Any chance of an Lucky Egg for Ashveil? The man is such a dog/hound coded dork, I love him so much
If not, then still thank you. Love your works and glad to see you back ❤️❤️❤️
LUCKY EGG
Yandere!Ashveil x Reader
The steady tapping of your keyboard was the only sound left in the office. As the personal assistant to one of the busiest CEOs in the country, your life revolved around calendars, boarding passes, and meetings scattered across more time zones than you cared to count.
Your boss rarely stayed in one place for long. It wasn't easy, but you had become remarkably good at your job. The company trusted you to keep pace with a man who never seemed to slow down, and despite the demanding workload, you had yet to miss a deadline.
By the time the office had emptied for the night, only one task remained.
With a sigh, you pushed back your chair and made one final round through the executive suite. You straightened the files on your boss's desk, gathered the empty coffee cups that had accumulated throughout the day, and finally reached for the small trash bin tucked neatly beneath the desk. After emptying its contents into a larger garbage bag, you tied the top into a tight knot and headed toward the service hallway.
The building was unusually quiet at this hour. Most of the lights had already been dimmed, leaving only the fluorescent fixtures along the corridor to illuminate your path. The plastic bag rustled softly at your side as you walked toward the disposal room, your mind already drifting to the few hours of sleep waiting for you before tomorrow's schedule began all over again.
Just as you reached the disposal door, one of the overhead lights flickered.
You slowed instinctively, your eyes lifting toward the ceiling before a flicker of movement caught the corner of your vision. A shadow slipped across the hallway with impossible speed, gliding over the polished floor without making so much as a sound. It didn't resemble a person, nor did it seem to belong to anything casting a shadow in the corridor.
Before you could make sense of what you had seen, the shape swept past you, carrying with it a brief gust of cool air. Something heavy rolled across the floor with a dull thud before coming to rest against the toe of your shoe.
A voice drifted through the silence, quiet and strangely layered, as though several whispers had merged into one.
"Take good care of it. It will change your life."
Your head snapped up at once.
"Huh?.. Wait!"
The hallway was empty.
The strange shadow had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. After waiting several seconds for someone, or something, to reappear, you cautiously lowered your gaze to the object resting against your foot.
It looked like an egg, though it was noticeably large, unlike anything you had ever seen before. When you reached down to touch it, the shell was unexpectedly warm, and lifting it required both hands despite its perfectly smooth shape.
You stood there for another moment, glancing up and down the deserted hallway in the hope that someone would step forward with an explanation. No one came.
With little choice but to take it with you, you carried the strange egg back to your office and carefully placed it in the center of your desk beside your color-coded planner. Surrounded by neatly stacked files and tomorrow's itinerary, the oversized egg looked completely out of place, as though it had wandered in from another world and decided to make itself at home.
You stared at it in silence, hoping that the longer you looked, the more sense it would make.
It didn't.
----
You weren't sure when you had fallen asleep.
The sharp ringing of your phone pulled you from a restless slumber, and with a groan, you reached across the nightstand until your fingers found it. Squinting against the brightness of the screen, you saw your boss's name flashing across the display.
That was enough to wake you up.
You answered the call. "Good morning."
"It is anything but a good morning," your boss replied "Care to explain why I found your resignation letter in my mail first thing today?"
You sat upright, convinced you had misheard him.
"My... resignation letter?"
"Yes."
"I didn't write one."
The words left your mouth before you had time to think.
"You're telling me you didn't submit it."
"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about."
Another pause followed.
"...We'll discuss this tomorrow."
The call ended before you could ask another question.
You lowered the phone and remained seated for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head. A resignation letter? It didn't make any sense.
Almost absentmindedly, your eyes wandered toward your desk.
The egg was gone.
The space where you had carefully placed the strange object only hours earlier sat completely empty.
You searched the office anyway, checking beneath the desk, behind the filing cabinets, and even inside the storage closet despite knowing how ridiculous it was. The egg had simply vanished.
By then, your exhaustion had begun to outweigh your confusion.
There was nothing else you could do, and standing in the middle of an empty office wasn't going to produce any answers. After gathering your belongings, you locked up and made your way home, hoping that a few hours of uninterrupted sleep would make the entire situation seem a little less absurd.
Your apartment greeted you with welcome silence.
You dropped your bag near the entrance, changed into something more comfortable, and let yourself fall backward onto the bed. For once, tomorrow's meetings, revised schedules, and travel itineraries didn't occupy your thoughts. Instead, your mind kept returning to the same unanswered question.
Who could have left that egg?
It was the last thing you remembered thinking before sleep quietly overtook you.
You had no idea how much time had passed when a loud metallic rattle jolted you awake.
For a brief, disoriented moment, you lay still, listening.
The sound came again.
Someone was trying to unlock your front door.
The handle twisted repeatedly, as though whoever stood outside was convinced they had the right key. When the lock refused to give way, the person tried again with more force before slamming a fist against the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
The pounding had only grown louder, and every instinct told you to stay as far away from it as possible. You reached for your phone, already preparing to dial the police, when your hand suddenly stopped.
It simply wouldn't move.
Your fingers remained wrapped around your phone, but your arm refused to lift no matter how hard you tried. It felt as though an invisible hand had settled over yours, gently but firmly holding it in place.
