Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Mingyu Major Tags: only slightly implied mcd, it’s open-ended (i think). Additional Tags: mythology references, magical elements, witch/hunter dynamic, magical manipulation?, unreliable narrator?, unbalanced power dynamics, (slightly dogboy mingyu? if you think along the lines of pavlov’s dogs lol), open/ambiguous? Permission to remix: Yes a/n: some gyuhan for ally! this took a life of its own; idk how much sense it makes, but i hope you enjoy! any mistakes are my own and i apologize. wc 1388.
***
This story could have begun one of two ways: the hunter finds the prey, or the hunter becomes the prey.
Mingyu does not care about either of those. For him, the story began when he first saw Jeonghan, standing waist-deep in the river, the current parting around his waist like a billowing skirt. His blond hair sweeps around the globes of his shoulders. Mingyu is rooted, unable to move.
Jeonghan — no, the man. At this point, Mingyu does not yet know his name. He soon will, though, and it will be the only name his mouth will ever worship.
The man turns around. His eyes are green, like the forest around them, like wilderness. In the hollow of his throat rests a crescent moon. Silver bows and arrows drip from his earlobes. When he smiles, Mingyu feels weightless.
“Kim Mingyu,” the man says, voice lilting. “Welcome.”
Dumbly, Mingyu nods. He still can’t move. The man smiles wider, and starts walking up the banks of the river. Instinctively, Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut. The man chuckles.
“Oh darling,” a voice murmurs over his shoulder. Mingyu jumps, eyes flying open. The man comes into view from behind his right shoulder. “You needn’t worry about that.”
He smiles again, indulgent, as though he were looking at a particularly cute child. Secrets shine from his eyes. Mingyu wants to know every single one of them. The man’s eyes warm, as though he knows.
“Come,” the man says, voice like velvet. His hair grazes Mingyu’s cheek as he sweeps by, fully dressed this time. “Aren’t you curious to know more?”
Finally unfrozen, Mingyu scrambles after him. Farther away on the banks of the river, tucked between two large oak trees, is a wooden hut Mingyu hadn’t noticed before. The man walks up the porch and pushes open the door.
“Welcome,” he says again, cryptically, “to your new home.”
Maybe Mingyu should be afraid, but he only follows, unthinkingly, like a compass arrow faithfully following north.
-
Mingyu learns that the man’s name is Jeonghan, and that he’s a witch. He scoffs in response. Something about this blatantly outlandish claim makes him feel more at ease.
“Oh please,” he snickers, sauntering around the space, taking in the jars on the shelves, the mortar and pestle, the wooden table and benches. “Witches don’t exist, do they? What else have you got? A cauldron?
“I’m telling you,” he says, lifting a finger sagely, “I’ve been hunting in this forest my whole life, and I’ve never seen a witch, so—”
He spins around. Jeonghan is a hairbreadth’s distance away from his face. He jerks in shock, takes a step back. Jeonghan’s mouth tilts up.
“Oh really,” Jeonghan says. There’s something taunting in his voice. “Watch, then.”
A flick of his wrist, and a thin knife materializes between his long fingers. Mingyu’s eyes widen, fixed on the thin blade. Jeonghan looks smug. The expression is horridly elegant on his face.
In an effort to calm himself, Mingyu laughs through his nose. “Sleight of hand,” he dismisses, walking around the table, attempting nonchalance, sliding onto a wooden bench. “Anybody who practices enough could do that. You had it up your sleeve, didn’t you?”
Jeonghan smiles. His teeth gleam, catching on the sunlight through the window panes. There’s a sliver of danger in it. Between one blink and the next, he vanishes, and Mingyu feels the silver kiss of a blade at his throat.
“Oh really,” he says again, behind Mingyu this time. There’s laughter in his voice. “Do you want to see what else I’ve got up my sleeve then?”
Mingyu goes rigidly, sudden adrenaline coursing through his veins. Jeonghan’s face becomes visible in his periphery. He’s smiling still, horrifically beautiful. His hair is golden in the sunlight.
