in which: you give mydei the silent treatment (kinda)
well the premise was the idea originally... hasn't really stayed true but it's fine. fluff, 2k wc, argument, written to be set in 3.1, gn!reader, wasn't supposed to make the main but i've neglected you guys long enough, implied feelings. unedited.
"The Coreflame of Strife… you're letting Phainon take the trial?"
"I'm not letting him, he volunteered himself up." He murmurs as you work through knots in his back, fingers digging into his oiled skin to help him relax from his last expedition. "Besides, it's not like there's any other candidates."
You huff through your teeth and slither your arms through his shoulders, letting your chest hit his back as your face rests next to his. He barely reacts to your touch, used to your warmth, used to the way you like resting your entire weight on his sturdy body.
Still, the air hangs with something unsaid, and he can tell that you're trying to formulate the words for a sentence he does not want to hear.
"Don't say anything," he says through gritted teeth.
You sigh and, true to his command, don't say anything.
It won't lead to an amicable discussion, you know it won't. The both of you have run in these circles countless times, over the same topic that never reached a resolution and always cooled off awkwardly.
So, instead of provoking him, you do as he says and pull away, lathering him with more essential oils to work out the tension in his muscles.
Which he holds a lot of.
"You know what I'm going to say though, right?" You ask.
"Of course. That's why I don't want to hear it."
The silence that hangs in the air is heavy, and the atmosphere becomes frigid. "But… aren't you concerned about Lord Phainon? He won't make it through the trial."
"The Deliverer is hardly weak-"
"-I never said he was. Rather, I trust he's dependable and have every faith in his abilities. However, whether it is him, or anyone else for that matter, walking into it just spells disaster and failure. You and I both know that mad titan will not be easy to take down, that coreflame was built from the ashes of war, Nikador was split apart into fragments, whoever will assume his trial will have to understand his pain to succeed."
You retract your hands and drop them back into your lap.
"If Phainon stays in that trial, he won't survive. It's not a matter of physical prowess."
"So what's the alternative? Who else is there?"
"Perhaps… the one who has defied death a thousand times?"
His shoulders, despite how long you've been working on them, tense again. "I've told you for the last time, I will not take up the coreflame of Strife."
You don't say anything, but Mydei can feel your disappointment drip off you, each a ripple in comparison to the ocean of his stubbornness. After a few tense seconds, you finally speak. "I understand your reasonings very well. You don't want to be associated with that mad god and inherit its catastrophes, but, don't you think it's time to reconsider?"
"How long have you been holding this in?" He turns to face you now, eyebrows furrowed, bordering frustration.
There is a raw side to him only you have seen. To many, he seems composed, resolute, steadfast, but the burdens he carries are greater than most men could comprehend.
Despite it, he is still a kind soul. He would scoff at you if you ever said it, but it doesn't need to be said for it to be true.
You have seen his kindness many times, more often than the bloodthirsty, battle-hungry warrior that everyone thinks Mydei to be. While your first meeting with the exiled prince was with his claws to your throat because you bore the royal Kremnoan insignia, when the misunderstanding settled, you saw how kind he was to the Kremnoan detachment. How they all viewed the man with virtue and benevolence.
No matter how hard you swore that you wanted to see an end to Eurypon's reign, how his blasphemous actions did not deserve to go unpunished, that you were not a secret scout sent to fetch the last of Mydei's remains, the rest of his companions refused to accept you. Despite it, he would always share with you portions of his food when there clearly wasn't one for you, he would pull you through the tumultuous landscapes, he would double check that you understood the mission back to front, and be patient when you needed extra explanation.
It was hard to believe that a man with this much honour could be the son of someone so awful.
Back in Kremnos, your skills of staying hidden, blending into places you didn't belong, and underhanded tactics were scorned. Strategy is weakness to brutes yet a strength to the detachment, so you pledged loyalty, to follow him until your last breath.
Which has led you to Okhema, to witness him play his part in this divine prophecy. Mydei was always destined for something greater, you just need to convince him that his fate was larger than some mad titan.
"Ever since the outlanders arrived," you whisper. "Mydei, the end is near."