"What...?"
Before panic could fully set in, the deadbolt turned on its own.
And your front door slowly swung inward.
You stared, unable to move as someone stepped inside. Several paper shopping bags rustled as they were set down on your dining table.
Only then did the strange pressure disappear.
Your arm was free again.
You wasted no time marching out of your bedroom, ready to demand an explanation from whoever had just broken into your apartment.
Instead, you found yourself face-to-face with a man who looked as though he'd stepped straight out of a fantasy novel.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, carrying himself with an effortless confidence that somehow made your apartment feel much smaller. Long dark hair fell past his shoulders, his outfit was no less unusual. A white fedora sat neatly atop his head.
The man turned toward you with a smile, completely unfazed by your expression.
"...You don't recognize your savior?" he asked, sounding almost offended. "I went through all the trouble of freeing you from work so you could finally get some proper rest."
"...Excuse me?"
He placed a hand against his chest with exaggerated disappointment.
"And here I thought I'd made quite the memorable first impression."
You continued staring at him.
"Oh, right." He gave a small nod, as though suddenly remembering something important. "Where are my manners? My name is Ashveil."
He offered a polite bow that felt absurdly formal considering he had just let himself into your apartment.
"I'll be in your care from now on."
For a few long seconds, your brain simply refused to process what you'd just heard.
Then you pointed at him.
"...No."
Ashveil tilted his head.
"No?"
"No," you repeated, more firmly this time. "You're a fully grown adult who somehow broke into my apartment. You're not going to be 'in my care.' You're an intruder."
"...That's a rather harsh way to describe your life-changing gift."
"You are literally trespassing."
"I prefer 'unexpected houseguest.'"
"I prefer calling the police."
His smile didn't falter in the slightest. In fact, it somehow widened, as though your response had been exactly what he expected.
He simply folded his arms and smiled, as though this were the most ordinary introduction imaginable.
"I suppose I should explain before you become any more suspicious," he said. "The egg you found yesterday..."
He lightly tapped a finger against his own chest.
"That was me."
You stared at him.
Then you stared a little longer.
"...No."
"It was."
"No," you repeated, shaking your head. "That's not how eggs work."
"It isn't?"
"Eggs hatch into animals. Birds. Reptiles. Maybe something equally strange if you're in a fantasy novel." You gestured vaguely in his direction. "They don't hatch into... this."
"This?"
"A grown man."
Ashveil looked almost offended.
"I'll have you know I hatched very gracefully."
"I don't believe you."
"It happens more often than you'd think."
"I highly doubt that."
The conversation had somehow become even more absurd than the mysterious egg itself, and you were rapidly losing patience.
Without taking your eyes off him, you reached across the kitchen counter and grabbed the nearest thing within reach - a chef's knife resting in the drying rack.
The blade wasn't especially large, but it was enough to make your point.
You held it out between the two of you.
"Don't move."
Ashveil glanced at the knife, then back at you.
"Start talking." Your grip tightened around the handle. "How did you find my apartment?"
"Oh." He blinked once before giving a small shrug. "That was easy."
You frowned.
"Your employee records."
"...My what?"
"The office keeps everyone's personal information," he explained matter-of-factly. "Address, emergency contact, phone number... all neatly organized. It only took a few minutes to find yours."
"You illegally accessed confidential employee records!"
You lowered the knife for half a second, pinching the bridge of your nose as though that might somehow make this entire conversation disappear.
When you looked up again, Ashveil was still smiling.
"Could you perhaps put the knife down?" he asked. "I was sent here to make your life easier, not to become today's first emergency."
"I have absolutely no reason to believe that."
"You will."
"I won't."
Before either of you could continue arguing, your gaze drifted toward the front entrance.
The door hung crookedly on its hinges.
The wood around the lock had splintered where it had been forced open, and a long crack now ran down one side of the frame.
You slowly turned back toward Ashveil.
"...You broke my door."
He followed your gaze and finally seemed to notice the damage.
"...Ah."
A brief pause.
"I can fix that."
"You better fix that."
"I was planning to."
"You literally broke into my apartment."
"I did say I'd fix it."
"Ugh... I'll handle dinner."
Ashveil looked up from where he was inspecting the damaged front door.
"You don't have to."
"I know." You opened the refrigerator and glanced inside. "But I need to make sure I'm not completely losing my mind, and cooking is about the only normal thing that's happened today."
"Very well."
"Go take a shower. Or... whatever it is you do."
You waved him away before he could say anything else.
The bathroom door clicked shut a moment later, leaving the apartment blissfully quiet again.
You rested both hands on the kitchen counter and let out a slow breath.
This had to be a dream.
Yesterday, your biggest concern had been rearranging your boss's travel schedule. Now there was a mysterious man claiming he'd hatched from an oversized egg, casually helping himself to your apartment after breaking your front door.
None of it made sense.
Shaking the thought aside, you focused on preparing dinner. Chopping vegetables had always been oddly calming, and the familiar rhythm of the knife against the cutting board gave your mind something simple to follow.
Even so, your thoughts refused to settle.
Who or what was Ashveil?
And what had it meant when it said he would change your life?
The questions circled endlessly in your mind until your grip shifted ever so slightly.
The knife slipped.
Instinctively, you braced for the sharp sting across your finger.
