pablopascal - Tumblr blog

pablopascal · 21 hours ago

Text

Pure Love

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: soft!azriel (this is toothrotting fluff, so yes it's a warning), language, tending to minor wounds

word count: 6.8k

synopsis: You were in love with Azriel. It was inevitable, really. Who could blame you for falling for the kind and gentle male?

A series of moments that show your blooming love for Azriel, who was too busy cultivating his own love for you to notice.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

I love you.

The words swam in your head as you stared at the beautiful male across the training room. His wings were tucked in tight behind him and his shadows were out of sight as he gently coached a tentative priestess. She was the newest recruit from the library, and she was a skittish little thing. It had taken Gwyn months to convince her to join you all for training.

Emerie and Gwyn had balked when Nesta suggested she start her training with Azriel, but you knew there was no one better to coax confidence into the nervous female. You understood Gywn and Emerie’s bewilderment. Really, you couldn’t blame them after watching Azriel and Cassian push them past their limits every day in training. It wasn’t too long ago, though, that you had been in that priestesses shoes, and the very same shadowsinger had helped you grow into yourself. He recognized your strength long before you learned to see it in yourself.

You felt like a fool the first day of training. A naive, fumbling fawn that had wandered into a lion’s den. You were an Illyrian female with no money or skills to your name, and you felt so stupid for thinking you could be like Emerie. Emerie, the Illyrian female from your own camp that had won the Blood Rite, alongside the two other females you admired. She had found you cornered by a group of males just a block from your home, somehow scaring them off. Something inside of you snapped then, and you knew you would do whatever you could to get out of that hell hole.

You begged her to take you with her to Velaris. To ask the General to train you alongside them. You really didn’t need to do much to convince her, for she understood your struggles and desperation better than anyone. Cassian was convinced easily enough as well, and hope had bloomed in your chest at the prospect of training with Valkyries. That hope withered that first day, when you couldn’t even muster the strength to hold a wooden sword, or find the coordination to follow the intricate footwork of sparring.

You had slid out of the training room while everyone was chatting during a water break, and walked blindly until you found a long, dark stairwell that seemed to stretch down for miles. You numbly walked down the stairs until you stopped to slide down against the stone wall, sitting dejectedly on the step. Tears silently slid down your cheeks as your heart pounded and you thought about going back to that gods forsaken camp with those bastard males.

The door to the stairwell had slowly creaked open, and the sound was followed by slow and heavy footsteps that made your back straighten and skin prickle with nerves. Your stomach twisted once you made out the silhouette of the large winged-male a few steps above you, and your mind fell back to the last time you were alone with an Illyrian male. As if he could read your thoughts, he stayed back, not daring to come any closer, and slowly sat on his own step. Moments of tense silence passed between you, before he finally asked, voice quiet and gentle, “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know how to answer him. You weren’t okay, but you didn’t know if you wanted to admit that to the Night Court’s Spymaster.

Azriel kept speaking, his tone hushed, “I didn’t know how to fly until I was eleven.”

You couldn’t help the shock that roiled through you. Eleven? How could it be possible for an Illyrian boy to go so long without giving into his instincts to fly? You had been able to fly since the age of three, until the males in your camp stole that joy from you a decade later.

“It’s a long story,” he said, his quiet voice bouncing off the stone around you. “But I learned eventually, and now I’m here.”

You still said nothing, prompting Azriel to keep talking. “No one here is going to judge you for trying,” he murmured. “For learning to defend yourself. Everyone starts somewhere, and we all understand that. Better than most.”

“I don’t want to go back to that camp,” you croaked.

A beat passed that seemed to crackle with a new tension, and you wondered if you had managed to say the wrong thing, until Azriel swore, voice hard, “You don’t have to.”

“But if I can’t—”

“You are welcome here in Velaris for as long as you wish,” he cut you off. “You can stay here in the House of Wind however long you need. Emerie is about to move in as well.”

You mulled over his words, and your chest tightened as you thought about training again. “I’m nothing like those females in the training room,” you whispered.

“How so?”

You floundered. “They are all so magnificent. They are brave, and strong, and courageous. They are confident, steady. I am none of those things.”

“You are a female who has survived the horrid treatment of Illyria,” Azriel argued, voice resolute. “You endured that wretched culture and are still here, still wanting to fight. That alone makes you brave. It makes you strong. Don’t let your mind trick you into thinking otherwise.”

You couldn’t believe he spoke of Illyria with such disdain. This fearsome Ilryian male that sat on the High Lord’s court with swirls of Illryian ink snaking up his neck and down his arms spoke of his culture with such hatred you nearly recoiled, and you wondered what happened to make him despise his own culture so much.

He let out a breath. “I will help you train,” he murmured softly. “We can meet for extra sessions if you would like.”

You had known that you really would be a fool if you passed on his offer, if you jeopardized the freedom he was offering you on a silver platter. You jumped at the opportunity, and that’s how you ended up spending the next five months training with Azriel. He was kind and gentle and respectful with every word he spoke, with every direction he gave to you. He pushed you to your limit every night, limbs wobbly with exhaustion by the time you crawled into bed, but he never asked you for more than you were capable of.

He taught you how to trust yourself. To be sure of your movements and your thoughts. To rely on your instincts in every situation. You carried yourself with confidence now, head held high and back straight when you walked into a room or down the bustling streets of Velaris. He would argue with you, but you knew you owed it all to Azriel.

Yes, he truly was the perfect person to coach the new and timid priestess. You knew of the terrifying reputation he held across Prythian. You had known of it long before you ever met him, but he quickly proved to you that he was nothing like the rumors painted him as. He could be ruthless, yes, and you were sure he was terrifying to whoever ended up on the other side of his dagger, but he never held that persona around you or his loved ones. Never around the citizens of Velaris. Azriel was sweet and gentle, patient and understanding, and could anyone really fault you for falling in love with the male after spending so much time with him?

His hazel eyes locked with yours across the room. Your face flushed at being caught watching him, but you offered a small, sheepish smile, to which he returned. Your heart fluttered, and you dragged your attention back to the females around you, avoiding Nesta’s curious gaze.

~ ~ ~

I love you.

You watched from afar as Azriel crouched down in front of a small girl on the bustling streets of Velaris, his wings creating a pocket of safety around the teary eyed child. She had a scrape on her knee that she was cradling to her little chest, and her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared up at Azriel. You inched closer, hoping he knew you were there if he needed you. If she wanted a female’s help.

He didn’t need your help, of course. You watched him hold his palms out for the little girl, and she slowly placed both of her tiny hands in his scarred ones. You saw her eye his hands curiously as he helped her rise to her feet, but her attention was quickly diverted by the new trail of blood trickling down her shin. Her lip started to wobble, and Azriel looked around frantically. You quickly pulled out the handkerchief you kept in your pocket and held it out to him.

His eyes clung to the embroidered cloth dangling in front of him before they snapped up to you. “Use this,” you murmured quietly. He gently took the cloth from you, dragging his eyes away to look back at the little girl.

He cooed softly, the girl clinging tight to the fingers of one of his hands. He softly told her not to worry, that they would get her all cleaned up in no time as he gently wiped the blood from her pale blue skin. Her cheeks were wet as she watched Azriel in awe, her tiny hand still gripping his fingers.

He stuck the cloth in his pocket, hiding the blood from her sight as he told her softly, “There. Like it never even happened.” He grinned at the little girl, whose cheeks turned a darker shade of blue. He squeezed the hand she still had wrapped around his. “Is your mother around, honey?”

Your insides melted at the sweet term of endearment that he cooed to the little girl. Falling in love with such a kind and gentle male, beautiful inside and out, was inevitable, really.

She shook her head, dark curly hair disheveled from her fall bouncing around. “I lost her back there.” She pointed in the direction of the Sidra, where shops and cafés lined the bustling boardwalk.

Azriel slowly stood up, keeping his hand in hers. He hummed softly, “Let's see if we can find her.”

He briefly glanced at you, and you took that as your cue to follow. Azriel and the girl walked hand in hand down the busy cobblestone street, with you trailing closely behind. “My name is Az,” he told the girl, then he pointed over his shoulder to you. Her eyes followed his motion so that they landed on you curiously. “This is my friend Y/N.”

The girl took you in with wide eyes, and you smiled softly. “You’re pretty,” she said in awe.

Your face flushed, and you caught Azriel’s smirk before you cleared your throat. “Why thank you,” you said animatedly, forcing yourself to accept the young faerie’s compliment. “You are beautiful,” you returned. “You glimmer like the brightest star.”

The little girl bashfully looked away, stepping closer to Azriel to hide behind his arm. Azriel chuckled softly. “Can you tell us your name?” he asked.

Before the girl could respond, commotion in the street made you and Azriel halt. He tugged the girl close to him as you flanked her other side. A female was yelling in the street, frantically moving from person to person. Her eyes were wild and frantic as she scanned the bodies on the street, her pale blue skin glimmering in the sunlight. You looked down at the little girl. “Is that your mother?”

She twisted to look around the towering bodies surrounding her, but Azriel quickly scooped her up in his arms so she could see. She giggled at the dramatic change in height for her, resting her little hand on his broad shoulder. He pointed to the female up ahead, and the girl nodded excitedly, wiggling in his hold.

“Hang on a second, love,” he murmured, holding her in place. The three of you moved closer to the female, the crowd of bodies parting easily around you at the sight of Azriel.

Once you neared closer, the distraught female’s eyes snagged on the Illyrian male carrying her tiny daughter. Her face visibly crumpled with relief as she hurtled to meet the three of you. “Molly!” she cried with her arms outstretched, the girl easily leaping from Azriel to her mother.

The girl stuffed her face in her mother’s neck. “You can’t run away from me like that,” she chided, voice wobbly with fear and relief.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” the little girl whined into her mother. Her mother sighed and ran a gentle hand over her head before her eyes drifted back to Azriel. They went wide.

Azriel shifted on his feet, his arm brushing against yours. You glanced at him out of your periphery and noticed the faint pink hue that coated his cheeks. The female sputtered before stammering out, “Thank you, Spymaster.”

Azriel moved his hands behind his back. “Not necessary,” he said softly. The female was at a loss for words as she stared at him. Her eyes briefly passed over you, and you smiled softly.

“She has a bit of a scrape on her knee,” you told the female after Azriel had grown stiff beside you. “Azriel cleaned her up, but it should probably be washed.”

The female nodded, holding her daughter tight. “Thank you,” she said again, clearly still intimidated by the male beside you. “I’m sorry for the trouble,” she added, and then hastily moved away and disappeared into the busy street.

Your gaze lingered on where she vanished for a moment before you returned your attention to Azriel, who was still thrumming with tension beside you. “Azriel?” you asked softly. “Are you okay?”

His throat bobbed and he blinked a few times before glancing at you. He tilted his head in the direction of the Sidra. “Let’s go,” he said, voice cold. You frowned. “We’re going to be late.”

He stalked off in the direction of the River House, and you had to hurry to match his pace. You watched him closely for a moment, taking in the twitching of his jaw and the agitated shadows that pulsed around him. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and when you reached for his wrist his whole body locked up.

You quickly dropped your hand, and tried to suppress the flare of hurt that erupted at his reaction to your touch. He stopped on the street, looking at you expectantly. You wetted your lips, searching for the words that you had wanted to say. “What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

He clenched his jaw and started walking away again. Your nostrils flared as you followed him, irritation replacing your hurt. “Azriel,” you snapped, voice demanding his attention.

He halted again, and turned to look at you. His eyes were cold and sharp, and you frowned at the absence of his usual warmth around you. “Tell me why you’re upset,” you prodded, voice more gentle.

His eyes bounced between yours, and you braced yourself for his rejection, for him to tell you to fuck off and mind your own business. Instead he shocked you by gritting out, “She was afraid of me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Who? The little girl?”

He nodded tersely. “And her mother.”

“Az,” you said in disbelief, the nickname slipping from your lips. “Of course the girl was scared of you, at first. You’re an Illyrian warrior. You’re naturally intimidating.”

He scowled at your words and you hurried to continue. “But as soon as you showed her kindness, she trusted you. She practically clung to you, Azriel. You made her feel safe.”

He looked down at his hands, at the scarred tissue covering them. “She held onto your hand for dear life, because she knew you were good. She knew you would take care of her.”

His face softened slightly and his shoulders dropped. “Her mother was distraught and frantic looking for her little girl, and then she found her in the arms of a member of her High Lord’s court,” you continued softly, taking a step closer. His hazel eyes locked with yours. “She was shocked, and intimidated, yes, but she wasn’t afraid you would hurt her or her daughter. I guarantee it.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as you took another step closer, only inches separating you. You swallowed your nerves, needing him to hear this, to understand. “You are a good male, Azriel.” Your voice was whisper soft and laced with reverence.

A shadow brushed your hand as his chest moved with his heavy breaths. He looked at you like you were a puzzle, an enigma he couldn’t figure out. He pulled his gaze away, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” Then he turned and started walking in the direction of the River House again.

Your shoulders deflated and you let out a disappointed sigh. You trailed behind him, the words I love you swimming in your head, begging to reach the sullen male just a few feet in front of you.

~ ~ ~

A generous slice of chocolate cake appeared in front of you. Your eyes trailed from the cake to the scarred hand that held the plate up the eyes of the male offering it to you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you took the cake nonetheless. You glanced from the cake to Azriel again, who folded his hands behind himself as he towered over where you sat in the oversized armchair.

“Thank you?” You smiled softly. “Was my lust for some cake that obvious?”

Pink tinged his cheeks, and your heart fluttered in your chest. Your friends were all chattering loudly throughout the living room of Rhys and Feyre’s house, but it all faded to a dull buzz as you stared at Azriel.

“I may have caught you looking once or twice,” was his quiet response.

You grinned, then picked up the fork he had rested on the plate for you. You stuffed a too large bite in your mouth, relishing in the taste of the chocolate on your tongue. “I also wanted to apologize,” Azriel said quietly, and his voice made you rush to swallow your food.