“Ignorance is not always bliss, my darling,” Jeonghan whispers, and the blade digs in harder. Mingyu flinches involuntarily, eyes squeezed shut. Jeonghan laughs softly, breath tickling Mingyu’s cheek. “I could do so much to you, and no one would know, hm?”
Mingyu trembles. His breath quivers between his lips. The blade breaks skin. Mingyu feels the sting like a shock of lightning, his eyes flying open. Blood trickles down his neck, hot and thick. Jeonghan’s eyes flick down.
“Would you?” Mingyu rasps, voice hoarse. All of his earlier bravado has morphed into something else, something that burns low in his gut. Interest and surprise flicker in Jeonghan’s eyes.
“Fascinating,” Jeonghan says, lifting the knife from Mingyu’s neck. “I’ve never met one that submits so easily.” He flicks the blade to the side, and reaches a finger to collect the blood from Mingyu’s neck. The red gleams like a ruby shard on his finger. Whatever he sees in Mingyu’s blood, it makes Jeonghan smile.
“I think I might keep you.” With that, Jeonghan’s knees hit the floor. A warm cloth materializes, and he cleans the cut he just made with dizzying tenderness. Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think.
Mingyu flinches, eyes finding Jeonghan’s. Violation, he thinks. Jeonghan laughs.
“Darling, you’ve already given yourself to me,” he says, delighted. “Every part of you is mine. There is no violation.”
“Sleep.”
Mingyu does.
-
Kim Mingyu wakes up in love with Yoon Jeonghan.
He’s in a bed, quilt embroidered with flowers thrown over his figure. There’s sunlight through a window above the bedside table to his left. He feels pleasantly drowsy.
“You’re awake,” a voice says to his right. Mingyu rolls over and comes face to face with Jeonghan, who smiles at him warmly. Mingyu melts against him. This is right, he thinks. This is where I should be. This is home.
“That’s right.” Jeonghan’s voice is soothing. His smile is as bright as the morning sun. His eyes are emerald shards. “You love me.”
“I love you.” Jeonghan’s hand curls around his nape and squeezes. Mingyu goes boneless and weightless, like he’s on the moon. Over the moon.
Lips kiss his forehead. Mingyu’s eyes sliver open to see the crescent moon charm, dangling from the altar of Jeonghan’s throat, swaying in front of his face. Jeonghan’s voice is lilting when he says: “I love you too.”
-
Mingyu gets to love him for another year. During it, he does work around the house for Jeonghan, prepping ingredients, mixing oils, foraging plants, occasionally hunting game. Each time he does well, Jeonghan will award him with a kiss, and then he’ll walk away, never to linger, and Mingyu will follow, an arrow pointing loyally north, until he’s given a new set of instructions, and a new kiss to be earned.
Sometimes Jeonghan lets him try one of his mixtures, fragrant and fresh. They always make something bloom in his chest.
“How do you feel?” Jeonghan will ask, pushing back his hair, something like fondness in his gaze.
“Like I love you,” Mingyu will reply, semi-automatically, because that gets him the beaming smile and the kiss, and nothing else pleases him more.
“My best guinea pig,” Jeonghan will chuckle, and Mingyu will laugh with him. Anything Jeonghan finds funny, so does he.
-
The year goes by like that. One day, Jeonghan sits him down after giving him a dose of a mixture he’d been working on.
“Mingyu-yah,” he says, hands cupping Mingyu’s face, “how much do you love me?”
“To the moon and back,” Mingyu answers automatically, waiting for the kiss that’s supposed to follow.
The kiss doesn’t follow. Instead, Jeonghan’s thumb brushes over his lips gently, like he’s something precious. His eyes are soft.
“Would you die for me?” Jeonghan asks, his face open, the moon dripping from his throat. His bow and arrow earrings swing gently, glinting in the waning afternoon sun.
“Of course,” Mingyu replies, confused, still waiting for the kiss. “I’d do anything.”
[FILL] at your altar
Major Tags: only slightly implied mcd, it’s open-ended (i think).
Additional Tags: mythology references, magical elements, witch/hunter dynamic, magical manipulation?, unreliable narrator?, unbalanced power dynamics, (slightly dogboy mingyu? if you think along the lines of pavlov’s dogs lol), open/ambiguous?