His jaw clenches.
"There is no time left to run away from it any longer. Mydei, I understand you hold great conviction in your heart, but this is the path-"
"-Don't lecture me about what I should do," Mydei interrupts. "And don't lecture me about paths. I won't take up the mantle of what has destroyed my people, our home, I refuse to accept this corruption, end of story."
"It doesn't have to be about that!"
"Then what?"
"About ushering in the Era Nova? About correcting the purpose of Strife and bringing it back to the people? About avoiding people from falling into madness?"
"I am not here to perpetuate the cycles of violence my people have already been subjected to. The dynasty of Kremnos ends with me, I'm ending the destruction before it can be carried on."
You shut your mouth. This is a fruitless discussion to have, not until Phainon inevitably fails the trial, then he'll see your point, so you straighten out your clothes and stand up.
"I respect your decision, Mydei," is all you croak out before leaving.
The next few days, the two of you are at an impasse.
He realised pretty quickly what game you were playing at.
It was obvious, all the ways you'd blatantly ignore him. He swears he catches a glimpse of you in the crowd, he could never miss you, even if he wasn't trying to find you. Then, you disappear when he blinks, and no matter how hard he searches, trying to find the colour of your hair, the outline of your side profile, he loses you.
This torture you like to put him through, you're never where he needs you to be, you're never where he expects you to be, you're never anywhere, and all of a sudden he loathes the stealthiness that has helped him in the past. Because you are too good at a game of chase. You're too good at being the mouse that he doesn't even know how to begin tracking you down.
For a split second, he registers the sound of the jewellery you wear everyday clinking against each other, but when he turns around, you're nowhere to be found.
Per your prediction, Phainon failed the trial. When Mydei entered with the Trailblazer in tow, he witnessed the fragmentation you talked about first-hand, and when he found the white-haired again, clearly dazed and desensitised from reality, the truth behind your words finally sink in.
A part of him wanted to find you and seek your guidance, yet he refused to, not until he held the coreflame in the palm of his hands.
When the dust had settled and newfound divinity molded to his soul, Mydei's first thought at the vertex of Genesis was you. As he gazed at the constellations and the one signalling his was ablaze, satisfaction echoed deep in his soul.
However, no matter how badly he wanted to see you, he needed to make a quick stop at Castrum Kremnos first.
It's past Curtain-Fall hour when you finally get to retire for the day. After completing some tasks for Aglaea, you hardly have a moment of peace before there's a barrage of knocks on your door, the sharp sound of metal gauntlets banging on metal.
"Come in!" You yell, unsurprised to see Mydei storm into your room.
Then, a shudder runs up your spine, and you register the divinity that oozes off him like honey. His presence has always been overpowering, hard to miss, but it is amplified now and the sheer power of it causes your knees to buckle, as if trying to force you to kneel before him.
"Y-You- the coreflame of Strife," your hand comes up to your temple, soothing the sudden ache that splits your brain. "You passed the trial."
"I did."
"Mydei-"
He cuts you off, almost knocking the wind out of you by sweeping you off your feet, hands digging in to your waist as he unceremoniously throws you onto your bed, and crawls on top of you.
You're accustomed to the feel of his heavy body over yours from sleeping arrangements on tough nights back in the wild. When he couldn't rest, he'd find you, and vice versa- only he can treat you like this, only you trust him enough to do so.
As his warm breath hits the curve of your neck and he settles into all the right parts against your body, you notice just how fatigued he is when he leans more of his weight onto you. If you were kind, you would let the crown prince rest, but you have questions that cannot go unanswered.
"So, I was right?" You ask and he grumbles against your skin, reluctant to agree. If he glanced up, Mydei would have seen the smug grin that was pulling at your lips. "What was the trial like?"
"Tough," he murmurs, "long. Violent."
"Sounds about right."
A few minutes pass by peacefully. You watch the rise and fall of his tattooed back, admiring and even bringing your finger to trace the shapes, causing him to shudder when you reach a particularly sensitive part of his spine. Despite the quiet atmosphere that hangs over like stars, he's not dozing off, just remaining as still as a living person— demigod now, can be.
