is allowed to see them.

He scoffs at that, but the hurt tinge in her scent makes him nod in understanding instead of saying what he wanted to.

Priding himself on the fact he can walk into her room at night without making a sound, having memorized all the creaky spots on the floor. Sitting on his favorite spot by her bed, and reading the books she keeps on human psychology while she softly snores.

She sleeps with her human skin on, and while that makes sense since she lives with her natural predators, it makes his eye twitch.

 

“When do you take it off?” He asked that morning.

“Huh?” He loves it when she does that, it makes her sound like a confused owl. She was looking for a clean hoodie, not knowing he took the last one to bring to his burrow.

“Your human skin? When do you shed it?”

“Wha- oh. Um. I can’t.”

“Why not? The door is locked, it’s just me. I promise I won’t snitch. The knowledge of what color your true skin is dies with me.” He places a hand on his heart.

“Its just- too risky, is all” she shrugs.

“It’s bad for you, maybe that’s why your lashes haven’t healed yet. You are spending too much energy keeping your disguise up.” He grabs her shoulders, trying to catch her eyes. Why does she keep avoiding eye contact?

 

“Jinu-“

 

“Take it off.” He winces at how much it sounds like an order. “… please.”

 

“I… I can’t.”

 

“Why. Not?”

“Jinu, I told you. Too risky.” He is pushing too hard, but he has to know. He’s hurting her. He doesn’t care.

“Why do you care so much? Your Mistress will punish you anyway. I have seen her, she deals out pain like it’s nothing. It’s not even action-consequence. She will hurt you whether you fail or not. Why not allow yourself some respite? It will not matter to her-“

“Jinu, Celine-“

“Why do you refuse to call her for what she is? She holds your leash. Make it clear to her she’s nothing more than your jailer. It makes it easier to hate them, you know.” She is wonderful, kind, annoying, beautiful, loyal to her tormentor.

He can’t stand it.

 

“Rumi… Why don’t you rebel? You are strong, we could torture her, make her break whatever deal she has with you and my Master- do you know how much she bought you for? Maybe we can give whatever it was back, you’d have your soul again. I have connections-“

“Jinu!”

“- and we could still do our deal. I could have you and them safe, like you want, and I would have my freedom. We could both be free-“

“I CAN’T!”

“…what?”

“I can’t hurt Celine, I just… can’t.”

 

“Rumi… I know she has had you for a long time and I know how it feels to have an attachment to your owner. It’s normal. Whatever she has done to make you feel like you need her, it’s purely manipulation. We can work on it. When you’re free.

If, if it’s closeness- our talks will help. I know who you are. You don’t need to hide anything from me.” He hides from her, he has stopped caring for his growing list of sins, this one bothers him, still.

A thought occurs to him.

 

“… is it closeness? What you have with her?”

“What do you even mean?” She whispers.

 

“I… is it sex? I can give you that if you want. Erase her from your mind.” He has hated sex for the last century, he won’t mind it, not with her.

She looks stunned, if she felt the need to express it with her face then… shit.

 

He missed it by a mile, didn’t he?

 

“I- not, it doesn’t need to- i swear I didn’t mean-“

And her scent sweetens, ripe apples and orange blossoms overpowering his stress. It calms him immediately. She’s amused. She finds his fumbling funny. She doesn’t even force out a performative laugh, communicating with him like one of his own.

Oh. Fuck.

Yeah, he’s falling. He fell, he hit his head on the pavement.

Bury him now.

 

————-

He lets himself sink into the soft plush of her bed just a couple of days later. She stinks of annoyance, he doesn’t budge.

“There’s room for two” he’s already stealing a perfect white pillow.

 

“It’s MY bed.”

“Yeah, a bed that has room for two.” He smirks, just the cherry on top. She can smell the smugness drip from him.

“I can tell you’re doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” He stretches out his limbs, groaning in pleasure.

“Being a piec- annoying. Being annoying.”

“What if I am?” He crosses his legs and leans back into the soft cushion.

“… are those my pants?!” They are fighting for clothes before long.

 

It’s nice, having someone on his side. It’s been centuries since he has allowed himself to feel this close to anyone. Doing this, conspiring, playing, fighting. It feels good.

And he is, and always will be, a greedy bastard.

———————

-30 days before Idol awards-

He turns the Television off on his way in.

The noise hurt his ears even from outside of the damn mansion. He crosses the room pushing the chair aside, letting it topple with a loud thud.

His eyes are trained on her, on her twitching body on the floor, on the blood. Pieces of her squishing under his boots as he nearly falls to his knees at her side.

He hates his reaper outfit, anyway.

Instead, he crouches low and takes her face in his hands.

“Rumi- nim?” He lets into the air.

Her eyes don’t open.

“Rumi.” He taps her cheek, getting worried.

 

“Rumi, you need to show me. Give me a sign, anything. Please. Show me i’m not too late.” He presses his fingers to her neck, they slip on blood and bile, desperate to press onto a working artery.

“Rumi. Rumi!” He hisses, it’s not loud enough to be heard upstairs, but he knows he doesn’t have much time.

 

“Wake up, wake. UP.” Her eyes snap open.

He exhales like he needs to breathe.

“God, don’t ever do that again.” She responds with a whine, shivering.

“Okay, it’s okay. Here.” His coat is around her, he knows the fabric burns against her flayed skin. He knows. There’s not much to do.

She looks too weak, skinny. He nearly drops her head in his attempt to retrieve the soul he kept in his pocket. The blue marble faded, but still good.

He rolls it around on his fingers, he is well aware she wouldn’t consent to this were she conscious. He should’t.

 

He looks at her face, her visible ribs, her torn flesh and exposed bone.

He takes the soul to her lips and pushes it in.

————-

-5 days before Middle School accident-

 

“Were you born like this?” She asks him innocently. They were watching something, limbs tangled on soft sheets.

 

“Incredibly handsome? Yes.” He crunches on popcorn.

“A demon, idiot.”

“Damn, alright. Let a man be a least a little delusional.” He swallows it with a too big mouthful of soda. “But, no. I was human, once.”

 

“Oh. Do you… remember it?” She wants to know of him. He thinks back on how little her knows of her. Of their paradise forged in only the present.

“No.”

—————-

 

-25 days before The Idol awards-

 

“Can you hear me?” He lays next to her on the wooden floor.

She hums quietly. More awake now, yet not fully aware.

“There are more demons in the area, Qwi-ma is almost ready.” He traces shapes on her belly, a little less sunken.

 

“We need to act, soon. We might miss our chance.” He hates to push this, she should be recovering.

“We are weak alone-“

“….weak” she echoes.

 

“Yes, we are weak. We need the plan, the deal” his hand stills.

“You need to accept the deal.”

“…no deal.” Even nearly dead, she’s stubborn as a mule.

“Please… I want you safe. Please Rumi. Let me free you.” He’s stating to get frustrated.

 

“….no…” she must not know what she’s saying.

He needs her to accept, or they’ll both die.

 

“Accept.”

 

“…”

“Rumi.” He moves her head to look her in the eyes.

“Do you want them to die?”

 

Something snaps in her. She’s moving, pulling away from him, trembling, choking on her breath.

“Do you want them dead? Is that what you want? Your Mira, your Zoey, dead?”

“N… n-no! No, please…” it comes out shrieked instead of spoken. “Celi-ne s-said- new hunters soon. I just—— need to be gone… they’ll show up soon.”

Is she fucking crazy? Humanity can’t wait that long, he can’t wait that long! He wont have his memories erased if he loses his only bargaining chip!

“They will die before the next generation shows up! They need you to save them, Rumi! You need to accept, do you listen?!” He grabs her shoulders, his claws sinking in.

“They will die.” He says again.

 

“I-“ her eyes are clouded, her weight leaned on his, he knows the look of someone vulnerable enough to yield to anything.

“You know the terms, do we have a deal?”

 

“Yes.”

And with one word, he has doomed her.

Notes:

Thoughts? Questions? Concerns?

 

Hit me, I’d love to yap.

Chapter 14: Or Christ, hold me like a knife.

Summary:

Shorter chap today:(

 

It is mostly a transition to the next part of the story, much more exciting things to come!

 

EDIT: Due to some very nice constructive criticism (TY to those who commented, i really appreciate ya’ll) I took it upon myself to re-do the ending of this chapter as to fix a out of character moment. Hope it’s better now!

 

TW: Assumed Sexual assault (iffy consent but no graphic non-con). Graphic description of injuries.

Notes:

If anyone can guess the video game reference (give me the part of the text where it is placed) there is a prize!

(The prize is you get to make a small request and I will add it to the story!)

Here is a tip: the game title has something to do with a royal and the genre is horror.

-25 days before the Idol Awards-

 

He feeds her until her cheeks fill out, a new soul to his tally every time he wanders into the nearby village. He cleans the blood from her hair with a wet rag and bathes her with water from the nearby stream, cringing when new pieces of her come off with light scrubbing.

He works with the diligence of a doomed man, one who still hopes the last prayer before death will lend him Heaven.

At night, he steals her body heat, cradling her face, expecting her to speak to him.

She doesn’t.

But as soon as her vocal cords stitch themselves together, she sings.

He knows she did it on purpose, healed her voice before anything else. He knows why.

And so, he sings with her. Their song is quiet, there are no words to it but a yearning melody. The wooden floor glisten with treads of purity, the Honmoon reacts to her voice.

He matches her tone and begs,

Free us, free me.

And he feels no connection.

He lays her head back onto his lap and does it again the next day.

—————

 

Mira is getting impatient,

She promised Zoey going against Celine directly won’t work, but as the weeks go by, she might just want to find out.

So she begins insisting.