“Apologize?”

“For yesterday.”

You frowned. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is,” he argued. “I was rude to you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Hardly,” you scoffed. Yes, your feelings had been hurt by his cool demeanor and his aversion to your touch, but that was hardly an offense to hold over his head. “You were upset, Azriel. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“But—”

“Nope,” you cut him off before taking another bite of your cake. You gestured to the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. “Sit down and share this cake with me.”

Azriel hesitated, but he relented when you cut him a pointed look. He moved to the other side of the chair, sitting precariously on the arm. He shifted around a bit to get comfortable, and in the process his wing brushed against your own, the feeling sending a shiver up your spine. The two of you froze, and he looked at you with alarm before he stood up hastily, “I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel,” you sighed, feigning nonchalance when your entire body felt like it was on fire. “Just sit down. It’s okay.”

His throat bobbed, his wide eyes staring at you before returning to his perch on the arm rest. His wing brushed your arm this time, and he went rigid. “It’s okay,” you said again softly, his eyes locking with yours.

His mouth opened and closed, and his cheeks were flushed. “I don’t want to make you—”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you assured him. The tension melted away from his body, but you still added, “You don’t have to sit here if you’re uncomfortable, though.”

“I’m not,” he was quick to say, and he settled in a bit more until he was comfortable enough on the plush armrest. He was tall enough that his feet rested flat on the floor, and you knew it probably wasn’t the most comfortable position, but at least he wasn’t just standing and watching you and his family from the side. His wings relaxed slightly, and they brushed yours again lightly.

He watched you carefully, and you forced your face to stay neutral, to not reveal that there was a torrent of butterflies fluttering in your chest. He reached for the fork in your hand, his fingers brushing yours, and your mind was fuzzy from all the physical contact. Even during your training sessions Azriel did his best to refrain from touching you. You knew it was to make you comfortable, to make you feel safe after coming from the Illyrian camps, but sometimes you longed for his touch. Now you were sitting here sharing a piece of cake with him while his wings gently brushed against you.

He raised the fork to his mouth and then handed it back to you, his eyes crinkling slightly in a smile while he chewed his cake. I love you, you thought, and the words sent a strange warmth through you that seemed to settle in your chest. The feeling was strange, and you stared at Azriel a bit awestruck. Home. It felt like you finally were home after searching for one for half a century.

~ ~ ~

“We know you’re in love with Azriel.”

The words clanged through your intoxicated mind as you stared at Nesta and Feyre in the booth across from you. Feyre glared at Nesta, who was looking at you expectantly.

You stammered out a pitiful, “What?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and Feyre’s soft ones landed on you. “By ‘we’ she means her and me. No one else knows.”

Nesta hummed, “That we know of. But if we figured it out…”

You blanched, and Feyre swatted Nesta’s shoulder. “Ignore her,” she told you. Her eyes were soft as they looked over your slightly swaying form in the wooden booth. The music pounding through Rita’s was making you a little nauseous at this point. The throbbing at your back and the alcohol you had downed also wasn’t doing you any favors. You suddenly wished you could winnow.

“Do you really love him?” Feyre asked softly.

Your hands were clammy as you stuffed them beneath your thighs. Your gaze bounced nervously around the tavern, desperate to escape this situation.

“Y/N,” Feyre said softly, dragging your attention back to her. “We’re not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Nesta’s eyes had considerably softened as she said, “We just want you to talk to us. We’re your friends.”

You bit your lip, anxiety thrumming through you at the thought of admitting your feelings for the Illyrian male aloud. You blamed the alcohol coursing through your veins for answering with, “I’m so in love with him.”

Their eyes widened, then slow smiles broke out across their faces.

The slightly slurred words tumbled out of you. “It’s pathetic how much I love him. But how could I not?” Your eyes were wide as you flung your arms out in exasperation. “How could I possibly be expected to not fall in love with the kind and thoughtful male that took time out his night to train me for months?” you exclaimed. “He’s so beautiful, and intelligent, and gentle.”

Feyre and Nesta were grinning with amusement as you unleashed the torrent of thoughts you had kept pent up about the male for the last six months. “I love him so much it hurts,” you whined, clutching your chest dramatically.

The two sisters shared a glance before Feyre asked slowly, “Have you thought about sharing this with Azriel?”

Your mouth fell open. “Of course not!” you exclaimed.

Nesta frowned. “Why not?”

You faltered. “Why the hell would I?”

Her frown shifted into a scowl. “Maybe he feels the same, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “As if he would ever love me.”

“Why would you say that?” Feyre asked, bewildered.

“Because I’m me! I’m just a poor Illyrian female that he took pity on because he’s kind.”

Nesta’s glare was icy. “You are far more than that to him, to all of us for that matter. You’re our friend, Y/N,” she snapped. You flinched slightly. “If you don’t recognize that, I don’t know what to tell you.”

A tense silence fell on your table. Feyre eventually decided to break it. “Azriel is a good male who loves his family fiercely,” she said softly. “But I’ve never seen him…soften the way he does around you.”

Nesta nodded her agreement. “He practically glows when he sees you, Y/N.” Then she added with a pointed look, “And vice versa.”

You flushed. You were done with this mortifying conversation for tonight. You had said far too much in far too little time, and it was time for you to go. You might have to sleep on the stairs to the House of Wind if you left without one of your Illyrian male chauffeurs, but we all had to make sacrifices.

You stood up from the booth, a bit unsteady on your feet. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

They both protested as you turned and made a beeline for the door. The cool night air was refreshing on your flushed cheeks, and you giggled to yourself as you walked on unsteady feet down the stone street. Gods, you were really drunk.

In some part of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be walking by yourself in the middle of the night, especially drunk. You were pretty sure any self defense tactics Azriel had taught you had fallen right out of your head tonight. You would be lucky if you could run in a straight line.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of Azriel. He was so beautiful. You missed him. You loved him. That’s what you had told Nesta and Feyre tonight. The reminder turned your stomach sour.

“Y/N.”

You spun around at the sound of your name, wobbling slightly. Your eyes widened and a grin spread across your face at the sight of the male in front of you. “I was just thinking about you!”

Azriel’s eyebrows went up, and an amused smirk stretched his lips. You bet they were soft. “Sweetheart,” Azriel murmured, taking a step closer. “How much did you drink?”

You shrugged, the motion making you sway a little. Azriel quickly reached to stabilize you. His hand on your waist felt electric.

“You were supposed to wait for me to take you home,” he said softly. “Feyre was a bit frantic that you just walked out.”

You blinked. His eyes were so bright under the light of the moon and stars. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Did something happen?” he asked, voice gentle. “Why did you just leave?”

You thought about Feyre and Nesta’s interrogation and the word vomit that spewed from your mouth. Even drunk you knew not to tell Azriel that, so you simply shrugged again. You leaned a bit closer to him, exhaustion creeping in. “I’m tired, Az,” you whined.

He chuckled, and you smiled at the sound. “Let’s go,” he said, tucking you into his side. You leaned heavily on him, and you barely noticed your wing touching his. Azriel didn’t mention it either. “I think we should go to the Town House,” he said. “I’m not sure flying or winnowing is the best idea right now.”

You nodded, mumbling out an agreement. Your eyes caught on the bright blue cobalt of his siphon that adorned the hand on your waist. You perked up a bit, grinning. “Hey!” you yelled, startling Azriel a bit. “Your siphon matches my skirt!” You pointed to the cobalt satin that draped down your legs.

Azriel laughed as he continued pulling you along toward the house. “It’s my favorite color,” you babbled. “I’ve always liked blue, but then I saw your blue, and I knew it had to be mine too.”

Azriel squeezed your hip gently. “I’m flattered,” he teased. You knew you were likely talking nonsense, but you grinned at his indulgence.

You continued rambling about anything and everything, with Azriel nodding or humming his acknowledgment. Eventually you reached the Town House, and Azriel guided you through the gate and up the stairs slowly, holding onto you tight. You fell into him a bit once you stood in front of the door. He managed to open it without letting go of you, and then shut it behind him.

The house was warm and smelled like cedar. “I’ve never been here,” you mumbled.

“We usually go to the River House, now” he explained, guiding you to a staircase that made your head swim. “But I still stay here a lot, to get some peace.”

Azriel. It smelled like Azriel. You clumsily stepped for the first stair, missing it completely. You would have collided with the floor if not for Azriel hanging on to you. “I think I’ll just stay here,” you murmured, moving to slide out of his hold, but he held you up firmly.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he grumbled. “Let me carry you up?”

You certainly had no protests. Azriel scooped you up effortlessly then started climbing up the stairs. You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat. I love you, you thought, then, remembering Nesta and Feyre’s claims, Do you love me?

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you nuzzled into his neck. He pushed open a door that led to a bedroom that smelled even more like him. He sat you down on the edge of the massive bed. “Is this your room?” you asked.

He nodded. “You can sleep in here. The other guest rooms don’t have beds as big. I’ll sleep in Rhys’s old room.”

You nodded, a bit dazed. You winced as a particularly sharp pain shot from the middle of your back and through your wing.

“What is it?” Azriel asked worriedly.

Your eyes burned a bit as you started to recognize the pain again. “I think I hurt my wing,” you whimpered.

“What?” he asked, alarm clear in his voice. “When?”

“Today,” you whispered. “I went to the beach and fell down some rocks.”

“Did you clean them?”

You shook your head. “Couldn’t reach.”

“Well then did you go to a healer?” he asked, exasperated.

You grimaced, shaking your head again. “I don’t like healers.” You didn’t like anyone touching your wings.

Azriel sucked in a sharp breath. A beat passed. “I know healers in Illyria can be…inconsiderate,” he settled on, voice dripping with disdain. His voice softened then, “But Madja, our family healer, is incredibly kind and gentle. Everyone in her practice is. She’s worked on all of our wings many times.”

You were trembling, the idea of him making you go see a healer right now, when you were drunk and vulnerable—you couldn’t. “Please,” you rasped, “please don’t make me.”

His eyes were so soft as he said, “They need cleaned, sweetheart.”

“You can clean them,” you rushed out. His eyes went wide, but you continued on, “Please? I trust you, more than anyone. I just, I can’t—”

He shushed you softly as he reached to wipe a tear from your cheek. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll do my best.”

You relaxed instantly, sinking into the bed. “Lay down for me,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

You did as he said, laying down on your stomach with your head resting on Azriel’s pillows that wrapped you in his comforting scent. He returned quickly, the bed sinking as he sat down beside you. “Can I,” he paused, “Can I touch?”

You nodded against the pillows, a mumbled yes escaping your lips. Azriel gently undid the slats of your sweater, his fingertips brushing your sensitive skin at the base of your wings. You shivered, and he stilled. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you rasped.

He continued his examination, then said, “I think it’s just the right one. The left looks fine.”

He gently prodded the base of the left and then did the same to the right, the motion making you hiss. He apologized, then told you, “These scrapes are still raw, Y/N.”

“Ever since they clipped my wings,” you murmured, “They don’t heal as fast as they should. I don’t know why.”

Azriel’s silence was loud. He rustled around with whatever supplies he collected, and you heard the light sloshing of water. “I’m going to clean them now,” he murmured softly. “Okay?”

You nodded, and he gently ran a warm, damp cloth over the wounds. You tensed from the burning that spread through your wing, but his gentle movements made it bearable. He then unscrewed a cap from a small tin, and told you, “This is a healing balm Madja gave me. It should speed up the healing and dull the pain.”

You nodded and closed your eyes as his gentle fingers spread the salve over your wounds. You let out a sigh of relief as the salve seeped in, quickly taking effect. “Do you have pain anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so,” you mumbled, mind still swimming from the alcohol and now the relief of your pain.

“Can I check?”

“Be my guest,” you said, voice muffled into the pillow.

Azriel gently skimmed his fingers up and along the ridge of your wing, following it all the way to the talon at the tip. Goosebumps littered your skin and you held your breath as he made his careful ministrations. Never had you let anyone touch your wings like this. The sensations were glorious and vulnerable all at once, and you thought you would stay there forever if you could, with Azriel gently stroking your wing in the comfort of his bed.

His fingers brushed against an especially sensitive area of the inner membrane, and a soft moan escaped you. Azriel froze, and you tensed once you realized what you did. “Did that hurt?” he asked worriedly.

You bit your lip, cheeks hot with mortification. “No,” you choked out.

“Oh.” You swore there was a faint shift in his scent, but your muddled mind couldn’t decipher it. “I think the rest of your wing is okay,” he said, voice strangled. “We’ll check your wounds tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your embarrassment quickly being overcome with exhaustion.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said softly. “Do you want to change your clothes?”

You shook your head, nestling into the silk covered pillows. You were so comfortable. Your pain was gone, you were surrounded by the scent of the male you loved, and sleep was quickly beckoning to you.

You heard him chuckle softly, and then felt him gently remove your shoes from your feet. He draped a blanket over you, and you thought you might be dreaming as he tenderly brushed your hair behind your ear. “Get some sleep, my love.”

You were definitely dreaming.

~ ~ ~

I love you.

“I love you.”

You went still as death, yanking Azriel to a halt. The music from downstairs continued to flow around you, and your one hand was still resting in his while your other was on his shoulder. “What did you just say?” you asked breathlessly.

He gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinting an adorable pink. He lowered your hands, but didn’t let go, his other staying put on your waist. His hazel eyes reflected the glowing spirits that shot across the sky as he looked at you reverently. “I love you,” he said again.

You shook your head, baffled. “You can’t—”

He lifted your hand to his chest, holding your palm over his heart. “Listen to me,” he said gently. “I love you. This—” He squeezed your hand. “This is yours. My heart is yours.”

Your eyes started to sting as tears pooled in them. You were still shaking your head when he squeezed your hand again, and a familiar warmth flooded your chest. “I need you to listen to me,” he cooed. His breath gently danced across your face as his shadows stroked against your neck. “I need you to feel me,” he begged. Your eyes widened at what he was implying, and he smiled slightly.