Instead... Your hand stopped. Not because you had caught yourself.
That same invisible pressure from earlier settled gently around your wrist, holding it perfectly still just a fraction before the blade reached your skin.
The knife hovered less than a centimeter from your finger.
You slowly lowered the knife onto the cutting board and stared at your hand for several seconds before letting out a shaky breath.
"...Right."
Maybe you weren't imagining everything after all.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened.
Ashveil stepped into the hallway wearing a fresh set of clothes that you were fairly certain hadn't been in your apartment before. His long hair hung damp over his shoulders as he absentmindedly rubbed it with a towel, though it hardly seemed any drier than when he had started.
With another quiet sigh, you set down the plate you had been carrying and walked over.
"Give me that."
He obediently handed over the towel.
You gestured for him to sit, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he did. Standing behind him, you began drying his hair yourself, rubbing the towel through the long strands with far more efficiency than he had managed on his own.
By the time dinner was ready, the atmosphere had become... strangely ordinary.
The two of you sat across from each other at your small dining table, sharing a meal as though this had been your routine for years instead of mere hours.
Ashveil took a bite before his expression softened with unmistakable satisfaction.
"Home-cooked meals truly are the best."
"...Thanks."
"They're even better when they're made by someone precious to you."
You nearly choked on your drink.
"I'm sorry?"
"In my world, food prepared by someone dear carries more than nourishment. It restores strength, helps us recover, and grants considerably more power than an ordinary meal."
"...Your world sounds very convenient."
Your attention drifted toward the phone lying beside your plate.
The screen remained dark.
Normally, by this hour, your boss would have called at least twice about some last-minute change.
Your eyes kept flicking back to the phone, almost expecting it to light up at any moment.
Ashveil noticed. "You don't have to keep checking."
"What do you mean?"
"Your employer won't be contacting you."
A frown creased your brow.
"...How do you know that?"
Just as the question left your mouth, an overwhelming wave of drowsiness washed over you.
It wasn't the comfortable heaviness that came after a satisfying meal. It was sudden. Your eyelids became impossibly heavy, and your body slumped forward before you could stop it.
"Wha..."
You vaguely felt someone catch you before you slipped from your chair.
Somewhere in the distance, you felt yourself being lifted with surprising ease.
The mattress dipped beneath your weight a few moments later.
A blanket was pulled carefully over you, tucking you in with a tenderness that felt oddly familiar despite knowing you'd only met him a few hours ago.
Then everything faded into silence.
---
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming your face just enough to pull you from sleep. Then just as you remembered something urgent, you sat up almost immediately and glanced toward the front entrance.
The broken door was gone. It looked exactly as it had before, as though it had never been forced open in the first place.
"...He actually fixed it."
The apartment was unusually quiet.
"Ashveil?"
You climbed out of bed and wandered through the apartment, expecting to find him somewhere in the kitchen or living room.
Instead, you found it empty.
Just as you were beginning to wonder where he had gone, a loud yell shattered the morning silence.
"What the hell was that?!"
The voice came from outside.
You hurried to the front door and stepped into your small front yard.
The first thing you saw was Ashveil. He stood near the front gate with his hands casually tucked into his coat pockets, looking as composed as ever.
The second thing you saw was Kento from Human Resources sprawled across the pavement, his suit covered in dirt and leaves. His tie had come loose, one sleeve was torn, and he looked as though he'd lost a fight with something much larger than himself.
"...Kento?"
You hurried over and offered him a hand.
"Are you alright?"
Kento stared at your outstretched hand for a moment before accepting it, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet.
"You..." He looked between you and Ashveil, still breathing heavily. "Didn't you see them?"
"See what?"
"The monsters!"
"...The what?"
"There were.... shadow creatures! They came out of nowhere!" He pointed an accusing finger toward Ashveil. "And he was just standing there!"
You slowly turned toward Ashveil.
He met your gaze with an innocent expression.
"I have no idea what this gentleman is talking about."
Kento looked utterly speechless.
"What do you mean you don't know? They were surrounding me!"
"Were they?" Ashveil tilted his head thoughtfully. "How unfortunate."
Kento opened his mouth, closed it again, then rubbed both hands over his face as though questioning his own sanity.
Beside you, Ashveil's gaze briefly drifted toward the hand you had used to help Kento stand. His eyes lingered there for only a second before he quietly looked away.
After managing to calm Kento down enough that he stopped insisting your front yard had been invaded by monsters, you invited him inside.
A cup of hot tea seemed like the least you could offer after... whatever had happened.
Kento wrapped both hands around the mug, taking a long sip before finally speaking.
"I came because everyone at the company is worried about you."
"I'm fine."
"The boss doesn't think so."
"I already told him yesterday that the one who submitted the resignation letter wasn't me."
"I know." Kento nodded. "That's exactly why I'm here. Whatever happened, we'll sort it out at the office. Just come back with me."
"I'm not going."
"You don't have to resign."
"I didn't do it back then, but I was planning to quit."
Kento leaned forward, his expression growing increasingly earnest.
"Everyone's waiting for you, and your boss has been asking about you since yesterday morning. If you just come back, we can explain everything and.."
"I said no."
"You can't just disappear without discussing-"
Something inside you finally snapped.
You slammed both hands onto the table.