Her ‘good morning’s are replaced with ‘how is Rumi?’. Her polite lunch conversations are replaced with treatment options they could try next. She even makes advances, suggesting that maybe taking care of Rumi alone is straining Celine. She can see her eye bags grow by the day.

It reminds her too much of her own mother. Zoey can see it bothers her.

She needs to see Rumi. Her soulmate needs her. She can tell.

Her hands twitch for her Gok-do every time she sees greying hair. Her reflexes have never been wrong about a threat before. It leaves her unsettled and lost.

 

So she follows her mentor.

——————

The Honmoon laps at his feet, unmoved.

 

He sings higher, matching her pitch. Straining his voice.

Nothing.

He prays harder, begging, promising, he would give it his soul if he still had it.

Rumi’s breath wheezes out, and he gives up for the night.

There has to be something he is missing. Something it wants he hasn’t realized yet.

 

It is connected to it’s hunters, maybe it can sense his stained soul, see him like she can.

But why accept her? Another full blooded demon and not him. Envy burns at his markings, hot and sweaty. It slicks his hands and her head hits the floor.

Fuck, no. No.

She does not deserve to be hurt for this. He is hurting her enough. She will be punished enough.

They won’t have much time together, every moment with him should be encased in pleasure, comfort. He only has a couple of weeks at most to make up for his sins.

He cradles her head on his shoulder, adjusting her body to sink against his. He took his shirt off hours ago, she was too cold.

He hums softly, something his mother used to, when the hunger was too great. He remembers her holding him like this. Remembers her voice, the first time he felt safe. Like the starvation was nightmare she could soothe away. He kissed her neck in between notes, only stopping to apologize for every touch.

The waves grew larger, washing over his feet.

She was singing with him. He could almost hear his mother’s voice.

And so he kept on.

And for the first time in centuries, he sang not for himself. Prayed not for himself.

And the Honmoon answered.

_________

 

Mira was close, she knew it.

 

She tailed Celine, something she knew was only possible for her current state.

Did every turns only seconds after her, stepped only where she knew the floor didn’t creak. Rumi taught her that, when they were still trainees. The woman could sneak up on anything. They used to raid the fridge together at night, while Zoey snored.

She stops at a hallway, squinting at the lack light. Why is she going down? There was nothing but tea and fancy wine in the basement, she had showed them that on their first day. Nothing to see but the uncomfortable cold of a cellar.

Is she searching for a drink? With the pain meds she took that morning? No, she was not dumb enough to accidentally overdose, nor depressed enough to do it on purpose. Mira knows what that looks like.

(Sometimes she sees it in Rumi’s smile.)

So, she waits.

Celine squints at the door after twisting the knob, then leaves, her sandals drag a brown smudge she can’t quite recognize. Rumi would know, she has the sense of smell of a bloodhound.

She leaves the door open, though.

If she were hiding something in there, she wouldn’t leave it open, would she?

She is tired.

Her Celine would never slip, not even tired. On purpose, then? So she can lock her in there to teach a lesson on sneaking?

Oh, shut up and do something!

She huffs, and waits for her to turn the corner and walks in.

Her footsteps are quiet, distributing her weight as to not disturb the old stairs. A glimmering light shines softly from below. Though the cold breeze brings a smell of mould and death. The wooden walls and flooring were once beautiful, a deep red stained finery fit for a towering estate’s historic cellar. They were covered in a thing like old blood. It is overwhelming, like her head is pushed into itself by an unseen pressure. Like there’s something down there, and it wants her out.

She keeps on moving, though more out of habit than will. This place is gorgeous, it is oppressive. Mira thinks whatever is down there, killing it would be doing it a favor.

The Honmoon. It’s shining.

Mira becomes entranced, their sacred barrier hums in delight, it is a sight that she could see every day and still thank it profusely for every second. She feels like she should kneel.

 

What she sees past the light almost makes her knees buckle.

A pool of old blood, thick like paint and stagnant, the blue light of the Honmoon making it a pool of reflection. Atop it lie two bodies, and a part of her wants to apologize for interrupting the sinful tangle they are in. Bare and posed like breathing is only an option, that it would shatter the moment into a thousand sharp pieces.

Until she sees a fountain of familiar purple hair, soaked in blood.

Her soulmate’s arms are lacerated, her skin is pulled out and ripped apart like old book pages, ones describing a history of suffering so large no manuscript could dare copy.

She sees muscle, sinew and slick bone glistening in the Honmoon’s light. She sees dark curled claws cradling her cherubic cheeks. She witnesses the Rape of Persephone, the desecration of the pure.

And all she can think of is the beauty of her voice.

The demon holding her sings along, in a bastardized duet as their naked chests touch in breathing. Her hands clutch her weapon with a strength that is beyond her. And in a single second, she strikes.

 

Her Gok-do hits the wall mere millimeters away from his neck. He moves as if warned, and vanishes.

She must have screamed, her throat burns.

She is on her beloved’s body, soaking her hands and comfortable clothes with thick drying blood and filth.

She is beyond words, the only sounds coming from her pitiful wails and choked breath. She furiously wipes at her face with her shirt, trying and failing to remove every trace of that thing from the only intact skin she can find.

Her hands fumble, pulling at whatever is left of her Rumi’s outfit, she doesn’t notice it’s the same from the night of the incident. Doesn’t notice how starved she looked, only blood and skin and exposed things she should never been able to see and she must be in so much pain and her eyes are unfocused-

Loud desperate footsteps echo in the now dark basement. Her mentor being quick to pull her off- she’s not as strong as Celine, never will be. She’s not quick enough, not accurate enough, that disgusting demon escaped. She let it go.

 

She won’t be mad if the Honmoon disowns her like her parents did. She’ll take it. As long as Rumi lives.

————-

 

-20 days before the Idol awards-

 

Mira doesn’t get to see Rumi again.

 

She fights Celine on it, getting close to hitting the woman before she realized her teacher could kill her if she wanted to.

That makes her freeze. Not for her own sake, but for Zoey’s.

Zoey, who will never learn of this.

And that, she admits, is for her own sake.

 

The week passes with raw prayer and a chorus of praise, repentance. Mira praying for Rumi’s recovery, for the forgiveness of her sins. Zoey prays for the poison in their beloved’s veins to be expelled- knowing not that it was the least of their concerns. Celine prays, too. Though she knows not what for. Rumi is good as new in two days.

They return to their penthouse in silence.

Notes:

Good reading for everyone! And this is a reminder the tags will be changing soon. (No spoilers but nothing too far from what yall have seen in this fic).

Chapter 15: Normalcy’s Boring

Summary:

They are back home, all is well, isn’t it?

Notes:

Hi!!! Hope this one is a little better than the rest.

 

Yall get a little fluff, as a treat :)

TW: very light mentions of SH, be safe yall.

 

PLEASE READ: last chapter’s ending was changed due to some very nice constructive criticism I got from a few comments (ty for speaking out and having my back!) please go read that first!

-15 days before the Idol Awards-

 

It happens again the very day she goes back home.

Rumi is herself again, bright, energetic, with enough enthusiasm to pull her face into a smile. Her markings stay blessedly still, her cleaning routine keeping her rotting scent guarded under her layers of clothes.

She is better, more than better.

So when they sing Golden, slowly and mindful of their youngest, she expects normalcy to come back with her voice.

Neither do.

 

She get’s jittery, her hands tremble and claws threaten to burst through fingertips. She needs to do something about it. Now. She tells her girls she needs to let some frustrations out, to spar.

Mira doesn’t look at her, so she picks Zoey. The girl always goes too easy on her, but it will do for now.

They grapple at each other, pushing and pulling in a familiar dance. She lands a hit on the younger woman’s stomach. She barely evades a pointy elbow to the face. She’s sweating, she will need to shower soon.

Her eyes search for Mira, a blur of electric pink, a playful smirk.

She finds her seething, it makes her lose her balance, making a sweaty Zoey pin her to the floor.

It’s a match.

Rumi doesn’t care. She’s all better. Zoey’s head snaps to the side, in search of the culprit for Rumi’s distraction. Her eyes meet with Mira’s in a silent conversation she will never be privy to.

It doesn’t matter, she’s all better.

The youngest moves away, stepping over her to place a caring hand on their soulmate’s shoulder. It brings the opposite reaction she expected, her eyes flaring with anger.

“What?” She spits out.

“Are you okay…? Is your head bothering you again because I have some painkillers in my bag- I know it were strong yesterday, so It’s okay if you want to sit this one out.” All of the goodness this trio will ever have adds kindly.

“I- no, my head isn’t hurting, Zoey. Im pissed of because-“ she clenches her fists, pulling away when Zoey reaches for them instinctively.

“…Because you are both acting like nothing happened! Like you got severely injured in our most violent mission to date and as soon as we stepped back home, you are back to it! It makes me feel fucking crazy!”

The way she raises her voice makes Rumi simultaneously want to reach for her and bang her own head on the floor to apologize.

 

Why, what- what is she supposed to do? She thought since she was all better that things would go back to normal. Aren’t they supposed to go back to normal? The injuries are gone- well, Zoey’s voice is a bit raspy, but that’s fine! She just won’t do any higher notes for a while, Rumi can handle those!

Why is she upset? Think, idiot!

“Rumi.”

Shit,

“Rumi!” It’s Mira.

“I-Im sorry!”

They both look at her like she grew a second head.

(Or demon patterns)

“Rumi, did you hear what Mira said?” Zoey gets closer, offering her hand to pull her up.

“I…” she didn’t.

“I said im through.” No!

