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the-californicationist · 1 month

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The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever.

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age.

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade.

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice.

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones.

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?”

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain.

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin.

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high,

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively.

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing.

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot.

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size.

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself.

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood.

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal.

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated,

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus.

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony.

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help.

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes.

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you.

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility.

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure.

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely.

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session,

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.”

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves.

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life.

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure.

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said.

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.”

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.”

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs.

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale,

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication.

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm,

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real.

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then.

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own.

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again.

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done.

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss.

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved.

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts.

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan.

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you,

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival.

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts.

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame.

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time.

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars.

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip.

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots.

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry.

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual.

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself.

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement.

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated.

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick.

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience.

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused.

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious.

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance.

Another loud slam. Another rejection.

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned.

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again.

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation.

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it.

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well.

Alpha Price had imprinted for you.

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time.

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people.

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed.

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform.

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you.

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.”

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black.

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch.

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting.

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent.

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face.

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle.

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice.

He chuckled a bit, sighing,

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly,

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you.

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key.

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will.

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control,

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back,

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command.

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there.

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water.

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him,

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him,

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million.

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you.

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs.

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake.

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center.

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate.

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done.

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform.

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed.

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony.

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply.

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant.

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened,

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them,

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave.

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar.

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land.

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to.

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him.

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil.

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms,

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you.

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega.

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done.

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived.

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power.

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence.

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard.

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what.

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance.

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings.

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly.

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time.

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure.

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock.

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power.

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you.

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet.

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat.

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response.

No deal.

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor.

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in.

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot.

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed.

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need.

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped.

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body.

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness.

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest.

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him.

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars.

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core.

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. .

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief,

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream.

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland.

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core.

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste.

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see.

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you.

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight.

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths.

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais.

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever.

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest.

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again.

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love.

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #call of duty #captain price #captain price x you #john price x female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #captain price x reader #alpha john price x omega reader #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #ritual #public exhibition

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k0yaz · 2 months

Text

shackled.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, arranged marriage, arle referred to as your husband, use of her real name, idk if this is angst so I’ll tag it as angst and fluff, wlw, I actually fucking hate arranged marriages irl but it’s interesting to write about, fun when it’s the character you like and not a 10 year old girl getting married to an ugly ass 60 year old man who gets no bitches, uhm anyway not proofread.

A/N: nobody gonna request arrange marriage? I’ll do it myself with my husband/husbwife arlecchino 🕯️

Uneven beats of your heart pulsed in your eardrums continuously as you stared out the open window, a cool breeze caressing your downcast face gently. Your pupils flickered down to your extended left hand, dilating smaller out of disdain upon catching sight of the cold silver ring encircling your ring finger.

You dreaded it. This arranged marriage parted an endless uncomfortable pit in your stomach, which you had felt would remain as long as you were trapped in a bind you didn’t want. Gazing down at ring once more, you couldn’t help but find it difficult to swallow the choked feeling in your throat whenever you laid eyes upon the ruby, nausea enveloping every possible sense you had in the moment. Rather than a promise ring that bound you to someone you loved, the one on your finger felt like a tiny silver collar clamped around your flesh. An irking feeling that forced you to love a stranger.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Arlecchino. The woman had actively attempted to respect your personal space, being able to tell how much you loathed the inescapable grasp of your arranged marriage. You could tell that she opposed even the thought of this, especially from the way her eyes would stare down at her own ring with an empty and unfeeling expression.

Sighing deeply, you reached an arm up to grasp the satin curtains, before tugging your arms inward in a single dynamic motion. As you turned your back to walk away from the now closed up windows, you felt a gust of light air brush against your nape, causing you to spin around and lower your eyes from slight annoyance. Right. You forgot to shut the windows first. You just went over to shut the windows, still harboring a hint of irritation. Ever since that marriage, you always tended to feel unwilling to do anything anymore. Frequently always irritated by the smallest of actions as you’d always think to yourself—what’s the point?

Upon closing up the windows completely, you fell back onto the intricately decorated sofa set situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your mind still a cluttered mess from all your thoughts being scrambled rather than neatly arranged in an array. You began to ponder once more. How things could’ve been different. Ran away, or disobeyed your parents to a full extent.

There wasn’t anything you could do. You didn’t see a point in even trying to keep a happy front anymore. All of your aspirations that you had, every little dream, was now out of your reach as you were shackled into this marriage. The warm air of the heater hit your skin as you rested your cheek into your palm. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you mused at the possible scenarios that could’ve happened if you were free. Perhaps if you were wallowing in your delusion, you could smile atleast once.

“I’m home.”

You blinked from sudden surprise, jolting as the bedroom door creaked open—albeit a bit roughly. Arlecchino’s emotionless voice rang in your ears, had she called out upon entering before? She often enters the living room first, and doesn’t enter the bedroom until nightfall. Then again, you tend to reside in the living room to await your husband’s return, so maybe she simply wondered where you were.

Stray specks of blood decorated her cheek, scattering small splatters ranging in a variety of spots across her face. Right. She was the fourth harbinger after all. You folded your arms as Arlecchino towered over you, still standing upright while her x-marked eyes pierced into you. Shifting uncomfortably, you decided to clear your throat, gesturing towards your own cheek in an attempt to break the thick fog of tension between you two from the lack of words.

“You got some-“

“I’m aware.” Arlecchino replied coldly, making you bite back a scoff at the harbinger’s dismissive response. Well, excuse you for trying to make this shitty marriage more bearable.

Still, it didn’t seem intentionally rude although it did come off that way. You only looked away from her, eyes fixating on a random painting hung over the flower pot on one of the shelves. Hunching your shoulders, you bit down on your quivering lip subtly so that Arlecchino wouldn’t notice. Although you were the one that distanced yourself from her. Although you were the one who only focused on despising this marriage, rather than even trying to get closer to Arlecchino in the slightest for atleast a small hint of peace. It still hurt seeing your husband brush you off like this.

Her seemingly exhausted expression remained glued to her face as she dragged the folded white washcloth along her cheek, eyes staring at the ground aimlessly as she continued to clean her stained face. The weight of all of this had clearly taken a toll on her as well, yet she had to keep a sturdy front for the sake of her profession as a Fatui harbinger. Yet her actions regarding you had always been courteous and respectful. Consistently respecting your boundaries and trying her best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable must have taken a toll on her, especially knowing full well that your resentment for this marriage could have set you off at any given moment.

A sudden wave of sympathy flooded you upon seeing Arlecchino’s tired eyes, dark linings shaded below her eyes as well. Just maybe, you could try to repay her for having your comfort in mind throughout the course of this resented relationship. This relationship wasn’t her fault, and you knew that. She hated this just as much as you did.

Deciding to swallow your pride, you rose to your feet, standing before her as you awkwardly shifted for a couple moments while remaining standing there. Arlecchino paused her movements, raising an eyebrow at your sudden motion of getting up off the couch. She simply stared at you with a puzzled gaze, trying to figure out your sudden want to interact with her.

Hesitantly, you reached out a shaky hand, lining it up with her cheek and gesturing her to lean in. Arlecchino on the other hand, wasn’t expecting you to switch up suddenly like this, only keeping her skeptical gaze locked onto your own eyes. It felt like a trap to lean in to someone who was so hesitant to even look at her. No matter how badly she wanted to lean into the soft skin of your palm, her hesitance seemed to uphold her rationality despite her exhaustion.

“Arle…it’s okay, you can lean in…”

She needn’t be told twice as you felt her hand grab ahold of your wrist to keep it in place, her head nearly collapsing against your hand. Deep breaths echoed within the vicinity, her breaths cancelling every other noise around you two as Arlecchino slowly composed herself from your touch. She pulled back after a couple moments, her cold front faltering for a moment with a flash of tenderness, before immediately snapping back to her calm demeanor.

However, you didn’t stop there. You don’t know what flipped that switch in you, but you just felt the urge to grow closer to Arlecchino. Perhaps it was the realization that you weren’t alone in the hellhole of a marriage, and that you two may be suffering together. Knowing she hated this as much as you was comforting, it remedied your internal turmoil slightly, and made you detest the idea of anyone else going through what you were. Or maybe, it was the fact that Arlecchino didn’t push anything in this marriage, and respected you, preventing your mental state from growing worse. It could even be both.

Regardless, you wanted to atleast provide a sort of ease to her. Cupping her cheek once more, you pulled the washcloth from her hand, rubbing it against her cheek in circular motions as stains of blood began to soak up onto the cloth and coloring it red. Arlecchino didn’t seem to protest your attempt at soothing her, face pressing further into your shaky palm as it seemed to be working. The quiet buzz of the heater reverberating through the silence, and the general tidy atmosphere of the neatly arranged bed made everything feel so right. As if this marriage wasn’t so awful after all.

Arlecchino exhaled a swift sigh as you finished washing up her face, remaining silent. The two of you awkwardly awaited for the other to speak up, the crickets outside chirping louder than the two of you by this point. You finally decided to say something, face tinged a light pink from moderate embarrassment

“You didn’t want this either did you?”

Arlecchino shook her head in affirmation, her eyes still avoiding yours—as if she was afraid that your vulnerability would shift over to her, and shatter her calm self at this moment.

“I’m well aware of this situation. Your parents are already closely associated with the Fatui, and want wanted you to marry a harbinger in order to elevate their own status for the sake of the family.” She replied. A sour taste seeped onto your tongue at the mention of the reason why you were forced into this in the first place, unpleasant memories beginning to race through your mind for a few moments.

“Why did you accept the offer then? You could’ve easily declined if you didn’t want to be in this marriage either. There’s multiple other harbingers my parents would’ve auctioned me off to.” You said bitterly, strangely hating the idea of getting married to anyone who wasn’t Arlecchino at this point. Arlecchino merely shrugged in response, raising her shoulders to remove the white fur coat cloaking her and draping it neatly over the coat hanger drilled into the wall.

“I’m not sure.” She paused, taking some time to think over another answer to compensate for her vague response. “I believe I just felt it was necessary in that moment.”

You sighed back collapsing onto the mattress. Suddenly, you felt an arm circle your waist, pulling you closer as you felt Arlecchino push her torso flush against your back. Your face burned from the sudden intimate action, the warmth of her body only serving to make you lean into her further as her sharp nails raked along your stomach lightly. Arlecchino whispered out against you, visibly less uptight than when she came in. She was a bit more relaxed and clingy with you simply with a mere touch against her cheek, it was sweet honestly.

“I still care about you, (Name).” She muttered against your neck, voice muffled as she was evidently quite tired. Pale rays of the moonlight illuminated Arlecchino’s now eased expression, watching her eyes lowered shut as her exhaustion began to catch up with her. Surprisingly, you found yourself relishing in the comfort of her arms as you flipped onto your side facing her to examine her rested features.

“…I’m starting to care about you too, Peruere.”

Your hand drew down along her arm, all the way from the skin of her shoulder down to the black faded enveloping her arms from her curse. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. You found solace in the fact that you could make the best out of this marriage with a woman who kept you in mind and tried her best to care about your interests.

Maybe, you could warm up to her.

A/N: im screaming idk if this turned out good guys pls asaaawaabshshs but yayyyyy arlecchino MY CONTENT WARNINGS WERE ASS ON THIS ONE WHY ARE THEY SO BORING AND SAD ‼️

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

Text

Sick III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda gets sick

"Momma," You say, hopping down the last step," Morsa's throwing up in the bathroom again."

Pernille looks up from the stove and sighs. "I thought I told you that you weren't meant to go looking for Morsa?"

You shrug. "I didn't go looking for her."

Pernille doesn't believe you in the slightest.

Magda had come down with some sickness, likely the flu, a few days ago. It had started off as just an inconvenience, a stuffy nose and a few headaches. Then came the throwing up and Magda being forced to lean over the toilet bowl for a few hours in the night when she was meant to be sleeping.

Pernille knew it was wishful thinking to hope that the sickness remained with Magda only but you were a bit of a nightmare when it came to getting sick so she wanted to limit the chance of you catching it as much as possible.

If only you understood that because since Magda's sudden illness, you seem to have gotten incredibly clingy towards her like you don't want to stray out of her sight for whatever reason.

Pernille purses her lips as she looks at you, stirring the soup in the pot as she ponders what to do next.

"Why don't you have tv time?" She asks, finally settling on something to keep you occupied.

You don't get a lot of tv time, at least not where you're in control of the tv. You've never really craved it when you could play with girl-swan and girl-moose or kick a football around the garden.

But still, you're a little kid and kids love tv.

"I think Scooby Doo is on."

You think for a moment before your face twists into something akin to annoyance. "I don't like German Scooby Doo," You say," Can I watch Ben 10 instead?"

"Yeah, we can do that."

Pernille sets you up with an episode of Ben 10 in German and you settle on the sofa to watch it. With you now occupied, she sneaks up with a bowl of chicken soup just as Magda makes her way back to bed.

"You look...better."

"Don't lie." It's nice to see that Magda's humour is still there. "Is this for me?"

"Chicken soup." Pernille hands the bowl over. "You should probably wait for it to start cooling down."

"I'll be fine," Magda says," It's not like I can taste it so the heat might be the only enjoyable thing about it."

"How are you feeling? Do you need more medicine?"

"Can't take any yet. Hasn't been four hours but I'll be fine. I spoke to Linda. She said the throwing up only lasts a day. I'll be alright by tomorrow."

"Still," Pernille says," Eat your soup and drink lots of water. We're meant to be setting a good example to Princesse."

The corners of Magda's mouth quirks up a little. "Where is she? You know, I'd feel a lot better if she's here?"

Pernille rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Oh, I see. When I'm sick, I can't see her so she doesn't get infected but when you're sick, you can see her all you want? How is that fair?"

Her tone is teasing and Magda flashes a wolfish grin.

"Swedes don't infect Swedes. It's a rule."

"Well, it's great that she's Danish too, huh? No Princesse time for you until-"

"Hey, Princesse. What have you got there?"

Pernille whips her head around to see you standing by the door, clutching the little first aid kit that's usually hidden in the bathroom cabinet.

"I thought you were watching Ben 10?" She says as you come in, clambering up onto the bed and sitting on Magda's outstretched legs.

"Got bored," You reply, forcing the zip open and rummaging through it," I'm gonna make Morsa better though."

"She's sick, Princesse," Pernille says," Are you sure? You can get sick too."

You give Pernille the biggest judgemental look you can manage. "I know, Momma. I'm not silly. But I'm still going to make Morsa better."

In all honesty, Pernille is a little intrigued about how you're going to make Magda feel better with the first aid kit so she doesn't push anymore for you to leave the room.

"Does your head hurt?"

"Yes."

You bring out one of the bandages, winding it around Magda's head and tucking the end into itself.

"There you go!" You say," Now your head won't hurt. Does your throat hurt too?"

Magda nods.

You whip out one of the big plasters that's meant for big cuts and grazes on the knee and place it over Magda's mouth, making sure it's completely secure.

"You need to stop talking," You tell her sternly," Because that makes your throat hurt." You turn to Pernille. "Momma, I fixed her!"

Pernille has to force down her laughter at the bewildered expression on Magda's face.

"I can see that," Pernille says," We should leave Morsa alone now so she can recover. You did a good job."

You nod. "I know." You blow Magda a kiss. "I can't kiss you because then I'll get sick," You tell her," So have air kisses!"

You blow more kisses at Magda and shuffle off the bed, taking Pernille's hand.

"Can we finish watching Ben 10, Momma? It's a really good episode!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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cherryobx · 2 months

Text

pretty girl

request: here

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: Steve has been begging to take you on a date for weeks but you've said no every time because you think you're not pretty enough for him

warnings: reader is pictured as fem and has hair that can be pushed behind the ear, being insecure about acne, steve is a simp, they're coworkers, reader wears jewelry

wc: 1.1k

“Why won’t you go out with me?” Steve asks, leaning against the driver side of your car so you can’t get in the car without him moving. You were both on closing shift tonight so you walked to the parking lot together.

“I already told you, I just don’t want to.” It’s a lie. A big fucking lie. In fact, it’s your dream to go out on a date with Steve. He’s handsome, sweet and has always been very nice to you but it’s your own insecurities holding you back.

Ever since puberty hit, you’ve been struggling with acne. You’ve never once thought that other people with acne were any less beautiful but you just couldn’t get yourself to like how it looked on you, how the bumps and scars littered your face.

“That’s bullshit. I know you like me. I just don’t understand why you won’t go out with me,” he ponders.

“My reasoning should be enough for you to back off.” You cross your arms on your chest, using them as some sort of barrier between you and him, hiding yourself.

“Have I done something to you for you to hate me?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then go out with me.”

“No,” you stand on your ground. “Can you please stop blocking my car so I can go home now?”

“No.” And he stands on his. He’s not giving up and you can’t help but lowkey admire his ambition.

“No?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“Give me a real reason. Tell me honestly why you don’t want to go out with me,” he demands and you sigh at that. You know he won’t leave you alone unless you actually tell him.

Steve prides himself in knowing you well enough to know when you’re lying. Couple months into working at the Family Video together he managed to spot the tells of you lying. He saw it every day first hand. They were always little white lies. Like when someone asked about a movie they wanted to rent out but you told them that it wasn’t available at the moment. The truth was that it was, he checked, but you wanted to take it home yourself. But he noticed how you pushed hair behind your ear and then pulled it back out from behind it many times. He noticed how you fidgeted with your rings and bracelets or touched the necklace you never took off. He noticed.

You take a quick glance around to make sure that there are no people near enough to hear you confess your biggest insecurity to your coworker. Not that anyone would really care. But you do. It’s something you don’t really voice out loud and write in private into your diary at night when everyone is sleeping.

“Are you sure you want to go out with me?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t. What is this about?” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks confused.

“Don’t you find me, I don’t know, ugly?” Your voice is now quieter, vulnerable.

He’s taken aback. His words are almost choked up. “Ugly? No, I find you really pretty actually. Why would I think that?”

“You’re just saying that. You can be honest with me, Steve. My acne. Is it not making me unattractive or something?”

He pushes himself off your car and stands up straight. “I am being honest. I think you’re the most gorgeous girl in Hawkins.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not! Your acne does not make you any less beautiful to me.” He takes a step closer into your space, his eyes remaining on yours. It’s a little thing but you notice it. Most people’s attention is on the skin of your face but Steve is staring straight into your eyes, almost like he’s seeing into your soul. It makes you feel vulnerable.

Your heartbeat speeds up and you can feel your heart thumping loudly in your chest at his closeness. His hand comes up to your face and he pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to take you out because I like you. I like spending time with you. I like how you make me laugh. I like how you fix my hair when you notice it’s messed up. I like how you lie to customers from time to time.” That pulls a smile from you. “ I like how you look at me. Because I look at you the same way.”

“Are you serious?”

“As death.” He places his hand over his heart.

“I don't feel pretty enough for you, Steve. There are so many girls who’d do anything to be with you. You should be with someone who looks and feels as pretty as you are.”

“You think I’m pretty?” There’s a cocky smirk on his face.

“Was that all you heard?” You scrunch your face.

“No. I’m sorry. I was joking,” he chuckles nervously. “If you don’t feel ‘pretty enough’ for me,” he uses air quotes, “I want to help you feel that you are. I want you to show you how beautiful I think you are. I want to take you out and show you off because you deserve it. You deserve to be treated like a princess because that’s who you are.”

You almost tear up at his words. He seems to genuinely mean what he says and it’s quite literally pulling on your heartstrings. “Really?”

“Really. Let me take you out, please.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but it’s enough for him to hear. The smile on his face is huge as he wraps his arms around you tightly, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You laugh and hold onto him tightly.

“Yes! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

When he finally places you back on the ground, he keeps his arms around you, no space between you two as your bodies are pressed together.

His eyes dart to your lips. “Can I kiss you or is that like reserved for the first date?”

It pulls another smile from you. “It is, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

It’s all you need to say before he kisses you, a hand coming to rest on the side of your neck, fingers in your hair. It’s gentle and sweet but oh so perfect.

“How about tomorrow night? We’re both off.”