"I said I don't want to go back!" The words spilled out before you could stop them. "I'm tired of being on call every hour of every day. I'm tired of rearranging my entire life around someone else's schedule."
Silence settled over the room.
Your breathing was uneven as the frustration you'd been burying for months finally found its way to the surface.
"I don't want to hear another word. Leave!"
The room fell still. When you opened your eyes again, Kento was gone.
His teacup remained on the table. But the man himself had vanished.
"What...?"
Your gaze slowly shifted toward Ashveil.
"...Where did Kento go?"
"Nowhere."
"What does that even mean?"
Ashveil regarded you quietly before answering.
"It was your command."
"...You're saying he disappeared because I told him to?"
"You wished for him to leave."
You had no response to that.
Instead, you reached for your teacup, lifted it with both hands, and took a long drink as though it contained something much stronger than tea. You desperately wished it did.
After sitting in silence for another minute, you set the empty cup down and rose from your chair.
"I need some air."
You grabbed your coat from the rack by the door and slipped it on without another word before heading outside.
Behind you, Ashveil remained seated.
Only after the front door closed did he slowly uncurl the hand he had kept hidden beneath the table.
A faint crimson glow pulsed across the back of his hand before gradually fading, leaving behind nothing more than a thoughtful smile that disappeared as quickly as it had come.
---
The news of your resignation rippled through your friend group with surprising speed, a detail that baffled you slightly since you couldn't for the life of you remember ever getting around to informing them yourself.
The moment the group chat caught wind of your sudden freedom, your phone buzzed relentlessly with a flurry of texts from Melany, Crystal, and Andree. They unanimously insisted on a celebration, demanding you either throw a party or at least head out for a heavy meal and drinks to toast to your independence.
The following evening, you raided your wardrobe, pulling out your absolute best outfit. As you adjusted your clothes in the mirror, you made a deliberate point to leave Ashveil completely out of the entire plan. He was currently sitting on the sofa, watching you.
"Are you going somewhere important?"
"I'm going out with my friends," you replied, grabbing your keys from the counter. "You'll do perfectly fine on your own, right?"
"Of course."
You nodded and slipped out the door. A small part of you hoped that while you were gone, he might grow bored of the quiet apartment and simply move on to somewhere else. Perhaps, you thought, he had already fulfilled your deepest, subconscious wish of granting you a permanent vacation, and like a mystical genie, he would just vanish back into thin air now that the job was done. You would have to face the reality of finding a new job eventually, but right now, who cared?
Closing your front door, you waited on the curb until your friends pulled up to drive you to the restaurant for dinner. Your inner circle was deliberately small, as you had always prioritized the quality of your relationships over the sheer quantity of people around you. Tonight, it was just the four of you: Melany, who carried an effortlessly cool vibe; Crystal, the very definition of a sweet girl; and Andree, the only other guy in the group.
Determined to drink your heart out and completely wash away the lingering stress of your old job, you all migrated to a neon-lit bar nearby immediately after finishing dinner. Sitting close together, Andree slid a drink toward you and leaned in to chat, preparing to pitch a highly lucrative job offer at his own company.
"Seriously, Y/N, you're too good to be running around ragged for your old boss," Andree said "My company is expanding its marketing division. The pay is better, and honestly... I’d really love to have you around more often."
"That actually sounds amazing," you replied, offering a genuine smile as the continuous flow of alcohol gradually loosened your posture. "I might actually take you up on that after I catch my breath for a week or two."
Before Andree could respond, a chaotic distraction drew your attention across the room. Crystal, who was already visibly hammered, had decided to make a break for the stage to grab the microphone for karaoke, while a panicked Melany scrambled to hold her back.
"Crystal, no! You are not singing tonight, sit down!" Melany yelled, laughing as she tried to drag her back by her jacket sleeves.
"Let me shine, Mel!" Crystal giggled, waving her hands dramatically in the air.
Amused by the spectacle, you chuckled and downed a few more heavy drinks, quickly passing the threshold into total intoxication. The room began to spin in a warm, hazy blur. Seeing you completely vulnerable, relaxed, and giggling at the table, Andree decided this was his moment.
"Y/N," Andree murmured, reaching out to gently touch your arm, drawing your attention back to him. "I've been waiting for a chance to tell you this without your phone constantly interrupting us... I've had feelings for you for a really long time."
Before your sluggish brain could fully process his confession, Andree leaned in, catching you completely off guard in your drunken stupor, and pressed his lips firmly against yours.
Right at that exact second, Ashveil arrived.
His piercing eyes locked onto the precise moment Andree’s mouth met yours. A dark, suffocating aura flared violently around Ashveil, his knuckles tightening to the point of snapping. You were entirely too drunk to comprehend the danger or the sudden drop in the room’s temperature, your head lolling uselessly against the plush. Sensing your lack of resistance and assuming you were just tired, Andree got ahead of himself.
"Let's get you some air." Andree whispered, scooping your limp body up into his arms. Eager to take things to a more private corner, he guided you out of the loud venue and into the dim, secluded parking lot where his car was parked.
But just as Andree opened the passenger door to place you inside the vehicle, Ashveil forcefully intervened.
Out of nowhere, an invisible pressure slammed into Andree, pinning him violently against the side of the car. He froze instantly, his muscles completely locking up as he realized, with absolute terror, that he was entirely paralyzed. Andree tried to gasp, but he couldn't form a single syllable.