"When you told me to take up the mantle of Strife, what did you see in me that made you confident I could do it?"
"Because you're the most human of them all, Mydei," you whisper, carding your fingers through the knots in his hair. "Because only you can survive losing your humanity and still stay true to yourself."
You prop yourself up on shaky elbows, and direct his face to look at you.
"You walked through the Sea of Souls and survived, your very resistance is what makes you the perfect candidate, because you will not allow it to consume you. I did not urge you to become the bearer of Strife's Coreflame because I think our people should return to Castrum Kremnos with you as their King. I urge you to become the bearer of Strife because only you understood the weight."
His golden gaze is unreadable for a second before he breaks into a small chuckle, revealing his pearly whites and canines.
"Since I bear its authority, it means we are approaching our last moments together," he tells you. "I will be returning to Castrum Kremnos to fend off the black tide as the Deliverer and the others see this prophecy come true."
You sigh glumly, a bittersweet smile on your face as you caress his cheekbones. "Think of me in the ruins of Castrum Kremnos. Just because you have the authority of Strife doesn't mean you can forget about me."
He simply places a kiss on your collarbone, as if cementing a promise against skin, brandishing it forever.
"When we are reborn in our next life, I'll search for you, and we can have a happier love story than Nikador did in this era."
The laugh you let out is natural, completely caught offguard. It's not like him to mention the titan's failed romance conquests so outwardly, and your stomach begins cramping from how hard you were giggling.
"Love story?" You parrot before erupting into another fit of laughter.
He scoffs, face beginning to turn red. "I take it back."
"No, no, don't take it back. Love story, hm? I'm looking forward to it. In fact, I already can't wait," you wrap your arms around him even tighter. "I wish we had a love story in this era."
"You deserve better than some exiled prince."
"As long as it's you, I wouldn't mind. Even if you're now the bearer of Strife."
"Well, there's a few days left before I need to leave."
cw. fem reader. eighteen+ minors do not interact. makeouts and dry humping. nothing too explicit. just DH being a good friend. hint at reader being inexperienced.
word count. 1.8k words. ₊ 𓂃 return to masterlist.
“Are you really sure about this?”
“I don’t know, but it’s best to just get it out of the way anyway.” Dan Heng can pick up on your uncertainty when you break your gaze away from his to answer. The atmosphere in the room is already thick and suffocating as you rest side by side on the bed, and his fingers almost seem frozen from where they rest just short of yours on the mattress between you both.
“I would frankly prefer if you told me plainly.” He swallows thickly, as if he is faring any better than you are.
“Yes, okay! I’m sure, are you sure you want to do this?” Maybe it was stupid of you to ask Dan Heng to teach you how to kiss — though your request had originally been meant as nothing more than a joke, it seems to have grown into something completely different now. You had never expected him to actually accept, but even just looking at him now makes your face burn and the nerves are enough to make you feel restless.
But maybe that could be the anticipation.
“Maybe I could ask Sunday instead.” You think aloud, gaze falling to your lap as a means to avoid Dan Heng’s sharper one— yet he doesn’t give you much time to ponder upon the thought.
“Don’t.” His response comes so quickly it almost cuts you off, so he clears his throat before continuing. “No need, I doubt he will be much help. Pom-pom keeps him quite busy around the Express.”
“Oh… okay.”
Your words whisper, your mind far too focused on the way Dan Heng’s fingertips have finally closed the distance between yours following the explanation. Now resting over them on the mattress and it brings your gaze to his for a single breathtaking blink. The eye contact is enough for him to have to turn away, yet that only reveals the way the tips of his ears have flushed pink.
It feels even more awkward now, so you break the silence yourself.
“Should we start then?”
“If you say so.” Dan Heng’s posture appears to perk up a little straighter at that and it urges him to come to face you again. He twists his body towards you this time, enough for his knees to press against your own and even just that slight touch is enough to make your lips pull into a nervous line.
He picks up on that too.
“I suggest you try relaxing, don’t overthink it.” His right hand comes up softly to press beneath your chin, the other still resting over your fingertips as your eyes squeeze shut.
