Ash

I wanted to try something new. It’s a little clumsy, but I think I got the point across.

Warnings: general yandere themes, strongly implied imprisonment, nonconsensual physical contact (completely sfw ofc).

There’s a certain sweetness to a fire, but the smoke could be so suffocating at times.

It’s hard to breathe when you’re near him. He’s intimidating. He says he doesn’t want to be, but he never hesitates to lean over you, speak over you, and slam the door behind himself when he decides he doesn’t feel like pretending to listen to reason. He says he’s sorry, but he doesn’t change.

During most months of the year, he’s busy. Between the wine guild and whatever he’s always out so late for, you’re spared his presence most days. But winter, in its frigid glory, has a habit of ruining what few pleasures you can get.

The windows rattle a bit. There’s a raging snowstorm outside, worse than any in recent memory. One of the winery maids joked about a reemergence of the Wolf-King of the North before you were put in this room.

The snow would be lovely in person, but you know all too well how out of reach it is now.

A chill goes down your spine. You’re not sure if its the cold room or Diluc, who thinks you haven’t noticed that he’s been on that page for twenty minutes now.

It’s probably a mixture of both, you think as your teeth begin to chatter. 

Fire is always so fickle. It’s a necessity, especially during these winter months, but it’s also an all-consuming thing that doesn’t know when too much is too much. It spends its entire existence taking, and what few things it gives in return are usually in excess.

You’re sitting right in front of the hearth, but the fire is long past putting out any useful amount of heat. You would rekindle it yourself, if you didn’t know Diluc would stop you immediately. He’d tell you that you’d burn yourself, and while he would refuel the fire, he’d also find some way to worm himself into whatever you were doing. You aren’t sure if you want to deal with him yet.

You know it’s no longer your choice when you hear a book slam shut, accompanied by a huff, on the other side of the room. He’s probably caught on by now.

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” Diluc sighs. “I’ll handle the fire.”

He’s passionate, in a way most only see through actions. In a way that allows most people the luxury of being ignorant to it. He doesn’t talk as much as he probably should, so he relies on actions to get his feelings across. 

The fire is rekindled, and given more to take. He comes back over to you with a blanket. “I’ll help you warm up,” he mutters, unable to look you in the eye while setting you down, blanket and all, on his lap. Before he lets you go back to what you were doing, he turns your head towards him and steals a quick kiss.

The scene is almost sweet. Overpoweringly and sickeningly so. It would be, but the taste of ash covers it.

Even so, no matter how much he takes, you can’t say you don’t need him. He’s taken everything else.

He’s all you have left.