“How do you know my work schedule?” You narrow your eyes at him.

He shrugs, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“So?”

“Tomorrow works.”

He presses a small peck to your lips before pulling away and backing towards his own car. “I’ll pick you up at 7 then.”

“Sure.”

“See you tomorrow, pretty girl.” His nickname for you causes your cheeks to heat up and you grin.

Maybe you should’ve given into him and his relentless begging sooner.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff

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r3starttt · 3 months

Note

what if Abby’s gf was like, not very smart, and Abby would like be reading a book out loud to her and she doesn’t understand like 70% of the words she’s saying and she’s just sitting there like ☹️ but she just enjoys listening to abby so she lets her keep goinggg :(

BOOKWORM! ABBY

an: this is the cutest request ever ughhhhhh she's so pretty | taglist

You had spent the entire day absorbed in productivity, your mind and body tirelessly engaged in tasks, and visibly worn out. the strain evident in your fatigued and tired, red eyes, a reflection of the excessive hours of screen time and minimal sleep.

The house glowed warmly, bathed in hues of orange and yellowish light that softened every corner you passed through. Each step on the wooden floor echoed faintly, the sound mingling with the comforting ambiance.

"Abby?" you called out softly as you entered the kitchen, receiving a muffled "here" from the living room.

Hurrying over, you found Abby seated cross-legged on the well-worn couch, nestled comfortably under a thin blanket. Her glasses perched on her nose, the light reflecting on them covering her eyes very slightly as she glanced up at you with a sheepish smile.

First thing you noticed once you stepped closer was a novel in hand with its pages yellowed with age.

She adjusted the blanket, making room for you beside her. Nestling close, your back rested against her stomach while her hands pulled the blanket around both of you.

Abby planted a gentle kiss on your head near your forehead, and the room settled into a quiet peace, broken only by the rhythmic turning of pages and the soothing cadence of Abby's voice "...and he, in a state of somnolent contemplation, pondered the ephemeral nature of existence..." Her voice flowed smoothly, entrancing despite your struggle to comprehend.

You snuggled closer, finding solace in Abby's voice as she continued, "...before him lay such an ethereal landscape, undulating hills and verdant foliage stretching infinitely under the cerulean sky." you closed your eyes momentarily, allowing Abby's voice to wash over you, cherishing the moment.

You listened intently, occasionally furrowing your brow at unfamiliar words like "sepulchral," "tumultuous," and "effulgent". Abby, however, read with unwavering confidence, pronouncing each word accurately without pause or hesitation.

"What do you think that means?" you whispered, as Abby's finger hovered over the corner of the current page, preparing to turn to the next.

She hummed a few seconds, contemplating how to explain it. She understood it well herself, but she knew it might be challenging for you.

"Well," Abby began softly, "when it says 'in a state of somnolent contemplation,' it means the character was deep in thought, almost like they were half-asleep or... lost in their thoughts. And 'pondered the ephemeral nature of existence' means they were thinking about how life is temporary, like how things don't last forever."

She moved to the next page, but no words came out. A thought crossed her mind. She knew you well enough to sense when you weren't fully grasping something, even if you didn't explicitly admit it. So, she decided to summarize everything she'd read on herself and to you so far.

Feeling more at ease, you settled back into Abby's embrace, ready to continue listening to her soothing voice weave through every complex paragraph from the novel.

The room remained steeped in a peaceful silence, the serene warmth enveloping you both. Abby's voice, smooth and resonant, filled the space as she continued to read.

You listened intently, absorbing the richness of the language. Though some of the words made you innerly pause to reflect. "Then again, his existential quandary was exacerbated by the labyrinthine corridors of his subconscious..." They were beautiful words, but their meanings confused you.

Abby, however, read accurately without much pause or hesitation.

"You know," she said, setting the book aside for a moment, "you don't have to understand every word. I just love sharing this time with you."

A smile spread across your face, and you gently took one of her hands, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Yeah, I know. I love it too," you nodded, meeting her gaze before returning your attention to the book. "Plus, it's hot to see how smart you are."

Abby chuckled softly, a hint of playful disbelief in her voice. "Yeah?"

Your eyelids grew heavy, and Abby's hands grew numb from holding the book. You drifted off to sleep first, and Abby followed shortly after, pressing a gentle kiss on your scalp before finally closing her eyes.

#( 𓍼𓈀A𝕽𝐂𝐇𝖎V𝕰 ⨟ 𓍯 abby )#( 𝕽EQ'S﹕⠀ ❪ Abby ❫#( !|⠀ 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒﹕ ⠀ ❪ requests ❫ ⠀#abby x reader fluff #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #abby x reader #abby x y/n #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fluff

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mrs-weasley-reid · 4 months

Text

TEN'S A GOOD NUMBER

Aaron Hotchner x psychiatrist!reader

Sypnosis: After Aaron's traumatizing encounter with Peter Lewis, he's sent to you, but who knew a profiler is the worst patient you'll ever have? Warning: enemies to lovers— ish(?) angst. a dash of fluff. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. went ballistic— it's lengthy, so pace yourself. A/N: loosely follows Mr. Scratch timeline for three seasons.

Monday, May 4, 8:34 AM

Aaron Hotchner sits across from you.

He studies you in every detail like he's about to take an exam, and you're the topic.

The weight of your scribbles—light, almost featherlike. Ink leaves a soft trail of words, a map of your thoughts, your perception of him.

The speed of your hand. Swift and elegant. Each movement portrays a scene in a movie. As if they're telling a quiet story, your story he is yet to unravel.

The way you deprive him of eye contact.

What are you hiding?

Why can't you look him in the eye?

The occasional nod to remind him that you're listening—not like anything's coming out from his end.

In conclusion, just about everything you do, really.

To Aaron, you're a cheat sheet. His way back to the field, to work—the part of his life that cannot be halted despite the need for a break.

"Your hand is heavier," Aaron vaguely goads.

You silently stare at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts to spill out of his mouth.

"Usually, you write like you're afraid to puncture the paper, but just right now, your strikes are deeper. Your grip on your pen is also tighter. Am I annoying you?"

Creative.

You think to yourself as he rakes his eyes down the canvas of your face, blank and land of nothing but mirroring eyes.

Although you prefer Aaron's comment about your new lipstick and how it makes your skin glow—something about your prospect of finding a lover—fifteen minutes into your session. You didn't peg him as a man who knows his lipstick shades, but you stand corrected as he says coral with the utmost confidence for a man who wears his tie like a choker.

Aaron does it all the time. Every five minutes, he says one thing he's noticed about you and then proceeds to zip his mouth, denying you details about him like you're some hired criminal paid to torture the King's hidden fortune out of him.

And as per your entertainment, you'd do something out of your character to throw him off. If you can laugh at his gullibility, you would.

His goal is to intimidate you. Pressure you. Make you tick like every other serial killer he's encountered. Because he'd really rather be across an unsub than you. Aaron would rather be the one to ask questions and not you. In his eyes, you're no better than a small-town detective ignorantly interrogating a serial killer for a cheap gas station robbery, unaware of the skeletons in his closet.

At this moment, Aaron ponders why he agreed to meet with you once a week only to sit in almost absolute silence for about an hour, then go about his day like he hadn't just wasted minutes of his—and your—life.

It's always the same.

He arrives, flaunts his profiling skills for an accumulated total of twelve minutes, and then sits across you like a rock for the remaining forty minutes.

Aaron could've talked more, but...

He despises you.

Well, not you, per se. He despises the profession, and you just happen to choose it as your career. Nonetheless, Aaron generalizes and includes you on his list.

He finds it unnecessary and a waste of one's valuable time. Presenting a series of well-thought-out facts that he's sure Spencer Reid will enjoy. A list of reasons why talking to a psychiatrist isn't as helpful as people perceive it to be.

Aaron spits the words 'family' and 'friends' for the sake of ease and comfort as if he doesn't flinch at the words 'your father' and his face hasn't been frozen into a permanent stern. Because why talk to someone who doesn't know you when there are people who know you best? He lies through his teeth. He lies to himself.

Then, there's you.

You don't know him enough to trust his lies.

"Profiling me won't get you cleared," you state out of the blue. "This is our seventh session, and you haven't said anything." You add, finally lifting your gaze.

Aaron feels taken aback. He'd never encountered a shrink with such pride at their job—they managed to infuriate him. You infuriate him.

Now that you've granted him the wish—your eyes meeting his—it's having an effect on him instead. One that he wishes he didn't feel creep under his skin, stimulating the anxiety he's worked hard to ignore.

Still, Aaron squares his shoulder, "Nothing is wrong with me," He claims like he's not feeling the pit of his stomach churn with every word. "I'm only here for the formalities." He says.

"Ahh," You deadpan, pulling your eyes down on your clipboard. Hushed scribbles echo in the room. "Is that what you told, Dr. Briar? Or Dr. McCormick? Stiles doesn't seem to remember you at all—"

"They deemed me fit to go back to work, which you don't seem to realize." Aaron cuts you off. He doesn't notice the slight lilt of his voice. How a vein peeked on his forehead as he furrows his brows.

You have an effect on him, and Aaron's in strong denial.

"How?" You lean a bit, propping against your lap. It's the first time he's ever let himself tear out of his 'I don't break' shell. You consider it a crumb of a breakthrough and a laughable stain on your pride.

Challenging his stability—you raise your brows—makes him tick.

A faux frown draws on your face—patronizing, "Did you play a staring contest, and they lost against you?" You notice the little twitch of his eye masked as a blink.

It's a little unprofessional to provoke your patient, but you do, anyway.

This one's been particularly adamant about manipulating you into permitting him back to work like you were born yesterday. You think it hilarious how smug he's been for the past six sessions. It is as if you didn't spend almost half of your life devoted to the study of behavior. Like you hadn't figured out his plans from the get-go.

Profilers. They catch a criminal out of idea of sorts, and they think they can read everyone. It makes you want to laugh while pointing at him.

Aaron stares at you with his usual stoic expression, intimidating eyes filled with unforeseen horrors, and a straight mouth that's no use in your four walls.

He decides then that he hates you with a passion.

You feel a vibration on your wrist, "Would you look at that? Your time's up, Hotchner." You withdraw, straightening your back as you scribble yet another word Aaron is curious to know.

If he only knew you're not really writing anything new about the nature of his mental state or anything legible at all, you imagine Aaron exploding like a stack of case files blown by harsh wind.

But can he blame you when he's given you nothing to write?

"Agent Hotchner," He corrects with gritted teeth. Aaron's jaw clenches as he pierces his gaze through you. His hands intertwined with each other as if he's preventing himself from clawing at you.

You smile at him, "In this room, you're just Aaron Hotchner. A patient. A case." You know the specific word will piss him off, much less the motherly tone you paired it with.

A tactic. Unlike him, you don't need a team of agents to get a rise out of a culprit. The bare idea of you, a stranger who has access to his life on a piece of paper, is enough a stimuli to get an individual aiming at your neck.

"So, between you and me, I think you should start talking if you ever want to fly to wherever city your team wanders in. The longer you take, the less progress we make, and the less progress you make, the more possible that the bureau will assign a new psychiatrist for you." You say nonchalantly, letting his anger lead him right into your trap.

The words float like small fire specks of dust, both dazzling and dangerous to the eyes. Getting assigned to a new psychiatrist is like getting an easy case directly handed to Aaron. However, it also means he'll have to restart his psych evaluation process, and he knows firsthand how time-consuming that is.

"But, then again, who knows? Maybe the next fella will let you slide like the others did. Or you'll have to attend a series of sessions again for a lengthy psych evaluation. I've got friends too, you know? They might do me a favor and make your life more… difficult." You're bluffing. In no way, shape, or form will you jeopardize his health, even if Aaron's the most stubborn patient you have ever met in your lifetime.

His nose flares as he stands up. You know that he's done and murdered you in his mind at the way he's glaring at you with invisible daggers, but you play it well and act blameless.

Aaron marches out of your office with blazing hatred. You watch as he dulls every vicinity he's stepped into like death taking a stroll. A part of you is apologetic to his colleagues. They'll be having one hell of a day.

Retreating back inside your office, you plop on your chair behind your desk as a heavy sigh escapes your lips.

You stare at Aaron Hotchner's patient chart.

"What am I going to do with you?" You ask rhetorically in the air.

Aaron Hotchner is—for you at least—a special case. A case so intricate you had to be careful how you'd tread the water, wary of its fragile ripples.

When Aaron's chart landed on your desk, you immediately knew that he'd be toilsome. He'd make it his goal to skip the talk and jump back onto another case. The same routine he did with his old therapists and psychologist, anyone that was able to write a note and say he's fine when he's really not—never have been for a long time.

You already had enough patients on your plate, but you just couldn't say no to your favorite Italian patient; you only had one. You're the best bureau-mandated psychiatrist. His words, not yours.

Then, again, you never fail to mentally brag about how easily you read Aaron just from his chart, his image, and the first step he took to get inside your office. You read him like an open toddler's book, a piece of cake.

During the first session, you learn how badly Aaron's last case had affected him. The intonation of his voice. The way he'd shake his hand, your hand. His scorn. His fiddling fingers.

It's amazing how he's managed to divert his anger towards you instead of the man who traumatized him.

Melodic ringing snaps you out of your trance.

Aaron Hotchner might just get what he wants.

Sunday, May 10, 11:51 PM

A sniffle tickles your nose as you lay flat on the carpet floor of your apartment.

Your face stings from tear stains, and you muse how horrid you must look after your makeup runs dry. Your chunky heels were still on. In a minute or two, you expect one of your feet to cramp.

The day has been hostile towards you.

The mind, which used to be an oasis of positive thoughts, has gone draught. Sleep begins to blur your vision, and you don't hesitate to let it take over.

Until a bombarding knock jolts you up.

"I'm here! I'm here! Calm down!" You shout as you swing the door open. A familiar man stands in front of you with a dour face. Your eyebrows narrow tightly, "Mr. Hotchner—"

"What did you write?!" Aaron badgers as he storms inside your apartment like he owns the place. He pivots on the balls of his feet once he's reached your living room, glowering at you with scalding fury. "I was relieved to know that you released me from your care and looked forward to my clearance. So, tell me why a random therapist called me this morning to confirm an appointment I didn't even know I had. What did you write on my report that I have to go through this again for the second time? Is dealing with your sick games not enough? I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm straight in the head to go back in the field. I aced the psych evaluation questions. Your sessions are the problem. You're the problem." His ears, face, and neck are burning red. If he's a cartoon character, you imagine he'd be steaming with smoke by now.

Quite surprised; you're standing speechless. You're watching Aaron like he's a crazy old hag yapping about the Revolutionary War and how she hates not having the power to shoot every redcoat for the sake of rage.

You head towards your sofa, taking a seat.

Aaron examines you in confusion, furrowing his brows.

After a moment, you look at him expectantly. "Don't be shy, Mr. Hotchner. By any means—" you nod towards the armchair across you, glancing back and forth between him and the empty space "—continue with your thoughts. You already started. Might as well let it all out."

He only clenches his hands inside his pockets as he bores holes into your head.

What a sad little man.

You scoff in your mind.

You lean against the back of the sofa, tilting your head to meet dagger-like brown eyes aiming at you. "No? Suit yourself, then." You shrug, feeling the soft cushions under your palms.

"Let me remind you that I'm a federal agent, and I can make your life a living hell if I want to." He threatens, glaring at you as if the twitch of his eye is enough to make you combust into thin air.

But all you see is a child on a tantrum, deprived of getting what he wants.

"Answer my question. What. Did. You. Write?" He growls.

Silence coats the two of you.

His heavy breathing fills the deafening air. Your nonchalance fuels his hatred more than ever and the sentiment is beginning to emit from both ends. It takes a lot out of you to think of multiple ways to sprinkle some salty sense onto him without stinging his wounds.

One thing you learned well enough in time is how good Aaron is when pushing someone's buttons. A perk of his prosecutor days and seasoned by his bureau career.

He's just troubled.

He's just in denial of his own pain.

You chant the words in your head—uncertain of its purpose. Detachment ironically detaches from your senses like old velcro.

"You're not the first agent in my office, Mr. Hotchner. And frankly, you should be thanking me for taking you in. Unlike your old therapists, I actually read through your chart and took the time to understand you to the best of my ability. I cared—" Shocked as he is, your eyes subtly widen.

Before you can continue Aaron speaks over you, "I do not care about your pity. What I wanted was for you to do your damn job and clear me back to work. But that's just little to no pay for a shrink, isn't it? You need messed up people to stay messed up so they can continue knocking on your door." A clear hint of a demeaning smirk flashes across his face.

The sheer irreverence makes you dizzy. The calm snaps, banishing kindness and composure out the window. And rage knocks on your door.

"That's the problem. You don't care. You don't care about yourself." Your tone is sharp—stern.

You knew. You knew from the moment his file thudded on your wooden desk. The moment SSA David Rossi charmed his way to get your favor. You know that Aaron Hotchner does what he believes is right. Not because the unit chief title has gotten in his head. No. Not the slightest. But because he only cares about his values and people.

And you're neither.

It's not you to hold grudges. So, you had it down and set before you accepted Rossi's request. You had it tattooed in your mind that no matter how sharp-tongued and insensitive the man before you might be, he's still just a man under the weight of the world's greatest horrors.

You cannot break. You're not allowed to break.

Pieces of you shatter at the realization that some patients under your care inevitably slip away from your fingers. How your promised oath to do no harm did nothing—not enough to stop the monsters that haunt the world. Not enough to stop you, Aaron's psychiatrist, from dumping your own frustration onto him the same way he's currently doing to you.

But you're not Aaron's psychiatrist today. You're not anything today. You're not on the clock. And no one except Aaron—to your demise—will ever witness such an ugly sight. If ever he shuts up about his dilemma, that is.

"I did my job exactly as I should." You declare, licking the bottom of your lips. Damned the Hippocratic Oath. You wonder if the healing gods will forgive you.

You really shouldn't say the words that are about to leave your mouth, but you've been taking whatever hostility he's got for the last two months; the capacity has reached its limit. A little bit of harshness wouldn't hurt, would it?

"When are you going to admit that the reason you can't sleep at night is not because of all the serial killers you claim I prevent you from catching?" You finally stand. You are a few inches shorter, yet you have never felt taller than you do right now.

You grit your teeth as you move closer to Aaron, almost a breath away, tiptoeing. "When will you admit that the mighty SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief, doesn't blink, not once, because he's afraid he'd become the very thing he promised to put away." You raise your brows, challenging him.

Aaron's face morphs into bewilderment and perturbation. His brows are sewn shut. His jawline pops out as he grinds his teeth.

Resentment. Fury. Vexation. Chagrin.

All Aaron felt was anger.

Antagonized.

A walking tower of pure acrimony, finger-pointing towards the innocent.

"Don't you dare compare me to those— I'm anything but." He towers over you, losing his words through the stream of lividity flooding all over his senses.

"Do you really believe that?"

Aaron studies your face. It's different. It's raw and maimed. A squeeze of guilt whispers, but he shoves it quickly.

"What did you write?" He asks once more, earning a scoff out of you.

You step back, staring straight into his glare. Crossed arms tight against your chest. Brows rest over your deadpan eyes.

"While SSA Aaron Hotchner is proficient at his skills and rather placid in physically and mentally challenging situations, I strongly recommend further evaluation in psychotherapy as his emotional capacity is at its limits. The stress accumulated from the job itself has given him little to no time to allow himself the indulgence to properly process certain impacts of the stimulus he encounters on the job. Will update after further observation. Is what I wrote… so far."

You pause.

"Aaron Hotchner is an insufferable, pompous idiot who's afraid of nothing but himself. He is incapable of stepping off his pedestal and refuses to cooperate while complaining about the consequences he himself caused. He has been through enormous trauma. It will be torture to try and help him cope properly. I do not want him in my care as he is a danger to his own progress, and I don't want any part of it. Is what I wanted to write."

Silence.

For him to reflect.

For you to breathe.

Aaron's frozen before you. A pale statue bleached under the moon's harsh reality. Words that used to be superficial insecurities float in the wind of truth, forming into a cage he's sentenced for life.