Ashveil stepped forward into the pale moonlight, his tailcoat swaying gracefully. He didn't utter a single audible word to the terrified man. Instead, he reached down into the backseat where you lay half-conscious, using his thumb to aggressively and roughly brush over your lips, dragging his skin hard across yours to wipe away any lingering trace of the kiss another man had dared to give you.
With a menacing flick of his wrist, Ashveil made a sharp zipping motion across his own lips. Instantly, Andree's mouth was sealed completely shut, choking back his ability to even breathe properly.
Ashveil then climbed into the backseat beside you. Driven by a desperate attempt to completely overwrite the mark left by the other man, Ashveil pulled you tightly against his chest. His grip was bruisingly tight as he tilted your chin up. He kissed you. He kept pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like he was entirely devouring you, the fierce pressure leaving your lips aching and tasting faintly of copper, right on the verge of bleeding. You could only let out a soft, breathless whine, your hands weakly clutching at his white coat before your consciousness faded completely.
When he finally pulled away, your head fell back against his shoulder. Ashveil climbed out of the car, effortlessly lifting you into his arms to carry you all the way back home.
Behind him, in the quiet darkness of the parking lot, the vehicle he had left Andree pinned inside suddenly sparked. Within seconds, the car erupted into a violent, roaring blaze, crashing into the concrete wall as the fire consumed it entirely.
Despite the fact that he was acting entirely on his own, Ashveil truly believed that as long as you remained completely ignorant of his actions, his powers would face no consequences.
---
The next morning, you woke up with an absolute monster of a headache that felt like a drill spinning straight into your temples. Your mouth was bone-dry, and your mind was completely fractured. You groaned, clutching your head as you tried to sit up, but the room spun violently. You couldn't for the life of you remember how you had gotten back to your apartment, or when you had even left the bar.
The bedroom door clicked open, and Ashveil stepped inside. He had ditched his dramatic white tailcoat and was holding a steaming bowl of savory broth, the rich aroma cutting through the stale air of the room.
"Don't move too fast." Ashveil said, walking over to set the bowl on your nightstand.
"How did I get home last night?"
He didn't skip a beat, sitting gracefully on the edge of your mattress. "You got entirely drunk. Fortunately, you managed to dial your emergency contact number, which happens to be mine."
You blinked, staring up at him in sheer confusion, your sluggish brain trying to process his words. "My emergency contact? Since when do you even have a phone?"
"Since the beginning. You just never noticed."
Skeptical and desperate for clarity, you snatched your phone from the nightstand and opened the call history. He wasn't lying.
"Oh.." you muttered, leaning back into your pillows, too exhausted to question the logistics of how an egg-born man managed to acquire a cellular network. "Thank you."
You ended up staying in bed for the rest of the day, completely taken care of by him. True to your rule of keeping his tasks simple to prevent yourself from becoming addicted to his dangerous efficiency, you only asked for the bare minimum, but Ashveil anticipated your every need anyway. He brought you whatever you wanted, whether it was a fresh cup of water, extra blankets, or a quiet space to sleep. You only had to stay in bed and rest.
What you didn't know, however, was that while you slept, Ashveil had quietly taken your phone. With a few swift taps, he blocked Melany, Crystal, and Andree's numbers entirely. He muted all notifications and suppressed any incoming alerts. They wouldn't be able to contact you for now, and you wouldn't find out about the horrific "accident" in the parking lot anytime soon. In his mind, it was all for you.
That night, after you fell into a deep, uninterrupted slumber, Ashveil quietly slipped out.
He walked the empty, fog-laden streets until a dark, shifting silhouette materialized on the concrete ahead of him. It was shaped like the shadow of a massive hunting dog. The creature ran ahead, stopping directly in front of an apartment building where Crystal lived.
Ashveil stopped, looking up at the structure with a sharp, humorless smile. "So... one of them is here."
With a silent command, the dog-like creature dissolved, flowing across the ground and vanishing seamlessly back into Ashveil’s own shadow. He slipped into the building, entering the apartment completely undetected. He meticulously set the scene, tampering with the bathroom wiring to make it look like a tragic accident - a sudden surge of electricity right after she had finished bathing.
Stepping back out into the cold night air, Ashveil turned his gaze toward the eastern side of the city, preparing to track down his next target.
Suddenly, a low, resonant voice echoed sharply inside his own head:
"Acting on your own, driven by mortal desires... you will receive the consequences of your backfire."
Ashveil paused on the empty sidewalk, his gray eyes narrowing in defiance. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the risks of using his power to alter the fates of those around you without your explicit command, but he didn't care.
"I'll be fine," he muttered back to the silence of his own mind, his voice dripping with arrogance. "As long as Y/N is safe, I don't care."
Deciding it was wiser to space out the timeline so the deaths wouldn't look too suspicious to the human authorities, he called off the hunt for the night.
Later on, he quietly returned to your side. The bedroom was dark and peaceful, the only sound being your soft, even breathing. Ashveil looked down at your sleeping face, a wave of intense, possessive devotion washing over him. He leaned down, gently pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
"I'm sorry."
