Another small inspiration. Not much plot, just a self-indulgence.
Not pointing out any particular warnings, but if you don't like demon!AUs, it may not be that self-indulgent. Pain is involved.
I'm not tagging any of my networks exactly for the reason stated above. It's a guilty pleasure before it's socially acceptable.
Word count: 635
You aren’t lost, are you?
The wind blows the wrong way, the sunlight hits your eyes. The street you’re entering seems to not want you there, something is wrong – the street is unusually empty. You turn your head towards the nearest building as a shadow passing in the window catches your attention. A portrait that should be your own reflection is a man instead – one with white hair and blue eyes, a small chain spreading over his face; he doesn’t look real at all.
Run, his lips say.
The next thing you see is your own reflection, right where it should be. Nothing happened, you saw nothing. You try to shake off the uneasiness.
Fruitlessly.
But the instinct cannot be heard. You ought to be reasonable – why should you go back? Just because something unreal tells you to? Such words cannot be real either, then. Stay on your path – it means, stay naïve.
Nowadays, naivety is often defined by following unreal things. Magic, fortune telling, myths and superstitions – believing any of them is silly, and a reasonable citizen won’t follow such games. It’s only meant to make you fear things you don’t need to fear, and make you pay for things that you don’t need at all, nothing less and nothing more. So why would you believe something as silly as the elements? – it’s just wind, light, and a bit of tiredness making you believe you’re seeing things that you don’t. It would be naïve to trust coincidences and fear something that doesn’t exist.
The wind keeps whispering in your ear, words so vague that you wouldn’t catch them on even if you wanted, so you let them go. Nothing more happens – bad omens stay behind.
The silhouette appearing in front of you chases them away.
You didn’t listen, and they have nothing more to say. You didn’t listen, and it’s not their fault anymore, they tried – but you didn’t listen, and now it’s too late to run.
A question you’d like to ask stops at the edge of your tongue, never spoken, as one, white eye bores into your soul, freezing you to the ground. Your lips are parted, but even your lungs refuse to cooperate, the air just doesn’t want to get in or out, you’re stuck.
“Hello, [F/n].”
A grin slowly curls up the corner of his lips. It betrays the satisfaction he earns from bringing you fear, the pleasure from your terror.
But why are you afraid? It’s just a person – a human being, you’d like to say, he undeniably looks like one: he has skin, two arms and two legs. Why is the fear paralyzing you, why do you feel like you’re drowning? Where’s your reasonable self, where did she go?
“Come with me.”
A hand reaches towards you, urging you to take it. You feel nothing, no pull and no aversion either, you’re stuck in your thoughts and even your instinct left you already, refusing to tell you what’s the right thing to do, you’re alone and empty.
“Come on, [F/n]. You know that’s right.”
In the complete nothingness of your own thoughts, the man’s words are all stimuli you’re getting. The incentive is obvious, what else is there to do? Your feet take you forward then, even if you don’t feel like it’s your choice for them to do so.
“That’s right.”
Closer, closer.
Oh.
The touch burns with living fire, inferno blossoms from your fingers up your hand, arm, chest, all the way through until it reaches your soul. No reality exists now, the pain is surreal – it’s not there, but it’s in you, it’s not just overwhelming, it becomes your whole being.
The creature in front of you smiles slyly, the wind and the light look away from your misery.
Summary: Your relationship with Chanyeol has always been great but you have one secret you can't tell him, about the demon that visits you every night. When push comes to shove, who will you choose?
Warnings: more or less direct mentions of death and violence
The AU is a bit based on the vampire concept, but since it’s not totally that, I thought about putting it under a different label. So it’s not 100% what mythological mares are, but there’s a clear inspiration.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t think. Go back to sleep.”
“What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“More than you could think. But you won’t feel pain. So go back to sleep.”