Your fuse still runs—a long time coming from two months of his deliberate disrespect. The silence annoys you, so you break it. "Excuse my hostility. No one's invaded my privacy and barged into my household at such an unreasonable hour before." The impassive smile on your lips can haunt anyone.

Maybe you've gone too far.

Maybe it's evil to say such blunt things to someone fragile.

But Aaron started the countdown. He lit the fuse. Now, you're exploding right before his eyes, reaping what he sowed. And he's forced to eat up all the debris.

His eyes twitch, scanning your face for any sign of bluff, any sign of fallacy. Any sign that he successfully pissed you off and your words were nothing but overwhelmed impulse.

"I—" he closes his mouth, then agape. Any sign. Aaron will take anything besides the forthright expression on your face. He inhales, "I'm sorry." The sound dies before it can roll off his tongue.

It's like watching a bully shrink into the tiniest man who's ever lived.

Okay, maybe you were a little bit brutal.

You gulp as guilt creeps along your veins, wishing that someone out there would just do you both a favor and snipe you out before the embarrassment settles.

Drawing in a gentle breath, you take another step back from Aaron with a delicate voice, "You're not starting a new evaluation, but you're not done either. I transferred you under someone else's care because of personal reasons. My life doesn't revolve around you, Mr. Hotchner. So, if you have nothing else to say, go home." Your eyes drift to the vast selection of objects in your living room to diffuse the growing pity you can't help but harbor.

Only then does Aaron discern his impulsivity. Internally arguing with himself as he allows himself to look at you. One thing he's never done since the moment he met you with screwed brows and unwavering bias. His gaze instantly softens like a thick fog around him finally dissipates. Like he's achieved a clearer vision.

The first thing he notices is the state of your face. The dry mascara that drew faded stripes down your cheeks. Your puffy eyes are now faint pink, but he recalls them being red when he arrived.

Then Aaron brings his attention to your black dress. It's a simple formal, mesh midi dress, but he admits how it elegantly fits you. But he doesn't say it aloud because there's only one reason why you'd wear such an article of depressing clothing.

As if your words and his own realizations aren't enough, he gets a glimpse of the clock on your wall that reads 12:03 AM.

His blood suddenly stops flowing—skin clammy and pale. Aaron's lightheaded from guilt and penitence.

Without another word, you lead him towards the door, swinging it open. The past 24 hours already drained you, and Aaron just about made it fifty times worse. All you wanted was to get a shuteye.

Aaron swallows the shame and makes his way out. Before he leaves, though, he turns to face you once more. Genuine curiosity pinches his brows.

"Why didn't you just clear me out like the others did if I was such a difficult case?" The word tastes bitter in his mouth. What used to be a desired flavor turned rotten on his palette.

He asks with utter softness, leaving you skeptical to respond.

"Same reason why you kept attending my sessions even though you clearly hated it." You slightly close the door, only leaving enough space for the two of you to see each other.

He looks at you like the answer's all over your face but written in some foreign language he's not familiar with. Aaron barely opens his mouth when you answer the question in his mind.

"You needed a place where you can just be."

The door shuts.

Friday, June 19, 11:02 PM

"I didn't know where to go."

You pore at Aaron Hotchner with nothing but a flimsy robe to prevent his imagination from going rampant—and dirty.

It's eleven in the evening. It's been one month since you last saw him. It's been a month since he barged into your apartment like an entitled brat. It's been a month since you let your emotions take over. It's been a month since the two of you revealed parts of yourselves either of you don't dare think of.

A month and no contact.

You didn't wonder; just hoped and prayed that Aaron finally finds it in him to let go of the emotional turmoil that's torturing the soul out of his body.

Sighing, you step aside and let him in, closing the door behind you like it's normal to stop by one's ex-psychiatrist's apartment in the middle of the night without prior notice and, most importantly, without meter to run the minutes he's inconveniencing you.

Aaron walks in, and the heavy humidity of arousal immediately hits him.

Oh.

Well...

If he had something to say, Aaron kept his mouth shut. He is at fault for driving straight to your place like he's your bestest friend. So, he doesn't mention it, ignoring the fact that you're barely clothed.

Besides, after your last interaction with him, Aaron's certain he didn't have any prerogative in how you'd like to spend your Friday evening.

"Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Your steps are light behind him—feet nimbly grazing the wooden floor.

He turns to face you but quickly averts his gaze to avoid the glistening sight of your thighs. "Thank you..." He does his best to sound normal, choking in between syllables.

Aaron begins to regret his decision. Though, not enough to leave your place.

You disappear in the corner of the hallway. Allowing Aaron to finally release the breath he didn't know he was holding.

With you out of sight, his mind deliberately wanders...

What were you doing?

Aaron shakes his head vigorously like a worm under a storm of salt. The thought is undiscovered—untouched territory, forbidden to be exact. Should he form such thoughts, he'll do it somewhere else or rather about someone else.

Just as he caters to the sudden dizziness caused by his action, a man, half-dressed, walks past him, cursing under his breath and buttoning his shirt. Aaron's eyes widen a little, keeping his stoic face.

Oh, that's what you were doing.

Ick—as Aaron would like to call your visitor—had brown and curly, unruly hair. He was tall and definitely had a face, which, Aaron assumes, is nothing like the one he envisioned you're attracted to.

Somehow not a pleasant discovery compared to what he attempted to imagine—you, alone.

Ick looks at Aaron with a scoff echoing out of his throat, "Oh, what a surprise! She's a slut." He states smugly.

"Or she just wants someone better." The words spill out without hesitation, fired on sight. Aaron doesn't know where the boldness came from as he leans against the seat with a cocky smirk on his face. Definitely no more perplexed than the uncertainty of anger boiling inside of him. He glares at the man either way.

The man scoffs again before leaving with a couple more insults that Aaron thinks he's lucky to whisper, or your visitor would've left your apartment in an ambulance.

Ick slams the door, shaking the vase on the accent chest by the entrance.

Where did that come from?

He's questionably not as big of a hater as he was before, but Aaron can't determine the motivation that made him act the way he just did with a person who has business with you, which he should have no interest in.

Moments later, you come back, fully clothed, in an oversized hoodie and a pair of wide-leg linen pants. Comfy and a 180 contrast on how you dress at work, plus the garments you had on minutes ago.

You make a beeline to your kitchen, "Water or scotch?" You holler out, opening cabinets with a creek on their hinges.

The question is rhetorical. You place a glass with brown liquid glinting under the warm ambient light on the coffee table in front of Aaron, then plop on the armchair across from him, catering your own glass.

He stares between you and the glass while you kiss yours, never breaking your gaze. You hum in delight, making a popping sound with your lips.

Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it, falling into a cycle like a fish underwater. How should he explain himself? How does one explain why they're bothering their ex-psychiatrist past working hours? After making a scene a month ago? He swallows the thick void in his throat.

"Don't talk, just drink. Sit here for an hour. Then, go home." You say, opening up a book that's been sitting on the table since he arrived.

Aaron feels a surge of relief. He reaches for the drink and lets the smoky taste trail down his throat without hesitation. He wouldn't have guessed you as a fan of scotch—or anything not clear or fruity. This is the first he's seen you without some sort of filter he can't read through, and the observation prints you under a new light.

The silence comforts him. The occasional scrape of paper against paper with each flip of a page provides him reassurance. The company he finds within your presence gives him solace.

You let him be. Asked no questions, reading in peace like he was just any other friend who needed company.

He does as you said. Indulging in the hour of tranquility and stillness. His nerves tame. And he forgets why he went to you in the first place.

Why did he go to you?

Of all people. Of all the friends he brags about. The family he cherishes. His feet dragged—drove him to you.

The onerous unit chief chose to wander to your front door, sipping scotch as he enjoyed the silence and absence of others' guilting worry and constant craving to make him feel better when all he wanted was peace and letting the ache pass in gradual acceptance.

By the end of the hour, you call him a cab with the instructions for him to pick up his car the next day.

Aaron slept effortlessly that night.

Saturday, October 24, 9:24 PM

Aaron expected some sort of rejection or for you to slam the door close, or worse, ignore him as soon as you see his face through the peephole.

One can only tolerate a couple of unannounced visits from an insufferable ex-patient, right? He's surprised you haven't called the cops on him.

He skims your face for any sign of irritation or annoyance as soon as you reveal yourself behind your door, standing next to it to give him way. Aaron saw nothing but impatience.

You knit your brows, slightly tilting your head at his frozen build outside the frame of your door. "Well? Are you stuck or something? Get in, Hotchner—" You turn before you can even finish talking, disappearing down the small entryway.

He turns deaf for a moment. Your voice rings in his ears as if a bomb had just popped the only working drum he had left.

Hotchner.

Agent.

Mister—

Just Hotchner.

One simple change, and the light above your head suddenly looks brighter.

Like he's found something good. Something he can say he knows. Something he can trust(?)

"Don't forget to take your shoes off and shut the door!" You holler from the living room—unfazed.

Aaron flinches, snapping out of his trance. He wonders where you'd gone to, furrowing his brows, and yet enters your apartment with the permission you'd given him. He closes the door, pivoting on the soles of his dress shoes as he tentatively takes them off per your instructions.

He emerges back in your peripheral while you stare at the screen on your laptop, blue-filtered glasses back on. Your fingers hammer on the keys, soft sighs slipping past your lips every once in a while.

You glance at Aaron when his figure stays at the corner of your eye, cupping a coffee mug between your hands. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like. Are you hungry? I don't usually eat dinner, so I have nothing ready to eat, but I can whip something up." You blow over the surface of caffeine, and steam wafts on the tip of your nose.

"No—" He shakes his head, scoffing in confusion, "I'm sorry—"

"Apology accepted," You muffle into the mug.

Aaron's brows connect tighter, and his forehead creases. He looks at you like he's under an illusion, a hypnotic dream he can't quite distinguish.

"Hold on," He hoists his hand up as if to pause a scene in the movie. "I'm very confused. What is going on? Why are you being… casual and nice?"

"You say it like I'm incapable of human decency." Your back makes contact with the cushion of your sofa, pulling your legs close to your chest while one hand holds the handle of your mug. You roll your eyes when Aaron only stares at you, "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"

Aaron shakes his head.

"Problem solved, then?" Confusion is still fresh on his blank face. You mentally smack your forehead. "There are patients who lack temporal sense, but turning them away when they clearly need immediate tending to would be a form of negligence on my part. So, feel at home." You theatrically stretch your arms, offering every corner of your space as his own.

"But I'm not your patient anymore. I've been back on duty for weeks." Aaron informs. Although he finds a place for his go bag on your floor.

If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he's about to stay for a sleepover—coming to your apartment late at night.

You wrinkle your nose, "Okay?" You look around as if someone else is in the room with you two. "Is that why you went here? You wanted to brag?"

Three months.

Aaron's been back to his usual routine for the past three months. And it's been four since he drank scotch on the very couch you're comfortably in.

A chuckle.

The sound tickles your ears, filling you with unexpected pride.

"No," Aaron shakes his head as the chuckle resonates through his chest. "I… I don't really know why I came here, if I'm being honest." He swallows air.

You nod, setting your laptop back on your lap. "Like I said, you're free to feel at home. Scotch is in the third cupboard. Coffee's in the pot. I've got some stuff to take care of, so help yourself." Your eyes are already fixed on the screen, hands jumping from one key to the other.

With your permission, Aaron ventures into your kitchen. Neat. Clean. Cozy. He somehow imagines you cooking as a hobby.

He settles for coffee. Asking you from the kitchen island if you'd like a refill—which you took without a thought, hoisting your cup up—and taking out a couple of his files to get a head start on his paperwork. He wasn't allowed to bring them outside the bureau's building, but it didn't matter at the moment.

Your apartment becomes a haven.

Aaron, for the first time in years, feels comfortable to slouch. He had no collection of when and how, but turns out he'd changed into a quarter-zip and one of his pajamas tucked in his go bag through the hours.

The two of you silently took care of your own thing until 1 AM strikes, and a yawn pulls you back into the earth.

You turn your head towards the kitchen to find Aaron scribbling over your kitchen island. He's sipping coffee—a fresh batch he made not long ago.

Stretching, you make your way past him. After placing the mug into the sink, you lean against it, crossing your arms as you stare at him. "Ten."

"What's that?" Aaron halts on his seat, lifting his head to look at you.

"I'm granting you ten visits," You announce.

"And that means?.."

Your face deadpans, and he does well at stifling a smile. "You can come here whenever you want—need, but only for ten free visits. It doesn't matter if it's late, too early, or unreasonable. I'm allowing you to knock on my door whenever you need. Any more than that, you have to attend my sessions in my office, where I get paid."

"What's the catch?" Aaron entwines his eyebrows, straightening his back as he props on the edge of the counter.

"No catch. Just one condition," You shift your weight on your other leg, "Don't come empty-handed. Food, drink, things, a person, anything. Bring something." Your brows hang on your forehead, anticipating any type of response.

Aaron weighs his choices. Calculated every possible outcome and benefit. He meets your eyes again. Index and thumb rubbing the growing stubble on his chin.

"Ten's a good number," He says as he nods.

Wednesday, March 2, 7:31 PM

Eleven months pass by in the blink of an eye.

It's the seventh time Aaron showed up without warning, and by this point in whatever acquaintance you two had, you aren't fazed or surprised anymore.

The fourth time he knocked on your door, he was carrying a hefty price of whiskey. An odd reason for a psychiatrist and a former patient to bond with, but you had no qualms about sipping neat whiskey that night.

At first, he stayed for an hour. Then, an hour turned into three. One time, a case hit too deep, and three became seven, but that only happened once—all you remember was a Wednesday night.

"Are you okay?"

Gentle sighs escape shivering lips. Tears pooling deep inside sockets.

One sharp sniff breaks it all.

You sob under Aaron's worried eyes as your grip on the knob almost snaps it off the door.

His brows twists and he reflexively yanks you by the back of your head into his chest, bringing you out of your apartment and into the complex's hallway.

"What happened?" He carefully inquires while he rests his chin atop your head.

You're a mess in his arms. Uncontrollable whimpers muffled in his soaked chest.

Aaron suggested that you two step inside for more privacy and heat, but he didn't complain when you two stayed frozen in the end of winter evening.

When it stops. The suffocating ache. You lightly push yourself off him, wiping the leftover tears off your cheeks—half of it already dampened his shirt.

Fifty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.

You cried to the point of dehydration.

"Sorry," you mutter, eyes down. "We should go inside if we don't want to catch hypothermia." You sniffle.

"Oh, we don't want that," Aaron attempts to joke, closely observing whether you'd react to it.

You didn't.

He closes the door behind him, following your figure as you practically drag yourself to your unofficial designated spot on the sofa.

"I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear this from, but would you like to talk about it?" He bites his inner cheek.

Nothing.

You only mold yourself into a ball.

Aaron hesitates whether to stay or leave you alone. It's true that you said he's welcome anytime, but you're definitely in no condition to entertain his own problems when you can't even look him in the eye the way you would, no matter how insufferable he is.

But he can't just leave you by yourself either. Nothing is stopping him, but he's not cold-blooded enough.

"It's not easy," Aaron fractures out of his trance at the sound of your small voice. You look at him with a tight-lipped smile. "This job, I mean."

You inhale a sharp breath, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. "I can be hopeful, positive, supportive… Everything to prove that a better life is possible, but at the end of the day, it's not my choice." You wryly chuckle. "It's the patient's. It's your decision to want to feel better. To want to change. To want to live—" You choke, and the tears flow once more.

"It's not about me, but I can't help feeling like a failure." Sobs spill off your lips, gasping for air. "I was supposed to make everything better. I was supposed to heal everyone and save everyone from whatever monster was hurting them. She said she's never felt so much better. She said it's the first time she felt so peaceful for years, Hotchner. She said she was looking forward to our next session. But she just… I didn't—" You gulp—struggling. "I didn't catch it. I didn't catch her lie. And hours later, I get a call from her mother telling me she— she died." Your hands shakily clasp your mouth to push the sobs back, but you fail.

Aaron doesn't know what to say.

But he knows what to feel.

He knows it well.

The guilt. The shame of never living up to your own promise. The pain of losing someone you swore to keep safe.

Then, it hits him like a wrecking ball.

How difficult of a patient was he before?

Has he ever made you cry before?

It's a stretch that you'd ever shed a tear over his stubbornness, but Aaron hopes you never did.

Because he's never seen anyone care so much despite getting all the hate. Despite taking all the blame. You stood your ground and became other people's foundation. You became their comfort.

You became the only thing that gave him serenity.

With the little time he's known you—a total of 43 genuine friendly hours—Aaron can testify in heaven that they had mistakenly dropped you into the earth. And he's never felt blessed to have someone like you. Never felt lucky enough to find someone with who he could feel broken as much as he could but never needed to save face.

So, he's heartbroken for you. And guilty that more than half of the time you'd known him, he made your passion a miserable experience.

And also guilty of developing feelings for you.

Saturday, August 13, 4:16 PM

"I'm not playing favorites, but your tech analyst definitely deserves better than being cooped up in the bureau's building." You say, plopping on the sofa with a soft bounce and a squeak from the coil spring.

Aaron hands you a glass of bourbon while sipping his own. Eyes fixated on the board on your coffee table. "I have no other choice. It's the only way to keep her safe. Unless you're willing to adopt her, I don't want to hear it." He chuckles, connecting his brows at the sight of your winning streak.

You two are playing Scrabble. It was Monopoly twenty minutes ago, but along the lines, you learned how butt-hurt a six-foot and two-inch man can get. Not an enlightening experience. It would have been two stars if you had to rate it.

So, you switched to Scrabble.

And Aaron is losing again.

Boy, were you so entertained.

He just came back from a fairly short case from Los Angeles. The case is not heavy or mentally draining—according to Aaron, but Jack's at a two-day sleepover, and Aaron has no idea how to spend the rest of his day—turning down Derek Morgan's and David Rossi's invitation to grab a drink at O'Keefe's with you in mind.

Aaron leans on the back of his seat. You don't know when your reclining armchair became his designated seat, but you noticed how lax he is in it and didn't question it further.

Months and months of relaxing stillness in your home—only ever full of bizarre surprises and irresistible joy whenever Aaron knocks at your door. With no means of communication or ever seeing each other at either workplace, Aaron's visits are welcomed but never fully anticipated. Thrilling.

Spelling the word 'loser' on the board with triple points, you bite the tissue inside your lower lip. "Maybe you can play Scrabble with her. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and win." You grin smugly at him.

Aaron gapes at you with a mixture of disbelief and merriment. He looks down on the flat entertainment, then back to you as he blinks. "You're cheating." He declares, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

A hearty laugh Aaron's never heard before roars out of you, and it's melodic to his ears. The meringue light spills through the forgotten open blinds of your window, painting your face with a dreamy filter. Aaron feels dizzy at the sight.

Your smile is contagious, and out of nowhere, his heart starts to pick up as if he'd caught whatever illness your radiant lips had by only staring at it. The loose hair over your forehead frames your face differently—different good. Like you'd been glowing, and the watts in your core mysteriously increased, so you're as bright as the sun and as warm as its light.

"You're just a sore loser. Suck it up, Hotchner." You shake with mirth, casually running dainty fingers along the curve of your ear.

"Aaron," He blurts too fast, too soon—too late to take back.

With a nonchalant shrug, you rephrase, "Suck. It. Up. Aaron." Much more emphasis and friskiness.

You tease him more about his lack of greatness in board games compared to his undeniable talent in every case the BAU encountered. But Aaron's already dazed by your lips calling his name.

Without either of you realizing it, 4 PM became AM.

Talk about abusing one's privileges. Aaron's moderately good at that. You conclude he's simply a strutting opportunist.

After the longest winning streak you've ever had in your life, you and Aaron decided to take a much-needed break and fell into silent reading—or, in your case, grooming your schedule for the next five months.

Midnight strikes along the grumble of Aaron's stomach. You two were too quiet. It echoed all over your apartment. Both of you fell into an obstreperous fit of laughter for another hour, stopping for a minute in between only to laugh some more as soon as you met each other's eyes.

Now, it's four in the morning. You're busy munching on Chinese takeout from a 24-hour restaurant Aaron called in. He claims he has handsome privilege courtesy of the owner, which you mockingly laughed at, to his dismay.