Carefully, so as not to wake you, he climbed into the bed and lay down right next to you. Pulling the blankets up, he closed his eyes, finally letting himself fall asleep by your side.
----
The next morning, you rolled over to find Ashveil lying completely still beside you. The usual vibrant energy that radiated from him was entirely gone. When your hand accidentally brushed his shoulder, you gasped, his skin was burning, radiating a terrifyingly high fever that seemed to scorch right through his clothes.
Panicking, you shook his shoulder. "Ashveil? Ashveil, wake up."
There was no response. His long hair was damp with sweat, and his jaw was tightly clenched. You didn't know what to do. You couldn't exactly call a normal human ambulance for a man who hatched from an egg, and you had no idea how his anatomy even worked.
Falling back on instinct, you resorted to traditional remedies. You rushed to the bathroom, grabbed a bowl of cold water and a cloth, and gently pressed it to his forehead to cool him down. You ran to the kitchen and fetched some fever medicine, but when you tried to coax him to take it, he wouldn't wake up to swallow it. He couldn't even sit up.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths, a memory suddenly sparked in your mind. You remembered what he had told you at the kitchen table:
"In my world, food prepared by someone dear carries more than nourishment. It restores strength, helps us recover, and grants considerably more power than an ordinary meal."
"Please let this work." you whispered, scrambling out of bed and rushing to the kitchen.
You quickly prepared a simple, warm broth, pouring all your focus and genuine worry into making it. Bringing the steaming bowl back into the bedroom, you sat down beside him. Since he was completely unconscious, you had to force him to eat somehow. Carefully lifting his head, you used a small spoon to gently part his lips, coaxing a tiny bit of the warm liquid into his mouth, stroking his throat until his reflexes kicked in and he finally swallowed it.
You kept going, patiently feeding him spoonful after spoonful, entirely driven by the terrifying thought that he was about to die right here. You couldn't let someone who had taken such meticulous care of you die right inside your house, under your watch. He had acted weird, dramatic, and intensely overprotective from the moment he arrived, but you knew deep down that he harbored absolutely no ill will toward you.
Miraculously, your efforts worked.
By midday, the terrifying heat radiating from his skin began to subside.
That night, the peaceful quiet of the bedroom shattered in your mind. You suddenly gasped, your hands flying to your neck as an invisible, agonizing pressure tightened around your throat so hard you couldn't breathe. You thrashed against the mattress, suffocating, until your eyes flew open.
It was just a dream.
Beside you, Ashveil was still sleeping deeply, his fever completely gone, his breathing slow and steady. You let out a shaky breath, rubbing your throat, and tried to lie back down to sleep again.
But the moment you drifted off, the nightmare shifted into something far stranger. You found yourself standing inside a vast, pitch-black void. Out of the darkness, a chorus of disjointed, powerful voices echoed around you, their words drilling into your mind:
"Do not let him get past you... You must keep him in check... "
The dream snapped like a brittle thread, and you woke up to the soft light of morning creeping through the curtains. The heavy, eerie feeling of the void instantly melted away as a rich, savory aroma caught your attention.
You walked into the kitchen to find Ashveil setting containers down on the table. He looked entirely back to his usual, vibrant self.
"Good morning, Y/N," he said, offering a smile. "I went out and bought some food. I figured neither of us really has the energy to cook after yesterday."
"Thanks." you murmured, still a little dazed by the bizarre dreams. The food was delicious, and eating it finally brought some color back to your face.
Once the containers were cleared away, Ashveil looked out the window at the bright, sunny day and then turned to you. "You know, staying cooped up at home too much wouldn't be good for your health. Why don't we go for a walk?"
You looked down at your hands, thinking of the heavy grief and the strange nightmares. He was right, you needed fresh air. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."
The local park was beautiful, bathed in warm sunlight, and for a moment, you actually felt a sense of peace. But that peace was short-lived.
"Help! Someone help me! He took my purse!"
A sharp, panicked scream pierced the air. A few yards away, a man in a dark hoodie was sprinting away from an elderly woman who was clutching her chest, looking utterly distraught.
"Hey! Stop right there!" you yelled, adrenaline instantly surging through your veins.
Without a second thought, you bolted after the thief, your legs pumping as you tried to close the distance. Ashveil effortlessly kept pace right beside you. But after a solid minute of running, the lingering exhaustion from the past few days caught up to you. Your lungs burned, your steps slowed, and you had to double over, gripping your knees as you gasped for air.
The thief was getting away, rapidly approaching the edge of the park.
"Ashveil!" you choked out, pointing a trembling finger toward the fleeing man. "Go! Chase him down and bring that purse back! I'll wait here!"
"Alright, I'll be back soon."
Ashveil sprinted past the tree line of the park, his eyes locked onto the distant silhouette of the thief. But the man was desperate; he cut sharply into a maze of dense, overgrown alleyways, scrambling through a tight gap in a chain-link fence. By the time Ashveil effortlessly vaulted over the metal barrier, the street was empty. The thief had vanished into the shadows of the urban sprawl.
Ashveil stopped, his expression darkening into a cold, dangerous sneer. Losing a target was unacceptable, especially on a direct order from you.