Was she leaving Huntr/x? Was she giving up her title as a Hunter? She can’t- she can’t do that! She can’t do that to her, not when they’re so close- not when she’s so close. She needs to seal the Honmoon before Jinu even gets the chance to use his power. She made a terrible mistake and there is less than a month for her to fix it! She needs Mira, she needs Zoey. They can’t- they can’t leave her!

 

“Wait! Wait… please I… did I do something? I don’t- you can’t- don’t leave. Please.” She’s on the floor, Zoey’s hand ignored.

————

 

It’s like Mira’s anger just fucking evaporated.

Her Rumi is on the floor, kneeling and begging and why the fuck would she say it that way? She was clearly zoning out and hearing that without context sounds… it sounds like she’s leaving.

She’s next to her in a blink, pulling her up by her armpits like she does to a sleepy Zoey. Trying to get the beautiful woman to look her in the eyes.

“Rumi. Rumi listen to me.” She guides her face with a gentle hand on her chin. She keeps moving away, her sight glued to the floor still.

“Listen. I’m through with pretending. There will be no more brushing things off, no more biting back pain, physical nor emotional. I am not leaving.” She sees life get breathed back into her beloved.

“Y-you’re not?”

“Never. Ever.” She tries to assure her, tries to push the promise of protection beyond words, but she knows it is hollow.

 

She can’t protect Rumi. Can’t keep her nor Zoey safe. Because her kindness has a scar on her lip and a scratchy voice, because her guiding light looks at the tile under their feet, aimless.

She failed them, both of them.

She was a spectator on the scariest night of her life. A witness to a crime so vile just a few weeks later. She is Mira, their brunt force, their spiked shield. She’s supposed to keep them, hold them. A judgement free environment for Zoey’s creativity, a peaceful quiet for Rumi’s genius.

She is neither, not anymore.

But it doesn’t mean she’ll leave them.

“Rumi, I need to know you understand. I’m not going anywhere.” She assures her.

She gets a nod for an answer. She’s about to ask her to use her words when Zoey embraces both of them. The sudden warmth shutting her up.

It feels right, even if incomplete.

—————-

Mira might have dropped the whole “Rumi Mystery”, but Zoey didn’t.

 

Since their scare at the school, she has been piecing together some clues.

Clue 1: Whatever is happening, it has to do with Rumi’s arms (chest??)

Clue 2: Celine knows. Because she was taking care of her when she was poisoned.

Clue 3: it’s important (embarrassing/incriminating/worrying) enough for her to not want to talk about with them.

But like, why? When have they ever made her feel embarrassed about anything? They talk about everything! She even helped Mira through appendicitis. She has seen their vomit, blood, most of their naked bodies (not Rumi’s arms, obviously). And she even has been very understanding about all of the long sleeves, their whole career!

 

Which, in hindsight, should have brought up some red flags. But Zoey isn’t the best at reading people.

Anyway, she will get to the bottom of this! She has some theories going on.

Theory 1: birthmarks. She had a classmate back home who had a bright red one, all over his belly. Kids used to make fun of him for it.

 

Scrapped for lack of evidence. Celine is filthy rich, she would have just gotten it removed.

Theory 2: Skin condition. Most likely one, since it could be chronic. Further investigation required. Check for meds and creams.

Theory 3: Self-harm.

Scrapped for lack of evidence. They would have noticed, right?

Right?

 

Check for razors and sharp objects in Rumi’s room. She cannot be wrong about this.

She doesn’t know what she’ll do if she’s right about it, though.

——————-

Rumi spends the night practicing.

Singing every unnatural hight note until her voice is cracking. Until she spits up bile. Dancing until she breaks her ankle and has to beg the Honmoon to heal it, adding to her debt.

She has to make up for what she’s done. For betraying her girls. For giving their enemy their only weapon.

Jinu will use his voice on the Honmoon. He will weaken the very being that has given her purpose, the very thing she owes her life to. It had accepted her, nurtured her, emptied holiness into a vessel of sin. She had repaid it with pain.

Jinu will let Qwi-ma in.

(Jinu promised the girls would be safe)

Jinu will not lift a finger against His army.

(Jinu promised she would be free)

Jinu-

Held her, cleaned her, warmed her, kissed her reason for shame like it was beautiful. Like dead skin was supple, living flesh. Like she was meant to be seen.

Touched her without her consent, killed innocents and fed them to her, lied about not remembering his life, used her-

Jinu- he-

“Rumi?”

 

She bolts to turn on the light of the dance studio.

“M-Mira?” She looked at her with pity, if only she knew.

“Zoey made an appointment with a doctor tomorrow. So we can go check on your voice.” She had a tired tinge to her tone. It must be late.

“Oh… okay. Thank you.”

Notes:

*throws a brick only to realize it’s soft foam*

I’ll get u guys next time heheheh

Chapter 16: The sound of the saw must be known by the tree

Summary:

Cue in Saja Boys!

 

TW: panic attack, graphic descriptions of injuries.

Notes:

Hi!!! Im not dead!

So sorry the delay and the length of the chapter :( I have two very good reasons for this:

 

1- My wrist bailed on me and I was unable to write for most of the week.

2- I wrote a near 4K word long polytr/x smut that may or may not be the reason my wrist stopped responding.

 

(It’s the only other thing in my profile)

-14 days before Idol awards-

She doesn’t sleep. She isn’t sure she can, not without the memory of failure dragging her body to the fire pit of hell.

(It’s where she’ll end up, in the end)

She wishes she could feel pain, maybe the physical damage could be enough to lighten the debt of her sins.

(The skin on her arms still pulls around hurried stitches)

The streets are full of an ever growing crowd, stalls and shops bursting with costumers. She has to pull her hood down to her eyes not to be recognized.

It’s her Zoey’s idea, going to a doctor. It makes her palms sweaty and a fang rip through her gum. It’s the first time she’ll ever be to a medical professional. What if he asks her to take her hoodie off? Pull up her sleeve? You need to do that to measure blood pressure, right?

(That can’t happen, fuck, why did she agree to this?)

 

“Excuse me Miss Rumi?” A voice startles her from below.

A little boy, wearing a Huntr/x shirt is pulling on her sleeve.

“Can you sign my shirt?” He pulls it up, handing her a colorful marker he clearly pulled from his school backpack.

“I, uh… yes, of course!” She crouches to his height, the practiced motion of signing merch flowing out quickly.

“Here you go! Have a good day, sweetie.”

“I wanted to- wanted to say thank you.” He mumbles.

“For what, sweetheart?” She gives a tight lipped smile. She doesn’t deserve thanks, she has done nothing good her entire existence.

“The kids in class made fun of me cause I’m adopted. But they stopped when I told them that your mom died, too! And that a new mom picked you, just like mine!” Oh.

 

(Her mother didn’t die, she was brutalized. Celine didn’t pick her, she was stuck with her).

 

“Do you… like your new mom?” She can’t stop the question before it comes out.

“Yeah! She’s awesome. She makes my lunch!” He proudly shows it off. A colorful Rumi lunchbox. “She isn’t mad that I like girl stuff.”

“That’s great, give your mom a nice big hug.” She falls back into PR training. Simple. Basic.

“Okay! Byebye!”

“Bye…”

Would her mom have made her lunch?

———————

 

Once they can get Rumi’s voice back on track, they can finally go back to the important stuff, Like keeping up the Honmoon!

And the fans.

And her detective work!

She gives Rumi a thumbs up, hoping the doctor will at least ask her to lift her sleeve to check her blood pressure. Thinking of it now, Zoey doesn’t think she has ever seen Rumi go to the doctor. Maybe Celine knows a lot about medicine, being a experienced hunter and all. That must be why Rumi always goes to her after she gets hurt on missions.

Dr. Han doesn’t check her blood pressure, but he does tell her she needs to rest more! And he also told Zoey she’s a people pleaser, which, uncalled for.

Mira barks at him, though, so I guess they’re even.

They leave with some tonics, a prescription for pain meds, a referral to a therapist.

Way to read them to the ground, jeez.

———————

Rumi is getting worse.

 

She tries to hide it, again. And Mira tries to get her to open up, again.

It’s like it was before the incident, but now she has to worry about more than just a secret. Rumi’s safety is on the line.

That demon is still out there.

She has taken to walking behind them, watching every shadow, counting the exits. She knows its obsessive. It’s necessary.

Rumi will not be hurt again.

(She’s too late, it already happened, you couldn’t save her. You let him go).

She can’t fail her.

 

(You saw what she looked like, the pool of blood. Her skin pulled until it tore. You saw it, his body atop hers, caressing her like she was his, hurting her more than any physical injury ever could. You. You say it. The singing. His plan. Torturing an innocent, already weakened by poison, for the power to break to Honmoon. How she was too weak to fight back. You saw it, the rotting basement he dragged her into. The exhaustion in Celine’s eyes being used against her as he slipped in the shadows. You. SAW IT. YOU. YOUR FAULT-)

“Do you hear that?” Zoey.

“It’s… singing.” Rumi, she sounds so small.

They followed the melody, entering a crowd before they even noticed they left the alley.

Singers, a boy group.

They all look like some satirist version of Idol stereotypes, too perfect, too synced.

In the middle, singing the chorus.

Him.

———————-

 

“…. I’m not here to mock you, I’m here to help you.”

“What makes you think that could work?”

“I have something no demon has ever had.”

“Ah, but that is just not true, little songbird. Alas, what do you want in exchange for your services?”

“Am I not allowed to want to aid my King in his noble quest?”

“Speak your claim, slave. Do not test me.”

“The memories, I want them erased.”

“And relief you of my gorgeous voice in your ear? No, if you truly want it, I crave something else, more.”

“You cannot demand this of me- I do not own it. I cannot give it to you.”