"I'm still terrified." He blurts.

The case must've been very difficult, then. He lied yesterday. However, at this point in your friendship, you expect him to do so, even if it's obvious.

You'd long given up on coaxing Aaron to talk about the case that brought him to your office. Or any other cases that got him knocking on your door at the most unreasonable hour. You thought that the best you could offer him was the comfort that no matter how beaten up he looked, you'd ask no questions and let him sort his boggled mind until he was ready to talk about it.

Looks like tonight's the moment. It only took more than a year, so it is not a big deal—to either of you, at least.

He looks at you when you remain quiet, silently asking for your permission. You nod, and he continues, "What Peter Lewis did to me was terrorizing. I always wonder whether I'm making the right decision or sending my agents straight to their deaths. I second guess. I'm scared that a part of him is still in my head, driving me to make a fatal mistake." Aaron starts playing with his food, poking an orange chicken with his chopsticks.

The memory brings a tangy taste to his tongue, and Aaron can't help but cringe. It's the first time he's ever talked about Peter Lewis. Granted, Aaron spoke about the event numerous times but never about how it made him feel. Never how it broke him.

Is it weird to say you're a little proud of Aaron?

Of course, you don't tell him that. Not out loud. You know he knows you're proud of him. And that's enough said.

With a few audible chews—caused by a carrot bit stuck between your teeth—that somehow doesn't piss Aaron off, you swallow the food and draw your lips into a thin line. You place the chopsticks on the side, wiping the rim of your mouth.

You know he's watching you. Anticipatingly waiting for a response for anything other than the silence he's accustomed to.

"Breathe," You gently instruct, clear enough for him to hear but not too loud for Aaron to jump in shock.

And he does.

His shoulder blades rise and fall into a soft rhythm. Aaron was holding his breath, and you knew. Of course, you knew.

"Do you know the purpose of defense mechanisms?" You quiz him, earning a nod from Aaron, and yet no following answer. "You were already mad at me even before we met. And for what? Nothing concrete, I'm sure."

Aaron was about to object, but you raised your hand to stop him, "I'm not trying to attack you. All I'm saying is that rather than being in denial, you displaced your frustration on someone else less threatening—me."

Silence.

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm not done, shush!" You close your fist to mute him, cutting him off.

Aaron subtly rolls his eyes. He started doing so on his fifth visit when Aaron brought Jack and a few video games.

He told you that Jack's heard about your interest in a couple of games and wanted to play with you, but you know damn well Aaron bought the game for himself. Nonetheless, you entertained them by teaming up with Jack and obliterating Aaron. He vowed never to play against you ever again, at least not to your face.

"I would never know the pain and suffering that you went through. And somehow, even with that fact, a part of your life was in the palm of my hand. You had no control, but I did. So, instead of understanding the why, you hated the wrong who. And it's okay."

You take a sip from your straw, and a bubbly sensation fills you. Your tongue glides over your lips as you lean against the counter. "In short, for a man who's been through a lot, you know how to cope." A shrug ends your sentence, grabbing another bite of chow mein on your plate.

"Yeah, right," Aaron scoffs. The sincerity in your voice sparks something in him. It's giddy and tempting. But he can't possibly show the smile that's itching to spread his lips.

But his nonchalance may have triggered something in you because Aaron doesn't expect your next move. His neck felt like a snapped glow stick after you manually turned his head to face you—grabbing him by the space between his neck and chin. Aaron widens his eyes in the process.

"Listen here, you stubborn poopy head." You start, forehead creasing.

Aaron badly wanted to poke fun at your poor, intimidating skills, but he realized you didn't need any pointers just by the glare in your eyes.

"Peter Lewis got to your head, but that doesn't mean you were weak to let him. Yes, you fought through the influence of the drug heroically. Yes, you saved your agents and, most importantly, yourself. But it's still okay to be scared. It's okay that you feel broken. Who says broken things aren't great?"

It might be the sleep deprivation that's hitting Aaron, but he's very much enjoying your little fuse. How your words meant nothing like how you sound.

"That silver watch of yours—" you glance at his wrist "—has been broken for years, but I bet if you pawn it, it'll be more valuable than me. Antiques are expensive because they have unique histories. They survived beaten up, scratched, damaged, but still as beautiful as ever."

You're rambling, explaining more than you need to. Felt obligated to drill in his mind that despite the bad things, Aaron remains good. You're uncertain—clueless—as to why you felt the need to prove his praiseworthy, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself rather than him.

"From my observation, you're a sharper profiler despite all the things you went through. A part of you suffered and died in that house and many houses before. Of course, you'll be broken. You're a human being, Aaron. Act like one for Pete's sake!"

"I don't know whether you're being nice or mean." He chuckles with a mischievous grin, marveling at the way your eyes narrow as you look at him.

"I liked you better when you didn't talk." You tut, rolling your eyes.

For a moment, your senses heighten, and the simple brush of his hand against the skin over your wrist, as he takes your hold off him, sends billions of electricity throughout your body.

Aaron smiles—genuinely. "Thank you," He says softly, clearing his throat. His hand is still tight around your wrist. "You simply could've slammed the door the first time I knocked, but you always let me in. I appreciate you tolerating me."

You laugh, retracting your hands off his skin before you melt in his grasp. "I did not let you in the first time. You barged in like I'm some fugitive." You fix your posture on the stool beneath you, looking away.

His chuckle wakes the butterflies in your stomach, and you shove them right back down by stuffing your mouth with food.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the time, "Y-you better go home and change before your son wonders why his father smells like Chinese food for Sunday brunch. Jack's a big fan of good 'ole syrupy pancakes, there's a good one by the bureau's building. Better hurry up and pick him up." It's amazing how much you almost choked and stuttered as you spoke, hoping that Aaron wouldn't question the way your demeanor changed.

Aaron takes one last bite before towering next to you, "Let me clean up. It's the least I can do for imposing half of your weekend." He insists, swiping the styrofoam off your hands.

"Glad you got manners," You nod approvingly, earning another chuckle from him, making sure you gave him enough space to move around without brushing any part of your body, or you wouldn't know what the brewing feeling in your chest would make you do.

You mindlessly peer at Aaron's broad shoulders and dark hair that looks so soft you wonder if it'll melt with your touch. You blink, catching yourself mid-swoon.

After a few minutes, Aaron bids you goodbye and you wish him well, asking to relay a short message to Jack.

"I think you're only nice to me because of Jack," He jokes, pivoting on the heel of his shoes to get one last glimpse of you.

You give him a tight smile, raising your brows as you shrug.

One visit left.

Thursday, May 5, 12:51 PM

The news said Mr. Scratch escaped prison. Peter Lewis is out and about, no doubt, planning serious harm against Aaron. You turn the TV off. The image shrinks into a small diamond spark 'til it leaves a dark screen.

Ninety-eight beats per minute are your normal, but you surmise it's about a hundred and twelve at the moment as your mind anxiously ruminates your not-so-favorite-unofficial patient's well-being.

You glance at your phone, debating whether to give him a call, but even if you gain the guts to do so, you don't have his number. Who knew that refusing personal contacts would backfire? Aaron can knock anytime, you said. It doesn't matter whether he texts or calls before, you said.

Now, you have no means of contacting him, and you refuse to resort to his ways—going through his file like he went through yours.

It's a shitty feeling.

You keep your fingers as far away from your mouth as possible, afraid you'll bite your nails to its quick. If Aaron was with you, he'd say something annoyingly witty about how your anxiety's too easy to read, and you'd be bantering back a remark about his tells that not many notice but sure slightly pisses him off that you know him like the back of your hand.

Eyes dart in the direction of your entryway, waiting for any distinctive sound only Aaron makes whenever he closes the door like a teenager coming home past curfew.

"This is driving me crazy!" You ruffle your own hair, rubbing your face in frustration.

Tempted to wait outside your door for Aaron to arrive, in need of a company. A once-in-a-lifetime bone-crushing hug, given by yours truly. Or open up the 1997 Old Forester bourbon on top of your shelf that Aaron's been eyeing for a year.

You need to know if he's okay. You need to see that he's okay. Physically, mentally, and emotionally okay.

No one ever knocked.

Friday, November 18, 2:33 PM

"Aren't you curious?"

You look at Rossi, "About?" Your eyebrows pinch together. You backtrack the entire session in your mind, trying to remember if there is anything you are supposed to be curious about.

There's none.

Rossi turns to face you, a hand emerging out of his pocket. "You're not curious where he's been? I've known him for years, and I've never been more curious about his whereabouts 'til now." The hand waves around as each syllable flows, and slices the air every emphasis he makes like a conductor of his emotions.

He usually talks with his hand whenever he's emotionally troubled, attempting to make a point to himself, justifying that his feelings are reasonable.

David Rossi has been your patient for years; you can write any and everything about him into a best-selling book.

"You said it yourself, Dave," You shrugged with your arms. "You've known him for years. He and I saw each other a couple of times during our physician-patient interaction. Any interaction we had after is just the two of us drowning in silence."

Aaron never knocked that day.

He hasn't redeemed his last visit for the past five months. While it isn't the longest time he's never stopped by, you're bitter about it.

You couldn't sleep for a week after Peter Lewis escaped prison. You were afraid that Aaron's name would flash across any type of screen or mark a headline on every article and newspaper. You had to take anxiety medication to stop your body from trembling whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.

It was hell.

The utter hopelessness and lack of courage teared you apart. The strangeness. The nonexistence. You don't reckon a conversation with Aaron that involves you and him. Only you or him or whatever depressing topic comes up. You're not even sure if you had actual conversations. Always wallowing in silence while sipping either scotch or coffee.

But you two had a deal. No catch. Not even feelings. Developing one for Aaron did not cross your mind when you granted him the power to bother you at any running time.

All of it is to say you wish you had known Aaron's last visit was, in fact, the last.

Rossi squints, "You're telling me the quietness you shared didn't matter? That his company didn't benefit you the same way it did for him?" He stands tall, pleased with his words.

It did.

Of course, it did.

And you loved every second of it.

Even if you realize it too late.

But you won't say that to Rossi. Or to anyone ever.

A sigh drops your shoulders. You give him a blank stare, letting his question hover for a moment. "What do you want me to say?" You continue packing up your things on your desk, breaking eye contact.

If you knew David Rossi like the back of your hand, David Rossi knew you like every family of the victims he managed to save.

Worried.

Heartbroken.

Hurt.

Aaron never told Rossi about any interactions with you after he was released from your care. It's information Rossi's only ever heard a confirmation from you. But he knew it from the moment Aaron came to work after his first session with you and couldn't seem to get the specific idea of you out of his head.

"We're doing everything we can to catch Peter Lewis. Aaron will be back, I promise."

Pause.

You fight your every single sense to remain composed. Hearing Aaron's name instantly made you crumble. The sound of it hitting your chest with such force you had to bite the tissue behind your closed lip. You badly wanted—needed to cry and throw a tantrum.

The inner ends of your brows lift up as you nod, "Good for you... and for him. I'll see you in two weeks, Dave." You dismiss, walking around your desk to push him out of your office.

"Wait, wait! Just listen!" You retract your hands off his back and let him face you. "He's okay. He and Jack are safe somewhere I, unfortunately, don't know." He tries to meet your gaze—successful. "But! But that's a good thing. Not knowing where he is while in protective custody is good. Safe. I just thought you'd want to know."

You nod, "Certainly a good information, Dave. But not really necessary." Your tongue subtly swipes the bottom of your lips. "Aa—Agent Hotchner was a patient. Anything outside of that is not my business." Liar.

Rossi tucks his mouth into a thin line, nodding. "See you in two weeks, kid."

Tuesday, March 27, 6:12 PM

It's a nice Spring.

Your hair dances like the breeze is music as you trudge back to your apartment against the rush hour sidewalk traffic.

A year and a half.

You moved to a different place since then.

Moved on— from something that never existed, but really, your old complex just ran out of business.

You couldn't possibly move on, even if you wanted to.

"Good evening, Mrs. Willows," You smile at the old lady as she steps on the base of the stairs.

Mrs. Willows was old, close to ninety. And she's the best landlady you've ever met.

She smiles back, "Oh, just in time!" She waddles towards you, scraping the soles of her flats against the creaky floorboards.

"Did you need anything, Mrs—"

The old lady doesn't let you finish when she yanks you back up the stairs. Confusion fills you, but if you are being honest, you're more amazed by her speed. You didn't know it was possible for her to have that much energy.

"There's this handsome boy knocking at your door earlier. So, I let him in."

You dig your feet on one of the steps, halting her. "Mrs. Willows, you let a stranger in my house?" Your brows knit.

She looks at you, "Well, I figured it's one of your patients." She shrugs.

"I wasn't expecting any home visit today." You announce, peeking at the top of the stairs. "And I would've been home if there was…"

You excuse yourself, cautiously walking towards your door. The floor plan is different from your old apartment. But everything still felt the same.

The anxiety of a random stranger going through your place left you rushing to the living room. You don't exactly let any random patient inside your home. It's usually the profilers that seem to have a liking to you that lucked the privilege to visit your home at any given time.

"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to set an appointment at the clinic—" you abruptly stop, blinking.

Aaron Hotchner.

He's sat on the armchair, only lifting his gaze after he'd closed the book you were reading before you decided to step out to run some errands.

He is wearing a navy blue quarter zip sweater and a white shirt, peeking from under. It's paired with loose-fitting gray casual pants. Like his closet had an upset stomach and threw up all over him.

The bags under his eyes are almost invisible. It used to be a tint of greenish purple. A proof of his late nights and stressful days. He's caught up with sleep for a while now.

His hair, a little longer than you're accustomed to, somehow made him look young and boyish. Probably why Mrs. Willows referred to him as a boy.

It's quite an image. Not one you'd expect to see upon opening your front door, but you mentally admit liking it.

He looks refreshing and well-rested.

"I heard you started your own practice?" He didn't mean to form it as a question, tongue-tied by nervousness. He flashes an awkward, subtle smile, dipping his hands into his pockets.

Your lashes flutter like butterflies gliding through the soft wind of Spring, except you're struggling to go against the breeze, winded by the city pollution.

"H-have you eaten?" You ask, snapping out of your trance as you head to the kitchen. Great. A question for a question. You're as nervous as he is, and you don't feel the need to hide it, though you aren't inclined to admit it.

He chuckles, and it still makes you melt after a year of trying to remember how it sounds, "That's your first question? Not 'What are you doing here?' or 'How did you find me?'" He follows you to the kitchen, it's a lot smaller than the one at your old place but you had a dinner table now, which still feels like an upgrade.

You turn and face him, leaning against the counter, "I'll just charge the entire team on their next visit. But I have a feeling David's the culprit." You blurt, earning raised brows from Aaron. "Oh? They didn't tell you? Your team unofficially designated me as their psychiatrist. I guess they also kept an important information from you." You twist on your feet to focus on the produce you carefully picked in hopes someone would join you for dinner.

But you didn't expect Aaron to be that person.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No!" You almost stumble as you spin back to face him. "I'm in no position to be mad. If a patient doesn't need my services, then I have no say." You lick the lower of your lip, biting it as soon as your tongue glides past. Heat pooling in the back of your eyes.

Aaron steps closer, "I didn't mean to—"

"I told you I'm not mad."

"You're really going to lie to an FBI profiler?"

"Former," You correct him, sniffing as you fight the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Your head's tilted up, almost facing the ceiling. Anger and frustration hammer into your chest.

He rolls his eyes, trying to catch yours. "Former, right." He parrots with a little more sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything... I needed to make sure Jack's safe." He softly speaks, making sure you understand every syllable.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, blinking and letting a tear fall in the process. "You don't have to apologize for protecting your son. I'm not evil, Hotchner. I'll do the same thing for my family. I'm completely indifferent about your disappearance, and i-it's allergy season. I'm fine." You wipe the tear stain off your face.

"I missed hearing you say my name like it's a foul word." Aaron smiles so brightly you thought you were dead and some divine was just using his image to guide you across.

"Seriously? That's what you took from it?" You shake your head, turning your back to him once more. "I feel bad for Jack now that you're a full-time father."

Aaron laughs, and by definition. "Oh, he's had enough of me." His eyebrows jump on his forehead, drifting his eyes aside as if he's replaying every instance Jack's complained to him.

You laugh, too. A full hearty laugh that seems to source from the casualty between the two of you despite the irritation you felt.

It's still the same. The ease. The effortless flow and connection despite anxious nerves. It felt like talking to an old friend you've known longer than you are alive.

You nibble on your lips, "So? You're off protective custody, or do I have to call you Brad?" You quiz airily, back still facing him to hide any form of amusement that's forming on your facial features.

"Brad?" He scoffs, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. He sounds about offended as if you'd disrespected his entire bloodline.

"Yeah, you look like a Brad to me." You remember a story from the women in the BAU. One that they happily shared one evening at Rossi's before they all begged to be added to your list of patients once you start your private practice.

Aaron lets out another scoff. "No, I'm just Aaron. Aaron to everyone. Aaron to you." He grumbles something under his breath that you don't hear, but a clear indication of his disapproval regarding the name.

You stifle a giggle, "Well, just Aaron. Consider yourself lucky that I got a free slot. I would've been with a patient by now." You state.

"Am I really just a patient to you?" Aaron inquires from behind you. He attentively observes for any subtle movement or expression in your voice. There's a longing look in his eyes that you aren't aware of. A frown drops his lips as he adds, "I at least thought we were friends."

"Mm," You hum a chuckle, "More like my stalker. But sure, we'll go with yours... friends—"

He spins you by the waist, and you're not sure if your initial thought of dreaming is ending anytime soon as your body tenses under his hold.

A small yelp squeaks out of you, hands flying behind you on the counter as if to hold yourself up from your wobbly feet. And you're certain both of you can hear the loud pulse on your carotid.

"Hotchner, what the hell?!" You chastise, pulling back, but to no avail. Caged and pinned by his strength, and you're too baffled to react accordingly.

"I'd like to redeem my tenth visit." Aaron smiles from ear to ear. You never thought it possible for a stern-faced man to ever grin this wide. To ever be this bright and bubbly.

Aaron keeps the two of you that way for a few minutes. His face is a few inches from yours. You can hear him calculating in his head.

Only the busy street outside and one of your neighbor's loud TV fills the silence.

"Your pupils are dilated." Aaron grins mischievously. He further scans your face, the same way he did when he used to be your patient, reading you like it's his job to know every micro-movement and expression you make.

Your eyes widen, "Stop—" Your voice barely comes out, breath hitching halfway through your throat. "—profiling me." The space between you and his body feels suffocatingly good. It's making you dizzy.

"Usually, you're composed, but you can barely look me in the eyes." His hands remain on your hips, and every twitch of it makes you stiff like a statue. "Am I making you nervous?" He quips wittily.

Like a switch, your heart rate steadies, and his image becomes clear.

It's Aaron Hotchner.

Just Aaron, he said.

Warmth surges through your veins. You stare at the grin on his face.

Your head tilts, and you blink excruciatingly slow. "Are you trying to ask me out, Hotchner?" You mirror the trail of his eyes like a map.

Aaron beams like he'd won the lottery. Sending you impulsive thoughts such as kissing the smile off his face.

It's tempting and nauseating.

And if he doesn't stop, you just might.

"Ten."

Your eyebrows merge in confusion, "What?"

"Ten dates," He breathes as he looks you in the eye. "Let me take you out on ten dates. Then you can decide if I'm just one of your many stubborn patients or if I can be more. Let me make it up to you in ten dates. Please." He implores, hopeful, or rather knowing that you'd say yes.

And he'd be right.

All you want at that moment is to say yes.

But teasing him won't hurt, at least not you.

"And what's in it for me?" You try your best not to smile as you taunt him.

Aaron rolls his eyes, but his grin tugs the corner of his lips up. "You get unlimited access to me?"

"Wow, that's... very compelling." And you burst out laughing, folding on your stomach as you lean against his chest. You inhale, "Sorry, I expected better negotiation. Uh, any catch?" You say between chuckles.

He shakes his head, "Just one condition," He's chuckling now, too. Not immune from your contagious giggles. "I spend most of my days with you. Even if it's just sitting in silence. I want it to be with you." He lets go of one of your hips and tucks a strand behind your ear.