His own eyes shined as he continued talking, “A couple weeks ago, I went to Nesta for advice.” He swallowed and took a breath. “I told her I found my mate.” Your head was spinning. The world was tilting. “And that I was in love with her. I asked her–” He let out a shaky breath. “I asked her how to get my mate to fall in love with me.”

Your lip was wobbling as you listened intently, and he lifted his hand from your waist to wipe your tears from your cheeks. He chuckled softly. “She laughed at me. I was baffled, really. I couldn’t fathom what she thought was so funny about my turmoil, until she assured me that my mate was already in love with me.”

His hand drifted back to your waist before slowly curling around your lower back. You leaned in closer, unaware you were even doing it. He leaned down so that his cheek brushed against yours, and he was talking softly into your ear. He started gently swaying the two of you to the music again, as he said, “I didn’t believe her, not at first. I didn’t understand how she could possibly know who my mate was, let alone know that she was in love with me.” You let out a shaky breath. “But last week, when I took you home from Rita’s, and I carried you up the stairs? You were practically shouting your thoughts at me across the bond, and I felt it. I felt your love, and I felt your doubt of mine, and it nearly crippled me.”

Nesta’s little intervention that night made more sense now. Your lingering irritation over that whole ordeal withered away with Azriel’s confession, and it was replaced with gratitude for the meddling female. Azriel’s voice drew you back to him, “I knew I couldn’t say anything then, but I tried to push my love for you down the bond, to ease your doubts and anxieties. Then you let me…you trusted me to take care of you, and I knew I had to tell you how I felt, that I wanted you in my bed, letting me take care of you for the rest of my life.”

A soft sob broke free from your lips, and you leaned back to meet Azriel’s own silver-lined eyes. “I love you,” you whispered. The words you had been thinking for months finally out in the open. Azriel smiled at you in awe. “I love you so much. I never thought—not once did I think you could ever love me—”

He pulled you in close, leaning his forehead against yours. “Please don’t say that,” he pleaded, voice anguished. “You are the most beautiful person, inside and out, that I have ever met in my five centuries on this planet. You make me feel warm, and you make me feel safe. You make me feel at peace, and I’ve never had that.”

“Neither have I,” you admitted shakily. “Until I met you.”

Azriel gazed at you adoringly before his hands came up to cup your face. His eyes flicked down to your lips before returning to your eyes, and you gave the tiniest nod before he pressed his lips to yours. All of the love you felt for each other was put into the kiss, the two of you savoring the taste and feel of each other. Your lips moved slowly against his, relishing in this moment, in the warmth that filled your body. You finally recognized that warmth for what it was, the mating bond tying your two souls together, the glow of your love for each other a living, breathing thing.

You broke apart, chests heaving. You stared into his warm honey gaze, your insides melting at the vision of this beautiful male, your beautiful mate. “I love you,” you breathed.

Azriel brushed his nose against yours, his hands still cupping your face. “I know,” he whispered back, and then pressed another tender kiss to your lips. “And I love you.”

You glanced at the crowd of people dancing down below, then looked back at him. Heat flooded you, and his darkening eyes said the feeling was mutual. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” you asked quietly, a bit nervous.

He pressed a kiss to the skin below your ear, and you shivered at the delightful sensation. “I plan to keep you to myself for weeks,” he growled into your ear. The next thing you knew, he scooped you up in his arms, flying up and out of the House’s wards, and then winnowed the two of you far, far away from the prying eyes and ears of Velaris.

~ ~ ~

a/n: thank you to everyone who has been supporting my writing and sharing such kind words. I know I don't do well at answering comments, but I do see them, and they mean so much.

I've decided to try taking requests, so if you have an idea for a fic, feel free to send it along. I'm fairly busy and writing is my way to decompress, so I can't promise that I will write it nor that I will write it quickly, but please don't hesitate to send me your ideas.

2K notes · View notes

pablopascal · 2 days ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA - MASTERLIST

Pirate 141 x F!Reader

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Updates every Saturday unless said otherwise.

> Spotify Playlist

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

2K notes · View notes

pablopascal · 2 days ago

Text

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost:

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him.

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?”

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone.

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British.

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters.

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone.

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens?

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around.

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down.

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.”

“Are you… did you climb through one?”

“You locked me out.”

“I went to unlock it!”

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.”

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.”

Simon just sighs. “Americans.”

Gaz:

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks.

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door.

“No soldiers in this home.”

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.”

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied.

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.”

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.”

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive. “I’m going to crash out, actually.”

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it.

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission.

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?”

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.”

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!”

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once.

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?”

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.”

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch.

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away.

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.”

Soap:

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door.

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan. “What are you on about?” He asked.

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it.

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?”

“Nope!”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Third amendment.”

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?”

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!”

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?”

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words.

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly.

You don’t budge.

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music.

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.”

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price:

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window.

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in.

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.”

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?”

“It does to me.”

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.”

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?”

“I’m taking this very seriously.”

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one.

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?”

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.”

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?”

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.”

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.”

965 notes · View notes

pablopascal · 2 days ago

Text

an innocent man doesn't stand a chance (j.yh)

summary: it's halloween and your boyfriend has a fantasy. he wants to be the masked killer and for you to be the final girl, and he wants you to run.

note: this was written in a feverish haze of ghostface yunho brainrot, you can thank this fanart and this edit for making this one about yunho, but i have to give all credit for the idea to the nsfw audio creator augustinthewinter who's masked hookup audio killed me. also please read the warnings, this one is potentially very triggering.

warnings: ghostface!yunho x final girl!reader, boyfriend!yunho, hard dom!yunho, girlfriend!reader, sub!reader, sadism, masochism, knife play, primal play/chasing, threats of violence, heavy cnc that really looks like noncon because part of the play is that he wants her to struggle and say no BUT there are consent checks explicit throughout, rough sex, fingering, gloves, masks, breath play, impact play, mirrors, finger sucking don't look at me, dry humping, clothed sex, ripping off clothes, size kink, ass play, lots and lots of degredation including use of sl*t/wh*re/fvcktoy/c*cksleeve, yunho is seriously mean in this i'm not kidding, fear, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie, subspace, there's more i'm sure but this one is a doozy. also lots and lots of aftercare!! after a scene like this i had to write detailed aftercare and confirmation of limits, so that's there too! yunho is v sweet when not in the zone.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: smut and more smut, no plot in sight

word count: 7.9k

The party is in full swing when you arrive. The house bumping with music and every corner decorated for Halloween. You’re late enough that you can just slip in through the back door, and that was the plan from the start. Yunho arrived first, nearly two hours ago, and made excuses for why you were late, for how you might not even make it to the party. No one would see either of you come or go together, so when you both disappeared to play your game no one would ever know. You had come up with the plan in bed, whispered fantasies and what-ifs between the sheets as he rewarded your willingness to try something new with his tongue.

His fantasy is special, and to do it right you can really only do it on Halloween night.

You weave through a throng of drunk acquaintances, searching the crowd for him, but it’s not as easy to find him as you thought it would be. You’re not sure how a six foot something Ghostface killer could hide from you in the crowd of your friend’s house party, but no matter how many rooms you check you can’t see him. Nervousness pits inside you as you check your phone and see nothing. He could be caught up with friends, he could be changing his mind, but you can’t tell if you can’t find him.

Adjusting your very 90s costume, you dart away from the kitchen where a group of your girlfriends are pouring shots and weave your way into the back of the house. Maybe you can call him? Text him? Would that completely ruin the mood of psycho killer stalking? Maybe, but it’s been forty-five minutes and you haven’t so much as seen a sliver of his mask.

You flick through your phone, checking for any new messages, and then scroll to find Yunho’s contact card in your phone. Your finger hovers over the call button as you lean against the quiet hallway wall, and then in your peripheral vision you see it.

A dart of black, something looming, and when you finally turn your head, you see him. Ghostface, standing wide and imposing in the hall, blocking any way past him and back out into the party.

“Spooky,” You sigh, tucking your phone away.

Silently, Ghostface nods his head.

The hair on the back of your arms stands up. This is it.

“What? Are you looking for the bathroom or something?” You take a step or two towards him, leaning into the character you dressed for.

He shakes his head.

“Looking for me?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling.

Slowly, he nods.

“Mm,” You raise a brow at him, “what’s the line from that movie? You wanna play psycho killer?”

His head tilts slightly to the side and he nods once again.

“And who do I play?”

He takes a step towards you and you fade back.

Fear starts to spread through you, even with it all being pretend, you can’t fight the feeling that your subconscious drums up in your gut.

He takes another step, and then another, and then you’re running.

Spinning on your heel you push deeper into the house, away from the party and towards a line of doors down the hall. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, your stomach a bundle of nervous trembling knots, and your hands are so slick with sweat you can barely grab the door handle of the basement. It’s not as easy to run as it looks in the movies, especially not in a tight skirt and penny loafers, and you skid down the basement stairs taking them two at a time until you slip forwards and crash down onto your hands and knees.

You don’t have time to assess the sudden sharp pain as the skin of your palm drags over the concrete floor though, so you scramble up in a flash and in a panic you weave your way deeper into the basement.

It’s familiar enough to you, your best friend’s parent’s place. You know there’s a tiny half bathroom in the far back corner, a rarely used guest bed against one wall as you descend the stairs, a collection of old video games and movies, and then around the corner to the left more and more basement, more storage, more dusty nooks and crannies to hide. You’re frozen for a split second, trying to decide the best place to go where he won’t find you, but heavy footfalls on the stairs ring in your ears like drum beats and you don’t have time to weigh your options.

You take off towards the bathroom, fumbling with the door again when you reach it.

The masked man behind you doesn’t say anything, but you hear him moving. His feet are sure and quick, the heavy fabric of his robes making a whooshing sound as he darts forwards to try and close the space between your bodies.

A panicked sound leaves your mouth as you tumble into the sink, clocking your hip hard on the porcelain and bracing yourself on the wall. Turning you reach back for the door, if you just get it latched maybe you can give yourself a second to think, to shimmy out of the very small, high set window. Pushing yourself into action you grab the door, he’s so close you can hear his breath, seconds away. Seconds away.

The door stops abruptly as you throw your body against it, six inches from closing. You push again, but it doesn’t budge, and when you look down it’s clear you’ve lost this game. His heavy black boot is firmly set in the door’s path, and you know there’s no chance for escape.

He crowds you instantly, leaving you no time to recover, his body pushing into the cramped space of the bathroom and flinging the door backwards into the adjacent wall. You stumble into the sink and he moves right up against you, the firm length of his body pinning yours in place.

For a moment everything is still, completely and shudderingly still with only the sound of your hitched breathing and thundering heart filling the room. You’re not sure what you should do - beg? Plead? Stay silent and let him do what he wants?

The masked man’s head tilts to the side as if he’s observing you, something you can’t tell through the ghostly plastic of his mask and dead black eyes. You’re trembling for real, hands shaking as they grip the cool porcelain. Ghostface leans into you, one of his gloved hands reaching for your face, a soft brush against your chin at first that turns to pressure as his fingers slide up your jaw to push you face to the side. It’s like he’s studying you, his hand slipping lower and dragging down your throat.

Your breath comes faster, stomach tight.

Ghostface closes his hand around your throat and your eyes widen. He holds you like this for a moment, his other hand locking down over your waist and gripping you tight, pinning you in place.

When he squeezes, panic bubbles through your body.

Yunho’s never choked you before. He’s never even suggested it, despite all your little jokes about how nice his hands would look around your neck. It seemed pretty clear to you that within the bounds of your relationship that was one thing he just wasn’t interested in, but whoever has you in the bathroom knows exactly how to hold your throat and where to press. Part of the fun is not knowing who’s beneath the mask, but your body still locks up, and an anxious voice inside you starts to wonder - what if? It’s not as if Ghostface is that rare of a costume choice, you see dozens of them on the street every year. It’s not inconceivable to think that at this party there would be more than one.

Your heart beats in fluttering fits and starts in your ribcage as your mind turns over this possibility, and then he squeezes. The fight comes back into you full force when you hear him sigh, his hand tightening even more and cutting off your airway. You wriggle in his arms, pushing against his chest and trying to use your hips for leverage, a startled whine ripping from your throat, but fear laces through your body as you shove against him and realize just how immovable he is.

Ghostface releases your throat, the same gloved hand slipping into the back of your hair to hold you steady.

“No!” The word tumbles out of your mouth as soon as you can properly make noise again.

He crowds you more, masked face dipping by your ear, “Shh, shh,”

You freeze.

“Safe word?” Yunho’s voice is a balm in your moment of sudden panic, his tone low and hushed.

“T-treasure,” You manage it, the realization coming back into your body that this isn’t a total and complete stranger, it’s still him. Your fear starts to melt into anticipation.

He gives you a squeeze, just one gentle pulse with his hand on your hip to communicate that he’s heard you, “Color?”

You take a second to assess yourself. This game is intense in a way that you’ve never experienced. Yunho had tried to tell you how your body might react to this kind of manufactured fear, how it would play tricks on you, how even if you knew it was him your body would still have the urge to fight and flee. You knew it, but you didn’t really understand it until this moment.

Yunho’s gloved thumb drags lovingly over your cheek for just a moment, “Color?”

If he has to ask you a third time he’ll end the scene, you know he will, but the brief flicker of tenderness in his touch reminds you of everything you already know about him. He has you. You’re safe. This is a game.

“Green,” You finally answer, “I’m green,”

One more quick pulse to your hip, he’s heard you again. More than that, he’s pleased with you.

His shoulders straighten as he draws to his full height, his body filling the space of the tiny bathroom and caging you in. You swallow tightly, audible in your ears and then he moves fast.

His hands around your waist, lifting you up and then shoving you back until you’re sitting on the lip of the porcelain sink, uncomfortably balanced and pushed back flush to the mirrored wall behind you. You yelp when he moves you, hands scrambling for purchase on something, gripping the sleeve of his black cape in desperation. Fear and anticipation pulse through you, but he doesn’t give you a rest to get your bearings.