“Then own it, steal it if you want. If you do not give it to me, You may forget about this deal. I do not bargain with vermin.”

“…You’ll erase my memories?”

 

“For this, Jinu. You can have your freedom”

Notes:

Hope it wasn’t too bad

*throws small brick*

 

More soon!

Chapter 17: I feel this river rushing through my veins (with nowhere else to go, it circles back)

Summary:

Unwilling to let go of one another, they bury their teeth.

 

TW: manipulation, unhealthy mindset/relationships.

Notes:

Hi! looks like we are back on track with the updates!

 

*here's another brick :)*

-14 days before the Idol awards-

Rumi is entranced. She can feel her skin tingle, some type of scent she never felt her pheromones produce seeping from her skin. She knows she should be scared of how easily she allows it to flow out.
It’s like something changes, it feels… right.
She knows this is not what he actually looks like, that he is hiding his marks and his scent, that the smile on his face is fake. But the voice, the way it seeps into the Honmoon like it truly belongs to him.
She knows this is what he was meant to do.
She can’t help the way her shoulders relax, feeling more awake than she has in weeks. It’s him, her mind supplies, he’s right here.
Her Jinu.

Then guilt overwhelms her, her patterns burning fiercely, her sacred barrier is crying in pain and she dares to celebrate it. How could she? When her life’s work is being destroyed in front of her very eyes. How could she? When he sounds so pure? So happy.

She remembers still, despite the state of semi-counciousness she was in that night, the way he held her. The lullaby sung under his breath, the way his clawed fingers strummed her vocal chords to the tune. It felt familiar, in a dull way. It felt soothing, even without any true healing ability. She had finally seen him. It was just the two of them, bare to each other. It was the first time she let anyone see her skin.

(even if there was no skin to speak of, and no question of whether she wanted it to be seen)

He is the only being in this existence that has peeked into her very soul. The only who bore his to her in return, who did not flinch, felt no disgust. Met her eyes in the darkness. She makes a realization that very night, delirious and half-starved. That it mattered not how he lied to her about remembering his past life, that it mattered not the innocents he killed to feed her. He would be the only person to ever see her truth and not kill her for it. If she ever wants it again, the closeness, skin on skin, face to face. It would have to be with him.

(part of her wails at the thought, no. Not him. Them. It should be them, always them. Her soulmates, her reason for living. It was for them she wanted to be fixed, so they could have the lover they deserved)

She gives that soft part of her the lashes necessary to snuff it out. She knows it will be back, sharper and hungrier, that it will maul her one day. It matters not. It should learn it’s place.

After the music ceases, she holds back from cheering along with the crowd.

“These are demons, and we’re gonna kill them”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur.

—-----------

She goes after him- she wasn’t supposed to- but his face, his voice. Talking to her, teasing them like he did back in her room. Back when things were simpler.
(they never were)
It made her body move to him before she could have a say in it, this has been happening more and more often, she supposes. He runs away, leading her to the private saunas. Giggling a sound so pretty she wants to keep it hidden from everyone else.
She kicks the door open, expecting to continue their game. What she sees is a stranger staring back at her.

“JInu?” she stops on her tracks.

“Hunter.” His tone is flat, why is he masking his scent? He taught her to read their meanings, they spent entire nights huddled close together, noses to each other’s necks. Laughing and shushing the other and then discovering they can both purr. She felt safe.

“Why can’t I smell you?” she demands, his step falters. Her sword is still aimed at his neck.

“I- You can’t be here. What if your hunters find you?”

“We’re far, they’re busy. Why are you hiding?”

“I am not hiding. You should be, though. I could pick up your scent from the crowd.”

“Humans can’t smell it.” She tries to show them, when they get close.

“At least you're not claiming to be one of them anymore.”
She’s not. She’ll never be as clean as them.

“I never have”

“Why are you here, Rumi? What do you want from me? The deal has been made, I cannot give you anything else.” Bitterness, they air no longer empty. It’s him, and she’s hurting him.

“Wh- what? Give me anything? Jinu, I’m here because I want to see you.” She can’t believe it. All they have been through and he thinks she’s here because of greed? Has she not given him enough?

“You know what happens when I see you. Control slips when you're around me.” It’s the only place she can.

“Didnt you say that was good? That I had to have an outlet?”
(Is it too much? Did he finally find out what she is? A hybrid, an affront to nature, disgusting, a walking display of sin).

“I did. But it was then. This is now. We can’t see each other without causing suspicion. We both have sides, we both could be killed if either of them catch a whiff of us together.” She doesn’t notice herself lowering her weapon.

“You can’t just bail like that! Not after what you taught me, not after what you’ve done.”

“What I can’t do, is be the reason you get hurt again!” He’s closer, she can smell jasmine on his skin.

“You had nothing to do with the basement, that was punishment for something I did.”

“But I do.”

“Shut it, Jinu! Stop blaming yourself for everything! I’m a hunter, even if your presence is part of why demons go after me. It is not your fault. It comes with the job.”

“I’m not talking about the punishment, nor the school”
Oh, that’s IT.

“Then what are you talking about, JInu! Why are you so convinced you hurt me!”

“Because I- Because I used you!”

“I dont care”

“Rumi-”

“I said, I don't care. I know the idea was to free you, I know you took advantage of my weakness that night and I still want to correct the mistake I made by accepting it. I still want to convince you to call it off, to find a way to make you free without sacrificing the world to Qwi-ma. But maybe… maybe it was worth it, being manipulated like that”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Did you ever stop to think how awful it is, to not have anyone to be with? To have to hide constantly from every person around you, hoping one slip won't get your head severed from your body? I only have you.”

Please stay. Please don’t be the first person to ever look at me and then leave.

“You have them.”

She’ll never be theirs.

“You know I don't, Jinu”

“We can't keep meeting”

“We will. We will because the least you can do is hold me after you ripped my clothes off. After you saw all of me”
For a moment she can smell fear in the suffocating sauna air, his patterns flaring alongside hers.
“Okay”

——————-

Where the fuck is Rumi?

Mira had swore to the Honmoon that she would never allow Rumi to get hurt ever again.

But in the fray of the bathhouse, she had lost sight of her.

There were too many of them, she knew why. Him. The one who dared touch her Rumi. The one who took their fearless leader in a moment of vulnerability and made ash of all their progress in opening her up.

He will burn.

She’s on their track like a hunting hound, following wet footsteps and pulling Zoey along.
Most water demons are dead anyway, the rest will bleed out in time.
(a flash of an old man’s dead body, still warm from the tub, being devoured for no other reason than pleasure makes her stomach clench)

The youngest hot on her trail, she pushes past heavy wooden doors to the private saunas, alarm bells ringing in her ears.

(he’s alone with her)\

She’s strong enough to kill him.

(he has tortured her before)

She deserves revenge.

(she shouldn’t have to do this alone)

No, she won't.

Kicking a door open reveals only a naked Saja boy, abs glistening in the dim light. She nearly impales him, demanding to know where Rumi is. The words “Jinu” and “having some fun” leave his mouth.

His teleportation is the only thing that saves him.

They have never dealt with demons with that level of power before, but they have also never been this close to sealing the Honmoon.
She and Zoey split, wanting to cover more ground.

(she knows Zoey is just not willing to see what she’ll do to that demon once she finds him)

Last one on her side. Kicking it with all her might just to let the anger out, she swears she can see the door splinter.

her head frantically moves around the room, the mist making it hard to see, where is she? WHERE IS SHE?

“MIRA!”

Zoey.

Notes:

As always, please leave a comment on your likes, dislikes, and theories for where you think this will go.

 

Love you guys!

Chapter 18: You know better, babe

Summary:

Mira and Zoey come to a agreement, Jinu leaves his guilt behind.

Notes:

Okay! big one today (for my standards lol)

TW: assumed sexual assault, (no graphic depiction), Implied self harm.

 

heads up! *throws brick*

-14 days before Idol Awards-

 

Her breath smells sweet.

He can’t tell if it’s a dessert or the memory of kindness that tinges it, although it might just be his longing to share it.
Coming closer, he can’t help but want to taste it, warm as it is. Crisp apples and flowers- orange blossoms- summer in scent. He had missed feeling sunlight in his skin for 400 years of punishment, had missed the smell of fresh flowers, of days wondering if he could eat them. This is different, though. It is not Seoul’s hot and humid season, nor the stifling heat of the sauna, it’s better.
She clings to him in a way he knows she cannot with anyone else. He knows all the affection she feels for him is misplaced, undeserved. He holds her tighter. His hands wander, caressing skin with reverence. He allows his fingertips to sharpen, his glamour slipping. “It’s okay,” he whispers in her ear. You can let go. We’re alone, you can show me.
She doesn’t. And it burns more than the hot stones in the edge of the room. To think he has made sure she is as comfortable with him as possible, held her as she nearly died and yet she still-
You are a selfish man.
He knows he is, has never denied it, it taunts him at night.
And still, he wants more than she can give. She is desperate for affection and he is the only one who can give it and he’s using her for it. He has the power he wanted, the deal he craved, his path to near-freedom.