The giggles die down a bit, gazing at him with reverie. You nod after a few seconds, squeezing his arms. You lift yourself, tiptoeing, closing the gap.

You leave a quick, soft peck on his lips, smiling as you get back on your feet.

Aaron smiles, and you're as ecstatic as he is.

Another nod fills your chest with utter joy as you breathe in euphoria.

"Ten's a good number."

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #fem!reader #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch #cm #criminalminds #bau team

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pshaven · 3 months

Text

toxic bsf!sunghoon. WALK WITH ME HERE !! (minors dni, cw oral (m!receiving, f!implied)

"girl... you serious right now?" sunghoon groans, his tone sassy as his body leans back casually, his arms prop behind his head while he gives you a pointed stare.

you narrow your eyes at him, your arms folded across your chest in a defensive manner. "i am. are you serious right now?" you direct his question back at him, a deep scowl taking over your face, but sunghoon just grins at you.

"i am as well. i don't see why you need to entertain those boys," he shrugs nonchalantly, his fangs peeking out from his upper lip as his smirk stretches, watching your face churn.

you scoff, "you're actually the worst. you're scaring all of them off, how am i ever supposed to get a boyfriend?" you complain in a whine, your brows knitted together in frustration from the lack of love in your life.

sunghoon cocks an eyebrow, his head tilted to the side as his smirk remains plastered on his face. "oh? if that's the case, then i can be your boyfriend." he retorts quickly, as if it was the most simple solution in the entire universe. well, to him it was.

your eyes widen, caught off-guard by his words. "uh... no," you quickly shoot him down, your scowl only deepening further but sunghoon isn't at all wavering as his expression remains the same.

"no? you sure?" he taunts, now leaning forward, his elbows propped up on his knees as he gazes at you. "we can play pretend, like when we were little y'know. you can practice on me so that you're prepared for the real thing," he pauses before a snicker leaves his lips, "well, that is, if you ever actually get a boyfriend." he adds on tauntingly, as if challenging you.

and he's got you, hook, line, and sinker.

"i'm kinda upset," sunghoon muses as your lips wrap around his cock, your tongue gliding along his prominent veins that causes him to hiss and throw his head back. "thought you would suck at this. who taught you before i could, hm?" he ponders, his tone is mockingly sweet with a hint of disappointment.

as you take him in deeper, a guttural moan escapes his lips. it serves to motivate you more, your tongue running down the underside of his twitching cock. you shake your head, your lips still wrapped around his cock as you hum in reply.

"fuck-, doesn't matter though, right?" he continues to ramble, asking rhetorical questions that you can't even answer due to your mouth being occupied. "'cause mine is bigger than other cocks you've sucked before, huh?"

you can only moan and hum in response to him, his grip on your hair keeping your mouth on him. he's not forceful with you, but he's making sure you don't pull off too far. he lets out a breathy chuckle at your expression, your brows knitted together and your mouth open with his heavy cock inside it. he could really get used to this, he'll have to 'play pretend' with you more.

an unexpected gasp escapes him as your tongue swipes at his sensitive tip, licking at the precum. "oh, fuck..." he moans, his eyes screwed shut as he enjoys the warmth and wetness of your mouth around him, your tongue working more expertly than he had expected.

"you'll let me cum on your face, right?" he moans out, his free arm now thrown over his forehead as you continue to suck him off. "a good friend would let their best friend cum all over their pretty face..." he muses, his voice now becoming breathless and airy.

with how his cock is twitching and pulsating wildly in your mouth, you can tell he's inching close to cumming. you nod your head, your throat swallowing around his cock that causes him to almost let out a whine. he barely catches your nod but he doesn't care- you won't stay mad at him for too long, right? he's your best friend after all...

sunghoon's grip on your hair tightens, quickly pulling you off of him as his other hand comes down to stroke his cock, your saliva and drool providing lewd squelches to fill up the room. his hips shift, bucking and twitching up as his moans and gasps reach your ears.

he keeps your head positioned right underneath his cock as he continues to stroke it. with a particular harsh stroke, he groans into the air, his cum painting your cheeks and lower chin white, some landing onto your shirt messily.

as sunghoon catches his breath, his chest heaving up and down, he eyes you, clearly enjoying the sight of you defiled in his cum. "so can i pretend to eat you out now or...?"

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #kpop smut

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lqfiles · 3 months

Text

PAY THE PRICE — 29. a moment of vulnerability

(wc: 2.281)

much to your surprise, haechan’s door was already left unlocked by the time you reached it. your hand halted at the immediate unlock of it, and you hesitantly moved it open afterwards, your confusion growing more prominent with each step inside. it wasn’t typical for haechan to leave his door unlocked, especially at night from the experiences you’ve had with him.

as you entered further into the apartment, an unusual sense of eerie and a strange stillness hit you. a muddle expression formed on your face, and you looked around the dark living room, a feeling of familiarity following as you did so. your first thought was to look at the spot you remembered haechan to be seated at last time you had visited him during the night hours.

“haechan?” you didn’t expect the tone of your voice to be so soft as you called out his name. haechan, who was sat on the couch instead of the floor, didn’t acknowledge your words, letting them echo into the void. “i know you have my stuff, asshole.” you lightly complained, attempting to stir a reaction out of him who had yet to look up.

he remained strangely silent, barely moving. you took more careful steps into the place, slowly making your way towards the middle of the room where he was. standing next to the couch, you contemplated on what exactly to do. “are you asleep?” you whispered carefully, somewhat worried that you’d wake him up. you’ve never seen haechan this silent, let alone this motionless.

haechan shook his head, breaking the motionless trance he was in. his hands were still crossed over one another and his head was still looking down at his lap. “are you.. you okay?” the question felt foreign as it left the tip of your tongue. it remained in the air and was left unanswered for approximately 10 seconds. you didn’t expect haechan to talk, but he did. “i don’t know.. maybe.” his voice croaked. you don’t think you’ve ever heard such a sound come from haechan.

you expected him to dismiss it, and now you were put in an awkward position. were you the right person to ask him to elaborate? you’re relationship with him wasn’t that strong, let alone anything friendly in your eyes. still, you had already intruded his place without his consent, maybe the least you owed him was an ear to listen. “wanna talk about it?” you sighed out with reluctance.

haechan’s sigh followed soon after as he finally looked up, making eye content with you. the first thing you took notice of was the tired look in his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t been sleeping for the past few days. before you could analyse his face any further, he spoke. “i just got a lot on my mind.” he started, fiddling with his fingers.

“about what?” you reluctantly asked again. realistically, you’re not sure if you cared or wanted to know the answer. but based of his body language alone, you could tell something was bothering him, and call yourself foolish, but if there was anything bigger than your foolishness, it was your sense of empathy.

“life? i’ve just been very.. what’s the right word.. lost?” haechan continued. you eyed the empty spot next to him, contemplating the decision on whether or not to take the seat. you obliged, if you were to stick around for a story time, you at least deserve to actually sit through it. you sat down and nodded for haechan to continue. “what about life?”

“i’m just.. I don’t know, i’ve just been wondering where i’m heading to with life.” he confessed, and the answer took you by surprise. “why’s that?” you questioned, growing intrigued. haechan pondered for a moment, his hands now limp on his lap. “it’s stupid.. i think seeing jaehyun do well in life just has me questioning my own course in life, i guess i feel somewhat discouraged?” haechan admitted and the mention of jaehyun piqued your interest, though you tried to not show it.

“i don’t get it, do you want to be like jaehyun?” you asked in confusion. your conclusion behind haechan’s sullen mood seemed to bother him. he shook his head with a soft groan. “no, i don’t want to be like him, but i also do. its not that i want to have the fame jaehyun has or be known as an outstanding singer.. it’s more like.. i want to stand out too.” haechan explained, gnawing his lips.

“why do you think you don’t stand out?” you inquired with your head tilted in confusion. haechan glanced your way before shutting his eyes softly, re-opening them shortly after. “well, now i stand out yeah, but i don’t like the way i stand out, it’s not me.” haechan groaned in exasperation, yet you remained confused.

“i don’t get it, what’s the issue?” you questioned once more, growing more intrigued by his complaints.

“of course you don’t get it, because you don’t know me (—). you probably think you do, but you don’t.” haechan deeply sighed, it seemed like he was really tired, whether it be in general or because of your continuing questions. you remained silent, not sure how to respond back to his words. haechan took the silence as an opportunity to continue.

“i’ll let you know a bit about me then. did you know that the only reason why i’m even attached to my guitar is because i believe it’s the only reason people show interest in me?” haechan stared ahead of him, arms loosely crossed. “i do know what it’s like to not stand out because i had always remained as the one everyone would choose second because i had nothing to offer. does that make sense to you?” with a slight twist, haechan shot you a quick glance before turning his gaze back to it previous focus.

“its funny because i thought, maybe, if i pick up on a trait such as learning the guitar, people would take more interest in me and i’d get their validation. which worked in my benefit, surprisingly. who knew everyone could be so into the rockstar boyfriend fantasy?” he chuckled almost bitterly. you slightly gaped at the confession, too stunned to form a proper reaction.

“its why i liked to be called haechan, and why no one aside from yangyang jaehyun and renjun get to call me by my real name, because they don’t actually care about the real me. they like haechan.” haechan’s arms unwrapped from each other, gesturing up and down the length of his body to emphasise his point. “they like haechan, the guy who plays the guitar and is nonchalant, not donghyuck, the guy behind him who always comes second.”

haechan’s tone was undoubtedly bitter, and he paused for a moment. “so, do you get it?”

“..i’m sorry to hear that.” was all you could come up with in the moment, your expression doing enough to showcase your honesty. haechan didn’t response, instead he brushed his fingers through his hair with a lack of energy. “but what about karina? she calls you donghyuck?” you wondered. haechan let the question hang in the air for a bit before he answered.

“because i never told karina any of my issues, why would i? she was a short talking stage, i was still figuring myself out as donghyuck and cut her off once i wanted to start fresh. i didn’t want a memory of the old me to be left behind, except for those i actually care about. i don’t care about karina.” haechan answered truthfully with no hesitation.

once again, you weren’t sure how to carry on from that. what was an appropriate question to ask in such an instance? there was an underlying hostility in his words, yet you could also sense the rawness and misery in them. your empathy truly got the best of you, and you prepared yourself for the speech you were about to give.

“this is probably going to sound weird coming from me.. but i’m sure there are many people who admire you.” you started. “i won’t lie, i hate your guitar, a lot, but you’re not bad at it, i guess.. you could say i admire that, or something.” you averted your gaze, staring ahead just like he did.

“i dont know, it seems to me like you’re scared of people liking you for who you really are which is why you’re putting up this front.” haechan’s face contorted into a frown. “now you’re just twisting my words.” he laughed, and you softly chuckled too. “what i’m trying to say is that i doubt people wouldn’t put you first if you remained true to yourself, for all you know, someone could’ve been madly in love with you for being donghyuck. why change yourself for others if it doesn’t make you happy?”

silence overlook again and you believed that you had hit a sensitive topic. “but it does make me happy.” haechan admitted after a minute, his voice merely a whisper. “so you’re happy being someone you’re not?” you repeated bewildered and haechan shrugged. “maybe.” he answered honestly.

“and you’re happy talking to girls as someone you’re not?” you continued.

“i like the feeling of being wanted.” haechan responded.

“okay, but playing with people’s hearts is not nice.” you argued back. haechan shrugged again. “i never said i’m trying to be nice, life hasn’t been that kind to me either.” he stated simply, crossing his arms over each other again. his persistent mindset shocked you, and you swiftly turned your body to face his.

“listen, i know we’re not that close for me to tell you what to do, but, stop doubting yourself, it’s weird.” you sighed in annoyance. “you’re interesting as you are and i don’t think a guitar would change that much. you’re scared that people will put you second, but you’re not even giving people the chance to put you first by being yourself. wouldn’t it be worse if people found out you’ve been putting up a persona this whole time? that you’re name isn’t even haechan?”

“what are you trying to say (—)” haechan had turned his head to look at you “you’re too harsh on yourself. whether you’re haechan or donghyuck, it shouldn’t matter. if people don’t like you for who you really are, then they’re not worth your time. also, you’re leading girls on by seeking their attention, it’s not nice.” you stated with determination, and haechan couldn’t hold back the smile that was forming on his face.

“why are you getting all serious about that.” he scoffed out a laugh, and the room started to feel more lively. his face seemed to have softened, and you internally let out a sigh of relief, for some reason. “i think everyone has their destined person that’s perfect for them, it’s kinda sad that you’re leading these girls on and making them think you’re their perfect match when you’re not even serious.”

haechan let out another soft laugh, and this time, he sat himself up more proper before turning to face you again. “okay, do you think you’ve met your perfect match?” his stare felt strong as they locked with your eyes and for a moment you remained speechless, lost in the intensity of them. “i don’t know.” you answer back truthfully. haechan nodded his eyes, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “and do you think we could be a perfect match?” and the question took you by surprise, your mouth ajar as you tried to come up with an answer.

“god forbid.” haechan chuckled at your response, and the rapid beating of your heart slowed. “i’m surprised you told me all this, you know. i thought you didn’t like me.” you admitted. haechan’s eyebrows raised at the assumption and he swallowed.

“i just wanted to be vulnerable for the night, knowing i wouldn’t confess to this stuff any other day. its nice to get stuff off your mind from time to time.” it hit you then why everything felt so weird this particular night. because haechan, the guy who barely crossed the friend status, was being vulnerable, with you of all people.

“we aren’t exactly friends.. but you can get stuff off your chest with me if you need to.” you offered haechan, and genuine surprise overtook his features. “why would you do that?” you shrugged, looking down at your own intertwined hands. “isn’t it better to tell someone who couldn’t care less about you than someone who does?”

“i didn’t know you could be nice like this.” haechan chuckled after some time. you scoffed in offence, looking back up at him. “I don’t know what image of me you have in your head, but i’d never make fun of someone’s vulnerability.” you defended yourself. haechan shook his head. “that’s not what i meant.” he corrected.

“i know, but being nice doesn’t have to be limited to friends. its nice to be nice… even towards insufferable people like you.” you continued to defend yourself and haechan’s perked up at your words. “are you saying we can’t be friends?” he wondered, his surprise masked by the tired look that had returned.

you attempted to remain unbothered by his inquiry, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders. “do you want to be friends?” you proposed with hidden curiosity. haechan stuck his hand out towards you, silently waiting. you hesitated before essentially gripping onto it, his own hand shaking your clasped hands.

“i‘ll give you your utensils when i wake up, i’m tired.” haechan yawned before getting up from his couch and walking towards his room. you got up yourself, making your way towards the door with your mind in a haze. your hand was on the handle of his front door, and before you could open it, haechan’s voice called for you.

“just.. you can call me donghyuck too, if you want, since you know it already.”

previous — master list — next

notes ; angsty… anyways sozz i was kinda living life and had no motivation but i’ll try~ proofread this once so sozz for any grammar mistakes

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

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talaok · 5 months

Note

Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face once... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself"

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much,

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

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thedensworld · 7 months

Text

What A Revenge | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: revenge AU, marriage contract AU, triangle love ft. seungcheol

Summary: After an unexpected rendezvous after a one night stand, Jeonghan asked Mingyu to set him up with you. However you had a different situation and it's getting complicated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"I'm going to get married,"

Jeonghan's words hung in the air, seemingly simple to himself, but the impact on his family was profound. His grandfather, the current president of the company, raised a stern brow, his expression betraying both surprise and concern. Seungcheol, his cousin, mirrored the disbelief, and even Jeonghan's parents scowled, their skepticism evident.

Caught off guard, Jeonghan's father coughed, attempting to redirect the conversation and attribute his son's statement to impulsive behavior. "He's joking, he might mean the merger that happened last—"

Jeonghan interrupted with unwavering determination, "No, I'm very serious. I'm going to get married in two months." The room fell into an uneasy silence as the weight of his announcement settled among the stunned family members.

Seungcheol nodded and carefully set down his utensils, his gaze fixed on Jeonghan. "Great news. Do we know that 'lucky' woman?" he asked, purposefully emphasizing the word 'lucky,' injecting a subtle pressure into the question. Jeonghan, however, remained oblivious to the underlying tone.

Responding with a genuine smile, Jeonghan said, "I don't think you know her, but she's an incredible person." Despite the sincerity in his words, uncertainty lingered in the air, as Jeonghan pondered the hidden implications behind Seungcheol's inquiry.

Seungcheol's father chimed in, attempting to cloak his words in a compliment, "It's really amazing if you want to marry her as soon as possible, Jeonghan." Yet, a trace of sarcasm tainted his tone, leaving Jeonghan to navigate the subtle complexities of the conversation. Unbeknownst to Seungcheol's father, Jeonghan saw through the facade, recognizing the bait successfully laid out before him. As the tension simmered, a storm of emotions churned within the room, each character concealing their true intentions beneath a veneer of polite conversation.

The grandfather, who had been an attentive observer throughout the conversation, cleared his throat and offered a proposition, "If you're being serious, you should introduce her to us. How about next week? Let's have a dinner with her here on Saturday night."

As Jeonghan exited his grandfather's house, a forced smile adorned his face. His parents confronted him after the dinner, their scolding fueled by a deep understanding of Jeonghan's tendency to prioritize work over personal relationships.

"Jeonghan, if this is just a card you're about to throw, let's stop whatever game you're planning on," his father cautioned before getting into the car. With a chuckle, Jeonghan responded, "It's just a small card for a start," his words carrying a hint of mystery as he watched his parents drive away. The air was thick with unspoken tension, leaving Jeonghan to navigate the intricate web of expectations and his own carefully crafted plans.

"Jeonghan, congratulations on finding the one," Seungcheol remarked, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he extended one for a handshake.

"Thanks," Jeonghan replied with a measured tone, accepting the handshake with a nod. Seungcheol positioned himself beside Jeonghan, a subtle quizzical expression on his face as he recalled, "Wasn't it just last year you told me that you won't get married?" Seungcheol reminisced about the conversation they had on Jeonghan's birthday, a stark reminder of the swift turns life can take.

Jeonghan nodded, his gaze lingering on some distant thought. "Yeah..."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as he reflected, "But this year is different."

"You know how marriage changes things, right?" Jeonghan redirected his gaze towards Seungcheol, inviting him into a conversation that seemed to be skirting the edges of unspoken dynamics.

"Marriage used to make your father a part of our family," Jeonghan continued, his words introducing an unexpected element into the discussion. Seungcheol's brows furrowed, the mention of his father injecting a note of discomfort.

"Marriage also used to elevate my father to today's position," Jeonghan added, drawing attention to his own family's success within the company. The complexity of intertwining relationships and power dynamics became apparent, leaving an unspoken tension in the room.

Jeonghan paused, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Marriage might also secure your position, into mine."

Seungcheol tilted his head, an unmistakable anger beginning to crawl across his face. Jeonghan, seemingly unfazed, patted his shoulder, delivering a cryptic message. "I have to go, Seungcheol," he announced, leaving behind a whirlwind of implications, leaving Seungcheol to grapple with the unexpected turn of events.

"Why was I informed this morning that you're going to get married?" Joshua's voice sliced through the air as he welcomed Jeonghan into his office, nearly sending Jeonghan into a heart attack as he crossed the threshold.

"That is true," Jeonghan replied calmly, though his heart raced with the unexpected confrontation. He settled into a chair, ready to dive into the day's tasks, but Joshua's demeanor gave him pause.

Joshua's brow furrowed into a scowl as he rolled his eyes, the tension palpable in the room. "Who are you going to marry?" he demanded, his tone tinged with disbelief and perhaps a hint of jealousy.

Jeonghan straightened in his seat, his expression serene despite the growing unease. "Ji Y/n. Do you know her?" he asked casually, attempting to diffuse the tension with a light tone.

Lee Jihoon, sensing the tension in the room, entered with two coffees and two sandwiches, silently offering a brief moment of distraction. But the tension lingered, thickening the air between the two men as they waited for Joshua's response.

"Here's for you, Mr. Hong," Jihoon said, setting down the extra coffee with practiced ease. Jeonghan couldn't help but marvel at Jihoon's efficiency, though he refrained from asking about the extra item, knowing Jihoon's reliability all too well.