He shoves your legs open wide and slots between your thighs and shoves your face to the side until your cheek is squished against the cold mirror, his hand a controlling brace from your jaw to the crown of your head.

“You look so pretty running from me,” He strokes your face, but this time it’s not loving, it's possessive, it’s pure control.

You grip the edge of the sink and whimper.

“Should we play a little game?” He teases, “It’s Halloween, you must like scary movies,”

Your breath quickens, “Y-yeah,”

He drops his voice low, in a mimic of the movie, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You’ve heard Yunho do that voice before, lazing on the couch last October when you had yourselves a movie marathon, the day he realized something about your favorite scary movie that turned you on, the day you called him out for being hard during a kill scene. It took a year for you both to work up the courage to actually act on any of those fantasies, but here and now with his mask on and his voice low, you feel that mix of terror and arousal bleeding through your body in a way only he can elicit from you.

You can’t help the little smile that passes over your lips, “Scream,”

“Meta,” He teases, pinching you hard on the thigh, “for every question you get wrong, I’m taking something off you,”

You swallow hard again.

He reaches into his black robes and then you see it, shining in the reflection of the mirror and in your hazy peripheral vision. The glint of a real knife is unmistakable, the cool sharp edge of the steel crystal clear and you can’t stop the actual fear that jolts through you. You jerk in his hold, instinct driving you for a split second, and he pushes your face harder into the mirror.

“Tch,” He makes a disappointed noise with his tongue against his teeth, “the game’s no fun if you don’t play.”

He won’t hurt you, at least not in ways you don’t already like. You have to trust that.

Settling yourself with a slow breath you summon the act he wants, find the fear within yourself and let it inform your words to give him what he wants.

“Please, don’t,” You’re trembling is real, that you know.

He shifts between your legs, drawing the knife closer, shifting it in his hand so he simply presses the cool flat side of the blade against one of your nipples. You hiss at the sensation, tightness building in your gut.

“First question,” He drags the knife a little over your nipple, “What movie franchise is Jason from?”

It’s an actual quiz, of course it is. At least he’s starting off easy.

“Friday the Thirteenth,” You reply fast.

“Correct,” He lifts the knife, and with the blade pointed away from you, he pushes up your tight tshirt until it’s bunched above your breasts.

“I got that right,” You glance down at the way he’s touching you, breaking his own rules already.

“Just getting a better view,” He insists, and then the cool knife is against your nipple again, only the thin fabric of your bralette between skin and steel.

Your body is aching in this position, but you can feel the heat off his body, and the heady tone of his voice from under the mask still has you starting to ache in different places.

“Let’s make this a little harder,” He taps the knife against you and you shiver, “what movie has a group of teenagers being stalked on an island by a killer fisherman?”

“It’s,” You start to answer but he taps the knife again and you jolt, “fuck, it’s I Know What You Did Last Summer,”

You watched it with him two weeks ago. You remember it, clear as day.

“Wrong,” The knife twists, the tip gently skating over the swell of your breast.

“Wait,” You start but he tips the knife under the center of your bra.

“I Still Know What You Did Last Summer,” He clarifies the sequel, “they weren’t on an island in the first movie. I thought you liked scary movies,”

“I,” You press back into the wall as the knife edge kisses your skin, “I… I do,”

“You’re not very good at this,” He twists the knife and drags the sharp edge out so that it severs your thin bra in half, falling open and revealing your breasts to his wandering eyes.

A little gasping sound leaves your lips, a desperate noise you try to bite back, but he hears it.

He hums a soft, amused laugh and suddenly the knife is gone, sheathed and away and he leans into your space again, “You fucking like this, don’t you?”

“No,” You insist, despite the way your stomach is in tight knots.

“Did running away get you hot?” His gloved hand skims over your exposed body, “Do psycho killers make you wet?”

“Fuck,” You whine, “no, no,”

“Liar,” He whispers, and then he delivers a pointed slap to your thigh, “spread.”

Your legs widen instinctively at his command, but he doesn’t reward you or praise you like he normally would, this is different. He reaches under the hem of your taut mini skirt, finding the apex of your thighs, and his fingers gently rub up and down from the base of your slit to your clit. A tiny gasp bubbles out of your throat.

“Are you afraid?” He all but growls.

Your stomach flips and his hand tightens in your hair, “Y-yes,”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” He finds the edge of your panties and drags them to one side.

“I don’t want it,” You answer him, body shaking now.

“Tell me to stop,” One gloved finger presses into your entrance, the softness of the leather and the warmth of his skin beneath it making you tremble.

“Stop,” You beg, “please, please, stop,”

“Why would I?” He slowly pushes inside, stretching you around his finger, “When I know how wet being fucked by a stranger in a mask makes you,”

A tense thready sound pulls from your throat as he adds a second finger.

“If you don’t want this,” He pulses his hand once, forcing both fingers deep into your slick channel, “why are you panting like a dog in heat?”

“N-no,”

“If you don’t want it,” He whispers, “don’t come.”

Your eyes shut as his hand starts moving, a steady pulse of his gloved fingers inside your aching cunt, curled just right in the way he knows gets you off fast. A pumping drag against your g-spot, the sound of his heavy breath, the unmistakable sensation of your own wetness making a mess between your thighs.

“Looks like you want it to me,” He adds the circle of his thumb against your clit and you jerk in his hold.

“Stop, fuck,” Your nails dig into his forearm.

“You don’t want me touching you, but you’re soaking my fingers,”

“N..No, no,” You babble, heat pooling in your gut.

“Fight it,” He pumps his fingers faster, drumming against your sweet spot, “don’t come,”

You hiss sharply, pleasure dropping low in your belly, the sensation of his gloves and his hot hand too much to bear.

“Moaning like you want it,” He laughs, pulling his hand suddenly out from under your skirt and yanking your head back to center.

You yelp at the position change and the sudden lack of contact but he doesn’t make you wait for long.

“Open,” He smacks your cheek lightly.

Your mouth falls open and he shoves both gloved fingers between your lips. You choke against the suddenness, at the way he presses down on your tongue, blinking to clear the haze from your eyes.

“Suck.”

You shiver, your lips closing over his digits, the sharp taste of leather mixed with your fluids assaulting your senses and you can’t fight the moan, the way your eyes drift shut as you swirl your tongue.

He hums, pleased, “Does it hurt?” He asks.

His question doesn’t make sense, and you blink your eyes back open to look up at the cool passiveness of his ghostly mask.

“Pretending you’re not a whore?” He clarifies and your mouth stills over his fingers. He pulls them out, delivering one more pointed slap to your cheek, and dives back down to plunge them back into your aching cunt, “Moaning like that, your nipples rock hard, and this pussy,”

You choke, a bubble building in your core as he abuses your slick channel again.

“Clenching around my fingers, sucking me in,” He chuckles, “I can feel you, baby,”

“Fuck, fuck,”

“Hold back,” He doubles his efforts between your thighs and you keen, “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop, don’t come,”

“Stop!” You whine, giving him exactly what he wants, “Please, please,”

“No,” His thumb rubs fast, his hand practiced at making you fall apart at the seams, “you come, you keep your eyes open, and you come all over my fucking hand,”

Your breath is fast, heart pounding, and you feel the cord tightening in your belly in a way that makes you want to rub yourself back up into his touch but he has you pinned, stuck, at his mercy just like he wants.

“Come,” His voice is clear, authoritative, and familiar. Like a trained response, your body releases and cracks open into a desperate orgasm, crumbling in his hands as you pitch forward onto his shoulder and grind your hips down to take the last little bit of what you need from his fingers.

When his hand stills, you realize you’re still clinging to him and you jerk back, one hand over your mouth as you try to recover your breath.

He steps back, his hands sliding off you and body slotting out from your thighs. You can’t see Yunho beneath the mask, but you know he’s looking. You can feel his hot gaze sliding over your body and taking in every wet and shaking inch of you. Your body is throbbing with need, but the game isn’t done, he hasn’t even made you touch his cock yet, and you know there’s no way you’re making it out of this basement without that.

“Tell me again how you don’t like it,” He finally says.

You shiver.

“Cat got your slutty little tongue?” He prompts you again, voice hardening.

You swallow hard, finding your words, “I didn’t like it,”

“Mhm,”

“I d-don’t want you to touch me,” You lie.

“Yeah?” He teases, “Well then run,”

“W-what?” Your eyes flick up to the impassive plastic of his mask.

“If you didn’t like it, why are you still sitting there?” He takes a step to the side, clearing your path to the door and you slide off the edge of the sink, your loafers making a click onto the tile floor.

You swallow hard, eyes darting out to the rest of the basement.

“Come on,” He teases, and you can hear the sick smile in his voice, “try to get away,”

You look between him and the room ahead of you again.

He leans forward and you shiver, his gaunt stretched mouth at your ear again, “I can’t fuck you if I can’t catch you,” his gloved fingers yank your top down over your exposed breasts and he chuckles, “better run fast.”

You spring forwards, adrenaline pumping through your body and blood rushing in your ears. Leaping out of the bathroom he gives you a couple steps to get a head start, but he’s so much bigger than you, his stride so much longer, and he closes the distance with ease as you scramble in mock terror to get to the steps.

Yunho’s arms close around you, hauling you up off your feet and against his chest, his touch rough and probing as he drags you up into the air.

“No!” You shriek, “Fuck!”

“You think I’d really let you go?” He laughs, “After that?”

“Fuck you!” The words bubble up out of your mouth.

“That’s the idea,” His hand slides down your belly, closing over your cunt and cupping you tightly.

Your body is reacting before your mind, and you jerk in his hold, kicking back your leg and catching him in the shin with the flat heel of your shoe.

He groans and wrenches you higher in the air, “Keep struggling,” he pants, “I like it,”

You twist again, trying to free one of your arms, but he has them pinned tightly to your body, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Not a fucking chance,” He takes two wide steps to the mattress and then tosses you down.

You collapse onto the bed, the old and rarely used springs creaking under your weight, and your scramble forwards in some kind of an attempt to get your bearings, but he’s on you just as fast. He yanks you back with a hand around your ankle and in a flash he’s on top of you.

He presses one hand firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned face down to the bed, and then his body weight drops down as he straddles the backs of your thighs. Your hands curl into the bedding beneath you, rough sheets and scratchy camp blankets, nothing soft and soothing to take a moment of comfort in.

His free hand wanders, searching your body slowly. The sound of the party raging upstairs drowns out any competing noise, but you can still hear his heavy breath against the mask and your pounding heart, the sound of anticipation thick in the air around you.

Yunho presses his hips forwards and you feel the thick hard length of his cock through his costume nestled against your backside.

“Look at you,” He palms your ass, “shaking for me,”

A whimper leaves you as his fingers dig into your back.

“Do I scare you, baby?” He delivers a harsh slap to the back of your thighs and you yelp, “Are you fucking terrified?”

Another slap leaves you trembling and you hide your face in the mattress, pressing your eyes shut tight. You love when he touches you like this and he knows it. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from whining, wetness pooling in your core. He wanted you scared, he wanted you fighting, you can’t give in just because his glove on your stinging skin feels like sin.

He groans, his cock pressing down harder to your ass and you feel both his hands slide from your hips up to your back and back down again until he has a grip on your waist.

A whimper slips out from between your lips.

Yunho freezes above you, his thumbs massaging a quick circle into your lower back, “Color?”

“Green!” Your voice is muffled by the bedding but you know he heard it.

He groans, pulsing his hips to rut his cock against you again.

Even between layers of fabric, you can feel the heat of him, throbbing and ready for you. Your mouth waters as you picture it, cockhead leaking precum and Yunho’s familiar hand wrapped around the base as he directs it to your mouth.

“Little slut,” He chuckles and it pulls you straight out of your mental fantasy, “rubbing that ass on a stranger’s cock,”

Your stomach clenches, and you twitch under him.

“That’s fucked up,” He drops his body weight over you, one hand pushing your head to the side as he leans over you, “you’re so fucked up, aren’t you?”

Your breathing is fast, a thready sound in your throat.

“Aren’t you?” His voice is low, a shade away from a growl, and he rocks his hips again to rub his cock against you.

“N-no,” You try to shake your head but his hand tightens against your scalp.

“Liar,” He keeps grinding against you, his free hand snaking underneath your bodies to grope your breast, “I know a needy whore when I see one,”

You moan into the sheets as he tweaks your nipple, tears springing to your eyes as he palms you, taking you apart with every touch.

“Let’s see how you like this,” He pinches your nipple once more and you squeal at the sharp sensation that rockets through your chest, a sharp line down to your clit, and then he slides back and shuffles back to sit up over your thighs.

He pushes the stiff fabric of your mini skirt up over your ass and then you feel the cold metal again.

You jerk underneath him, and he tuts softly, the sharp edge of the weapon gently dragging over the curve of your ass cheek.

“Tell me,” He grips your flesh tightly with one hand, painfully pinching, “do you still like scary movies now that you’re in one?”

You shake your head, a whimper on your lips when the knife slips under the edge of your panties, “P-please, don’t,”

He yanks the knife up and splits one side of your panties with a taut snap of fabric, “Please?” He taunts, “Please?”

You sob softly in response.

“Is ‘please’ all you can say?” He delivers a sharp smack to your exposed ass check and you jerk under him.

“I can’t,” You shake your head into the sheets, “I can’t,”

He sighs, and you feel the knife shred the other side of your underwear and then you hear the sound of the blade clattering to the floor. With both hands free he palms your exposed flesh, squeezing you almost painfully and inspecting your exposed body.

Shivers run through you, and you try to hold yourself still for his touches.

“Which hole should I fuck first, hmm?�� His fingers search you, probe you.

Your body locks up tightly, a gasp on your lips. You hadn’t discussed that, and you shake your head.