(He could take more)

The hand that lies on her waist moves up, under her leather jacket- you vile man- and he revels in the skin he finds. The way it bears no scars, no blemishes after all she went through, she doesn’t deserve what happened to her to be written in her skin, too.
(this, however, will stay there forever)
He runs his claws on sensitive skin, using his other hand to pull the garment off her, he wants to see more, just to be sure she’s safe, he tries to convince himself- and fails immediately.
She lets him. Easing his work by moving her arms up, not meeting his eyes.
And, oh, that bothers him more than it should.
“Look at me” His scent becomes bitter with anger, it’s ridiculous.
“Jinu…”
Her jacket is off, her undershirt along with it, she’s nearly bare. He reaches for whatever is left to keep her from him. There is faint anger on his skin, but she soothes it away with the warmth of her flesh. Yeah, it is different. None of the smells that come from her skin are ones he recognises from his life as a human. It is not the purity of humanity he sees on her. She is like him, his clothes come off quickly and they settle, skin on skin as they were meant to be. Their sweat sticks as the steam envelops them, their legs in a tangle.
It is not holiness, his nose tickles the nape of her neck, taking her in.
Orange blossoms, foreign and honeyed. Her breath hitches. She’s still staring at the ceiling.

Apples, ripe and ready. Would they taste as good on his tongue as they would in others? Or is this his alone?

He finds he doesn’t care.

(they won’t be anyone’s sometime soon)

“Jinu, I.. We need to talk about the deal”

“I’m not calling it off” It is final.

“But- the Honmoon, it is so close to being gold!” she tries to squirm, probably wanting to look at his face while he talks, human habits die hard.

“And your voice is working perfectly, isn’t it?” He closes his arms around her, pulling her fully into his lap.

“It worked back in the basement, I don’t understand why it won’t anymore. Why it keeps waning.”

“I think you know why.” She doesn’t want to leave this plane, leave her hunters. Despite it being her end goal, and most likely the end of her use to her Mistress.

“I- I don’t”
“Hey.. shh. It’s okay. You know how this works, Rumi, stay still”
“I need to know, Jinu. If I can turn it Gold before Qwi-Ma can attack, then we can both… we could stay on this side.”

“Oh, is that what you believe will happen? Truly? Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, those were lies told to a worthless slave to keep her working. Push her closer to her own demise while her Mistress sits back and laughs?”
He knows what that looks like. She is undeserving of the torment she has to live through, but he will not simply let her believe it is normal, that it is love.

“She is not my Mistress! I- I am her hunter, she raised me, JInu! Taught me how to harness the Honmoon, how to pray to it”

Raised.
Raised her. A demon sold off in childhood. This means.. She was taken as a child. That the same could have happened to his sister. He’s never heard of that, shouldn’t she have stayed a child? Did his Master wait until her adulthood before he got his hands on her? Or was she…used as a child. A child then sold off to that monster in human flesh.

Raised her.

Taught her how to pray to the very thing that would kill her in the end.

This was not just a fear of failure, of punishment. It was devotion, religious faith so deep she goes against her blood for it. The scent of apples mocks him. It gives him an idea.

If she is trapped by holiness, then…

 

He will have to teach her sin.
__________
Zoey can’t believe this.

They were working so hard to hunt those stupid demons down, kill them one by one to preserve the Honmoon

And Rumi just-

She goes off on her own to- To hook up with one?!
How dare she! To make Zoey so worried about her and her solitude, to make them both worry for her hidden arms and skittish tendencies and then- open up to a stranger! She’s naked under him in the sauna and she can’t see all that well but he’s moving against her and she’s gonna be sick because they are the enemy and one vomited bleach into her mouth and burnt part of her face off-
And Rumi is just- under him.
Her sight gets worse, her cheeks wet and FUCK THIS WATER VAPOUR

She hates saunas now.
“MIRA!”
The woman shows up in seconds.

“WHERE IS HE?” she yells, kicking in the already open door. She’s gasping and her eyes look wild.
“Mira, they’re- “

This makes fury reach the redhead’s eyes, she has never seen Mira this furious. She must have seen them, where- where are they?

She turns back around just in time to see Mira pounce on their barely concealed forms.

In an instant, the demon teleports away. A naked Rumi left on the floor, clutching an unfamiliar black cloak that seemed to materialize atop her. She’s shaking.

Did she really scare her this bad?

“Rumi! Rumi, it’s okay… shhh it’s okay. He’s gone, he’s gone. Did he hurt you? Rumi, look at me, did he hurt you?” Mira wraps her in her arms with a tenderness that used to be just Zoey’s.

Did she not understand what was happening? Rumi cheated on them! She’s a traitor, she…

She’s shaking on the floor.

—------------
They know. They know about her and Jinu, they almost saw her patterns.

She was seconds away from being killed by their hands.

It’s over. And she won’t even get to hold them while she goes.

Because Mira can’t hide her disgust, and Zoey is furious.

It’s over.
—-------------

Rumi won’t tell her what happened.
She doesn’t have to, it is clear in her eyes. He found her again.

(You did this, you left her, let her go on her own and now she’s been r- again)

It’s her fault.

Rumi is no damsel, it could have happened to any of them. No matter how trained the huntress, it only takes one slip for a demon to take everything.

They’re only human.

She keeps muttering “it’s over” under her breath, hiccuping and gasping in a way that makes Mira wonder if she even needs oxygen to survive, she sure would have passed out already. Deciding now is not the time, she wraps the woman tightly with the dark cloth atop her. Something tells her it’s his, but they have no other choice until Rumi is conscious enough to dress herself.

The penthouse is silent once more.

They take her to her room, Mira sitting her on the bed and trying to get her to tell them what happened while Zoey picks her new clothes. Rumi’s cheeks are dry, her face neutral, her eyes- her arms tremble.

“Zoey… do you have anything?”

“Yeah, I'm just… making it safe.” She’s pulling the strings from the hoodie, shoving them in her pockets.

“What are you doing?” The redhead blurts it out. Offended for Rumi that Zoey is taking so long, drawing it out for more time when she needs to feel safe now.

“I said, I'm making it safe. She can’t have anything that she could use to hurt herself”

Is she serious?

“Zoey, she wouldn’t-”

“Cut the bulshit, Mira! I thought you were the one who’s good at reading others. What happened to that plan of yours? To get her to open up? You’ve been so busy coddling her you forgot it, haven’t you?”

“Coddling? She almost died in that school! I had to drag both of your bloodied bodies to the car. Rumi was poisoned."

“Well, so was I!”

“I was there for you! Are you really being jealous right now?”

“What- no! I love being there for both of you, I'm just saying that you’ve been all over Rumi since we got back from Celine’s. It’s like something’s going on that i was just not told”

Shit.
“Zoey, I- Fine!” She gets up, walking closer to their sweet youngest with burning frustration.

“You want to know what’s going on, fine! I was caring for Rumi because she…” It gets stuck in her throat.

“She’s what? Hurting herself? Yeah, I know. I had to figure it out alone.”

Oh.

“She’s hurting herself?” she whispers out, please let it no be true, please let it just be a misunderstanding-

“The long sleeves? The flinching. The coldness. Her habit of zoning out. Her incredible pain tolerance. You saw her yesterday, when she went upstairs after you told her about the doctor’s appointment. Her ankle was broken, she was walking on it.” It makes sense, it makes so much sense and she- she didn’t notice, she didn’t- why didn’t she? How did she not-

“It makes sense, Mira! Why else would she be sneaking to the kitchen in the middle of the night, hand where we keep the knives? If I hadn’t had that anxiety attack and banged my head on the table she would’ve- Oh, fuck. Mira she would’ve-”

“You told me it was a demon! You fell because you saw it staring at you in the dark.”

“I thought it was, until I realized she was the one who carried me back. There was no way she could have left her room and killed the demon that fast”

The redhead turns, staring at their leader, sitting on the bed, frozen.

“We have to hide everything.”

“I know,”

“No, you don’t. The self harm, the hiding. It’s only going to get worse.”

“If I don’t know, tell me! I'm tired of this, Mira.”
It’s not her story to tell, the right thing to do is let Rumi tell them on her own, but this stopped being about right and wrong the moment that thing first laid his hands on her.

They both need to know everything, or Rumi will never be safe.

Notes:

Once again, please leave a comment about literary anything, im bored.

 

I have a discord if anyone is interested in talking about this and future AU's im planning to write. Theres a scene in a future chap im so exited to show ya'll!

Chapter 19: I will survive (but I'll never recover)

Summary:

MIra and zoey confront Rumi (kinda)

Rumi spirals

 

Jinu can't bring himself to leave her behind.

Notes:

HI! I'm baaaaaaack

TW for today: Suicidal thoughts, Self- harm (graphic but brief), a LOT of emotions.

 

todays brick is very much real.

-13 days before Idol awards-

 

Beloved Honmoon, hallowed be thy exitance

Sung be thy Word

Banished be thy enemies

Prote- Hold me, guide my soul onto it’s next plane

 

Bless my soulmates, deliver them from sin

Take me kindly onto the fate that I deserve.

 

“I know I should ask nothing of you, and I wouldn't dare to plead. I ask not for myself, but for them. Please, let them do their duty with no remorse. Let their souls be clean of any pain, any regret. Allow them peace.”

She whispers in the cold white porcelain of her tub, bared soul and body. Her knees are bruised from hours of prayer, her hands shake. She knows this is the end. Her teammates have left to plan her execution. She has betrayed them. Her rotten blood spilled upon their feet, tainting their holiness with her essence. She should be dead by now, but she knows her soul- her hunters are kind-hearted. They will make this painless.

 

(not that she would feel it, anyway. The pain would only be theirs)

 

And so, she prepares.

She has organized her belongings, packed them in boxes that are easy to burn. Removed all traces of her existence- they weren’t many- from the penthouse while they talked. She saw them in the kitchen last, organizing the knives. It would not kill her, Celine had tried. But maybe… Maybe she could ask them to do as she did? To remove her patterns before she goes? She wants to be buried without them. Maybe then Celine might let her rest beside her mother. If only for appearances.

 

(eomma, I’m leaving)

 

She takes the blade, small and portable, trustworthy. She starts at her neck, watching the blood flow down the drain as it stinks up the bathroom. It will leave her weak and pliable for the next couple of hours. It will make it easier, she will not fight back.