"What's in my plate today, Jihoon?" Joshua inquired, his voice a blend of curiosity and authority.

Jihoon wasted no time in retrieving his boss's schedule. "You have a monthly meeting with the accounting and marketing departments at 9. After lunch, you have to attend the parents' semester meeting at Mingyu's school."

Jeonghan's smile widened at the mention of Mingyu's school, anticipation bubbling within him. He couldn't wait to see you there.

"Jihoon, did you know your boss is dating someone? He's going to get married in March," Joshua interjected casually, eager to share the surprising news with his loyal secretary.

"M-married? I-i never heard about that... Would you like me to put it into your schedule, Mr. Yoon?" Jihoon stammered, clearly taken aback by the bombshell revelation.

Joshua chuckled at Jihoon's shocked response, finding amusement in Jeonghan's apparent secrecy. He couldn't help but wonder if the information he received from his own secretary, Myungho, was indeed accurate. After all, Myungho had been informed by Moon Junhui, the main secretary of the vice president and Jeonghan's father.

"You can go, Jihoon. We'll discuss my schedule tomorrow," Jeonghan dismissed, taking a sip of his coffee before rising from his seat and approaching Joshua, who was lounging on the couch with an air of amusement.

"News spreads quicker than I thought," Jeonghan remarked, a hint of resignation in his tone. "And yes, I'm getting married in March."

"Who's Ji Y/n? Do I know her? Is she a celebrity?" Joshua inquired, his curiosity piqued by the mention of the mysterious fiancée.

Jeonghan shook his head, a wistful expression crossing his features. "She's just someone I've met two or three times. But she's the perfect match to be the wife of my grandfather's company vice president."

Joshua raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and skepticism evident on his face. "And here I thought you were giving up already... What's with the sudden passion to gain the title again?"

Jeonghan shrugged, his gaze distant as he recalled the events of the previous night's family dinner. "Playing games with Seungcheol is just too fun. I was just getting started, Josh. But it seems like everyone around him is already feeling the pressure."

Joshua regarded him with a mix of concern and understanding. "You do realize that whatever you're doing to Seungcheol now is pretty childish, right? You two were best friends and cousins."

A heavy silence settled between them, pregnant with unspoken truths and unresolved emotions. Jeonghan let out a deep sigh, grappling with the urge to reveal the true extent of Seungcheol's betrayal, the way he had callously discarded their friendship in pursuit of personal gain.

"Yeah, it was childish. But who cares?" Jeonghan's words hung in the air, tinged with bitterness and a hint of resignation, signaling the depth of his disillusionment with the situation.

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy breath as you sat on the toilet, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. Thoughts of surviving until the next lesson and enduring the upcoming parents' meeting only added to your weariness. The morning had started with a call from the principal, informing you of a scandalous rumor circulating about you.

The rumor had spread like wildfire, fueled by a post in the school community depicting you with a man, entering a hotel together. The caption, scandalous and defamatory, branded you as a promiscuous teacher who slept around with men. The principal's warning echoed in your mind, the threat of potential expulsion looming over you like a dark cloud.

Your hands found their way to your face, as if trying to physically dispel the exhaustion and frustration building within you. You had zero energy left to address the rumor, overwhelmed by the weight of everything on your plate. And no one seemed to care. Other teachers openly mocked you, discussing the false rumors in front of you as if you were invisible. You had no illusions that the students would act any differently; they seemed to thrive on the scandal, eagerly spreading and embellishing the gossip as if it were gospel truth. It was a lonely and disheartening realization, one that left you feeling isolated and helpless in the face of malicious rumors and indifference.

"Being a teacher is hard, we get paid less too. Sleeping around and getting paid after was easier. No wonder she would do that," you heard someone comment as they entered the room.

"But isn't she taken? She was engaged," another voice interjected, prompting another heavy sigh from you.

"What do you mean engaged? They broke off the engagement two years ago. I guess this must be the reason behind it. I can't believe Ms. Ji would do such a thing," another voice chimed in, the words cutting through you like a knife.

With a resolve born out of frustration and indignation, you stood and opened the door, confronting the group of gossiping teachers who stood in front of the mirror. They were momentarily stunned by your presence, their mouths tightening in discomfort before one of them coughed awkwardly.

"Is the rumor true, Ms. Ji?" one of them finally dared to ask, their eyes darting nervously between you and their companions.

You forced a smile, though it felt like a mask slipping over the turmoil brewing inside you. "We're in school. I don't think it's a proper topic for conversation," you replied evenly, your voice betraying none of the hurt and anger swirling within you.

The teachers exchanged knowing glances before one of them spoke up again, their words dripping with disdain. "Then be a proper teacher first. Not the one who sleeps around and gets caught."

The accusation hung in the air like a poison, the weight of their judgment heavy on your shoulders as you stood there, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the face of their gossip. It was a bitter reminder of the harsh reality of navigating the treacherous waters of rumor and reputation as a teacher, where even the slightest whisper of scandal could tarnish your name irreparably.

Without giving much thought to the gossiping teachers, you exited the restroom and made your way to your office. Your next lesson awaited, and you refused to let the venomous words of your colleagues ruin your mood.

Upon entering the classroom, your eyes immediately found Mingyu. A pang of guilt stabbed at your heart as you remembered the photos of you and his uncle entering the hotel, a revelation that still unsettled you. You tried to push aside the distraction, focusing instead on the task at hand.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the class ahead, and began by greeting the students. As expected, the atmosphere was cold and indifferent, the once respectful and attentive students now treating you with disdain and disregard. It was a stark contrast to the camaraderie and engagement you had previously enjoyed in your classroom, and it cut deeply.

Exhaling another heavy sigh, you couldn't help but wonder what sin you had committed to deserve such treatment. Whoever had posted those photos and spread the malicious rumors must have harbored a deep-seated hatred towards you. The thought gnawed at your conscience, leaving you feeling isolated and misunderstood. Despite your efforts to remain composed, the weight of the situation bore down on you, casting a shadow over what should have been a normal day of teaching.

"As you already knew, Korean culture has influenced a lot by—" your words were abruptly interrupted by the harsh creak of the door swinging open. Startled, you shifted your gaze from your students to the source of the distraction, and there stood a familiar figure, her presence commanding the room's attention. She was one of your students' guardians.

Slap.

A collective gasp filled the room as the palm of her hand collided with your cheek. A tingling sensation spread across your skin, leaving a trail of discomfort in its wake. You could feel the heat rising to your face, and you knew there would be a red mark left behind.

Unable to find your voice amidst the shock, you remained silent, but the tension in the room was palpable. Amidst the chaos, a hushed whisper broke the silence as one of your students stood from her seat and muttered, "Mom..."

"How dare you, an inappropriate teacher, teach my daughter! You're nothing but a slut who sleeps around," the guardian accused, her words dripping with disdain and contempt.

The weight of her accusation hit you like a ton of bricks, and a mix of emotions swirled within you – shock, disbelief, and a profound sense of injustice. It was a moment that would linger in your memory, forever etched as a painful reminder of the challenges you faced as a teacher, and the harsh judgments you endured from those who were quick to condemn without understanding.

Her voice reverberated loudly enough that nearby teachers from neighboring classrooms began to intervene. You stood there, feeling like an idiot for failing to protect yourself from those rumors and remaining silent about them. Your pride as a teacher crumbled, leaving you feeling vulnerable and incompetent as you struggled to explain the situation.

A fellow teacher stepped forward and gently took your arm, guiding you out of the classroom to avoid further disruption to the students' studies. Mr. Lee, with a reassuring smile, assured you that he would take care of your class and that you didn't need to worry.

Now, standing in the principal's office, you felt a sense of unease settle over you as the woman who had slapped you and Mr. Park, the principal himself, sat on the couch. You found it difficult to articulate the truth when they asked you about the rumors. Explaining the reality of the situation felt impossible, as it would only lend credence to the false accusations of promiscuity.

"So, is the rumor true?" the woman demanded, her tone accusatory.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "It's not true, ma'am."

"Then explain the pictures," Mr. Park pressed, his expression stern.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on you. How could you possibly explain the truth without incriminating yourself further? The mere mention of the photos filled you with dread, knowing that they only served to further tarnish your reputation and cast doubt on your integrity.

You winced as Mrs. Jung's voice rang out, her words hitting you like a physical blow. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you as she mentioned the possibility of being fired, and the thought of her daughter being taught by someone like you filled you with a sense of dread and shame.

She didn't stop there, escalating her threats by invoking her husband's position at Nevitech, leveraging it to expedite the process of your dismissal. The mention of a meeting with the school foundation's board sent a chill down your spine, knowing that your fate hung precariously in the balance.

Before Mr. Park could respond, the door swung open, revealing someone of great importance to him. Both Mr. Park and Mrs. Jung immediately rose to their feet as the person they had mentioned earlier entered the principal's office – none other than the Chairman himself.

You dared not meet his gaze, fully aware of who he was and the reason for his unexpected visit before the scheduled meeting later in the afternoon.

"I was going to visit before the parents meeting, but I heard that we have some not very nice rumors surrounding," Choi Seungcheol, the Chairman, stated as he entered the room, declining Mr. Park's handshake in favor of approaching you directly.

With gentle concern in his voice, he held your shoulders and guided you to sit on one of the sofas. "Are you okay? You should sit," he said softly, his comforting gesture a stark contrast to the hostility that had filled the room moments before.

Mr. Park seemed taken aback by how Seungcheol treated you. "Mr. Choi, it's very nice to see you, but... Do you know Ms. Ji?"

Seungcheol nodded before he settled himself beside you, his gaze drifting over your demeanor. He couldn't help but notice the faint red stain on your cheek, a stark reminder of the recent altercation. His secretary had driven like a madman to get here upon hearing your name mentioned in connection with the troubling rumors at the school. Seungcheol was one of the few people who knew just how passionate you were about teaching.

"She's... a friend," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he glanced at Mr. Park. "However, I overheard someone mentioning a board meeting. Mr. Lee, am I available in the near future?"

"I am afraid you are, sir," Mr. Lee, Seungcheol's secretary, replied promptly.

Seungcheol smiled at Mrs. Jung and Mr. Park, though the warmth didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm really disappointed by how you've failed to protect one of your staff, Mr. Park. I thought you were better at handling this kind of situation."

Mr. Park's expression immediately turned contrite as he bowed in apology. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Choi."

"And your husband's name, Ma'am?" Seungcheol's tone was firm, his disappointment evident. "I can't believe that someone in my company would use his position to target the vulnerable."

Following Mr. Park's lead, Mrs. Jung also bowed in apology for causing a scene and invoking her husband's position. "I acted recklessly, Mr. Choi."

Seungcheol shook his head, his gaze turning towards you. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. Ms. Ji is. I've known her long enough to realize she's a potential teacher with a lot of ambition. She's denied the rumors, and it's Mr. Park's responsibility to find out who's behind them."

Mr. Park bowed once again, his determination evident. "Yes, I'll find the culprit immediately, sir."

As the tension in the room began to ease slightly, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

Seungcheol settled beside you on the school park bench mere minutes after you both stepped out of the principal's office. He handed you a cold water bottle and gently urged you to press it against your stinging cheek. Your eyes couldn't help but notice the gleam of an engagement ring still adorning his finger, a painful feeling hit you like a truck.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he mumbled softly, his gaze lingering on your face.

You nodded in acknowledgment of his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. The humiliation of the recent events weighed heavily on you, and you felt a sense of shame that made it impossible to look anyone in the eye. Your pride had been shattered, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Seungcheol's presence beside you offered a small measure of comfort, but it also served as a painful reminder of what could never be. The gap between you felt insurmountable, a chasm of misunderstanding and regret that seemed impossible to bridge. As you sat there in silence, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over any hope of resolution or reconciliation.

"It's been a long time, and meeting you again like this... I'm glad, I honestly really am," he said, offering a gentle smile.

"How do you know?" You asked, turning your head to face him. This time, your eyes met for the first time since two years ago, when he broke off the engagement and left you in the apartment, shattered and alone. The memories flooded back – the exact moment, the chilling air, the crushing weight of heartbreak. And as you looked into his eyes now, it felt like your heart was breaking all over again.

"Seokmin told me about the rumors, and his brother updates him on what's happening in this school," he explained. "They're really great siblings, even though they don't look alike at all."

You found yourself contemplating Lee Seokmin and Lee Chan, the PE teacher. Despite the turmoil, you made a mental note to treat Mr. Lee to a nice meal once everything had settled.

"Thanks," you said softly, leaning back against the bench. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily upon you, but Seungcheol's presence offered a glimmer of solace amidst the chaos. It was a bittersweet reunion, tinged with the ache of unresolved emotions and the lingering sting of past wounds.

Seungcheol looked at you, his expression a mix of bewilderment and uncertainty. He blinked, then chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah..."

"Why?" you asked, curious about his reaction.

"It's just new to me, that you're not mad. I thought you were upset because I helped you earlier," he admitted, shaking his head slightly.

You managed a faint smile at his confession. "But, it's nothing. You're a friend to me."

Friend. The word echoed in your mind, stirring up a mix of emotions you tried to suppress. You nodded along with his words, though each one stung a little.

"Ji Y/n..."

You looked up to see Yoon Jeonghan breathlessly running toward you, suddenly enveloping you in his embrace. "Are you alright, honey?"

You winced at the pet name Jeonghan called you, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the familiarity. Seungcheol, on the other hand, remained stone cold as he observed his cousin immediately pull you into a tight hug. It all clicked into place for Seungcheol when he noticed Jeonghan scrutinizing you, his hands gently caressing your cheeks. The realization dawned on him as he connected the dots between the guy in the photo with you and Jeonghan.

Taking a step back, Seungcheol watched in silence as Jeonghan continued to dote on you, his demeanor strikingly different from his usual self. He couldn't help but notice how your face flushed in Jeonghan's presence, a stark contrast to the lack of reaction when you were with him earlier. The sight tugged at Seungcheol's heart, igniting a pang of jealousy that he struggled to suppress.

As he glanced down at his engagement ring, a reminder of his enduring love for you, Seungcheol felt a heaviness settle in his chest. Despite his efforts to keep his emotions in check, he couldn't deny the ache of longing that gnawed at him.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Seungcheol met Jeonghan's gaze, realizing that his cousin had noticed him standing silently behind you all this time. The tension in the air was palpable, each of them silently grappling with their own emotions and desires amidst the tangled web of relationships and unspoken truths.

"Seungcheol, this is Jeonghan, a—”

"Boyfriend," Jeonghan interjected smoothly, completing the sentence in a single beat. Seungcheol hoped his ears were playing tricks on him, but the way Jeonghan's hand rested possessively on your waist confirmed his worst fears.

"We've known each other, honey," Jeonghan added, his tone casual as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol couldn't bring himself to focus on the conversation between the couple. His mind was consumed by thoughts of how much you had changed over time, in all the ways that mattered. He couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in your demeanor, the way your smile seemed brighter and your laughter more carefree.

But amidst his admiration, a sense of impending doom loomed over him. He knew he was doomed to leave you, trapped by obligations and expectations that threatened to tear them apart. As he watched you with Jeonghan, the weight of his decision pressed heavily upon him, a burden he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried.

Convincing you to marry him was surprisingly easier than Jeonghan had anticipated. After conducting research on you, Jeonghan's people unearthed a few key facts that could sway you in his favor:

1. You were Seungcheol's ex-fiancée.

2. You were currently facing financial instability.

3. Your father required a costly neurological surgery.

Of course, Jeonghan didn't reveal his knowledge of your past relationship with Seungcheol. That was merely a piece of leverage he intended to exploit along the way. However, when he mentioned his willingness to assist with your father's surgery, he noticed a flicker of consideration in your eyes—a promising start.

With the help of Mingyu, Jeonghan arranged a meeting with you to present his proposal. Although you hadn't given him a definitive answer yet, the mere fact that you were considering it was a small victory for Jeonghan. He was impatient to move forward, eager to unveil the next card in his carefully crafted plan—a contractual marriage that would benefit both of you.

In just two years' time, Jeonghan envisioned achieving his goals. He would ensure your needs were met, take responsibility for your father's health, and inch closer to inheriting his grandfather's company, Golden Group. The prospect of success fueled Jeonghan's determination, driving him to push forward with his calculated scheme, even as he grappled with the moral implications of his actions.

"Let's have a check and sue that woman," Jeonghan said as he turned on the car engine, promising to take you home after the incident that had occurred at school.

"Let's do that..." you responded, your voice resolute.

Jeonghan turned his head to you, unable to comprehend the meaning behind your words. "Do wha—"

"Let's get married."

Jeonghan jolted, his foot instinctively pressing on the brake. "You serious?"

You nodded firmly, your determination shining through. "Yeah... When is the wedding going to be held, as you said?"

Jeonghan blinked in astonishment, trying to process the fact that you had accepted his proposal so quickly. He had given you a month to think it over, but it had only been a week, and you were already giving him an answer. Was it related to your meeting with Seungcheol earlier? He made a mental note to ask you about it later; he was curious how Seungcheol had been there before him.

"In two months," he replied, still trying to wrap his head around the sudden turn of events.

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. "You promised to do the things you said on the paper, didn't you?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jeonghan's lips as he raised an eyebrow. "Of course, honey."

Marriage Contract

This agreement is entered into on March 21st between Yoon Jeonghan, hereinafter referred to as the "First Party," and Ji Y/n, hereinafter referred to as the "Second Party."

Terms and Conditions:

1. Living Arrangements:

- Both parties agree to reside under the same roof, with the option of separate rooms. However, in the event of family visits, both parties are obliged to share the same room.

2. Schedule Adaptation:

- The Second Party shall adapt their schedule to accommodate the needs of the First Party. The Second Party is obligated to accompany the First Party to any events or commitments the First Party has in the future.

3. Public Display of Affection:

- Both parties agree to engage in displays of affection, referred to as "skinship," in public settings.

4. Responsibilities:

- The Second Party agrees to accept all responsibilities, including but not limited to health, wealth, and familial matters, under the guidance and direction of the First Party.

5. Monogamy:

- Both parties agree to maintain a monogamous relationship and refrain from engaging in any form of open relationship or extramarital affairs.

6. Intimacy:

- Intimate activities between the parties shall be conducted with mutual consent.

Term and Termination:

This Contract shall remain in effect indefinitely unless terminated by mutual agreement or as provided by law.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the parties hereto have executed this Contract as of the date first written above.

Yoon Jeonghan

Ji Y/n

Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh as he surveyed yet another suit in the store. When he had stepped into the shop, he had a simple mantra in mind: "Let's keep it simple." Little did he know that his own mother would be present, ready to torture him with her choices of suits and gowns for both him and you.

"Oh my goodness, look at you!" His mother's voice cut through the air, drawing Jeonghan's attention away from the report his secretary had sent him. He glanced up to see you standing before him, adorned in the most beautiful bridal gown he had ever seen. While he admittedly had zero knowledge about women's fashion, particularly bridal gowns, there was no denying the breathtaking elegance of the dress. And yet, he couldn't determine if it was the gown itself or simply the way you wore it that made it so captivating.

Lost in his thoughts, Jeonghan didn't realize he had been staring at you until he heard a sob emanate from his mother. He quickly approached her, finding her engulfing you in a tight hug while tears streamed down her cheeks. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he exchanged a questioning look with you, but you mirrored his expression of bewilderment.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you could stain the gown with your tears and makeup," the staff said gently, causing Jeonghan's mother to pull away from you, wiping her tears away with trembling hands. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and longing as she looked at him. "It reminds me of your sister."

Jeonghan felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he watched his mother struggle to compose herself. He had never seen her so vulnerable before, her emotions laid bare in front of him. The weight of his actions suddenly became all too real to him, realizing that the game he was playing was causing genuine pain to the woman who had always supported him.

As he looked at his mother, her eyes mirroring the grief she still carried for his sister, Jeonghan's heart sank. He knew he couldn't continue down this path, hurting those he loved in the process. It was a sobering moment for him, a realization that there were consequences to his actions beyond the thrill of the game.

Strike one, for the first time he started feel bad playing his own game.