“Scared?” He ghosts his fingers over your rim.

“Please,” It’s all you can manage.

“Beg me,” He presses down with his thumb, “beg me not to fuck your ass if you’re so scared.”

You scramble in the sheets but he has you stuck, “Please don’t, don’t fuck me like t-that, you’re too big, it’s too,”

He massages one cheek and hums, “What should I do then?”

“What?” You crane to look back at him, at the masked man pinning you down.

“Beg,” He says it like he’s bored, like it’s obvious, “beg me to put it somewhere else, or I will fuck this pretty ass open and make you say thank you.”

Heat floods your belly, your body a sizzling live wire, and you fall right into step with a heady whine, “Please, fuck my pussy,”

“Again,”

“Fuck my pussy, please, I’m begging you,” Your voice sounds needy and strange even to your own ears, “I need it inside me, g-give it to me please, fuck my pussy, please,”

“Better,” His hands disappear into his robed costume and then he pushes forwards, his cock finally free and sliding up and down your slit to find your aching entrance.

“Y-yes,” You drop your head back down to the bed and in one sharp thrust, he pushes his thick length all the way inside you until his hips are flush with your ass.

Yunho groans, bracing himself with one hand on the back of your neck and the other on the bed beside you, the mattress creaking with every shift, “Needy pussy,”

“Fuck,” You moan.

“Greedy,” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, starting to pick up the pace now in earnest, “gripping my fucking cock like that,”

All you can do is hold on, bite down on the sheets and let him use you, focus on the sensation of his impossibly hard cock driving in and out and in and out.

“Are you crying for me? Hmm?” He rolls his hips, the fabric of his costume dragging against you as he fucks into you faster.

Your eyes are wet, pleasured tears bubbling up and you nod, a tiny sob passing through your lips.

“Good cocksleeve,” He presses down harder with his hand on your neck, forcing you lower into the mattress.

Your back arches instinctively, and you whine at the angle change. A few more thrusts and you’ll be done for, you know it.

“That’s it,” He pants, voice muffled by the mask, “come for me,”

“C-close,” The words tumble out.

“Come for me,” He stays steady with his thrusts, pushing your orgasm closer and closer, “come for me, come for me,”

“Ah!” You fist the sheets, legs starting to shake, “Ah, fuck, fuck!”

“Come on this stranger’s fucking cock,” He grunts, shuddering above you, his fingers digging into your skin and no doubt leaving a bouquet of bruises behind.

So close to the edge, just a little more will tip you over, and you whine, “Harder,”

He gasps, forcing his pace to clap harder, deeper, and it only takes two pointed thrusts of his cock into the deepest parts of you to send you careening over the edge.

“Coming,” You twist beneath him, moaning into your fist, “oh, god,”

“Fuck,” He curses as your muscles clench and flutter around him, “fuck, oh fuck,”

Your orgasm has your body locked up and shuddering, but when he pulls free suddenly you gasp into the bedding, “N-no, no, please,”

He yanks off any scrap of clothing you have on with frantic hands and then rolls you in the sheets so that you’re lying on your back spread open for him. You try to form a sentence, to ask what’s happening but suddenly he’s tearing off his mask and the world slows to a stop.

Yunho’s sweaty, flushed pink in the cheeks eyes blown wide with need, his plush lips parted and his chest heaving with labored breaths. In a flash he’s stripping off the costume, peeling off his gloves and kicking off his boots.

“Come here,” He spreads your thighs wider and presses down over you, his cock finding your entrance with ease as he sheaths himself again in one thrust.

You moan sharply and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he collapses over you.

“Need you,” He pumps his hips, “have to have you,”

Pleasure crackles up your body, “Yours,” you nod, “I’m yours,”

He presses his mouth to yours, kissing you hot and hard, “Fuck,” he groans.

Yunho gathers you closer, your slick bodies now flush together as he rocks into the warm cradle of your hips, “never heard you moan like that,”

Your walls clench around him.

“You wanted me to do this,” He groans between messy kisses, “you wanted to run,”

You nod, lips pressed together.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He pumps into you harder, like he’s desperate to get as deep as possible, “my dirty girl,”

“Oh, fuck,” Your head falls back against the bed, a pleasured moan caught in your throat.

“My little fucking slut,” He groans, tipping your hips open wider, his hands tight on your skin, “so desperate to come on stranger cock,”

You whine sharply, nails digging into his back.

“Say it,” He threads a hand through your hair and tugs your head back up roughly, “say it,”

“Yes!” You whine, “Yes, I-I need it,”

His gaze darkens, the cool mask of your dominant returning, and he slaps your cheek sharply, just enough to give you a pointed sting, “Need what?”

Your brain is soft, fuzzy with pleasure, but the slap focuses you and you blink, “Need to come,” you pant as he thrusts into you, “on a stranger’s cock, need you to… fuck, need you to take it,”

He nods, lips parting open in pleasure, “That’s right,”

Your stomach tightens, pressure dropping low in your belly and you can’t stop feeling the way his cock punches into the deepest parts of you over and over again. Your eyes close tight and you hold onto him, one of your hands slipping up to his neck to tangle into his black hair.

“Oh,” You’re so close, almost there, “Y-Yunho, oh, god,”

His hips thrust forward once more, burying his cock impossibly deep and then he stops. That’s when you realize your critical mistake.

“Is my cock so good you forgot your manners?” He says and your eyes fly open.

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to recover, your head is too mixed up to know what’s up and what’s down and you’ve never played a scene where he’s a stranger before. You’re used to your rules, you’re used to calling him sir or daddy or master, but now you feel unmoored.

“Now you don’t get to come,” He leans back, taking your wrists in his hands and pushing them down flat to the bed.

You know better than to protest, but you’re sure he can feel you shaking.

He drops closer, pinning you open with the weight of his body, his head nudging yours to the side, “Maybe you’ve forgotten who’s in control here, baby,”

Liquid heat spreads through your body and you shake your head just a little.

“So drunk on cock,” He bites at your ear, “you forgot you don’t want this,”

Your pussy tightens, and you hear him chuckle.

“Filthy,” He maneuvers your arms above your head so that he can close both your wrists together in one of his large hands, “fucked up little fucktoy,”

Your eyes roll back and you fight the urge to move your hips, his words enough to put you on the precipice.

A sharp slap stings over your exposed breast, your nipple hardening even more and Yunho draws his hips back before slamming forwards, driving you deeper into the squeaking mattress. At the painful stretch, the sharp sting inside, you do cry out.

“Does it hurt?” He thrusts again, just as hard.

You struggle under him, a little for play and a little because it does hurt, but you love the way he groans when you please him and you can’t stop, “Y-yes,”

“Too bad,” His hand claps over your mouth and then he starts to fuck you again for real.

Pleasure and pain in equal parts spike through your body, a perfect combination to get you right up to the edge of orgasm, but you know you’re not allowed. You moan into his hot hand, the sound feral and taut, tears gathering in your eyes and slipping down your temples into your hairline.

Yunho slides the hand on your wrists up to clasp your hands together palm to palm, still pinning you to the bed but offering you a line of communication you desperately need in a scene like this. He doesn’t stop, but his eyes find yours in the dim light of the basement and he squeezes your hand once. You squeeze back just once, your silent sign to keep going.

He keeps driving into you, cursing every time you moan and clench around his thick length, the mask of dominance slipping again as he starts to rut into you with artless, needy thrusts. He’s chasing his own pleasure now, with no regard for your own release.

“No one’s coming to help you,” He groans, “you’re mine,”

You can’t hear everything he says, not with your mind spinning so close to a forbidden orgasm and his pants and groans punctuating every few words, but you hear it when he says he’s coming inside you.

Thrusting deep, he spills himself hot in your belly, hips grinding into yours to milk himself dry as he moans into your ear. The bubble of your own pleasure builds with every rock of his body and you whimper into his hand, tears spilling over as you try not to let it take you.

Yunho’s hand pulls away from your mouth and suddenly his fingers are rubbing fast and firm on your swollen clit, his cock still buried deep.

“Ah, n-no, please,” You grip his hand tightly and lock your eyes closed, trying to pull yourself back from the edge, “please,”

“Fuck,” He groans, overstimulated.

You’re going to come, there’s no way to hold back if he’s going to torture you like this and you thrash under him, “I can’t,” you’re sobbing in earnest now, “I can’t hold it,”

“Shit,” He curses sharply, “come, sweetheart, come, I’m so sorry,”

At his permission, your pleasure rips through you, a hot slice of rapture rocketing up your body. Your ears are ringing, black dots over your vision, and your body wrenches up with tight shakes in a way that only a soul shattering orgasm could do. You vaguely hear your own voice, a babbled string of ‘thank-yous’ and sobs, but it feels like someone else. All you know is warmth, and the deliciousness of earned pleasure.

When consciousness starts to creep back in, the first thing you feel is Yunho’s gentle hands on your cheeks. He’s murmuring something, but it takes your mind a second to process, and you blink your eyes open slowly to find his face.

“Hey,” He’s back to soft and warm, your tender lover, “oh, there you are,”

“Mm,” You manage.

He looks you over slowly, warm brown eyes flicking over your skin, “Does anything hurt, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, still boneless and trembling in the scratchy blankets.

“Hmm?” He nudges you, pushing for a verbal response.

“I’m okay,” You respond, but your voice is small.

Yunho, so attuned to you, looks back up and shifts up the bed to meet your eyes, “Feeling floaty?”

“Mm,” You nod, recognizing distantly that the intensity of your play tonight pushed you right into subspace.

“Ah,” He smiles warmly, “come here,”

He gathers you close, arms wrapping around you as he tucks you into his chest and pulls the plaid camp blanket up higher over both of your naked bodies. His skin feels so essential, a necessity like eating or breathing, and you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, stroking your back, “you’re safe, you’re safe with me,”

A heavy breath releases from your chest.

“That’s it,” He kisses your forehead, “breathe with me, relax with me,”

Your muscles release one by one.

“That was just a fantasy,” He soothes you, easing the knotted up feelings in your body with practiced words, “it was just pretend,”

You nod.

“Just pretend,” He murmurs, lips tender against your forehead, “none of that was real, nothing I said. I love you, and I will always keep you safe, sweetheart,”

Your fingers relax, and you realize how firmly you were gripping his arms.

“There you go,” He murmurs, “I’ve got you,”

“Yunho?” You manage, your body feeling heavy once again as you start to center.

He shifts, cupping your cheek as he leans back to get a good look at you, “Right here,”

“H-hey,” You give him a lazy smile.

He nods, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me where you are?”

“Basement at the party,” You answer.

“Good,” He nods, “now tell me who you’re with?”

“You, Yunho,” You reply, practiced now at the routine he uses to help ground you out of the scene and bring you back into reality.

“Good,” He continues, “tell me three things you can see,”

You glance around the room, “Old playstation, bicycle,” you look back to him, “your necklace,”

He smiles as you touch the silver chain around his neck, “Good,”

You stretch your stiff limbs in his arms and try to snuggle back into his hold but he’s not done yet, especially after a scene that new and that intense.

“Any pain?” His hands slide over your body.

“No,” You assure him, “a little sore, but I feel good,”

He nods, but keeps looking you over anyway. When he turns your hands in his and finds your scratched palms a little line forms between his brows, “What’s this?”

You look down at the red skin, a few shallow cuts here and there, “I fell,”

“Fell?” His brow goes high with alarm, “when?”

“When I was running, I took the stairs too fast,” You tell him honestly, “but it doesn’t hurt, I promise,”

His fingers trace over the broken skin and he nods, “You promised you’d call the scene if you got hurt,”

For how rough this man can be with you, for how many times he’s bruised you and made you bleed, he never fails to surprise you at just how tender and soft he is outside of the bedroom.

“Baby,” You close your fingers over his, “you promised you’d trust me to know my own limits, I’m not hurt, I got a little scrape,”

His lips close as he considers your words and then he nods, leaning in to kiss each of your palms warmly, “I want to disinfect these at home,”

“Okay,” You murmur.

“Anywhere else?”

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head.

“But sore?” He confirms.

“A bit,”

His fingers find your jaw, massaging the muscle there, “When we get home, we’ll run a warm bath. I’ll take care of all your aches, I know I was rough with you,”

You sigh pleasantly, relaxing into the warmth of his hand and he nods, dipping his face towards yours and capturing your mouth in a soft kiss.

“You did so perfect for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, voice threaded with emotion, “I’m so… is it too lame to say honored? I… you were so amazing, and you trusted me like that and I,”

“Yunho,” You smooth back his hair and pull him closer, “I’m alright,”

His eyes flick over your face, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You give him the clarity he needs to know he didn’t hurt you, “you made me feel very safe, even though I was kind of terrified,”

He stays quiet, like he’s gauging the honesty of your words.

“Even when I was scared,” You lean in, kissing him quickly, “I knew you wouldn’t take it too far, and you checked in with me. I’m okay, I liked it, I love you,”

“You didn’t push yourself too hard for me?” He always worries about that, the double edged sword of a submissive who’s desperate to please.

“No,” You smooth your hand over his cheek, “I liked it alot,”

He nods and snuggles you closer, his fingertips coasting up and down your back softly. He’s quiet for a few minutes, just letting you both come down as easy as you can with thrumming house music upstairs.

“You liked it?” He finally confirms, carding his fingers through your hair.

You nod, “A lot,”

“What I said,” He kisses the top of your head, “during, about you liking it, that was fantasy too, you know that right?”

You’re quiet, taking in his words.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” He continues softly, “there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting it, all of that was pretend, okay?”

“I know,” You kiss his chest, nodding against his shoulder.

“I love you,” He squeezes you, “you know that too, right?”

You smile, wiggling up in his arms to see his face, “I do,” you kiss him softly, “I love you too,”

He nods and sighs, “I lost my head a little at the end there,” he admits, “I didn’t communicate well when you needed it, I’m sorry about that.”

Your brows knit together in confusion.