“It’s hard not to.” You keep your eyes closed but you feel Dan Heng get closer when the mattress dips.
“I’ll guide you. Just follow my lead.” His hand beneath your chin tilts you slightly, and the first press of his lips against yours is soft at first.
It’s a simple peck — nothing crazy or breathtaking, it’s fleeting and tender, yet enough to make you flush even warmer as the hammering in your chest seems to up its pace. A gentle start that doesn’t last too long before Dan Heng’s pressing another against you again and this time, he stays there for a bit longer.
The fingertips tilting up your chin move to clasp along your jaw next, holding you in place as he twists himself into you and you do as he tells you — following his lead when his mouth begins to move against yours. Your technique is clumsy at best but he doesn’t chastise you for it, he’s patient and forthcoming and you can’t help but find yourself leaning in a bit more.
You appreciate how soft Dan Heng’s lips are as he presses them into you, nosing at your cheek as he deepens the kiss a bit more and you feel short on air when his mouth opens up more for yours. “Open wider.” He asks against you, and you comply.
You both share another breath, as his fingertips around your jawline squeeze — stroking along the skin there until the next push of his lips against yours is accompanied by the wet press of his tongue between them. And the surprising shock of arousal it makes twist in your abdomen is enough to make you gasp.
He pulls away at that, “Was it too much?” He asks gently as he continues to stroke his thumb back and forth across your jaw.
You shake your head in his hold, “No! It was fine, I liked it.” and allow yourself to admire him now. He’s more flushed than he was before you began and his eyes take their time flickering between your gaze and your lips as he watches you. His breathing is soft and both of his hands are still on you, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite so— kissable.
“What? Is there something on my face?” Dan Heng’s question snaps you out of your thoughts and now you’re the one blurting out an answer.
“No.” You squeak slightly, feeling his hand drop from your jawline to rest on your thighs instead. “It just feels different than what I expected.”
You take a sharp breath before continuing, realising how it sounds, “In a way that makes me want more.” You feel hyper aware of the weight of his palm on your thigh, and you can’t help but fidget beneath it when he opts to stroke at your skin. You assume he means it as a way to soothe any of your anxieties, he was always considerate in that way — but right now it’s only making your arousal even worse.
“I see.” Dan Heng looks like he’s considering something, yet his eyes haven’t once left you. “It is certainly tempting.”
“Can we keep going?” You wonder if your sudden enthusiasm comes as a surprise to him, but he doesn’t seem to comment much on it even if it does. He just squeezes at your thighs, like a wordless sign of his approval before he responds anyway.
“Now it’s your turn then.”
You nod at that before shuffling yourself a bit closer, and for the first time you decide to reach out to touch him too — you overthink where to place your hands for a moment but ultimately opt to settle them on his shoulders. A position that Dan Heng seems to appreciate as he gives you another gentle blink.
Then he’s kissing you again, straight back into where you both left off but there’s no easing into it now, you even feel more confident this time round. You allow him to lead again, twisting your mouth into his and this time when his tongue presses between your lips, you don’t jump — you press in deeper, meeting it with your own and it’s all so wet and breathtaking that you can’t help but whine.
It’s an accidental sound, part of you almost pulls away out of embarrassment but there’s a change in Dan Heng that wills you to stay.
His hand on your thigh squeezes, inching up a bit higher until his thumb is pressing between the two of them and the back and forth stroke against somewhere so close to being intimate almost makes you quake. His tongue grazes along yours again and you feel his breath along the roof of your mouth, panting heavily as you press yourself in a bit closer.
Until your restless form decides to do something a little brave.
You’ve done your fair share of research into this— seen and read about the different positions that people favour for make out sessions and kisses. So you don’t think twice before the heat of the moment suddenly brings you up to crawl into Dan Heng’s lap.
You half expect him to stop you, to pull you away from him and tell you that this may be getting a bit too advanced for your beginner self but he doesn’t. Instead, he helps you with his hands on your hips and he does it so seamlessly you don’t even have to break from the kiss to get comfy.