* * *
You wake up in the late morning; your neck is stiff, shoulders just won’t move the way you want them to, your head is pounding – did you oversleep again? It’s a tricky one. Sleep can be as much of a friend as it can be an enemy. What did you dream about? You feel like something happened ever since you laid down – you didn’t “teleport” into the morning, there’s something you’d like to remember. Did you wake up at night? It happened more often than not, but usually, you’d just check the hour and go back to sleep, and you wouldn’t remember much of it later, anyway. Maybe that was the case this time as well – maybe you were just dozing in and out, maybe there was not much to remember after all, maybe that’s why you’re feeling so pitiful now.
You force yourself up, the day’s routine begins – a bit late, but still one that can’t be omitted. Doing all the small things that keep you in shape, wrapping them up with the breakfast – oh, God, you’re so hungry. You could eat all that’s in the fridge, but you quickly tell yourself that it’s just because you slept so long, meaning your stomach has been empty for longer than usually. It’s not an excuse to eat more, though – overeating, just like oversleeping, will bring more harm than good.
What’s today’s agenda? You can’t recall. You check the calendar in your phone for any details – it’s empty, for once. What a surprise. It means you can relax, maybe get some shopping done, maybe meet with someone – if only that headache didn’t deprive you from any remaining motivation to act.
All you want to do is to lay down and maybe try to wipe the tiredness with even more sleep – will two minuses make a plus? You wish, but your hopes aren’t high. But the headache just won’t go away on its own, what’s better to do than trying to rest it off, then.
You turn on the heating – your body doesn’t seem to want to warm up on its own – and then lay down on the sofa in your living room, wrapping yourself in the blanket. It feels cozy, lying feels natural, the mattress feels comfortable and it takes just a few minutes before you let the darkness swallow you up.
* * *
“Why do you keep waking up? I told you not to.”
Is it really your fault? – that’s the first thought you have. You woke up because something did, in fact, cause you to wake up. How can you be the one to blame?
“Sorry.” It doesn’t sound genuine, but you feel awake enough to muster the small amount of sarcasm, even before your eyes fully open, even before you start to get along with your surroundings.
The living room is the same as you remember it, maybe with the difference of there being dark clouds outside the windows, causing the whole room to darken. It’s warm at least, you think, but soon realize, it’s not just the heater that’s keeping you warm; another body is tangled with yours, lying behind you and holding you, bashing in your warmth and sharing its own in return.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t think. Go back to sleep.”
“No. Answer the question.”
You try to push yourself off the sofa, but the more you try, the more pointless it seems – as if you weren’t meant to be awake, as if you should just go back to sleep and forget anything happened. But you fight this instinct, you kick around until you are free and your body falls onto the floor next to the sofa with a harsh thud. Something hurts from the impact – your shoulder or your hips, you can’t tell for sure. You think you clearly hit your head, too.
“Hm.” He stares at you with disapproval on his face; he’s displeased, maybe even disappointed. You try to get to your feet and flee as soon as possible – fruitlessly, because once his hand reaches and holds your jaw, keeping you in place, the whole strength you had just washes away. The touch is warm. Should it feel as comforting as it does? Probably no. Your eyes slip closed and your body slowly becomes limp again. His hand is all that’s keeping you up straight, your arms fall to your sides, your breath slows down. “That’s better.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” You feel too weak to even say it clearly, but you know he understood.
He lifts his eyebrows, his hand pulls you forward, and you have no choice but to follow for your own comfort. Your neck aches when he tugs your head around as he wishes, placing you where he wants you to be – and then leans in, the proximity closing.
“Yes” he breathes into your face. You squeeze your eyes, fearful and bashful.
“A-a lot?”
There’s a pang of pain in your head, echoing through your skull and weakening you, ridding you off your own existence, the life falling apart, small pieces of your being scattered like shattered glass, the sensations and reality – dissolving and fading into black.
The pain loses meaning, and so does any of your will remaining, the spirit soon loses the fight and your mind becomes as limp as your body.