“I should have given you permission sooner,” He explains, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I forgot myself in the scene, I didn’t mean to push you so hard.”

“Oh,” You smile, “Yunho, I’m alright,”

“I know you are,” He dips in for a kiss, “but I’m still sorry,”

“Thank you,” You murmur, pressing your lips back to his, staying warm and still and soft in this moment together, “I know you’ll always take care of me,”

He nods, his broad hand brushing down your hair.

“How was the party?” You nudge him a little.

He smiles, “Fine,” he shrugs, “I was too focused on looking for you, I think everyone thinks something’s up with me.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” You laugh.

“Mm,” He nods, “and now I disappeared and we made a mess of this basement,”

“Fuck, I can’t believe you cut my underwear off, how am I supposed to get out of here,”

“I brought backups,” He grins wide, proud of himself for thinking that far ahead.

“You’re a genius,”

“There is a back door out of the basement though, right?” He looks up around the room trying to find one.

“Yeah,” You reach out, pointing around the back corner, “why?”

“It’s extremely obvious that you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life,” He presses a quick kiss on your forehead and stretches next to you, so casual about the way he just rearranged your insides, “and I’m not so sure you’re going to walk straight,”

You laugh sharply and shake your head, “Take me home,”

“Scary movies on the couch?” He squeezes your thigh as he rolls away, searching for his clothes.

You shiver, “Maybe, that might be too close to home,”

Nudging your knee he smiles, “Don’t worry, baby, it’s just a movie.”

2K notes · View notes

pablopascal · 3 days ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—general warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, forbidden love kinda thing, age gap (oc is 25 & san is 32), other members in the fic are also aged up, very general/vague descriptions of mice research work!, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, party scenes - additional warnings will be posted for each chapter.

—release: 8/15/24

—table of contents | spotify playlist | moodboard (ty @binniewalrus 🖤)

intro: professor choi

one: rotations

two: warm welcomes

three: a subtle curiosity

four: emergency purposes

five: drunchies

six: me and you

⇢6.5: all he knows

seven: tbd

425 notes · View notes

pablopascal · 3 days ago

Text

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Masterlist]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

841 notes · View notes

pablopascal · 3 days ago

Text

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

3K notes · View notes

pablopascal · 3 days ago

Text

the space between us three (jyh) | series masterlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut

⇢general warnings: cussing, mature language, slice of life, insecurities, anxiety and trauma from past events, death/mentions of death and tragic accidents, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, complex relationships, growing pains, etc. - individual warnings for each chapter will be included

⇢release: coming soon !

⇢a/n: hi! i know we dearly love our pmylm!yunho but i'm bringing a new yunho to the plate - one i think you'll equally adore. i'll be working on this alongside of wildfire next - idk why this comeback is also giving single dad yunho of a pre-teen so here i am lol hope to release it soon and i hope you all enjoy it <33

⇢playlist (will be released w/ part 01)

01: tbd

349 notes · View notes

pablopascal · 4 days ago

Text

The Shadows' Touch

Intro / part 1

Aziel x Y/N fae female

Summary: Y/N, a fae from the Night Court, prefers the solitude of books and sunsets over the bustling life of Velaris, hiding from her traumatic past. Azriel, notices her one winter by the sea and becomes quietly captivated by her, though she never seems to acknowledge him.

Warnings: mentioning of abuse

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Comments/Sharing are appreciated

Y/N sat in her small, shadowy corner of the world, hidden from the glamor and chaos of Velaris. She wasn’t like the other fae of the Night Court who thrived in the limelight. Her solace came in the form of ink-stained pages and the quiet sunsets she watched from the jagged rocks by the sea. Her existence had always been one of quiet resilience. It wasn’t her choice to fade into the background—it was survival.

Azriel had noticed her last winter. The spymaster of the Night Court rarely allowed himself such indulgences as fascination, but there was something about her. The way her hair caught the dying light of the setting sun, the serene expression on her face as she watched the waves, or the way she seemed untouchable, like a living shadow. Azriel found himself returning to the sea more often than he cared to admit, watching her from afar as if her presence soothed something deep within him.

But she never seemed to notice him. Not once.

That night, at Rita’s, Azriel had reluctantly joined Cassian and Mor. The bustling music and chatter grated on his nerves, and he cursed their persistence in dragging him there. But then, as his shadows whispered in delight, he saw her. Sitting at a small table, her nose buried in a book, she seemed untouched by the noise around her.

Azriel was usually adept at concealing his emotions, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on her too long.

Mor, always one to meddle in matters of the heart, grinned knowingly when she caught him staring. She nudged Cassian, sharing a wordless plan.

“Az, it’s your turn to grab drinks,” Mor declared, loud enough to draw his attention.

Azriel sighed but obeyed, weaving his way through the crowd. As he passed her table, he felt her presence more keenly than anything else in the room. But just as he returned with the drinks, Cassian’s "accident" sent a pint flying in her direction.

The amber liquid soaked her book, splattering onto her clothes. As Azriel cought the flying pint, the ones on his plate fell.

Azriel’s heart sank.

“Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” he apologized immediately, his voice softer than he intended. His eyes drifted over her to the book she was holding.

She stood abruptly, eyes wide with alarm, her hands clutching the ruined book. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Azriel thought he saw something—a flicker of recognition, a thread of connection—but it vanished as quickly as it came. Without a word, she turned and fled the tavern.

Cassian’s laughter echoed behind him. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Azriel didn’t respond. He left the drinks on the table and pushed his way outside, scanning the dark streets of Velaris, but she was gone.

**Y/N’s POV**

Tears blurred her vision as she walked away from Rita’s, her ruined book clutched to her chest. She hated herself for the panic that overtook her the moment she saw him up close. Azriel, the shadowed spymaster of the Night Court, the one tasked with protecting them.

But Y/N didn’t see a protector when she looked at him. She saw the Illyrian male who had haunted her childhood, the one who had broken her and left her retreating into shadows and stories.

She barely remembered how she got home, her mind a storm of fear and shame. Once inside, she stripped off her damp clothes and stepped into the bath, trying to wash away the lingering tension. But her thoughts kept circling back to the soft apology in Azriel’s voice, the sincerity in his golden-brown eyes.

When a knock came at the door, she froze.

Peeking through the crack, she saw a flash of blue siphons and dark hair. Azriel.

“Hi,” he said, his voice tentative, almost shy.

Y/N tried to shut the door, but his foot stopped it.

“I, uh, brought you your book.” He held out a book.

She hesitated, eyeing it warily. “T-this isn’t mine,” she stammered.

A small smile touched his lips, a faint thing that barely reached his eyes. “No, it’s my copy. The stores are closed, and since I ruined yours…” He trailed off awkwardly, holding it out further. “You can have it.”

She took the book gingerly, her fingers brushing his hand for the briefest moment. He stepped back, sensing her unease, but not before adding softly, “I’m sorry for earlier.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N surprised herself. “Thank you,” she said.

Azriel stopped, looking back at her. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still. Their gazes locked, and Y/N felt something stir—a crack in the walls she’d built around herself.

“I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “I hope I’ll see you around.”

Before she could respond, he vanished into the night, leaving her standing in the doorway with his book pressed to her chest.

For the first time in a long while, Y/N felt something other than fear.

Curiosity.

---

Taglist: click here to add

ACOTAR: @mich0731 @winchesterwild78 @paintedbyshadows @lilah-asteria @nancymcl @hobby27 @kindollss @shadysoulangel

63 notes · View notes

pablopascal · 4 days ago

Text

desire ♱ 001

♰ pairings :: ot8 vampire!ateez x fem!witch!reader

♰ genre :: dark fantasy, smut, strangers to ?? to lovers, fluff, maybe slight angst?, soulmates/fated lovers

♰ gen. content :: polyamory , references to religious themes, witchcraft and magick, mythical beings of all kinds, mentions of other idols, vampires with magical abilities, switches povs

♰ chapter warnings :: fear/anxiety, description of injury

♰ word count :: 8.1k 0_0

♰ note :: this took me entirely too long but hey! first chapter woohoo!! this will be my first time ever writing a series but i'm very excited :] pls give me feedback i'd love to hear your thoughts! and if i missed any warnings lmk!!

♰ main m.list | series m.list | next ♰

i've been walking for quite some time, i realize probably much later than i should. the sun had started setting long ago and now the forest was almost too dark to really see anything. but i need this mushroom. if this ointment isn't finished by tomorrow the merchants will never buy it and then how will i feed myself for the next week or so-

snap!

i feel my heart thump against my rib cage as my head whips up at the distinct sound of a twig snapping. i focus my gaze on where the sound came from and watch as a squirrel scuttles up the trunk of a large tree. i feel the tension in my body release a little. great, now i'm being paranoid. if i hadn't gotten so absorbed in that book then maybe i wouldn't have to be out here past dark searching for a damn plant. as i grumble to myself internally, i become less and less aware of my steps which is never good for someone who trips over thin air more than is probably considered normal. and in that moment, the universe seems to prove that point by way of me tripping over a large rock and falling flat on my stomach. i groan as pain shoots through my already bruised knees (from tripping prior to this). brushing off dirt and leaves i stand back up and huff. i accept defeat and turn to hopefully find my way back to my cabin. only to realize, i have no idea where i am. have i seriously wandered so far? i do a 360 and cannot recognize any of the trees surrounding me. anxiety starts to settle in my gut as i come to the conclusion i am very lost. you'd think living in the woods would teach me enough lessons about roaming said woods in the dark...but apparently not. even still, standing here will get me nowhere so i turn back the way (i think) i came from and start to make the journey back. i pray to every god there is that i do not manage to get more lost as i try to keep track of the trees that i am passing… with little luck since its only getting darker.

ssssnap!

i freeze mid step as a branch snaps somewhere behind me. whatever that was sounded much bigger than a squirrel. my heart pounds in my chest as the overwhelming fear twists my gut. reluctantly, my head turns to the sound to see nothing but a vast, dark ocean of trees. the once comforting darkness spikes my paranoia as my eyes struggle to focus on my surroundings. i hear another branch snap and whip my head to my right. still, i see nothing but darkness. this is not good. with no other option, i continue the path i started. anxiety courses through me as i walk and now im acutely more aware of every little sound, down to the puff of my own breath leaving my mouth. as the fear crawls up my spine, i start to walk faster and faster until im damn near jogging. i continuously stumble over the natural debris covering the forest floor but i keep my brisk pace, not bothering to slow down.

as my boots catch on a particularly large tree branch, i fall and look up to see that i seem to have come into a decent sized... clearing. in the middle of the woods? i push myself to my feet and look around to see a near perfect circle of space between the cluster of trees. i step farther out of the tree line and strain my eyes to try and see anything that could help me identify where i am. but i definitely would have remembered this clearing if i'd ever stumbled across it before. i've never seen anything like this in these woods besides the clearing surrounding my own home. as i look around confusedly, i forget that there was a small chance i was being followed by something. instead astonishment replaces the fear as i look around. but not for long. i start to hear the distinct sound of crunching leaves coming from my right. this time my entire body freezes for a fraction of a second and i do not turn to see whatever it is coming for me. instead i turn left and start to run. as i sprint through the tree line, i make it long enough that the clearing behind me starts to morph back into endless trees. but turning back to look proves to be a mistake as i trip once again and fall, unable to catch myself as i collide with the ground. sharp pain shoots through my knee again and i know this time i would not just have a bruise. i wince and cry as i push into the dirt to roll onto my back.

through my fear, i could only hear my boots making contact with the earth beneath me but now that i am still i can definitely hear the pursuit of something coming towards me. it doesn't sound like running but then again i may not be able to hear over the sound of my own pounding heart and heaving breaths. i attempt to scramble to my feet and push through the pain in my leg but i can only manage a weak limping jog. i feel tears pool in my eyes as i stop to lean my side against a tree. there's just no way i'll make it to my cabin like this. and there's no way i'd beat whatever it is that's following me. as the pain in my knee starts to throb, i sink lower until i'm sitting with my back against the tree. through my wallowing i failed to realize that the sound from before had stopped. as i turn my head to look around, i spot a silhouette off to my left. back from where i originally started running. it looks like.... a person? who in their right mind would be out this far? it seems like the seconds drag on as i stare wordlessly at the unmoving figure. i have no options to weigh so i wait. for impending doom most certainly. but there's nothing i can really do. trying to get up again really isn't practical and would just alert them to my location, if they don't see me already.

i blink and suddenly the figure looks a lot closer than they were a second ago. no... my mind is playing tricks on me no one moves that fast. my heart rate kicks into high gear as the figure starts to become larger. they're definitely getting closer. my reflexes kick in and i scramble with no success to get onto my feet. i hear my breath stutter and a cry threatens to leave my lips as the figure finally really comes into view and then stops. though it's still very dark, they're close enough now that i can see the person is a man. he's human looking... enough. but that doesn't really quell my fear. he's still not close enough that he could hear me if i spoke in a normal tone but i know he can see me. i watch as his head tilts to the side for a second before he starts to walk, much slower now, towards me.

"are you injured?" though he's still not very close, his voice carries and i can hear the genuine concern (and confusion) in his tone. he sounds human enough. i nod, not trusting my voice at this current moment. he walks until he's standing an arms length away and then crouches down.

"i apologize. i didn't mean to frighten you, are you lost?" oh. though i tried to focus on his words i became quickly distracted by his voice. a smooth rich tenor that made my brain a little fuzzy. i still can't see his face clearly but he has to be pretty with a voice like that. i was so caught up in my own thoughts i completely ignored his question. "oh, that may not be an appropriate thing to ask... uh if you're okay with it, i may be able to help you." he quickly backpedals once he gets no response from me. it takes me a few seconds to answer but really what have i got to lose? only my literal life. i can't get anywhere like this and there's... something about him. i would say my intuition has never done me wrong and if i'm trusting it, he doesn't seem likely to hurt me. so i nod once again and try to will the shakiness out of my voice.