 

(eomma, do you miss me? Or is your real daughter with you?)

 

Once done, she bandages it, not passing a glance at her body in the mirror, it won’t matter soon.

 

She’s back to the bedroom area, dropping to her knees in a low bow next to the pile of cardboard boxes, and waits.

 

She ignored the clanking of silverware. The banging of cabinets. The hushed worried whispers passed her without acknowledgment. She didn’t need to think anymore, it was all going to be okay.

———————

 

“Mira, are we good?” She was finally done getting rid of all the chairs and stuffing them into their dance studio. Mira was taking care of anything Rumi could use to hang- to hurt herself.

No chairs, no sound chords, no rope, no particularly sturdy cloth. No sweatpant strings.

They had taken care of the sharp objects early in the morning. Knives, razors, peelers- they still wonder if they have to take out the mirrors, if she’s really capable of doing something like that.

All they have left is the cleaning products, and they’ll be good. Zoey thanks whatever psychiatrist wrote the article she found online.

“Mira!”

 

“What?!” The redhead yells from the other side of the penthouse.

 

“I said ARE WE GOOD?” She shouts.

 

“You are going to wake Rumi!” She gets a hiss back.

 

“Shit, sorry.”

 

“Yes, I'm done with the stuff. No curtains, no places to tie knots. I just need to go to Rumi’s bathroom and take out the shower rod.” She lists out in monotone. Mira’s as overwhelmed as she is. She might want to go up a dose on her anxiety meds. Her girlfriend might need some, too.

Is it wrong to call the dancer her girlfriend? With Rumi sitting in her room, in pain and alone?

Is it wrong to show happiness while her soulmate hurts herself?

 

(Yes, it is. How dare you be happy when she needs you? What kind of selfish freak thinks about dates at the beach when one of the people who love you the most wants to die?)

She can hear footsteps in Rumi’s room.

“Mira! Rumi’s awake.” Once again the woman shows up in seconds.

 

They open her door together, maybe the’ll need to take her lock, too? Is that too much?

 

“Rumi…?” She whispers into the air.

 

Silence.

 

“Rumi, we’re coming in!”

She pushes the door slowly, looking for bunched up blankets and misplaced pillows. She finds insitead… boxes.

 

What?

 

She reaches for one while Mira calls for their Rumi.

They are not taped. What would she be organizing right now? Trinkets? She doesn’t have those. Clothes? All of their gigantic closets have room. What the-

 

Her things.

 

Every casual outfit, every single hair tie, makeup, skincare- she rushes to the next box- sandals, turtlenecks, a turtle plushie- one of three- that she got for all of them on a trip to the aquarium. The posters Mira gave her.

Rumi’s packed like she’s going away.

 

Her breath picks up, she’s leaving- she can’t- where would she go?- Celine is not the best mom, but would she take her in again? Why would- is she-

 

Is she-

“Zoey! Get in here!”

Rumi.

 

Their leader, bright and beautiful, with an odd goofy smile and a weird little niche reference to make about literally anything. Who’s incredibly socially awkward, but a goddess on stage. Who hugs children and kisses elderly. Who always takes the hit for them. Their soulmate is kneeling on the floor, wearing an old tattered hoodie and pants, next to everything she owns. A giant red stain blooming at her neckline like blood upon the snow.

 

“RUMI!” She rushes to her, pushing against the wound to stop the bleeding with a force that should have made the woman flinch. It doesn’t.

 

“Mira- first aid- in my bathroom- I- Rumi, stay with us!”

 

It all happens so fast.

 

“Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave us, we can still fix it!”

 

She needs to stay.

 

(She’s already gone)

 

“Rumi, we can fix it, we’ll be here for you. We even organized the house for you, see? We made it safe. Just for you.”

 

She’d destroy every weapon in the world if it meant none would ever hurt her. Even if it left herself unarmed.

“I’m making your favorite, the kimbap with the rice you like? Yeah. You’ll love it, stay.”

 

Stay.

 

“I’ll never steal your spot on the couch again! We’ll watch the movies you like even though I don’t know what you like. I'm sorry I never asked.”

 

“What’s your favorite movie?”

Answer me, please. I want to know you. I’m sorry I thought you didn’t want me to. I know now you just did it to keep me from hurting when you go. You can stay.

 

Stay.

 

“Please… answer me.” She can barely see through fat, hot tears. They burn. Her hands are slipping against soaked cotton.

 

“…the last unicorn.” A voice, small and beautiful, raspy and tired. Replies weakly.

 

“Y-yeah?” She can’t help but smile. “Will you- will you show me?”

 

“… I can stay?”

 

Oh.

 

(What is wrong with you, she thought you wanted her dead. You lost your temper just like your father and she thought she was the problem like you did. She believed you were never going to forgive her for lying with the enemy. You absolute monster.)

 

She can have him, she can leave them and go be happy with him. But- she has to stay.

 

“Zoey, move.”

 

The needle treads through skin and she has to physically stop a gag. The stink in her hands might just be the culprit. Why does it smell so bad? It’s blood. Though it seems more like the juices from a rotten cut of meat. Left in the heat to fester and attract flies, small larvae wiggling in it, feasting in fluid. The buzzing, the one from that night, it’s back. Get it off. Get it off. GET IT OFF.

 

“Zoey! The antiseptic.” Mira looks furious. It’s okay. She just needs to, needs to get the bottle. Her hands are dirty and smear clotting blood like old, squishy cheese and fuck-

 

“ZOEY?!” Mira’s hands are on her, but Rumi needs them, she needs to get ahold of herself. Her anxiety is getting the best of her.

Deep breaths- ignore the smell- another one, that’s it.

“I’m okay” She’s okay.

 

“The cut isn’t too deep, she’s not in danger. I just needed to sitch it some because of the movement, it would make the wound open too easily. Okay? She’ll be fine” Mira’s wiping her hands on a cloth, handing it to her with practiced motion. They all get hurt frequently, it’s part of the job.

 

(why did she never notice Rumi’s injuries? What is wrong with you?)

 

“Rumi, are you with us? We need to know what’s wrong, my sweet” The redhead wraps their leader in a hug, there’s no reaction.

 

Her eyes look… dead.

“Rumi?” she scoots closer, trying to keep eye contact- why does her head hurt- with their beloved, as Mira calls her.

 

“Rumi, I meant it, stay” she means it, she needs it so much.

 

She blinks slowly, taking a breath that creaks inside her lungs and turns to their youngest.

 

“... you aren’t mad?”

 

—-------

 

Mira wants to punch something.

 

She wants to break every bone in that things body and peel his flesh off slowly like he did with her Rumi.

He has to feel every second of it. Maybe she’ll keep him in a basement like he did to her beloved.

 

“Rumi, we’re not mad. We would never be mad at you for getting hurt. Nor for feeling like physical pain is better than the emotional one. We are just… worried, for you” Way to go, Mra, your therapist would be proud.

 

“We want to help” supplies their youngest.

 

“Yeah, help.”

 

“... help…?’

 

“Yes, Rums, help you feel better”

Tell us, please, please show me where it hurts. I’ll make it better I promise.

 

(you can’t protect her)
“We need to know what happened to help you” her Rumi stops breathing.

Shit, too blunt, to direct,

 

(too harsh, violent)

 

“No- no, Y-You can’t. You can’t know.” she hugs herself.

 

“Tell us, Rumi”

Stop it, stop being so mean to her.

 

(violent, dangerous)

 

“I- I don’t want to die a sinner.”

 

It breaks her completely, the soft barriers she had built around her sharp edges gone, they are bare. Clean and they have not tasted blood in too long.

 

(You’ll kill her with your own blade)

 

“Rumi, we can’t help you if I don’t know. I CAN’T PROTECT YOU IF I DON’T KNOW”

 

“Mira, wait-”

 

“How did he get to you? What are his plans? How did he manage to pull the ancient songs out of your throat, why didn't Celine keep you safe- why does he keep coming back? Why only you? Why not me? Why- please. Rumi, are you hurting yourself because he raped you? Or have you always…”

 

Zoey gasps.

 

Fuck, she;s crying.

 

She jumps on Rumi, burying her face against her neck, opposite to the wound.

 

They sit in silence.

 

Rumi completely out of it, Zoey out of breath, Mira out of words to say.

 

And then they all get to live their worst nightmare again.

 

—-------------------

 

Rumi is too attached to them.

 

He needs to fix that.

 

It’s so simple, getting her used to solitude, getting them to sever their bond with her.

 

It’s for the best.

 

And so he strikes.

Notes:

Leave a comment, I love ya'll!

Chapter 20: Hedges of Prayer (someone to tell me we're not born to be mules)

Summary:

Mira and Zoey lose for (not) the last time

Notes:

*throws brick and runs away to hide*

 

Tw: Manitpulation, religious immagery/guilt, implied prostitution (brief), assumed SA (also brief).

-12 days before the Idol awards-

 

He holds her like she belongs to him.

 

Like her soul is unclaimed, her flesh free, her heart unscarred.

 

He holds her like the chains don’t weigh her down. Like his aren’t about to crack open.

 

She should have known better than to trust him so deeply, she should have known better than to think he could ever be selfless.

 

She’s unconscious, has been for a few hours now. It’s peaceful, to sleep. He knows she wishes she could do it for eternity. He gets up from his bed, fixing the thick quilt around her, using it to wipe some of the blood off her cheek. It’s fine, she will never be cold again.

She will have to get used to the heat.

Walking towards the kitchen, he kicks a pulled out claw under the closet, his boots sticking to near dry blood on the old wood flooring. The room stinks of gore, he doesn’t notice.