It feels even better now — your hands are in his hair, stroking through the dark roots and Dan Heng shows his appreciation for it with a particular deep press of his mouth into yours.
Your mind feels hazy and full of cotton as you lose yourself in him, pressing your chest closer until it’s almost flush with his and you don’t even mean to grind yourself down on him. It’s like your body does that on its own and it’s enough to make your friend beneath you groan into the next wet press of his lips before his fingers dig into your skin.
You like it, you really like it — you feel so warm and terribly flustered but it’s only fuelling your movements. It makes you feel even braver again.
So you experiment, sucking Dan Heng’s lower lip between yours this time — you’ve seen it in clips and movies online, and it seems to be well received. Maybe too much so, when it makes his hands press up beneath the hem of your shirt, sinking into your waist as if he’s trying to stop you from getting carried away. But when the next hump of your hips allows you to feel the clothed, hard press of his cock beneath you.
You think him trying to stop you may be more for his own sake.
“You’re moving too much.” He finally gasps, muffled against your mouth but you hear him fine, whining.
“You don’t like it?”
“That is not what I meant.” Dan Heng’s hands on the bare skin of your waist feel like they burn you, and they only seem to make you continue to hump and twist your hips into his. As if you’re moving in time with the movement of his lips and he doesn’t seem to want you to stop enough to actually stop you.
Especially not when his cock seems to be straining so deliciously against the fabric of his slacks, and the friction seems to be doing wonders for the both of you as you grind your clothed cunt down on it.
“It’s best not to provoke me.” Dan Heng’s voice seems much more gruff when he presses it into your mouth this time and part of you wants to twist your hips even harder just to hear it again. But you relent, not wanting to get too ahead of yourself — you’re already burning too hot.
But he doesn’t stop there, not at all — instead, his hands seem to tuck themselves beneath the waistband of your pants. The touch enough to make yourself press even closer into him and it’s only when his fingers sink into the top of your ass that he seeks to take back control. He’s supposed to be the one teaching you after all, so he’s sure to remind you of that when he pulls away for a moment to take his next staggered breath.
“Since you seem to know what you’re doing now, I’ll have to work harder to keep the upper hand.”
MYDEIMOS always acts like he doesn't want hugs. Every time you try to get close, he’ll quickly move away, pretending it’s too much or that he’s too busy. You laugh, but deep down, you know he’s just trying to hide how much he actually likes it. He’s always so stiff, even when you’re just sitting close, like he’s scared you might hug him on accident.
Sometimes, though, when you’re not looking, he’ll glance at you and you catch him in the middle of something weird, like holding his breath when you get too close. It’s almost like he wants to reach out but can’t quite let himself. You can see it in his eyes—the little hint of hope he tries to cover up with a quick laugh or a quick comment about how “he doesn’t need hugs.”
One day, you just go for it. You wrap your arms around him, and for a second, he’s frozen. But then, slowly, his arms wrap around you too. It’s awkward at first, but then, he relaxes, and it feels like everything is warm and right. Mydei doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his heart beating faster, and that’s all the answer you need.
“Are you two married?” A small boy with a sword in hand, eyes bright and full of curiosity, turns to MYDEIMOS, and the prince immediately opens his mouth to dismiss the idea. “No, we are no—”
“Oh, Mydei. I didn’t know you saw me that way~” you tease, standing at the dusty training grounds as the kids swing their wooden swords around, trying to be just like their role models. His face flushes a little, but he doesn’t break his cool or let you tease him further.
“I don’t. More training, less talking,” Mydei says, keeping his attention on the little girl trying to hold her wooden weapon properly, though his annoyance is hard to ignore.
The girl looks up at the prince, raising an eyebrow. “You two argue like my parents do.” Mydei freezes, caught off guard by her bluntness. He rolls his eyes and sighs, walking away to take a breather, not wanting to have this conversation again. “Let’s take a break.”
As the children are happy with their well-deserved rest, you sidle up to them, handing them water or the much-preferred pomegranate juice. “He’s just shy. Give him time.” You wink, nudging the boy who started it all. “Now, now, who wants some sweet treats?”