You and Jeonghan spent the time afterward visiting your father in the nursery. His surgery was scheduled after your wedding, and he was visibly excited to hear about your upcoming nuptials. As you approached your father's room, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety fluttered in your chest.

Before Jeonghan could enter the room, you gently placed a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at you, surprised by the sudden halt, but as he met your gaze, he saw the subtle warning in your eyes. Without uttering a word, you were conveying a message to him, a silent plea to be understanding and patient.

"Whatever he's going to say, and if it's hurting you, he doesn't mean it, okay?" you whispered to Jeonghan, your voice laced with a mixture of concern and affection. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was an undeniable warmth in your tone, a reflection of the deep love you held for your father despite his flaws.

Jeonghan's smile widened, a genuine expression of understanding dawning on his features. In that moment, he realized just how much you cared for your father. However, willing to shield Jeonghan from any potential hurtful words, is it also caring?

"Is it my princess, Y/n?" Your father's voice quivered with affection as he watched you approach, a tender smile gracing his lips. You embraced him dearly, holding onto him as if to capture every precious moment in your heart. Jeonghan stood behind you, observing the intimate moment with quiet patience, his gaze filled with admiration for the bond you shared with your father.

As your father turned his attention to Jeonghan, his expression shifted, surprise evident in his features. "And who is this?" he inquired, curiosity tinged with a hint of suspicion.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. "This is Yoon Jeonghan, my fiancé," you announced, your voice steady despite the internal turmoil.

A flicker of confusion crossed your father's face. "Isn't your fiancé Seungcheol?" he asked, his words cutting through the air like a sharp knife.

You glanced at Jeonghan, a silent apology reflected in your eyes. "What are you talking about, Dad? Seungcheol and I broke up years ago," you explained softly, your voice laced with pain as memories of the past resurfaced, threatening to overwhelm you.

"Why?" Your father's question hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the heartache you had endured. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words to explain.

Sensing your sudden distress, Jeonghan stepped forward, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of turmoil. With a respectful bow, he introduced himself to your father, his voice steady and reassuring. "Nice to meet you, Father. I'm Yoon Jeonghan, your princess's fiancé," he declared with unwavering conviction, his words echoing with sincerity and determination.

Your father nodded in acknowledgment of Jeonghan's words, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes as he glanced at the chess set laid out on the table. "Y/n said you like playing chess. I was an athlete back in high school," Jeonghan remarked, trying to find common ground with your father.

"Really?" Your father's tone held a hint of intrigue as he considered Jeonghan's offer. "Let's play chess then. It's been a long time since I played with someone younger. I get easily bored every time I play with my wife and my brother," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with anticipation at the prospect of a new opponent.

The drive to your house was quiet, the tension in the air palpable as everyone processed the events of the day. Despite the outward appearance of calm, Jeonghan couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He stole glances at you multiple times, noticing the subtle shifts in your mood and demeanor.

"Your father knows Seungcheol..." Jeonghan mumbled softly, breaking the silence that had settled over them. You hummed in response, a faint furrow forming between your brows as you contemplated his words.

"What's wrong with you and Seungcheol?" Jeonghan's inquiry hung in the air, his voice gentle yet probing.

You let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past weighing heavily on your shoulders. "We just couldn't find it easy to be together," you admitted, your words tinged with a hint of resignation.

Jeonghan sensed that there was more to the story than you were letting on. "Is it his family?" he ventured, his intuition guiding him to a possible source of conflict.

"One of them..." you replied cryptically, your gaze drifting away as memories of past confrontations resurfaced. It was clear to Jeonghan that there were deeper issues at play, hidden beneath the surface of your relationship with Seungcheol.

Nodding in understanding, Jeonghan silently acknowledged the complexities of familial dynamics and the toll they could take on a relationship. Despite the lack of explicit details, he could empathize with your struggles, recognizing that Seungcheol's family could indeed be a source of pain and discord.

"My father's brain function was damaged after a car accident two years ago," you confessed, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. The memory of that tragic day seemed to linger, casting a shadow over the present. "The accident sent my mother and my uncle into death. My father was in a coma for three months before he regained consciousness."

As you spoke, Jeonghan listened intently, his heart aching with empathy for the pain you had endured. The devastation of losing loved ones and witnessing your father's struggle with dementia painted a grim picture of the challenges you faced.

"He has had to undergo multiple surgeries to try and recover from the dementia," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "But I can't afford it. His business went bankrupt, and I'm just a teacher."

Jeonghan's heart sank as he absorbed the gravity of your words. The enormity of the situation weighed heavily on him, and he felt a surge of guilt wash over him. Here you were, facing insurmountable obstacles, while he had been blissfully unaware of the extent of your struggles.

"You don't have to worry now," Jeonghan promised solemnly, his voice filled with determination. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, he was determined to stand by your side and offer whatever support he could muster. Yet, despite his pledge, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of guilt that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Strike two, he thought to himself, he felt worse.

An hour before the wedding vows, Jeonghan was bustling about, greeting guests with a practiced smile plastered on his face. It was a skill he had honed in the days leading up to this momentous occasion. Amidst the sea of well-wishers, he excused himself briefly, informing the parents that he needed to see you for a moment.

Walking briskly to the room where you were seated, Jeonghan's heart skipped a beat as he pushed the door open. To his surprise, he found Seungcheol engaged in conversation with you. Pausing at the threshold, he hesitated, unwilling to intrude on the private moment.

"Your father thought I was the groom," Seungcheol's voice carried a hint of determination, breaking the tense silence that hung in the air.

"Let's not talk about that," you responded softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before him in your wedding dress. The weight of the impending ceremony seemed to hang heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room as you prepared to walk down the aisle with your father.

Jeonghan stood rooted to the spot, his heart heavy with a mixture of emotions. Despite his efforts to maintain composure, a pang of insecurity gnawed at him as he observed the exchange between you and Seungcheol.

"Your father, he thought I was the groom! What's going on here, Y/n? Tell me!" Seungcheol's voice rose with frustration as he grabbed your arm, his tone demanding answers. Jeonghan, on the verge of intervening, paused at the threshold, uncertain of his next move.

Before he could react, however, he watched in astonishment as you swiftly maneuvered out of Seungcheol's grasp. In a moment of unexpected boldness, you raised your hand and delivered a resounding slap across Seungcheol's face. Jeonghan gasped, instinctively covering his mouth in shock at the sudden turn of events.

"Stop being an asshole and fucking grow up!" you admonished, your voice laced with a mix of anger and hurt. "You left me crumbled that time, and you didn't even reach out to me until two months ago. So stop, Seungcheol. Just stop it!"

The room fell into stunned silence as the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. Jeonghan watched in awe as you stood your ground, refusing to be intimidated or manipulated any longer. In that moment, you were a force to be reckoned with, asserting your independence and reclaiming your power.

Seungcheol recoiled from the force of your slap, his hand instinctively rising to his cheek as he processed your words. There was a flicker of remorse in his eyes, a realization dawning on him as he confronted the consequences of his actions. As the tension in the room lingered, Jeonghan felt a surge of admiration for you, marveling at your strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

"Do you love him?" Seungcheol's question hung in the air, the tension palpable as everyone awaited your response. Jeonghan's heart pinched at the mere thought of your answer, his emotions swirling with a mix of apprehension and longing.

"No," you replied firmly, your voice unwavering despite the weight of the question.

Jeonghan's breath caught in his throat, a pang of hope blossoming in his chest at your words. Yet, even as relief washed over him, he couldn't shake the ache of uncertainty that lingered within him.

"Then why did you choose him?" Seungcheol pressed, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Your response was simple yet profound, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Because," you began, your voice steady as you met Seungcheol's gaze, "he never left me."

As the weight of your words settled over the room, Jeonghan felt a surge of emotion welling up within him. Jeonghan's heart swelled with a profound sense of gratitude and determination.

As Seungcheol stepped out of the room, Jeonghan immediately retreated into the shadows, concealing himself until the coast was clear. Then, with a mischievous smirk and a round of applause, he made his grand entrance, acknowledging your earlier stunt with admiration.

"Revenge done, princess?" Jeonghan teased, his tone playful as he approached you.

You let out a heavy sigh, your hand still tingling from the force of the slap you had delivered to Seungcheol moments ago. "It's hurt," you admitted, showing him your reddened palm.

Jeonghan gently took your hand in his, blowing on it softly in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. "That's the feeling of revenge, babe," he remarked with a smirk. "It's hurt, but satisfying."

Despite the pain in your hand, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gazed into Jeonghan's eyes. There was a warmth in his touch, a reassurance that you were not alone in this battle. In that moment, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

As you shared a lighthearted moment together, a flicker of doubt crossed Jeonghan's mind. Did he ever mention that you were the perfect suitor to be the wife of the Golden Group Vice President?

"Can I ask you a favor?" you ventured, your voice hesitant as you sat across from Jeonghan in his office two weeks before the wedding, discussing the contracts that needed to be finalized.

"Let me hear it first," Jeonghan replied, crossing his legs and leaning back on the couch, his eyes fixed intently on yours.

"It's about Seungcheol," you began, your words causing Jeonghan's brows to furrow in concern. The mention of his cousin seemed to strike a nerve, his expression darkening with an underlying tension.

Jeonghan's gaze bore into yours as he sought clarity. "You still love him?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

You shook your head vehemently, dismissing any notion of lingering affection. "That's not what I mean," you clarified. "Listen, I want revenge."

Jeonghan's features softened slightly as he processed your words, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his eyes. Despite his initial apprehension, he recognized the fire in your gaze, the determination to right the wrongs of the past.

Jeonghan's head tilted slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Revenge on Seungcheol?" he questioned, seeking confirmation from you. You nodded solemnly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

"I need to know the details first," Jeonghan smirked, a hint of excitement dancing in his eyes. He had been itching to uncover the truth behind Seungcheol's actions, eager to unravel the mystery that had plagued your past.

A pregnant silence hung in the air as you gathered your thoughts, preparing to delve into the painful memories that still lingered within you. "He basically chose his career over me," you began, your voice tinged with bitterness as you recounted the events of two years ago.

As you spoke, Jeonghan leaned in closer, his gaze fixed intently on you as he listened with rapt attention. There was a hunger in his eyes, a desire to understand the depths of your pain and the reasons behind Seungcheol's betrayal.

"I just... don't understand why he suddenly has an obsession to lead his grandfather's company," you confessed, your voice tinged with frustration and confusion. "He changed into Seungcheol that I don't know. We argued for months, and he suddenly said that I was the reason his career was undeveloped. He broke off our engagement the next day and left me."

Jeonghan listened intently to your story, his eyes widening in disbelief at the revelation. Memories of his own strained relationship with Seungcheol flooded his mind, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. He recalled the pressure Seungcheol had faced from his parents to inherit the family business, and how their friendship had begun to drift apart as a result.

As you continued to recount the events that led to your breakup, Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for you. It was clear that both of you had been unfairly blamed for Seungcheol's own insecurities and ambitions.

With a newfound determination, Jeonghan resolved to help you seek justice and closure. He understood now the depth of the pain you had endured, and he was more than willing to stand by your side as you embarked on this journey of revenge.

As you outlined your plan for revenge, Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for your resilience. Despite the pain and heartache you had endured, you refused to be a victim, instead choosing to take control of your own destiny. With a silent nod, Jeonghan signaled his agreement, ready to stand by your side as you embarked on this journey of retribution.

Revenge on Choi Seungcheol? He is happy to help.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #densworld🌼#seventeen series #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #seventeen drabbles #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #jeonghan #jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan #svt jeonghan

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bvidzsoo · 6 months

Text

Preying on you tonight

Author: bvidzsoo

Warning: smut, cursing, alcohol consumption, violence, bullying (nothing extreme), saying wet dog as an insult, mentions of injury and blood

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Word count: 29k

Summary: Nocturnal Parade was a safe haven for creatures like yourself, vampires, and for creatures like Mingi, werewolves. After a misfortunate event, you come to hate the other kind with your whole being despite having to live in unity and peace. What happens after a drunken night spent with your enemy, a night which changes everything for forever?

A/N: Hello, lovelies!! Surprise, another Mingi oneshot! (because the brainrot is at its peak and I'm a Mingtis *cries*) I'd like to point out a few things before you start reading the story:

✦ 1. I did a different take on vampires and both werewolves here, let's say, it's my version of these creatures mixed with all the lore I know about them.

✦ 2. Please, please, please, imagine Halazia Era Mingi while reading this!!! And Deja Vu Era Yunho!

✦ 3. This is important! For the sake of the story, the siblings are all called Song, after Mingi's surname! (I didn't mention it in the story, but Mingi's fur is white!)

✦ 4. Yes, I used Katherine's surname because I have an unhealthy obsession with her and because Y/N's character was partially inspired by her. (my TVD lovers know)

Also, I feel like I accidentally made a lot of puns in the story, so don't mind me lol. I think that's all for now, and I'm veery excited to hear your thoughts about this story, so your feedback is very welcomed! I hope you enjoy it, and happy reading now! ^^

Taglist: @orshii @sharksandminhos @cheolliehugs @dollce-exe @kikiskz

Creatures like ourselves needed a safe haven away from the looming, close-minded, humans roaming the streets of cities, constantly pondering whether they’d fall victim next in our sharp claws. Their view of us was rather cartoonish, and disfigured, and we could only thank all those made-up legends for scaring humans away from peculiar creatures, like ourselves. We were nowhere close to being the scary monsters parents warn their children of in the bedtime stories they tell them, however, we could be dangerous if provoked and forced into an uncanny situation.

Communities have been formed a long time ago, altogether with a treaty, in hopes of making peace between the supernatural creatures roaming the same Earth as humans. However, most still didn’t take kindly of us, and therefore, we were forced out of their circles, made to fend for ourselves on our own. Laws weren’t abiding at first, quite deceitful when it came to the rights night creatures had, but after the Raging Revolution, everything changed. Humans became less animus towards us and finally started acknowledging us, step by step setting up things for us, allowing us to join their circles, of course, in a restricting and well-supervised manner. Therefore, after a party has been formed in order to defend our rights and fight for the future of the night creatures, a clergy was founded with it simultaneously, trying to prove to the humans that we were just like them, albeit a little rough and more menacing. We had the same beating hearts, the same iron and hot blood gushing through our veins; we weren’t indestructible either, and most of all, we needed the same resources as them. With the creation of the clergy, it had seemed that the humans had finally settled down, accepting us fully into their society. They remained cold to us, but they weren’t so rude and threatening anymore about their ideologies and beliefs.

This gave us the opportunities to finally meddle with them, to freely follow their footsteps, establishing a lifestyle similar to theirs. We were allowed inside their cities and towns, offered jobs and given permission to step inside the same buildings as them. Society was finally progressing after decades of oppression and pain, the night creatures were somewhat finally free from the clutches of their oppressors, living the lives our ancestors have fought so hard for. However, that did not mean that everything was joint, or that you didn’t have the choice of living secluded in the safety of your own kind. My parents have chosen to raise me up far away from the rambunctious big cities, instead settling in a heavily protected town, infused by only night creatures on the outskirts of the Haunted Woods, South from anything lively. But just because humans were scarce here, did not mean that our lives were quiet and boring. It was far from it. My life was anything but boring, childhood filled with mischief and misbehavior as I was always allowed to do whatever I wanted.

Perhaps it was the privilege of having extremely rich parents, being the descendent of a bloodline so ancient that I would get a headache trying to remember every family member that was still alive whenever we would gather for our annual new year celebratory balls. Raised in lavish and puff, I was content with the way things were, and I had no intentions of moving out of Nocturnal Parade anytime soon, if ever at all. My family had settled down here in 1250, and only those curious and adventure seeking ventured far from our homeland, sometimes returning with the promise of never wanting to join the human joint cities, with others never returning, calling our safe haven a lie and depraved of everything else the ‘real’ world had to offer us. To my parents joy, I had no such intentions, content with the Petrova family’s fortune and assets, rightfully so wanting to join the family business.

The Petrova bloodline had been around far before records were even made of humankind, they have survived plagues, wars, treason and disasters, always returning stronger and stronger, their names present in history books, marking historic events and building a community that welcomed any and all kinds of night creatures, not once discriminating anyone. There wasn’t an anarchy when it came to us, creatures, everyone was equal. That’s what the clergy preached and instilled in each one of us, however, I couldn’t help but harbor hard feelings against one kind, werewolves, more exactly. I most probably wouldn’t have had any problems against them, but an unfortunate event seemed to mark me for life, and I would carry it on with myself until the end of Earth. There was nothing and no one that could change my mind about those wild, feracious, and obnoxious animals. Even if the clergy said hating one kind meant being just the same as the humans were once towards us, I couldn’t help myself. Hating someone was not a crime, and with the deep webbed hatred in myself, not even the clergy could stop me from sending glares at those wet dogs, whispering threats at them, or making their days a living hell at our Academy.

Wilden Pine Academy was a place for Vampires and Werewolves; however, the occasional Fae and Druids would make their appearance as well. Nocturnal Parade was famous for its large population of Vampires and Werewolves alike; therefore it came as no surprise that the Academy closest to our town was littered with both kinds. A four-hour drive, deep into the Pinecone Forest, and you’d be presented with our majestic Academy, its towers high and dark for vampires not keen of sunlight, and fields widely expanding, perfect for the ever loud and restless werewolves. This place was made to bring everyone together, to strengthen the bond between the two kinds, their animosity against each other quite famous, well-known even between mere humans. And it seemed that Wilden Pine Academy did an extraordinary job at bringing vampires and werewolves to a truce, to control the deep-rooted hatred for each other, and to forge an alliance that became nondestructive over the decades as both remained on the front, fighting for the night creatures’ rights and lives. Not that those stupid history books could dictate how I would feel about such wild creatures.

The Academy was serene, with eager and passionate professors all around, spreading their knowledge about anything supernatural or quite mundane. Our curriculums were closely constructed in a way that would allow us to learn everything we needed to know about ourselves and our history, but also about the humans and their atrocious self-destructive stories. The grounds were separated in two, left wing for the vampires, and for the occasional fae folk, right wing for the werewolves and their little druid friends that would show up uninvited. Of course, there were more common grounds than one could possibly imagine here at Wilden Pine Academy, the academics following the clergy’s words like the Holy Grail. Everyone must be united at all times, discrimination between kinds to be severely punished, following the laws of the Night Creatures Rule Book. One of these said common grounds was quite unfortunately the study hall, which was open at all times, and warmly welcomed anyone who wished to catch up on their projects and homework. The separation between these two kinds was only ever present in my own mind, casting a glance upon the vast study hall, you’d realize that nobody cared who sat next to them as long as they didn’t bother them. Vampires next to werewolves were a common sighting, yet I couldn’t bring myself to stay in their vicinity for longer than three minutes. And even like that, I was being generous. I always made sure to pick the furthest table from those animals in the study hall, and was rather thankful that they weren’t stupid enough to approach my table. It didn’t take two brain cells to know I hated werewolves, and therefore, for most part they left me alone. Not that anyone had anything to say against a Petrova, now Bae, having changed our family name after the revolution due to some legal issues amongst the humankind.

People who usually came to the study hall did so because they wished to have a relaxed ambience around themselves, not quite as restrictive as the library as here you could eat, drink, and chat with your friends freely, without anyone giving you the stink eye or the librarian breathing down your neck to reprimand you. With that being said, the study hall had a friendly atmosphere made for the Academy’s students to be able to study in peace, which presented to be harder and harder to do with seconds ticking by. Of course, when a certain five wet dogs would show up, the quiet and peace wouldn’t even last for one second. Despite their table being towards the middle of the large room, and my own table towards the back, close to the large bookcases, their loud howls and laughter carried over. It blew my mind how nobody even as much as glanced their way or said anything to quieten their table down. Everyone seemed content with the ruckus they were creating, and it made my blood boil even more that I couldn’t be as unbothered as the rest of the creatures around me. But perhaps if it was a bunch of vampires being rascals, I also wouldn’t have batten an eyelash in their direction, but this was the Song family. A family I hated with my whole being, the five creatures having risen from Hell itself, marched all the way to Wilden Pine Academy to reign chaos upon its once peaceful grounds. I never thought a body could yield such strong emotions, until I met the Song boys, and girls as well, their disgusting scent alone driving me up the wall. Especially of one certain person, who smelled like an actual wet dog, mixed with fresh grass that would make anyone gag. His scent was just as atrocious as his existence, making me grit my teeth whenever I was in the vicinity of him. Which happened more often than I would have liked it to.