With a fluid motion, Ashveil extended his left hand, his silver watch catching the dim light of the alley. He closed his eyes, tapping into the dark reservoir of his power. From the depths of his own shadow, a low, ominous growl vibrated through the concrete. A thick, ink-like darkness seeped outward from his boots, spreading across the pavement like spilled oil before shifting into the faint, glowing vapor of a tracking spell. Suddenly, a trail of glowing, ethereal footprints lit up the ground, weaving sharply toward a crumbling, abandoned house at the end of the block.
Inside the decaying structure, the thief was breathing heavily, huddled in a corner. Believing he had successfully escaped, he greedily dumped the contents of the purse onto a dusty crate, scrambling through everything he had stolen today- cash, cards, and trinkets.
A floorboard creaked. The thief snapped his head up. Ashveil slowly stepped through the broken doorway, his white fedora tilted low.
The man panicked for a split second, but seeing that Ashveil was alone and unarmed, he sneered. He reached into his waistband and pulled out a heavy switchblade, flicking the metal open with a sharp clack. Armed and confident, the thief launched himself forward, thrusting the blade directly toward Ashveil's chest.
Before the blade could even pierce the fabric of his coat, a sudden, agonizing weight slammed into the thief. The man fell heavily down to his feet, dropping his weapon as the metal clattered uselessly against the floorboards. He gasped, staring in absolute horror at his own flesh. Out of nowhere, deep, bloody bite marks began to manifest rapidly across his hands and arms, as if an invisible jaw were clamping down on him.
The shadows in the corners of the room detached themselves from the walls. Thousands of shadowy, ethereal wolves with glowing red eyes swarmed out of the darkness, their incorporeal forms snapping and snarling. Within a terrifying, breathless second, the wave of shadow wolves completely enveloped the screaming man, swallowing him whole until there was nothing left but empty air and the heavy silence of the room.
Ashveil casually stepped over the spot where the man had just been. He picked up the old woman's purse, checking to make sure everything was inside, while deliberately leaving the other stolen bags behind on the crate. He turned on his heel and glided back to the park.
When he returned to your side, you were still waiting patiently with the elderly woman. Ashveil held out the bag with a polite, seamless bow. "Your property, ma'am. Untouched."
The old woman let out a breathless gasp, clutching the purse to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes as she checked inside. "Oh, thank goodness! My medicine, my late husband's photos... everything is here! I can't thank you both enough."
Exhausted but relieved, you smiled. "We're just glad you're okay."
"Please, you must let me reward you," the woman insisted. "I own a little bakery just a few blocks away. Come to my house!"
You looked at Ashveil, whose stomach let out a perfectly timed, low rumble. You chuckled. "We'd love to."
As the three of you began walking toward the bakery, you looked up at the tall, formidable man beside you. He was walking with his chin held high, looking immensely proud of himself.
"Hey," you said, nudging his arm. "Lower your head for a second."
Ashveil blinked in confusion but obligingly tilted his head down, his bangs falling into his face. Smiling, you reached up and gently patted his head. "Good job."
A sudden, faint flush of color hit his cheeks, and his gray eyes widened slightly before a deeply satisfied, softer smile graced his lips. He walked a little closer to your side the rest of the way.
The bakery was cozy, and the old woman treated you both like royalty, piling a plate high with decadent slices of cake and pouring hot, fragrant tea. By the time you both returned home late that night after a wonderful meal, the exhaustion of the day finally crashed over you. Your eyelids were heavy, and you wanted nothing more than to just collapse onto the mattress and sleep.
You kicked off your shoes and walked straight toward the bed, but a strong hand gently caught your wrist.
"Ah, ah," Ashveil murmured, a playful but firm look on his face as he pointed toward the bathroom. "Go brush your teeth first, Y/N. Then you can sleep."
"Too tired..." you groaned, but he wouldn't budge, standing like an unmovable wall until you finally sighed, trudged into the bathroom, and brushed your teeth.
When you finally crawled under the covers, you fell into sleep instantly. But the moment your consciousness faded, you found yourself trapped inside the dark, oppressive void once again.
"Be cautious of your actions... The balance is shifting... You must control him before it is too late..."
You woke up early the next morning. Determined to shake off the unsettling nightmares, you quickly showered and dressed in a professional outfit. You whipped up a quick breakfast, eating your portion in silence before leaving a generous plate covered on the kitchen table for Ashveil.
Just as you were reaching for your keys, you heard the bedroom door click open. Ashveil stepped out, his long hair slightly messy from sleep.
"Where are you going?"
"I’m going out for a job interview." you replied, checking your watch. "I need to get moving. If there are two of us living in this apartment, my savings won't survive the next few months."
"You don't need to go. I am more than capable of taking care of both of us."
"Sure. Unless you've suddenly acquired a bank account and a legal identity."
You stepped toward the entryway, but before your hand could touch the brass knob, Ashveil glided forward with impossible speed. His tall, broad frame completely blocked the door, his shadow looming over you.
You stopped, looking up at him, ready to tell him to stop playing around, but the words died in your throat. The playful, eager-to-please housemate you had spent the previous day with was gone.
"Ashveil, move," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound firm. "I'm going to be late."
"No."
Before you could even draw a breath to argue, a sudden, heavy pressure materialized around your neck. It wasn't a physical hand, but a crushing, invisible force that wrapped tightly around your throat like a suffocating leash. With a pull, Ashveil yanked the invisible tether forward, forcing your body to stumble toward him until you crashed lightly against his chest.