Permission to remix: Yes
a/n: some gyuhan for ally! this took a life of its own; idk how much sense it makes, but i hope you enjoy! any mistakes are my own and i apologize. wc 1388.
***
This story could have begun one of two ways: the hunter finds the prey, or the hunter becomes the prey.
Mingyu does not care about either of those. For him, the story began when he first saw Jeonghan, standing waist-deep in the river, the current parting around his waist like a billowing skirt. His blond hair sweeps around the globes of his shoulders. Mingyu is rooted, unable to move.
Jeonghan — no, the man. At this point, Mingyu does not yet know his name. He soon will, though, and it will be the only name his mouth will ever worship.
The man turns around. His eyes are green, like the forest around them, like wilderness. In the hollow of his throat rests a crescent moon. Silver bows and arrows drip from his earlobes. When he smiles, Mingyu feels weightless.
“Kim Mingyu,” the man says, voice lilting. “Welcome.”
Dumbly, Mingyu nods. He still can’t move. The man smiles wider, and starts walking up the banks of the river. Instinctively, Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut. The man chuckles.
“Oh darling,” a voice murmurs over his shoulder. Mingyu jumps, eyes flying open. The man comes into view from behind his right shoulder. “You needn’t worry about that.”
He smiles again, indulgent, as though he were looking at a particularly cute child. Secrets shine from his eyes. Mingyu wants to know every single one of them. The man’s eyes warm, as though he knows.
“Come,” the man says, voice like velvet. His hair grazes Mingyu’s cheek as he sweeps by, fully dressed this time. “Aren’t you curious to know more?”
Finally unfrozen, Mingyu scrambles after him. Farther away on the banks of the river, tucked between two large oak trees, is a wooden hut Mingyu hadn’t noticed before. The man walks up the porch and pushes open the door.
“Welcome,” he says again, cryptically, “to your new home.”
Maybe Mingyu should be afraid, but he only follows, unthinkingly, like a compass arrow faithfully following north.
-
Mingyu learns that the man’s name is Jeonghan, and that he’s a witch. He scoffs in response. Something about this blatantly outlandish claim makes him feel more at ease.
“Oh please,” he snickers, sauntering around the space, taking in the jars on the shelves, the mortar and pestle, the wooden table and benches. “Witches don’t exist, do they? What else have you got? A cauldron?
“I’m telling you,” he says, lifting a finger sagely, “I’ve been hunting in this forest my whole life, and I’ve never seen a witch, so—”
He spins around. Jeonghan is a hairbreadth’s distance away from his face. He jerks in shock, takes a step back. Jeonghan’s mouth tilts up.
“Oh really,” Jeonghan says. There’s something taunting in his voice. “Watch, then.”
A flick of his wrist, and a thin knife materializes between his long fingers. Mingyu’s eyes widen, fixed on the thin blade. Jeonghan looks smug. The expression is horridly elegant on his face.
In an effort to calm himself, Mingyu laughs through his nose. “Sleight of hand,” he dismisses, walking around the table, attempting nonchalance, sliding onto a wooden bench. “Anybody who practices enough could do that. You had it up your sleeve, didn’t you?”
Jeonghan smiles. His teeth gleam, catching on the sunlight through the window panes. There’s a sliver of danger in it. Between one blink and the next, he vanishes, and Mingyu feels the silver kiss of a blade at his throat.
“Oh really,” he says again, behind Mingyu this time. There’s laughter in his voice. “Do you want to see what else I’ve got up my sleeve then?”
Mingyu goes rigidly, sudden adrenaline coursing through his veins. Jeonghan’s face becomes visible in his periphery. He’s smiling still, horrifically beautiful. His hair is golden in the sunlight.
“Ignorance is not always bliss, my darling,” Jeonghan whispers, and the blade digs in harder. Mingyu flinches involuntarily, eyes squeezed shut. Jeonghan laughs softly, breath tickling Mingyu’s cheek. “I could do so much to you, and no one would know, hm?”
Mingyu trembles. His breath quivers between his lips. The blade breaks skin. Mingyu feels the sting like a shock of lightning, his eyes flying open. Blood trickles down his neck, hot and thick. Jeonghan’s eyes flick down.