"okay... i um, i can't walk." i say, my voice quiet as i look to my leg that is still in pain. he follows my gaze as if he could really see what i was referring to. nevermind the dark, he definitely can't see past the two skirts i have on and the knee high socks and combat boots. he seems to realize this fact as he clears his throat and turns back to me.

"i can carry you... if that's alright with you, of course." he answers back. he almost sounds shy... or embarrassed? not being able to see his face clearly is really bugging me but i nod anyway. he moves to make it easier for him to maneuver me before an arm encircles my waist and i'm being lifted from my seated position. i quickly swing my arm to go around his shoulders, ignoring the warmth i feel creeping up my neck, and try to hold most of my weight. once he has me mostly lifted up he scoops his other arm under my legs. i hiss when the movement causes a jolt of pain through my knee.

i feel him tense and i rush to reassure him. "i'm okay, sorry my knee is just.... i'm fine really." i say and he relaxes, letting out a soft ‘okay’ as he stands back up to full height. as he starts to walk i can't help but try and study his face. this close i can see him a bit more clearly but not by much, the only light being from the bright, full moon. i can see enough to notice his hair and the outline of his features but not much more than that. as i look at him, i feel a question bubble to the surface and can't help but voice it.

"why are you helping me?" i ask hesitantly, hoping it doesn't sound like an accusation.

"well... had i not frightened you, you would not have gotten injured. i do sincerely apologize, i had not expected you to run." he says matter-of-factly, like that was the entire reason he approached me in the first place. even though i can feel that that’s not the entire reason he started to follow me, i see nothing else to say so we continue on in silence. i watch as the trees break and we end up back in the clearing. which confuses me but i say nothing. once we're a few paces away from the tree line he stops. expecting to see nothing, i turn and look out into the clearing. except now there's a very large mansion sitting in the middle of it. my jaw drops as i stare. there's absolutely no way i would've missed that! but then i feel it. there's a subtle tremor in the air like a shimmering in the energy. magick. it tingles against my senses and if i didn't practice magick i would never have felt it. but it's definitely there. there’s no way… illusion magick is hardly used anymore and you'll find very few who are able to conjure illusions around anymore, most magick users being wary of them. so how he managed an illusion this strong is beyond me. i reach out with my senses, trying to feel the man's aura but i sense nothing out of the ordinary. he feels… normal. so how in the hell- he's..not alone. as the realization dawns on me, the mansion comes to life, lights turning on inside and out.

"ah, this would probably be a good time to mention that i do not live alone." he says sheepishly as he looks down at my awestruck expression. "most of my housemates should be asleep or off to their own activities so we most likely won't be disturbed." i don't miss the maybes in that statement.

"oh...okay." i breathe out still not believing my eyes. just as he's about to continue walking, the grand front door slowly swings open. i think i hear him mutter something under his breath but i don't pay attention long enough to try and discern what it was. the man standing at the door is tall in stature and i notice a similarity in the way they carry themselves with the grace of someone of high status. almost royal in a way. he strides down the steps towards where we stand but stops farther away than i assumed he was going to.

"who's this?" the taller man says as he looks between me and the man currently cradling me. i probably should've gotten his name. he seems to realize this too as he looks down at me with furrowed brows.

"y/n... i'm y/n." i answer instead, trying to save the awkwardness.

"and i'm yunho, nice to meet you. what...happened, seonghwa?" yunho smiles as he says it but he shares a look with his housemate, who i now know the name of, that i don't understand.

"i startled her and she fell while running. her knee seems to be injured." seonghwa summarizes but there's another look that passes between the two. like they're not just having this conversation out loud.

"ah, i see. well in that case, you're in good hands." yunho shifts his gaze to me and his eyes soften, similar to the way it would if you were trying to console a wounded animal. i can't help but smile at the kindness in his tone. seonghwa walks up to yunho and the latter turns to go back up the steps with us in tow. as we walk through the door, i'm immediately overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the interior. and we're only in the foyer! i can't even begin to imagine the rest of the mansion.

the decor is dark; a blend of black, silver, and shades of red everywhere you turn. in the middle of the foyer sits a small pedestal with a statue of a woman with devilish wings standing atop it. she stares up with long, clawed hands reaching up towards the luxurious chandelier that glitters like diamonds. the floors are dark marbled tile and the ceilings are higher than i thought was ever possible. there's a wide, curved staircase on either side leading up to what i can assume is another beautiful foyer. down the hall in front of us leads to what i can see is the living room on one side and the kitchen and dining area on the other. i can't see the details from here but i see the decor in there is also black and red. the entire place is lit up in a warm glow from the light fixtures lining the walls.

as i admire the opulence, i forget about the two men waiting with me. that is until i feel eyes on me. when i snap out of my daze i see yunho looking at me, there's a gentle smile curving his lips and w o w. in the dark i couldn't make out his features very well but... he is beautiful. even more so than his home. my eyes rove over his tall, lean figure and i try not to let my jaw hang. his brown hair is highlighted with honey blonde streaks throughout and his skin is perfectly clear. he's dressed head to toe in black with a long overcoat that brushes the back of his shins. the only color in his ensemble is the red on the inside of his coat and red accents on the undone buttons of his loose black shirt. the smile curving his lips slowly morphs into a smirk as i continue to stare. we make eye contact and i shift my gaze immediately, embarrassed at having been caught.

"we will have to go upstairs, all of my supplies are in the study at the moment." seonghwa says apologetically, though i only realized halfway through his statement that he was speaking to me. i turn to look up at him and am once again struck by beauty beyond my comprehension. no seriously, what did i walk into? and how many more of them are there?! i try (and fail) to stare less but i can't help it. his eyes are sharp, almost piercing but also kind as he looks at me. blonde strands of hair fall into his eyes and i have the strangest urge to push them away. his skin is clear even this close and he smells delightful. has he smelt like this the whole time and why have i just noticed? i snap out of it quickly enough that neither of them suspects my silence and reassure him that it's fine.

"i'll leave you both to it, i have things to attend to. but if you need anything let me know." yunho smiles and bows his head at me before passing another silent look with seonghwa. he walks away, hands in his pockets as he takes the steps. he turns as he gets to the top, sparing me a last look and there's something i can't put my finger on in his eyes. but then he's disappearing down the hall before i can decipher what his look meant.

seonghwa

i look down at the girl in my arms out of my periphery again. for the millionth time since we arrived at the mansion. i wonder if she's noticed me stealing glances at her. not likely considering she has yet to mention it. i just don't understand. she shouldn't have been able to get into the clearing let alone our home. she stumbled through the barrier completely unaware of the alarm she raised inside these very walls. we all felt it when she passed through. the dim trill in the air, a slight shift in the energy. i can still feel the way my hair stood on edge and my senses heightened. our magick is powerful, we'd made very sure of it. so how was she here? and why? from what i can tell, she seems very human. she smells very human.

she was right to have run at first but then she put up no fight coming here. it made no sense. this poor girl... she has no earthly clue what she's willingly walked herself into. or rather allowed me to lead her into. even now as i carry her up the steps, she seems utterly calm. of course i can still feel the way her heartbeat hasn't gone back to normal and i can feel the nervousness around the edges of her energy. but every time she looks up at me, her eyes are clear. no worry creasing her forehead or apprehension in her gaze. just clear curiosity. and i feel no anxiety with her here. not really. except for the swirling confusion, i feel... relaxed. definitely not how i should feel with an intruder in our veiled home. but i can sense it on yunho too. he wasn't afraid, just curious. maybe a little concerned. for her... she really shouldn't be here.

i look at her once again and can’t help but be endeared at the awestruck expression that hasn’t left her features since we first stepped through the door. her eyes are wide with wonder as she looks around the halls and her lips are slightly parted as she takes everything in. i don’t even realize how long i’m staring, my eyes tracing over her features as we walk. despite how human she looks, she’s… beautiful. in an imperfect way. bright eyes, full lips, round cheeks, moles and freckles scattered across her nose. i watch as her lashes flutter every time she blinks and the way her tongue pokes out to wet her lips before she closes them. she’s enchanting. the thought snaps me out of my trance and i look forward to see us approaching the study.

as we come to the door of the study i can hear the low murmur of voices on the other side. i pause, not wanting to disturb whoever is on the other side and also not wanting anymore of my housemates to know she's here. not that they can't smell her or sense her... but it would be best that no one else saw her. i don’t get much time to ponder my options because within the next second the study door swings open to reveal two more of my housemates. how lovely.

reader

oh you’ve got to be kidding me… i probably have the facial expression of someone who’s just seen a comet but really you can’t blame me. not only am i astonished by the sight of the immaculate study with a large, dark mahogany desk and more shelves of books than i could ever afford. but there’s also two very beautiful men staring at me inquisitively from the open doorway.

“ah, i wasn’t aware we had company.” the shorter of the two says, clear apprehension in his tone as he looks me over. our eyes lock and mine roam over his face, his features somehow both soft and sharp. his blonde hair is styled and he’s dressed in a long, black overcoat that brushes the backs of his knees with red trim on the bottom with a vest over the white button up he wears. the buttons on his garments are all silver as is the jewelry that adorns his wrists and neck. my eyes trail over the necklaces he’s layered, all looking like they’d take me years to scrounge up enough money for one. grand, colored jewels and crosses hang off the chains of multiple while some just look like chain links. i glance back up at his face to see him already looking at me, a smirk curling his lips and a brow quirked. i quickly turn my attention to the man standing next to him to see him already looking at me, his gaze heavy and unreadable. where the other man’s features are softer, his are all sharp. piercing eyes, angled nose, plump lips, and a sharp jawline. he’s dressed in similar clothing except the inside of his coat is a deep purple and he has much more accessories. large rings, long necklaces, a plethora of bracelets. the top few bottons of his shirt are popped open and the muscular planes of his chest are on display. he’s much taller than the other two men and his long, muscular-looking legs show for it. his eyes never leave my face and for some reason, the look in his gaze makes me nervous causing me to look away quickly.

“i apologize, she got injured and i offered my assistance. it is much too dark for anyone to be out there alone. we won’t be very long.” seonghwa says, sounding only slightly apologetic. it seems like he has more to say, an undercurrent to his tone, but he just shares a long look with the shorter male. the two men standing together look to each other, another one of those unspoken looks passing between the two.

“that’s fine, we were… just about finished in here anyway.” the tallest one states and his voice, much deeper than the other two, pulls my gaze back to him. although he was speaking to seonghwa, his intense gaze stayed trained on me. there’s a question in his gaze but i’m not too sure what it’s about. i’m once again forced to look away but not before i got to drink in his features a little. it really shouldn’t surprise me that these two are just as gorgeous as seonghwa and yunho but still i am awestruck by their features. the two leave the room, both brushing past us quickly and not sparing a last glance as they continue down the long hall.

seonghwa very quickly walks into the study and pushes the door closed with his foot. did i hear the lock click or am i imagining things? seonghwa sets me down gently on a soft brown sofa, being conscious of my injured knee. once he sees that i’m mostly comfortable, he paces over to the large desk and rifles through the drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. i take the time to really take in the room, straining my eyes to read the spines of the books i could see from where i sit. i can recognize a plethora of books on foliage and herbs, some i know i have on my own shelves.

“those books are san’s. he takes an interest in anything to do with plants and herbs.” seonghwa’s voice from the desk startles me out of my daze as i look to him. he looks to be pretty busy shuffling through the first aid, i didn’t think he was paying me any mind. but there’s a gentle smile on his face that i know i am not the cause of. there’s a fondness in his tone and aura when he spoke of this san, that must be why he’s smiling.

“well, ’san’ and i have something in common then.” i respond, a smile that mirrors his playing on my lips.

“is that what you were in the forest for?” seonghwa inquires as he rounds the desk with what looks to be an ice pack, black gloves, and bandages in hand.

i nod. “yes, i was looking for something to finish off this ointment i'm making. i was supposed to have it by tomorrow to take into town but… i don't think that's going to happen.” i say the last statement with a sigh as i look down at my hands fiddling in my lap.

seonghwa hums as he comes to stand next to me on the sofa and i take note of how tall he is now that he’s not holding me. he kneels down to be directly in front of my knee, pulling the gloves over his nimble fingers. “well, i truly do not think it’d be safe for you to try and find your way back to your home now that night has fallen. even if one of us went with you, the forest is… different at night. but san may be able to help you find that plant in the morning, if that's something you'd appreciate. i don't assume this area of the forest is familiar to you?” as he speaks, he starts to move my skirts up and out of his way but my socks are still an issue.

i answer him as i lean down to help him remove my boots and socks. “no… no i’m not familiar with this area at all. and i actually have no idea how i found myself over here… i wasn't meant to go too far but then it started to get dark and i lost my way… a few times.” i keep my gaze off him as embarrassment floods my mind. once my clothing is out of the way, we're both able to actually see the injury and i hear seonghwa take a sharp inhale next to me. that doesn't look pretty at all. my knee is inflamed and swollen with a nasty looking bruise right underneath and small cuts all over. i reach out to gingerly press two fingers to it and immediately retract my hand with a hiss.

“how bad is your pain?” i look to seonghwa to see him studying the injury with furrowed brows. his gloved hands are cold as he shifts my leg back and forth, probably trying to gauge my mobility. but even that slight movement causes pain to shoot through my leg and i wince, reflexively trying to move out his gentle grasp. he murmurs an apology as he looks up at me through his lashes. i’m momentarily distracted by his gaze but quickly shake myself out of it.