The little girl takes advantage of you being occupied and approaches Mydei. She looks up at him, her hands carefully clutching her sword. “If I were like Lady (Name), a beautiful and good woman, and a prince like you came along…” She pauses, having that dreamy look on her face, waiting for his reaction. “We'd get married. That’s what happens in the fairytales, right?”
Mydei stands still, gazing down at the child and then at you, observing how your smile makes the rest of the children happier, how you just being here makes him feel so … giddy. He exhales deeply, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, fairytales are a bit nonexistent.” He glances at you, his voice soft. “But you should never settle for anything less than you deserve.”
“Really? Is the wedding soon?” The prince rolls his eyes and ruffles her hair, making her laugh, but he doesn’t answer, and she only takes his answer as a promise that it will happen.
imagine being a baker stationed in marmoreal market, okhema.
it has been a few months since you first started the business. as is with most, it was a slow start. in the beginning only few took interest, probably curious about the new the dessert shop popping up from seemingly nowhere. you’d garnered a loyal set of regulars, however, who always came for either something sweet to kickstart their day before work, or to treat themselves before they went back home.
in between those times? sparse. but you made it work… somehow.
what it did allow for, however, was the trial and error of new desserts! you can’t always be following the same recipes as everyone else; you have to put you and your craft out there!
…which brings you to now.
“so?” you prod, fiddling with the hem of your apron as you watch mydei chew a piece of the freshly baked golden honeycake. “how is it?”
having mydei in your shop is nothing new. he was the first to know about you wanting to open this shop in the first place, after all — back when you were an aspiring baker and he a runaway crown prince trying to find refuge for his people in okhema. despite his duties as a chrysos heir, he still manages to pop in every day when not away for a mission. how? well, you chalk it up to his sweet tooth and appointed position as your official taste tester.
a pleased hum escapes him; the soft clinks of cutlery rings out once more.
“i prefer your version of the golden honeycake compared to the traditional one,” he comments, taking another bite of the pancake. lifting his gaze to meet yours, a fork is outstretched towards you, a neatly cut square of the golden honeycake skewered on its prongs. “what made you want to change the recipe?”
“oh, that?” arms braced against the small two-person table, you lean towards the fork. a soft sweetness coats your tongue as you concoct a reply. “well, i wanted to make something you would like as a little thank you. you’ve supported me to pursue this dream for a while now. if it weren’t for you…” your voice tapers, eyes softening and lips spreading into an appreciative smile as you meet his slightly widened eyes. “if it weren’t for you, i doubt i would’ve had the courage to make it this far. so thank you, mydei, for being with me during this time.”
“it’s… it’s no problem.” mydei responds after a brief silence, the words briefly interrupted by a swift clearing of his throat as he glances away. “think nothing of it.”
save for your pleased hums, idle comments on new recipes you want to try, and the bustle of marmoreal market just beyond the walls, tranquility befalls your space.
when mydei calls out your name, you halt at the unusually resolute tone. “your efforts will come to fruition. i will make sure of that.”
---
well. sure enough, his words came true. the sight of the shop filled with customers and the long queue trickling into marmoreal market is evident proof of that.
when faced with the sudden influx of customers just two weeks ago, you thought it might’ve been a hallucination concocted by zagreus themself to torment you.
it was only after the thirteenth order of golden honeycake did you start to suspect zagreus wouldn’t waste their time on such a trivial matter on a speck of dust such as yourself. the real nail in the coffin was when you overheard some rather telling chatter between two ladies.
“wow! this modified version of the golden honeycake really is amazing! no wonder crown prince mydeimos loves it!”
“i wonder how they managed to get him to promote it…”
…if you knew having mydei say a few good words about your baked goods would boost your sales exponentially, you would have asked if he wanted to be a part-timer back when you first opened! looking at his withering stare and rather prominent frown as he waits for you to finish your closing shift, however, has you rethinking the choice.