“Would you?” Mingyu rasps, voice hoarse. All of his earlier bravado has morphed into something else, something that burns low in his gut. Interest and surprise flicker in Jeonghan’s eyes.
“Fascinating,” Jeonghan says, lifting the knife from Mingyu’s neck. “I’ve never met one that submits so easily.” He flicks the blade to the side, and reaches a finger to collect the blood from Mingyu’s neck. The red gleams like a ruby shard on his finger. Whatever he sees in Mingyu’s blood, it makes Jeonghan smile.
“I think I might keep you.” With that, Jeonghan’s knees hit the floor. A warm cloth materializes, and he cleans the cut he just made with dizzying tenderness. Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think.
“Don’t,” Jeonghan murmurs, standing up, a finger trailing Mingyu’s jaw. “Don’t think.”
Mingyu flinches, eyes finding Jeonghan’s. Violation, he thinks. Jeonghan laughs.
“Darling, you’ve already given yourself to me,” he says, delighted. “Every part of you is mine. There is no violation.”
“Sleep.”
Mingyu does.
-
Kim Mingyu wakes up in love with Yoon Jeonghan.
He’s in a bed, quilt embroidered with flowers thrown over his figure. There’s sunlight through a window above the bedside table to his left. He feels pleasantly drowsy.
“You’re awake,” a voice says to his right. Mingyu rolls over and comes face to face with Jeonghan, who smiles at him warmly. Mingyu melts against him. This is right, he thinks. This is where I should be. This is home.
“That’s right.” Jeonghan’s voice is soothing. His smile is as bright as the morning sun. His eyes are emerald shards. “You love me.”
“I love you.” Jeonghan’s hand curls around his nape and squeezes. Mingyu goes boneless and weightless, like he’s on the moon. Over the moon.
Lips kiss his forehead. Mingyu’s eyes sliver open to see the crescent moon charm, dangling from the altar of Jeonghan’s throat, swaying in front of his face. Jeonghan’s voice is lilting when he says: “I love you too.”
-
Mingyu gets to love him for another year. During it, he does work around the house for Jeonghan, prepping ingredients, mixing oils, foraging plants, occasionally hunting game. Each time he does well, Jeonghan will award him with a kiss, and then he’ll walk away, never to linger, and Mingyu will follow, an arrow pointing loyally north, until he’s given a new set of instructions, and a new kiss to be earned.
Sometimes Jeonghan lets him try one of his mixtures, fragrant and fresh. They always make something bloom in his chest.
“How do you feel?” Jeonghan will ask, pushing back his hair, something like fondness in his gaze.
“Like I love you,” Mingyu will reply, semi-automatically, because that gets him the beaming smile and the kiss, and nothing else pleases him more.
“My best guinea pig,” Jeonghan will chuckle, and Mingyu will laugh with him. Anything Jeonghan finds funny, so does he.
-
The year goes by like that. One day, Jeonghan sits him down after giving him a dose of a mixture he’d been working on.
“Mingyu-yah,” he says, hands cupping Mingyu’s face, “how much do you love me?”
“To the moon and back,” Mingyu answers automatically, waiting for the kiss that’s supposed to follow.
The kiss doesn’t follow. Instead, Jeonghan’s thumb brushes over his lips gently, like he’s something precious. His eyes are soft.
“Would you die for me?” Jeonghan asks, his face open, the moon dripping from his throat. His bow and arrow earrings swing gently, glinting in the waning afternoon sun.
“Of course,” Mingyu replies, confused, still waiting for the kiss. “I’d do anything.”
“Excellent,” Jeonghan says. “Wonderful, Mingyu-yah.”
He finally kisses Mingyu, roughly, passionately. Mingyu burns in it.
Jeonghan’s hands slide down the column of his neck, trace around his adam’s apple. His thumbs dig in lightly.
When he pulls back, his lips are blood red and bruised. He’s grinning. Mingyu feels dizzy at the sight.
“Thank you,” Jeonghan whispers, hands tightening. “Sleep.”
Mingyu sleeps.
This story may begin two ways, but it can only end in one: the hunter becomes the prey. After all, the goddess Artemis takes them all.