“it's… pretty bad. there's a dull throb even when i don't move it.” i answer his earlier question and try my hardest to keep still as he grabs a wipe from his lap to start cleaning the cuts. seonghwa nods but otherwise stays quiet as he starts the process of fixing the injury. we sit in silence as he cleans, bandages, and wraps my knee. i find it very difficult to keep my eyes off his face as his hands move nimbly on my skin. his beauty is incomparable, strong brows furrowed with concentration, sharp eyes with pretty lips. as if he can feel my stare, his eyes flick up to mine. i look away quickly pretending to stare at the shelf behind his head. i really hope he can’t hear the way my heartbeat sped up with that nanosecond of eye contact because it feels as if the organ might jump out of my chest. a man i just met should not have this effect on me. get a hold of yourself!

seonghwa continues his work on my knee, seemingly completely unaware of my inner turmoil. between the calming silence and seonghwa’s gentle touches against my leg, i find myself relaxing further and further into my seat. just as my eyes start to feel heavy, a soft knock sounds on the wooden doors. both our heads look to the doors before i hear seonghwa sigh and mumble something along the lines of “excuse me” under his breath. he stands up and brushes the wrinkles out of his pants, making his way to the door. the beautiful, billowy sleeves of his white blouse sway with his arms as they swing at his sides and i watch him walk as if in a trance. i snap myself out of it and instead turn my gaze to inspect my knee. now that it’s cleaned and bandaged it doesn’t look as gruesome. the cool ice pack is relieving the pain and throbbing but the swelling won’t be down for a while. i’ll have to wait for seonghwa to make a decision on whether i’ll require more care or not but it doesn’t feel like anything more than a sprain. i test it out by twisting my leg and of course, feel pain shoot up my leg but surprisingly not as bad as before. my inspection is interrupted when seonghwa opens the door and a voice i recognize speaks up.

“i apologize for disturbing you but hongjoong needs you. right now.” i hear seonghwa make a disapproving sound and i turn to look at the two. yunho’s already looking at me and seonghwa seems to be hesitant to leave.

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, you can leave me if you need to attend to other things. can’t do much like this anyway.” i gesture to my leg and try to smile reassuringly. truthfully, the thought of being left alone in this beautiful strange home is making me nervous but i don’t need either of them to know that. both their brows furrow as they listen to me, neither of them really trusting my words. finally, seonghwa nods with a resigned sigh.

“i would not advise putting pressure on it but you should be alright to walk soon. allow the swelling some time to alleviate and do be careful.” he instructs and turns with a bow. yunho comes into the study and closes the door behind him. he takes long strides to the sofa opposite of mine and takes his seat. just like with seonghwa, i become entranced with the way he moves so gracefully despite his long limbs and stature.

“if you don’t mind me asking, how’d you do that?” yunho inquires curiously. his eyes are on my bandaged knee and he flicks them to my face for a second before looking back.

mildly embarrassed, i laugh before explaining how i’d gotten here. i choose to leave out the part where seonghwa absolutely terrified me and pretend that me falling was all my own doing. i brush my hair back out of my face as i finish my spiel and it dawns on me that i probably look an absolute mess. i suppress the urge to cringe into myself, suddenly self-conscious.

if yunho notices my sudden shift in attitude, he doesn’t mention it. instead he hums and nods as he looks back to me. “how does it feel? i know seonghwa’s pretty skilled with things like that. are you in any pain?” he asks and something about his voice puts my nerves at ease. i try not to think any longer about how the man sitting in front of me makes me feel and focus on answering his questions.

i shrug and shift my knee back and forth but notice the pain has subsided significantly. huh… that’s strange. “well… it doesn’t really seem to hurt at all anymore. doing this before hurt quite a bit but now i feel… fine.” i say, confusion lacing my words. i bend my knee experimentally and although it feels sore, the pain is barely noticeable. my brows furrow and i put my leg back down. yunho seems to understand my confusion and chuckles.

“seonghwa’s got a way with wounds. we’ve all experienced it, trust me. you’ll be back to normal quite fast.” he stands and walks over to the desk, putting away the supplies seonghwa left out by accident. as he busies himself with that, i feel my attention shift back to the row of herbal books. one book in particular standing out to me. the spine is dark green with big, gold letters in a beautiful font and on the base, a golden honey cup mushroom.

“would you like to read it?” i hear yunho’s voice from behind me and i jump, obviously too distracted to have noticed him move from the desk. he chuckles under his breath and the sound gives me butterflies. i shake away the feeling, internally reprimanding myself. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. those are sannie’s books but i’m sure he wouldn’t mind you taking a look. do you want me to get it for you?” i turn around to see him leaning back against the shelves behind the sofa i’m on. this man is sinfully beautiful.

clearing my throat, i respond. “no no, i think i can get up.” i lean down and pull my socks back on before carefully swinging my legs over to plant my feet on the marbled floors. i hear rustling behind me and see yunho making his way around the sofa. i push my hands into the cushions underneath me as i try to stand. yunho extends an arm to me a little panickedly, not trusting my balance and injured knee. but i wave my hand and get to my feet on my own. once i’m standing, i make sure to shift my weight to the non-injured leg and take a step. my face scrunches as i feel the soreness in my knee but it’s nothing i haven’t handled before.

i limp my way over to the shelf and immediately my gaze zeros in on the pretty green book. i run my index finger over the lettering that reads “Mushroom Magick” before gently pulling it off the shelf. the cover has the same phrase with many different kinds of mushrooms decorating a circle around the words. the book feels familiar even though i know i don’t own this one and i flip to a random page. the page has a plethora of notes scrawled in rushed handwriting with highlights on phrases the owner of the book deemed important. i smile to myself reading some of the notes i assume the aforementioned ‘sannie’ left. i continue to flip through and read over the random notes they left before i finally come to a page without any annotations. this is where i assume they left off but i continue to skim through the pages until a presence behind me breaks my focus. i snap my head to see yunho standing a few paces behind me with his hands behind his back. he seems startled by the way i turned but recovers quickly with a polite smile.

“i’m sorry to disturb you… but i promised seonghwa i’d make sure you were resting and i noticed your shifting. you can bring the book with you to the sofa, you probably shouldn’t be standing on your leg for so long.” yunho explains as he gestures to said sofa. in all honesty, i hadn’t even noticed my shifting so his observation is impressive… but that also means he’d been watching me pretty carefully and the thought makes me a little nervous. i have half the mind to decline his offer but a part of me feels like he’s more persistent than that. with a resigned sigh and nod, i limp back over to the sofa, mushroom book in my hand with my index finger in between the page i’m on to make sure i don’t lose it. i take my seat and he follows suit sitting, with much more grace than i had, on the sofa opposite to me. i notice his lack of entertainment and wonder for a second what he’s going to do while we sit here but decide that’s none of my concern before opening the book back up to the page i was on.

the room is silent save for the sound of our a clock ticking and the pages of the book in my hands turning. i become quickly engrossed in what i’m reading, so much so i pay no mind to the man in the room with me. though i did look up one time when he got up to go to the desk. and maybe i stared at his figure for much longer than was necessary. it’s not like he noticed, by the time he’d turned back around my nose was in my book. a few more minutes and pages later, he gets back up again. this time he goes to examine a different shelf, one i can’t decipher the contents of from where i’m sat. i watch as he paces before he sighs softly to himself. he must feel my eyes because he swivels to turn to me. i snap my head down and try to refocus on the book but i can see from my periphery, him making his way over to the other sofa. i look up again as he sits and send him a small smile which he returns. i can see he wants to say something so i wait for him to speak before turning away.

“would you… like a tour of the mansion? i can see you’re enjoying your book so i apologize but… i feel i might lose it being stuck in this room.” his smile is shy as he asks. he tries to look relaxed but the bouncing of his leg is hard to miss. i consider his offer as i stare at the ground, not really able to look any of them in the eye for very long. what i’d seen of their home was absolutely atonisihing and it’s hard for me to even imagine what the rest may look like so out of sheer curiosity (and maybe a small desire to want to be around his calming presence) i nod my agreement.

his smile widens as he stands, holding his hands behind his back. i close the book, making a mental note of the page i was on in case i come back before placing it down on the cushion beside me. i get to my feet and i see yunho’s arm come from behind his back, probably to offer me support, but then he retracts it just as quickly when he sees me walking fine on my own. i start for the door, listening as yunho falls into step behind me. once we reach the door he side steps around me and reaches for the handle, pushing the door open and letting me step out into the hallway before him. the house is quiet as i look down the long hallways, yunho closing the door behind me before coming up on my right side. he smiles down at me as i look to him for directions and standing this close i can finally see just how tall he is. he gestures down the hallway to our right and turns to start walking, me having to play catch up to keep in time with his long strides.

“hongjoong, seonghwa, and i designed this entire place ourselves. though most of the detail was seonghwa hyungs’ ideas.” he explains as we keep a leisure pace, allowing me to take in the beautiful architecture and artwork on the walls. we pass by many doors, yunho telling me what lies behind each one as we pass. another smaller study that only a few of them use, a few bedrooms one of which is unoccupied, a library that belongs to someone named ‘yeosang’. the heels of our boots clack against the marbled tile floors and his coat rustles as it fans out behind his long legs in the same way my skirts rustle as i walk. but a beautiful painting stops me in my tracks and yunho slows to a stop alongside me. i reach my hand out to brush over the canvas with barely my fingertips, mouth agape in awe. in the painting a beautiful woman with wings much like the ones on the statue in the foyer sits in the middle of a meadow, in one hand a large pomegranate and the other a skull of an animal. her lips are stained red with the juices of the pomegranate but the way she’s depicted licking it off her teeth as the juice drips off her tongue makes it look like blood. she’s completely nude, skin glowing from the light of the pale moon in the dark, starry sky over her head. a crow sits perched near her feet, picking at the seeds she took out the pomegranate and a cat is curled by her side, sleeping peacefully. her long dark hair flows beautifully down to her thighs, nearly brushing over the sleeping kittens ears.

it’s completely unlike any painting i’ve seen, the artist putting such detail into the setting and atmosphere of the scene depicted. there’s something serene and intimate about the mood, like your’e peeking in on a moment between this woman and her companions. i turn to look at yunho to see him admiring the painting much like i was just doing. there’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes trace over it before looking over to me. it’s then that the feeling one of the residents of this home must have painted this themselves presents itself in my thoughts.

“it took yeosang years to perfect this masterpiece but it’s one of his most prized pieces of work.” yunho confirms my previous suspicions as he brings up this ‘yeosang’ once again. looking back to the painting i can offer no other response but open-mouted awe. yunho chuckles at my expression. “yeosangie would be very flattered by your clear admiration. would you like to see more of his art or the rest of this wing?” he leaves the choice up to me as if it’s an easy decision. i look at him and then down the hall, lips parting to answer but the sound of a door opening pulls both of our attention. yunho turns to face down the hallway ahead of us as a figure steps out the opened door into the hallway with us. from the way he’s positioned, the other person can probably barely see me behind yunho’s giant figure. i try to step to the side to see down the hall but yunho’s arm closest to me moves up very subtly, a silent way of telling me to stay put.

“yunho? who were you talking to?” a clear, slightly husky voice asks. it sounds like whoever it was has just woken up.

“ah… no on-” yunho starts to deny my presence for reasons i don’t understand. a pit forms in my gut as anxiety creeps up my spine. why wouldn’t this other man be able to know i was here? i shift my weight to my non-injured leg, biting at my bottom lip nervously. the movement was a mistake because my skirts shift and ripple behind yunho’s legs. the other man’s eye immediately zone in on the movement and i freeze. i see yunho’s shoulders tense as the other man’s gaze slowly trails back up to look his housemate in the eye. then yunho releases a puff of air letting his shoulders drop and he steps to the side ever so slightly. “seonghwa brought her here. she got lost in the forest and hurt herself. i was just showing her around.” yunho explains, sounding defeated. the other man looks me over with his head tilted and cat-like eyes narrowed in suspicion. he’s not as tall as yunho but is broader than him, wide shoulders drawing my attention even from this distance. his jet black hair is ruffled from having just been asleep. he’s clad in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, the most casual dress of any the men i’ve seen thus far. our gazes lock and he seems to be trying to read me as he stares, eyes flitting around my face.

yunho breaks the tense silence by clearing his throat. “y/n, this is san. i think i mentioned him to you earlier in the study. san, this is y/n.” all san does in response is hum, looking away from me back to yunho.

“does hongjoong know you’re showing her around?” san inquires, brow raised. yunho looks away, scratching the back of neck nervously. ah, that must’ve been why he didn’t want san to see me. but who was this ‘hongjoong’? every time he’s been mentioned, they speak of him in this high regard. “yunho… do you even know how long seonghwa plans on keeping her here? should she really be seeing… everyone?” as he asks the last question, san’s gaze turns to me again. there isn’t as much hardness in his gaze, just apprehension. like he doesn’t trust me. i suppose that would make sense, i am a random stranger in his home. yunho opens his mouth to speak but i cut in before he can get whatever he was going to say out.

“i don’t plan on being here much longer, i assure you. i appreciate all of seonghwa’s kindness but i have things to attend to back at my own home. he was just offering me shelter for the night since it’s dark and i lost my way. in the morning, i’ll be going back to my cottage.” i answer san’s inquiries with a polite smile. both men turn to me as i speak and san’s eyebrow quirks up again.

“uh, weren’t you searching for something? san may be able to help you find it!” yunho says, head turning back to the other man who gives him an incredulous look.

san sighs as he looks back to me, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “what is it you were looking for?” he asks in a bored tone that offends me ever so slightly. what is his issue?

“you don’t have to help me, i’m perfectly capable of finding it on my own.” i answer with indignation, matching his stance. san’s bored expression breaks as he tries to fight off a smirk.

“if that were the case, would you have gotten yourself lost?” he asks with an irritating self-satified smirk on his lips. my arms drop from my chest as my brows furrow but san pays me no more mind, turning back to his bedroom door. “if you’d like my help, yunho or seonghwa can bring you to me tomorrow morning.” and with that he walks into his room and shuts the door behind himself. yunho and i are left in the silent hallway as irritation stirs in my gut.

“do you… still want to see the rest?” yunho asks softly as he looks at me.

i turn to him and smile. “yes, you were saying something about seeing more of the art?”

♰ note :: cliffhanger tehe >:) and we met quite a few members... pls pls leave feedback i want to hear you thoughts!! if you enjoyed consider rbing.

469 notes · View notes