(well, even with him being a prude, mydei would still undeniably draw in customers, so maybe asking him wouldn’t do any harm…)
unbeknownst to you, mydei’s down-trodden mood has to do with the very customers you’re trying to draw in. maybe if he wasn’t so weak to your dismayed gaze and kicked puppy demeanour when a less than satisfactory number of customers came into the shop every now and then, he wouldn’t be feeling so neglected by the attention you’re giving to the crowds of customers now barging their way into your shop.
a subtle grimace flashed across his features. what are they, a bunch of starving dogs fighting to get their meals? don’t they know basic manners? etiquette?
seriously, just until recently it was always quiet in the mornings. it was always just you baking and getting the store ready, and him watching you do your craft, helping out wherever he could — namely in taste-testing said baked goods.
in spite of the part of himself which regrets spreading the word of your talents and having them hog all your attention, the larger part of himself knows you deserve all of this at the very least.
he has witnessed your dedication and continuous efforts to make this dream of yours come true throughout the years you’ve known each other, and it certainly would be no lie if he said you’d weasled your way into his heart. from that day you’d offered him and his people baked goods and drinks upon their arrival in okhema, mydei should have known there would be no escape from seeking you out, ultimately causing this all-consuming fondness for you to grow by the day.
leaning back with a heavy sigh, mydei glances over at the counter where you’re still hard at work. really, your closing hours are soon. should he perhaps stand menacingly at your side to shoo away the customers? no, maybe just directly making them leave would be the most efficient. and—
a torrent of warmth engulfs him, clinging to his skin. mouth slightly agape, he can only gaze wordlessly at your joyful interactions.
…perhaps a few more customers would do no harm. just a few, though.
(curse that heart-melting smile of yours. it truly is the bane of his existence.)
“i don’t get you,” sukuna mutters, arms resting on his knees as he stares at your cat, who sits primly on the floor, tail flicking lazily. “you’re small. your head is tiny. you have no claws worth a damn, and yet you strut around like you own this place.”
your cat blinks at him slowly. the audacity.
“oh, so now you’re being mysterious? yeah, real intimidating, runt,” sukuna scoffs, leaning in. “tell me, why the hell do you scream at five in the morning for no reason?”
your cat meows. sukuna nods, as if that was an actual answer.
“nah, i don’t buy it. i know when someone’s bullshitting me.” he strokes his chin, as if deep in thought. “and what’s with the scratching? you have a whole damn tree to tear up, but no, it’s gotta be the couch, huh? or my chair. my throne in this shitty modern world.”
your cat remains utterly unfazed, licking a paw and dragging it over its ear. sukuna clicks his tongue in frustration.
“you think you’re untouchable. you think you can do whatever you want just ‘cause you’re small and cute?” he narrows his eyes. “you remind me of someone.”
you narrow your eyes right back from your hiding spot behind the doorway. excuse me?
but sukuna is too deep in his investigation to notice. he gestures toward your phone lying face-down on the table. “and what’s with you and cameras huh? every time there’s a flash, you go feral. you act like you’re being dragged to hell.”
your cat’s ears twitch. a clear tell.
“ohhhh,” sukuna smirks, leaning in like he’s caught onto something juicy. “what, you got a dark past? you some kinda criminal? don’t want your face out there ‘cause you’re on a hit list?”
the cat swipes at sukuna’s knee, and he actually pulls back with a scoff. “oi, don’t get violent with me, brat. i asked a simple question.”
you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
“i should make you my disciple,” sukuna suddenly muses, tilting his head as he assesses the feline before him. “you got the attitude down. the little mind games. yeah… you could be something great.”
your cat sneezes.
sukuna frowns, as if personally offended. “...you’re turning down my offer? just like that?”
he sits back with a dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “unbelievable. you’re worse than your owner.”
excuse me again???
before you can march in and object, your cat gets up, stretches leisurely, and then—just to really assert dominance—turns around and sticks its tail right in sukuna’s face before trotting off.
he stares after it, jaw clenched, eye twitching.
“…i’m gonna eat it.”
you finally lose the battle against your laughter.
"This body is the noblest and most eminent of all in this world.
"It should hold absolute control over this world.
"It once promised its people a dream: the never-changing 'eternity.'"