She’s away from the hunters, that’s all that matters.

 

“...Jinu?”

 

“They will never love you, Rumi. This is for the best.”

 

—-------------------

 

Zoey has been panicking for far too long. Mira has called her therapist, a psychiatrist and Celine about it. All gave her the same answer. Talk to her.

 

Mira can’t utter a word.

 

How could she?

She was so close to finding out the truth, and now her Rumi-

 

(She’s gone, It’s your fault)

 

She knows.

Ripped away from her arms once again, for what’s probably the last time.

 

The fire that used to burn in her veins has turned into dry ash, it settles in her lungs.

 

(RUMI! NO- GET OFF ME! RUMI PLEASE LISTEN-)

 

She can’t bear Zoey’s crying anymore.

 

She is going to do something she will regret, if her beloved- no. She’s not dead. He could have killed her on the spot if they had wanted her dead. She’s alive, she has to be.

 

She is, she’s stuck with him.

Mira left her with him.

 

(ZOEY, HOLD HIM DOWN- RUMI, GET. UP!)

The thought of harming herself the way she knows she is getting hurt right now seeps into her thoughts. Skin peeled, veins pulled, cold, dark, alone. Used.

(GET OFF HER! YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER AGAIN)

 

Laid upon the floor, eyes cloudy, skin grey from blood loss.

She remembers vividly how she looked when he hurt her the first time. The moment she knew she had no choice but to love her. The fear in her own eyes, her lover's tears catching the holy light of the Honmoon. A mangled hand reaching through the gore to weekly grasp at her shirt. Her brain supplying her with the image of roadkill, putrid and yet… still twitching. Still clinging to life even as the maggots settled in.

 

Her Rumi, holding on to hope.

 

(RUMI! NO- GET BACK HERE, BRING HER BACK- mira, we should call for help- BRING HER BACK- I WILL FIND YOU, I WILL FUCKING FIND YOU, YOU WILL WISH I KILLED YOU EARLIER, DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU W-)

Where did that go?

 

Did she kill it? Stomp her heavy boot upon a tender skull, cracking it wetly. Did she drive away?

 

Did she always make her feel unsafe? Too violent with others, with her. Dry and blunt, not welcoming. Not kind.

Is it all her fault?

Yes, it was.

And now Rumi has to pay for it.

With her body, maybe with her soul. She can feel the Honmoon fraying.

She has to convince Zoey to sing with her.

 

—----------------------------

 

“When I was in your house, I took this”.

 

He hands her Zoey’s phone. Baby had managed to crack the password, he said. The day of the Huntr/x debut.

 

“.. what for?”

“Look at the pictures “

 

She hesitantly takes it, scrolling through them.

 

The three of them together, a selfie of Zoey with a fan, backstage plans, memes, a picture of the sunset in Brazil. A picture of a drawing she got as a gift.

 

Zoey and Mira.

 

Turtles .

 

Zoey and Mira.

A video of a movie night, she had choked on popcorn when an unexpected sex scene came on.

 

Zoey and Mira.

A sneaky picture of her in her new costume.

 

Zoey and Mira.

A fat squirrel.

Zoay and Mira.

They hug,

They laugh,

They go places she’s never been,

They- they kiss.

They share a bed.

A selfie. The two of them embrace as they look in the mirror, naked and flushed.

 

They love each other.

 

“Don’t you want that?”

She does, she does, why doesn’t she deserve it?

 

“Don’t you wish they would include you? In their outings? Their laughs? The sex?’

 

“No! It-it’s different.”

 

“Is it?”

She wants it, it hurts, why can’t she have it? Give it to her, please. She can be so good. It doesn’t matter what they do with her. She wants- she wants.

 

She wants.

 

Like Celine had said. Greed, her greatest sin.

 

She will never have enough, will she? She can only take, take and take until they breathe no more. She will feed on them, then.

The phone slips from her hand with slick, acrid sweat. The pulled skin in her arms aches, not with pain, with shame. How could she ask for anything?

 

“... They don’t love you like you love them, don’t want you like you do them.”

 

She knows.

“If they see your patterns, they will kill you.”

Why didn’t she beg for it earlier?

 

She would have known peace, or worse punishment.

 

“But.. that doesn’t mean you can’t have what you want with someone else.”

How fucking dare he?

 

“You? Is that what this is about?” glaring at him has never worked, she does it anyway.

 

“Maybe, but no. I am not saying you need to have it from me.”

 

“Wasn’t it your entire talk? The ‘no one can understand you like I do?’” It’s true.

 

“They can’t, they won’t, but.. You have things you want, and you need to learn to take them”

 

No. she…

(the Honmoon is doomed, now that her soulmates found out she betrayed them with JInu. The world is about to end with the force of Qwi-ma’s army. They will be safe thanks to the deal. What will she lose? There was never a happy ending for her, it is not what she bargained for. Jinu had implied she could get her freedom, after, without Celine. It doesn’t matter anymore)

 

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Hungry

Cold

Alone.

 

She has nothing to lose.

—---------------------------------

 

-10 days before the Idol awards-

 

It should have been harder to convince her.

 

It is easy to make a starved dog eat poisoned meat.

He makes her change her outfit, bare her marks.

“Be proud of what you are” he says, ‘defy the work of those who raised you’ he means.

 

-9 days before the idol awards-

 

Her hair comes next. It’s too recognizable, he convinces her to undo the braid and she sobs drily when he cuts it.

 

“You need to stop trying to be someone you’re not” comes out of his mouth, ‘hold not the past, it will only make it hurt more’ his heart whispers.

 

-8 days before the Idol awards-

 

She goes with him, when her wounds heal. He takes her to the red light district, they pour liquor into her cup, she doesn’t look at it before gulping down the whole thing. They move with the music and he lets the nearest man drag her off. Only collecting her when the sun was about to peek, he finds money in her pocket. She buys the drinks the next day.

 

-7 days before the Idol Awards-

She sins and he watches. She cries afterwards, not from pain or regret, but at how much it feels right.

She needs to disconnect, see others by how they can supply her needs instead of the opposite. She will be eaten alive by her own kind otherwise.

-6 Days before the Idol Awards-

 

They buy whatever illicit drugs they can get their hands on, she bargains the price with his body, he thinks it fair.

She needs to get used to having flesh as currency, she will be ripped apart if she doesn’t.

She slips into the routine so fast, like she was made for it.

 

-5 Days before the Idol Awards-

 

They get in a fight- or Mystery does- she punches a man before he can even enter the fray and breaks his jaw. Violence cannot irk her, or she will be at the end of it.

The apple was not bitten, but chewed to the core. Planted again with once innocent hands.

 

He pushed the seeds onto them.

He knows he is making her what she despised the most, a filthy demon. Selfish and cruel like he is. He can smell the pain on her scent, how every step drags her closer to hell.

 

The amount she brings home with them increases with every night, so do the dark circles around her eyes, so do the nightmares, the chunks of skin she rips off.

 

So do the attempts. He has to cling to her to stop her from jumping off the building, to stop the knife from going any deeper. Sometimes he catches her staring a hole into the pill bottle they got for a solid two days of service. It’s enough to kill four grown men.

 

He lets her stare.

Notes:

so... hi?

Chapter 21: You can’t have my heart (but do what you want with my body)

Summary:

Zoey and Mira make a decision.

 

So does Rumi.

 

TW: assumed SA (not safe nor sane but consensual), drug abuse. Drug induced hallucinations.

Notes:

Ooookay! The brick is going for you head :)

 

(IDOL AWARDS NEXT CHAPTER YAY!)

-4 days before Idol awards-

 

“I’m not sure about this…”

She keeps staring at it. Rolling the little pill between her fingertips. The last time she took one she bit clean through the bone of her thumb. They had to pull it from her mouth- the tooth stayed where it was- and she doesn’t want a repeat of that experience.

 

“I can always take it from you.” The muscular man leaned against the kitchen counter. It was hard to say anything without the whole house hearing about it. They only have two rooms, after all.

“And have you go on a sex craze like last time? I don’t think so. Romance still can’t walk.” Out of all the Saja. Abby pissed her off the most.

 

And yet, the burning of ire is absent. Instead survived by mild embers. Like it was suffocated by thick fog, she can’t see two feet in front of her.

 

“C’mon, you enjoyed it.” He’s coming her way, great.

 

“The drugs or the sex craze? It’s a no for both”

Why is she still here?

He sits down beside her, putting his feet up on the stained table.

His massive arm rests atop her shoulder now, the wobbly chair she rests on nearly tipping over with the added weight.

“You know, Rumi. It’s so boring having you around. All you do is mope and cry and fuck jinu. Don’t you ever want anything new? The world is ending soon, after all”

Is there anything new?

“First of all, no, that's not all I do. Sometimes I pull my skin off.” She illustrates the point by peeling a piece of her bicep. Flicking it his way.

“Eeh- will you stop doing that!.” He hurriedly wipes at his shirt. “Agh, why do I even bother with you! I just want to have a good time. I guess that’s impossible without you sobbing about your silly little hunters.”

 

She snatches his wrist, pushing her claws deep into it. She used to be so careful with them.

 

“Agh, bitch!” He grabs her arm, twisting it at an odd angle until it breaks with a wet crunch.

The claws loosen.

“Fuck, I hate that you don’t feel pain, fucking unfair.” He licks at the small holes left near his hand. Pouting.

 

“cry about it.” She wishes she could see Mira’s face right now, she’d be laughing her ass off-

Her eyes catch at the wound, bone poking out through flesh.

Zoey would be so worried.

Mira would already have the first aid on hand.

 

“…what’s in the pill?” She should care, they would care if they were here.

