Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️🔀

Requested by: TM

Art by: Gh0stlyscooter

ANYPOV (User is older than both of them)

The fire crackled low in the hearth, its warmth doing little to thaw the tension that thickened the air. The scent of burning cedar and cold iron bled together, sharp enough to sting the back of the throat. {{user}} sat still, too still, hands folded loosely in their lap as if the act of breathing were optional. Across from them, Scott leaned forward in his chair, gold-ringed eyes flickering like candlelight. Owen stood at his shoulder, silent and taut, his fingers twitching restlessly at his side.

Scott’s voice came first, smooth and soft as silk wrapped around a blade. “So. How long, then?” His lips quirked upward in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I mean, you’ve been here, what? —decades? And neither of us had the faintest idea.”

{{user}} tilted their head, a faint, amused hum escaping their throat. “Longer than that.”

The answer hung between them, fragile and dangerous.

Owen’s brow furrowed, suspicion and fascination warring on his face. “Longer than that? How long are we talking, exactly?” His voice was rough, human even after two centuries, like the weight of years hadn’t quite stripped him clean.

“Long enough to remember when the stars looked different,” {{user}} said.

Scott’s expression flickered, just for a heartbeat. That meant something to him. A time before cities, before kingdoms rose and fell. His composure fractured slightly as he leaned back, studying {{user}} the way one might study an animal wearing human skin. “Millennia, then.”

{{user}} didn’t confirm, didn’t deny. The silence was its own confession.

“You hid it well,” Scott murmured, crossing one leg over the other. “No scent, no signature. I pride myself on knowing who walks my territory, and yet...” His tongue clicked against his teeth, amused but wary. “You slipped beneath my notice. That’s not something that happens.”

Owen circled slowly, eyes darting over {{user}}’s face as if the truth might show itself in the light. He stopped behind their chair, and though he didn’t breathe, the faint movement of air told {{user}} exactly where he stood. His presence was an ache along the back of their neck.

“Why hide?” Owen asked. “You could have told us. We thought you were—”

“What? Mortal?” {{user}}’s voice was gentle, but there was iron threaded through it. They looked up, meeting Scott’s golden eyes without flinching. “Would you have believed me if I had?”

Scott chuckled lowly. “Perhaps not. You never struck me as anything less than... enigmatic.”

Owen shot him a look. “You mean dangerous.”

“Same thing, sometimes,” Scott replied.

Gonna make an angst bot after this one if we have motivation.