Your hands flying to your neck, but your fingers found nothing but empty, pressurized space.
Ashveil leaned down, his face mere inches from yours, his hair brushing your cheek.
"You must obey me, Y/N," he murmured, "You must obey because I told you to, and because I am a far stronger entity than you could ever comprehend."
He reached out, his thumb gently tracing your jawline, a terrifying contrast to the suffocating leash still holding you in place.
"You indeed are my master," Ashveil whispered, "But you do not know how to take care of yourself. I will take care of you. But you will stay here, where you are safe."
You sat up with a violent gasp, your hands instantly flying to your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut, rubbing the skin of your throat, but there was no leash.
It was just another nightmare.
Lately, it felt like you hadn't had a single normal, peaceful dream. It was always the dark void, the warning voices, or Ashveil turning into a terrifying captor.
Breathing heavily, you turned your head to look at the man sleeping soundly beside you. Would he actually do that to me? you wondered, a chill creeping down your spine. Is he capable of turning on me like that?
"You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I'll be too shy to sleep."
He hadn't even opened his eyes, but a slow, amused smirk was already forming on his lips.
You let out a shaky sigh, collapsing back onto your pillow. "I had another nightmare. About you."
"About me?"
"You used some kind of invisible leash around my neck and forced me to obey you."
Ashveil frowned, shifting his weight to prop himself up on one elbow. He looked down at you, his expression remarkably soft. "I would never do anything to harm you. Your mind is just playing tricks on you because you've been so stressed."
You looked from his sincere eyes down to his throat, exposed by the loose collar of his shirt. A sudden, reckless impulse flared within you, an urge to test just how deep his compliance really went.
Without a word, you suddenly shifted, climbing directly on top of him. You straddled his waist, pinning his hips down, and brought both of your hands up to his throat.
Ashveil didn't flinch. Instead, he just looked up at you from the pillow, his eyes filled with a mixture of intense amusement and absolute surrender. He relaxed his posture completely, tilting his chin back slightly to give your hands better access.
"Suit yourself," he murmured, "My life is in your hands anyway."
As he spoke, he slowly raised his right hand. His fingers, cool and deceptively gentle, entwined with yours where they rested against his pulse. He leaned into your touch, using his thumb to softly fondle your fingers, tracing the knuckles and stroking the skin with a slow, hypnotic rhythm that felt entirely too intimate.
You stared down at him, your heart hammering violently against your ribs. He was entirely at your mercy, completely unbothered by the fact that you were pinning him down.
Suddenly feeling incredibly foolish, you dropped your hands and scrambled off him, sliding back to your side of the bed.
"Yeah... that was insane of me. I'm sorry." you muttered, pulling the blankets tightly over your shoulders and turning your back to him, your face burning with embarrassment as you closed your eyes, desperate for sleep to claim you.
He waited patiently until your breathing elongated. The moment you were completely out, the soft, docile expression on Ashveil's face vanished. He sat up silently. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sudden movement near you. A long, slimy, pale worm-like parasite.
With terrifying speed, Ashveil reached down and snatched the writhing thing out of the air. He didn't flinch as it coated his skin in a foul residue; instead, he brought it close to his face, his expression twisting into a mask of pure malice. He squeezed his fist closed, the sound of the parasite crunching and dissolving into black smoke echoing faintly in the quiet room.
"Do not dare try to ruin my peaceful life."
He turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction as he leaned over your sleeping form. His fingers gently parted your collar, checking the pale skin of your neck.
"But having a leash around your neck isn't such a bad idea."
Satisfied, he pulled the blanket back over your shoulders.
Quietly sliding out of the bed, Ashveil glided across the room. He stepped out into the hallway, locking your bedroom door behind him with a silent click of his power so you wouldn't wander out.
He walked down the corridor and pushed open the bathroom door.
Inside the bathtub sat Melany. Your last living friend was bound tightly with thick ropes, heavy silver duct tape sealing her mouth shut. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes wide with a mixture of suffocating rage and absolute terror as she looked up at the tall man.
Ashveil closed the door behind him, leaning casually against the sink as he looked down at her.
"I promise you, it's not going to hurt much," he said, his tone dripping with a terrifyingly polite, smooth sarcasm. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you setting up that pathetic thief and the old lady at the park? A transparent little plot to separate us so you could get to Y/N."
Melany thrashed against her bonds, a muffled, angry scream dying against the tape.
"Lucky for you, I caught you sneaking around before you even managed to step foot inside. Tell me, were you planning to tell Y/N the truth about Andree? About Crystal?" He shook his head, a dark, wicked smile curving his lips. "I'm afraid that ain't going to happen."
A few muffled noises later, the bathroom fell completely silent.
Ashveil calmly turned on the faucet, washing his hands before grabbing a cloth to meticulously clean up the bathtub, wiping away any trace of the struggle.
Just as he finished rinsing the porcelain, your muffled voice echoed from the hallway.
"Ashveil?"
The murderous chill in his aura vanished instantly, replaced by a bright, serene warmth. As long as you continued to solely depend on him, and as long as he continued to fulfill your deepest, subconscious wish for a life free of burdens, his power would only grow stronger. And eventually, he would manage to have you entirely for his own.
"Coming!"