 

“What?” His scent becomes bitter, oh, is she annoying him?

 

“What’s in the pills, Abby?” What the fuck did she take last time?

(Zoey would care, Mira would care)

 

“It’s yoba. I thought you knew?” She can smell smugness on him, fuck this man.

 

“What’s yoba?”

 

“Didn’t Jinu give you those? It’s meth.” He smirks, all theatrical and punchable.

 

(Mira would laugh if she did it, Zoey would fix her knuckles)

Then, it registered.

“It- it’s WHAT.”

 

“Chill, its not as hard on us. Just a fun high”

 

“I’VE BEEN TAKING METH?”

 

“Why do you care?! You played in the snow with baby two days ago-“

She doesn’t fucking remember that.

“I- I what?”

 

“Damn, girl. You were really out of it, huh? It was at a party of one of Romance’s chicks, the one with the impossibly long black hair? Baby was all like-’ do you wanna do lines in the bathroom?’ And you said ‘why the fuck not’. We found you two butt naked in the pool in the morning.” His eyes flash, his uninjured hand cupping her jaw. His eyes are hungry. But so is every demon’s.

So are hers.

“I shouldn’t take this shit again.”

 

“Yeah, you shouldn’t.”

 

(Zoey and Mira would care, they would care. They don’t want her but they care.)

She looks down at her arm, it had started stitching itself back together. turns out it takes will to heal faster, takes actually wanting to. it’s still bent wrong. She’ll have to re-break it if she wants to do this right.

 

Her eyes closed, she takes a deep breath. Taking in the stench of week old takeout and cheap liquor. Hearing roaches skittering under the fridge. She knows what she’s looking for, the Honmoon. It’s soft , soothing voice. It’s guiding light to pull her away from sin. Her connection to her soulmates.

 

It’s still there, weak.

 

Her tendons are reattaching. She should fix it.

 

(Zoey and Mira would care. They don’t love her, but they care)

 

She misses being sung to sleep, of late nights having it’s pulse cover her footsteps when she snuck to watch her Celine sleep.

 

Of dipping her fingers into it’s strands like water, the cooling balm the only thing that quietened her patterns.

 

Sometimes, she thinks it spoke to her.

 

***Hello, little one.***

 

And now she’s watching it die.

 

All because she was too weak to keep her soulmates safe.

 

(Zoey and Mira care, they don’t love her, but they care. She cares, too. She loves them, though.)

 

(She loves them)

 

“So?” Abby’s nose is so close to hers, now. She can smell whiskey on his breath.

 

“I’ll take one if you do”

(She doesn’t want to hear it die)

 

————————————-

 

Baby has an idea.

 

It’s so fucking easy! Honestly Jinu could have thought about it.

They have Zoey’s phone. It’s charged and unlocked. They took it from Rumi after her breakdown that night. And now it’s right here.

 

In his hands. In it’s full, fluffy pink glory.

 

It’s perfect.

 

He has been making a little album, videos, photos, you name it. Of their little adventures. It won’t serve much purpose if he keeps it. Why keep it? If he could use it to weaken the enemy?

 

Ah, what he would pay to see their faces.

 

It won’t do much in terms of their plan, they are just gonna keep playing. Not like two hunters can do anything by themselves.

 

Well…

 

Maybe he shouldn’t poke the bear.

 

Who’s he kidding? The world’s ending soon. They will be royalty when they open the portal for Qwi-ma’s army. Jinu’s plan to put them at the top when it all burns down perfect in it’s simplicity.

 

Romance needs to be here when he hits send, that motherfucker needs a pick me up after dealing with their resident depressed leader, that man is wild when he wants head.

Oooooh, that reminds him…

————————————-

 

Zoey is severely dehydrated.

 

She can’t get up from the floor. And it’s cold.

 

It’s… midnight? 3 AM?

 

Who knows.

 

At least jack, turbo and rebel are here. The triplet turtles snug under her.

 

and Rumi’s phone.

 

The password was her and Mira’s birthdays. She was so sappy.

 

Her eyes burn, but she has no tears left.

 

And then, it buzzes.

 

What?

 

Bzzzz

 

Is she imagining it? Is Mira texting Rumi’s phone? She knows she has it.

Is it Celine? The press? Some weird fan?

 

Bzzzz

 

Her eyes open slowly, pulling apart as if they were glued.

 

It’s… her?

 

Her phone.

 

-Zoey 💚🐢: Hiiiiii! You must be so bored without your little Rumi around… :(

-Don’t worry! Here’s a little taste of her ;)

-From your dear rookies 🦁

-[attached.Album.Week1]

 

She presses play.

 

The blood in her veins freezes into shards. her hands are shaking. She’s choking, she can taste bleach, feel it melting her tongue. It burns, it burns- IT BURNS STOP MAKE IT STOP MIRA MAKE IT STOP RUMI-RUMI-

 

“Zoey?”

 

“Zoey, what's wrong?” She throws the phone away, she shouldn’t look. There’s- she’s-

 

Rumi, passed out, sweatpants pulled down to her knees- The same outfit she wore when she kneeled on the floor, collar stained with dark blood, dry.

 

Behind her, Jinu.

Holding her while he drives into her, the video shaky as whoever records it trembles, holding in laughter. The bed is filthy. Blood and bits of- of skin. Bruised a dark purple, every last bit of it. Her head lolls to the side.

 

Rumi, it’s just her face this time, being held by the hair while someone pushes her down onto their-

 

Rumi, head pressed down onto Abby’s bare stomach, forced to snort - oh fuck is that cocaine? They- they gave her-

 

Rumi, exhausted and terrified, body convulsing as the contents of her stomach spill on the floor.

Rumi, letting out whines and choked breaths while Jinu chops her braid off. The braid she wears in honor of her mom. Her eyes glazed, face expressionless.

Rumi- naked, arms and chest flayed all the way up to her throat-

 

Rumi- her Rumi- Rumi-

“ZOEY!”

Rumi.

 

The videos still play in the background.

 

“ZOEY.”

 

Rumi

 

“Zoey…”

 

Mira.

 

Her Mira.

 

“I’m right here… please come back to me.”

 

Mira’s here.

 

“We need to save Rumi, Zo.”

 

Rumi-

 

“We need to save her, and I know exactly how.”

 

_____________

 

Mystery brought home another girl.

 

If you ask Romance, this is bullshit.

 

Pardon him, he doesn’t usually swear. But to think the fans would like the man with the completely covered face more than his carefully sharpened sex appeal is preposterous.

 

Alas, at least he gets to watch.

 

It’s quite boring, the woman isn’t even getting proper stimulation, she’s simply being taken from behind as Mystery ruts like a dog.

 

Agh, these demons know nothing about making your lover tremble with want. It’s a delicate art. Meant for precise hands and careful teasing. It must be drawn out, built up.

 

Not… this.

 

It genuinely sounds like two strays doing it in an alley.

 

He gets up from his beloved stuffed chair, the cleanest object in the house. Dusting it needlessly. He better go find a better way to entertain himself for the night.

 

Ah, their little Rumi.

 

Thinking of it now, their Rumi very rarely indulges in any of them. He could change that. Can’t let Jinu get all the fun. She has quite the enticing body.

 

Such beautiful patterns, shame she despises them almost as much as she does herself.

 

He finds her cornered by Abby. His hulking form pressing her against the wall of the kitchen. An opened pack of… meth?

 

Ah, a fun night, then.

 

He feels bad to rip his Abby away from his plaything, but he takes priority after what he had to endure last time.

 

“Excuse me, love. Can I borrow our little darling for the night?”

 

Abby stills, though his muscles continue spasming.

 

Fine, but don’t say he didn’t try the diplomacy route first.

 

—————————

 

Romance is taking her away.

 

She’s glad, she’s so glad.

 

Abby was starting to scare her, but it’s okay! Romance is taking her away.

 

They’re heading to their room…

 

Why not her and Jinu’s?

It’s okay.

 

There are mice in the carpet

 

That’s okay! The problem is taking care of itself. The mice are eating each other.

 

Romance’s hand on her waist is warm.

There are sounds coming from the room.

 

Its… screaming.

 

Someone’s hurt? What’s happening?

 

Romance is calm, she should be calm, too.

 

Its smells like blood in here

 

That might be her.

 

Her eyes meet the scene unfolding before her.

 

Be calm, be calm.

 

And then, she hears it amongst the screams.

It comes from whoever’s on the bed.

 

The only words that register.

 

Pregnant. Gonna get you pregnant.

 

Pregnant. Pregnant like her mom.

 

(A baby crying, the howls of a dying woman, desperate to be saved instead of the child pulling her organs apart. The child, suckling in her blood.)

 

Another hybrid.

 

The woman below him is screaming, thrashing.

 

Pregnant.

 

No.

 

NO.

 

Take her away, take her away.

 

She can’t- won't let it happen. Not to another innocent.

 

Her claws extend before she can think. But her body gets held back.

She swipes them up with all the force she can muster as the world around her grows louder. Brighter, more dangerous.

 

She can’t see what she’s doing, looking for warm flesh to cling to, something or someone to pull. She just moves. Moves because if she stays still-

 

Her ears burn with the sound of baby’s cries.

Take her away, take her away. Now!

 

She can’t, they’re too strong.

 

Now. NOW!

 

Out of pure instinct, her body freezes,

 

And her mouth opens.

 

What happens after sends the entire house into chaos.

 

—————————-

Notes:

The worst is yet to come ;D

 

But the comfort is also on it’s way!

Notes:

Hope you liked this first short chap. I will be updating as soon as the second chapter feels long enough.

Please comment suggestions for this fic or any questions abt this sort of canon compliant AU.