The Song twins, unfortunately, had been part of my life ever since I was eight years old. Not by choice, of course. If I could’ve, I would’ve eradicated their existence a very long time ago. The Song’s weren’t native to Nocturnal Parade, they have moved into our safe haven just before our first academic year would start, coating the town in chaos like never seen before. They were well-known for being loud and eccentric, their parents just as much of a bother as their children were. And there were five of them, five horrific werewolves, howling and cackling every time you’d cross their paths. Song Mingi and Song Yunho were not your identical twins, however, they did seem to resemble each other in more ways than others. Both were tall, boisterous, loud, and hyperactive to a point where once Yunho had to be sedated as he wouldn’t stop running around the fields before curfew. Despite Yunho being the louder twin, Mingi wasn’t far behind, his personality more irritating than the older twin’s one. He never failed to drop whatever he carried in his hands, bumping into anything possible as if his coordination was off—not that I had expected anything more from a filthy dog. And despite being similar, they were quite easily very different when it came to their styles. Yunho, ever colorful and peculiar when choosing his attire, his black hair highlighted with fiery red highlights, nails always painted either turquoise or yellow, and shoes mismatching for whatever mysterious reason that I really wasn’t curious about. Mingi, however, only wore dark clothes, with the occasional odd white colored graphic t-shirts—or that one funky white jacket with a bunny on it—always heavily littered with silver jewelry around his neck, wrists, and fingers, his nails never bare, always tinted black or chrome silver.

Both Yunho and Mingi had a phase, back when we were all fourteen, when they have started heavily smudging their eyes with black kohl eyeliner, always looking like pandas after we had to run around the flower fields while it rained heavily. It seemed that only Mingi stuck with the makeup, Yunho opting to experiment with different lip colors, weirdly sticking to a dark purple or light pink one for most times. I never allowed myself to ponder too much about their preferences, the twins a sighting everyone found odd at times, perhaps even intriguing as they seemed to have personalities that was liked by the masses, giving me a headache whenever I saw creatures flocking around them, vampires and werewolves alike, desperate for some attention from them.

But if having the Song twins a constant in my life until I would graduate from the Academy was bad, I really had no idea what more this family had in store for me. With the appearance of their younger brother, Wooyoung, I finally learned what absolute and utter chaos and madness meant, the boy a spawn of Satan himself, sent to destroy anything in its wake. The boy was a werewolf, yet he cackled like an old, evil, witch, his dark eyes staring into yours as if he wanted to suck your soul out. And he was cocky, way too confident in himself, perhaps a defective trait he learned from Mingi, who wasn’t lacking in the ego department either. And when I thought I was finally safe of that horrible family, two more additions of the family showed up at the Academy, two girls, their sisters. Yeri, who was three years younger than the twins and one year younger than Wooyoung, was a deceitful girl. Her angelic face had fooled everyone at first, sweet smile and soft giggles quickly making everyone fall for her charm naively. But that girl was another spawn of Satan, the biggest troublemaker dated at the Academy so far, every professor’s nightmare from the very first class she attended, successfully blowing up a frog to everyone’s horror, only giggling when brought to the Principle’s office, saying that she hadn’t seen the instructions in her book and decided to improvise. And if the family wasn’t complete already, their youngest sibling also showed up at the Academy, and she was the oddest of them all. Dahyun never really spoke until she felt the need to. Her face a constant mask of blankness, lips downturned and eyebrows furrowed. She’d hold eye contact with anyone who looked her way, and smile almost threateningly when they averted their eyes disturbed by her emotionlessness. She often whispered to herself and, to my utmost horror, I was unfortunate enough to catch her speaking to the air once I was out in the fields with a fae friend, whispering about some dead animal she had found a day ago. Three were rascals and two were possible future murderers, weren’t they a wonderful family?

My fist tightened, fingers flexing around the pencil I held in my hand, lower lip sucked in as my glare settled upon the loud Song table, blood boiling, and ears ringing from oversensitivity as I struggled blocking out their voices. Wooyoung had been cackling like a madman for over thirty minutes now, Yunho also constantly giggling as they were hunched over a book, scribbling in it furiously and snickering every time Yeri tried to see what they were doing. Mingi seemed to be the only one doing his homework, however, he would contribute to the mess by his own loud, irritating, laughter, unless he was pestering Dahyun about eating something, throwing chips at his younger sister’s face. The girl sat unmoving in her chair, staring ahead at one fixed point, her eyes slowly shifting onto Mingi every so often, almost smiling at him when Mingi was too busy furrowing his eyebrows as he probably struggled solving his homework. There was a knock against the wooden table, and my eyes finally snapped away from the distasteful scene, falling on my fae friend.

“Your homework won’t solve itself, Y/N.” Krystal, the Fae with undying beauty and velvety voice, said with a chuckle. Perhaps she was the least judgmental in our four-member friend group, always kind to others, and way too understanding.

“I can’t work when it’s so loud in here,” I said with a sigh, twirling my pencil around my fingers as I looked at my unfinished potion for Alchemy disheartened.

“Try blocking them out,” Krystal said with an encouraging smile as she patted my cold hand twice.

“Easy for you to say,” Seulgi hissed, turning back in her seat to glare at the Song family, “when you don’t have heightened hearing.”

Krystal chuckled, eyeing Irene for a second, who seemed unbothered as she sat next to Seulgi, head buried in her book, “Irene seems pretty unbothered.”

“That’s because I am.” Irene’s voice was lighter, a little on the shrill side, yet strong as she snapped. She looked up, amused for a second, before she placed her hand on Seulgi’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. I watched the action without saying much, but feeling suspicious of them lately.

“They’ve been in here for more than two hours and haven’t shut up for once, for fuck’s sake.” Seulgi gritted through teeth, the only one in our friend group who shared a hatred with me towards the Song family. Perhaps a failed relationship and broken promises lead to her current emotions towards the five people, but I wasn’t one to pry if she didn’t want to talk about it.

“You tell me,” I muttered, eyes falling back on their table, Mingi leaned over it and shoving chips forcefully in Dahyun’s mouth as she had opened it, only to bite down hard on Mingi’s thumb. Perhaps that was funny as I chuckled, trying to mask it with a huff, until the first spawn of Satan suddenly jumped up on the table, making my jaw drop.

“Ahoy, everyone get on board!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, finally everyone in the study hall looking at Wooyoung, “This ship is about to sail outside, who’s with me?!”

To my utmost disgust, there were people who cheered and suddenly approached the Song family’s table, jumping up and making sounds inadequate for such setting. They were howling, like dogs. I took in a deep breath, but couldn’t control my rage as it finally burst from all the irritation I had bottled up since the morning class I had to share with the twins, forced to sit next to Mingi by the professor, “Okay, that’s it. I need to leave.”

My friends looked at me, and Seulgi nodded as she started packing up, “Fuck, same. I’m about to bite Yunho’s throat off.”

Irene quirked an eyebrow at her friend, but said nothing, just chuckled. My hands shook as I pushed my chair back forcefully, making it screech loudly against the floor, yet the ruckus Wooyoung had created was overbearing, and nobody even heard my chair falling to the floor. I grabbed the two books I had picked in order to inspire me for my potion, and turned to head towards the bookcases. Krystal had an apologetic smile on her face as she raised one hand, “I think I will stay; I still need to finish my project.”

“That’s alright.” Irene said with a reassuring smile, her stoic expression instantly melting, “I also want to read some more. Should we head to a smaller table?”

“Sure!” Krystal grinned and both girls started packing their things as Seulgi and I made eye contact, her cheeks red.

“Do you mind if I wait for you outside?” Her voice sounded strained and I shook my head no, knowing that she was on the verge of snapping. Not that I was far off from doing the same. I picked my previously fallen chair up, and placed it back on its feet before taking off towards the very last bookcase, the returning band being placed there. Despite knowing where I took my books from, I found it only logical to place them on the return band, hence why it was put there. I bypassed a vampire staring at one of the bookshelves, almost crashing into them when they stepped backward, thankful to my quick reflexes as I avoided colliding into them. I gave them a glare as I continued walking, hurrying when the cheers of Wooyoung and those having joined him had gotten louder, making my jaw tighten as I sucked in another deep breath, ears ringing from the commotion. There were some days when I woke up overstimulated and sensitive to everyone around me. Even the softest of sighs could make my ears ring and bring forward a migraine, and today was one of those days, and the Song family made sure to worsen my symptoms with their loud antics.

I finally reached the band at the end of the bookcase, and neatly placed the two books on top of other ones, to be sorted and placed on their respective shelves later. A particular loud shriek made my body tense as it felt like a vein was close to popping in my forehead, head thumping, forcing my eyes squeezed shut. I took a second to regain my composure, gulping hard, and inhaling deeply, almost choking on the wet dog smell invading my senses. It took everything in me not to gag, and as I turned to speed walk out of this wrenched place, I crashed harshly against another hard body. They gasped loudly, books tumbling to the floor. As the smell got prominent, I jumped back upon realizing it was Mingi who had ran into me. My eyes instantly narrowed, piercing on Mingi as he looked at his feet almost defeated, five books laying scattered around him. His blonde hair with fading red at the ends was long, and in a half-up ponytail, with the front strands framing his sharp features, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me.

“Hey, next time—”

“Watch where you go, dog.” I hissed, voice low and threatening, “I’m sick of you always stumbling into me.”

Mingi’s eyebrows raised in disbelief and he scoffed, “You crashed into me, Y/N, not me into you.”

“Right,” I snapped, rolling my eyes, “because I could have possibly seen there’s someone behind me to purposefully run into them.”

“Don’t you have heightened senses for a reason?” Mingi mocked as he crouched down to gather his books, making me look down at him, glare furious.

“All my heightened senses are good for when you’re around is to smell the wet dog stench you carry with yourself.” I scoffed, quirking an eyebrow at Mingi as he paused for a second, raising his head slowly to look at me. His expression seemed to suddenly shift, eyes narrowing as he let the books stumble to the floor again.

“Excuse me?” His deep voice dropped even lower, raspy in its undertone as his jaw clenched.

“I’m sick of you and your inept family always creating a scene wherever you are,” I snapped, leaning down slightly as Mingi’s eyes slowly seemed to darken, pupils blown wide, “Always screaming, shouting, acting like delinquents, bothering absolutely everyone around yourselves.”

Mingi stood, looming over my form with his tall body, lips pulled into a sneer, “Little miss princess wants to teach me and my inept family some etiquette, when she can’t even bring her books back to their own places?”

I gulped, scoffing as I felt my blood pumping faster, harder, when Mingi’s eyes suddenly flashed their menacing orchid color. His wolf was probably fighting to come forward, but it looked like Mingi was trying to suppress it, “This band is here for a reason, Mingi. Lord knows you and your inept family need that etiquette lesson. Perhaps it would finally give you some sense, perhaps you’d finally realize you have no place at Wilden Pine Academy and Nocturnal Parade—”

My heated words were cut off by a loud gasp as I was slammed into the bookshelves behind me in the blind of an eye, hard wood digging into my spine as a strong grip curled around my left bicep tightly, claws almost piercing my skin. Mingi’s eyes shone a bright orchid, and his fangs suddenly grew as he hissed lowly, lowering his head to the point that it was in my face, mere centimeters away from my own. My body reacted instantly, freezing in shock, starting to tremble as my heart thumped wildly in my chest. I tried to fight the flashbacks, but the stronger Mingi’s grip got, the more frozen to my spot I was. I could picture Mingi shifting into his werewolf form, easily ripping me in half, the Petrova bloodline lost without me. We could only reproduce once.

“Mingi—” I gasped when I felt claws pressing into my flesh, making my eyes widen greatly. All of my heightened senses and strength was forgotten in that moment, body trembling uncontrollably. I was frozen to my spot, shaking eyes boring into Mingi’s orchid ones, throat constricting to the point I couldn’t breathe anymore. I struggled in gathering myself, my trauma response stronger than my will to push Mingi off myself and rip him in two. I was good under pressure, I rarely panicked and I prided myself for being level-headed, until a werewolf had me in its clutches, ready to end my life. I tried to take a ragged breath, and Mingi suddenly growled, something warm trickling down my upper arm. Frozen in terror, I could see this moment would be my demise, until suddenly voices flooded my ears, sounding rapid and panicked.

“Get him off, Yunho!” Still in a haze, mind jumbled, I realized slowly that Irene was shrieking next to me, suddenly cradling my head against her chest, but my eyes were on Mingi’s, who was trembling as well, but in anger.

“Mingi!” Yunho exclaimed, grabbing his twin’s face in both hands, yanking his head to the side as Mingi and I finally broke eye contact, “Release her, right now.”

Mingi didn’t budge for another minute, and I gasped when I felt my skin painfully pierced by his claws, but then it all suddenly stopped as Mingi jumped backwards, eyes wide as he looked around frantically. His orchid eyes flicked back to their usual warm brown tone, fangs still poking through his plump lips. Without Mingi caging me against the bookshelves, I crumbled into Irene’s arms, hyperventilating as my bicep pulsed, the painful sting clouding my vision with tears.

“Go away.” Yunho’s voice was stern as I squeezed my eyes shut, thankful for Irene’s comforting embrace as she quietly shushed me, petting my head. She was smaller than me, but her body was strong and firm, holding me captive in a motherly manner against herself. I took deep breaths, taking notice of Mingi’s scent disappearing, only Yunho’s remaining, who didn’t stink as badly of wet dog like Mingi.

“I’m sorry,” Suddenly, I felt Yunho’s eyes on me, and I gently pushed Irene away, wiping at my face, “The full moon is close and it’s always hard for Mingi to control his anger around this time. I’d like to apologize on his behalf—”

“Stay away from me!” I snapped, hissing at Yunho menacingly, my eyes shining scarlet, “All of you filthy dogs!”

Abandoning my things, which were least of my worries now, I stormed away from everyone in the study hall, out through the wide doors, having a bewildered Seulgi race after me upon noticing me. My body shook as I carefully wrapped my right hand around my bicep, biting my lower lip as it started trembling, the faded old bite mark suddenly pulsating violently, memories of that repressed day resurfacing, feeling that excruciating pain all over again. I paid no mind to the blood trickling down my arm as Seulgi fussed behind me panicked, asking question after question. I ignored her and sped up, wanting to be alone for the time being. For at least until I calmed down and repressed those awful snarls, sharp fangs and thick fur flashing behind my eyes. I hated werewolves with a passion, and nothing could change my mind about them.

Hours later, I have finally calmed down enough to leave my room and head to the canteen designed for Vampires to do my daily feed as I have skipped it this morning, having accidentally slept in. The hallways were warmly lit up, yet rather cold as the breeze wandered inside through the small cracks in the stone walls or through the opened windows. Night had fallen upon us, and everyone was finishing up their business as curfew came closer and closer. Thankfully there was no sign of the Song family through my journey to the canteen and back to my room, I don’t think I would’ve been able to even as much as look at them without wanting to rip their heads off. I had to bandage my arm after cleansing it thoroughly, since the wound was made by a werewolf it would take a day or two to fully heal, no matter how little the injury. I knew everyone heard about our little scene in the study hall as I was given inquisitive looks, only for me to ignore them as I held my head even higher, glaring at anyone who wouldn’t look away after the first poisonous look I sent their way.

Irene wasn’t in our room when I returned, but there was a small note on her bed saying that she would return late, and that I shouldn’t stay up and wait for her as she had taken our key to the room. She never explained where she disappeared to so late in the night, and I never bothered to ask, knowing well that Irene wouldn’t tell me anything, unless she was certain of whatever was going on between her and the suspected person I had in mind. That being Seulgi. Ever since her and Yunho broke up, Irene’s been breathing down her neck and it wasn’t difficult to spot the subtle changes in their friendship. The lasting stares, the subconscious touches, always looking for the other in overcrowded areas. The signs were there, but perhaps I was just reading too much into things. Seulgi needed someone who’d fully support her after the break up as she was struggling with accepting the way things ended between her and Yunho as he seemed quite unphased by it all. It was a saddening view, to see Seulgi suffer so much, mop around all day and cry even at the mention of said werewolf—it only made me hate the Song twins more. They only brought trouble and headache wherever they went, breaking hearts left and right.

I sighed as I opened the window to let some fresh air in, noticing a small letter placed on the windowsill outside. Upon noticing the emblem binding the envelope together, I quickly reached for it and delicately opened it, being presented with my mother’s fancy handwriting, just like I have expected. I sighed and leaned against the wall, eyes running over her words as the black ink seemed fresh still.

Dear Y/N,

I hope you are doing well and this letter finds you before Irene can get her hands on it, I know the last one she burned just to force me to call you. But you know I like old fashioned things, my dear, cellphones are simply not up for my taste.

To get to the point, I hope you haven’t forgotten about Parents’ Day approaching rapidly, but in case you have, here’s your reminder to start getting ready in time, daughter. If you have unpacked your luggage yourself, you must have seen the ruby red dress I have slipped inside it. I hope to see you wearing it, dear, it would bring out your pretty eyes so well. And do not forget, your makeup shouldn’t be too harsh, it gives your father a heart attack each time he sees you wearing it.

Granma and grandpa are doing well, actually, they have gone on a trip to the Maldives, said something about buying a vacation house over there so that we can stay there over the summer. Doesn’t that sound exciting? Aunt Lannie and Uncle Jaehyun would be joining us as well. It’s been quite a while since you have seen your cousins, right? How exciting!

I shall be wrapping this letter up now. I look forward to seeing you very soon, my dear, and don’t forget to be on your best behavior until then. I’d hate to get a phone call from the Principal, again, about you setting on fire one of the Song children. Mother and father loves you much!

Yours sincerely,

Petrova Yurim

I chewed on my bottom lip as I finished reading my mother’s letter, closing the window and sauntering over to my bed, dropping down on it as my grip tightened around the letter. Parents’ Day was in two days and I was far from ready for it. I have seen the dress in my luggage my mother was talking about, but I sincerely would’ve preferred not wearing it as it was a rather old dress, very out of trend as of right now. But I knew my mother’s heart would break if I didn’t wear it for her, and I closed my eyes as I fell back on my bed, wondering how I could modify it a little bit so that it would fit my style. My choice of makeup was never ‘heavy’, but my father never seemed to understand that a little eyeliner, mascara, and red lips didn’t mean the Earth was ending.

My parents have always been strict and quite demanding when it came to their preferences, rarely lenient about whatever I wanted for myself. After a while, I just learned to go with the flow and follow their teachings and words, knowing very well that once I was away from them I could do as I wished. Like setting on fire one of the Song children. To be fair, it was an accident, and it happened one year ago when we were in Alchemy class, the only class where pure chaos would ensue each time without any doubt. Yunho and Mingi had been sitting in front of me and Seulgi, loudly giggling and chatting about something completely irrelevant to our lesson, distracting me, which lead to a mild arsoning incident. I had dropped the match I had just lit up when Yunho suddenly cheered loudly, the match falling on Mingi’s chair, the long fluffy cardigan he had been wearing catching on fire. At first, I thought it would just stop burning—not one of my wisest thoughts—but it only flamed up, making Mingi yelp and Yunho shout in panic as they jumped up from their seats, frantically wrestling Mingi out of his cardigan before it could do any real damage to the werewolf. It was a rather hilarious sight, and instead of panicking and trying to help them put out the small fire, I sat cackling and high-fiving Seulgi…which, of course, caught the attention of our Professor, thus I had no choice but to admit my mistake to the Principal. I wasn’t punished for it, but Yunho would growl at me for a whole month if we were close enough to each other that his scent bothered me, and Mingi would just glare, keeping away for the most part. It had been the best month of my life; I wish it would’ve lasted for longer.

Suddenly the door of my room slamming open made me jump, alerting me to my surroundings as I had been lost in thought, unaware of an approaching Seulgi. She skipped inside with a huge grin on her face, dumping her bag on the floor and jumping on my bed, almost crushing my knee. I yelped and rolled over just in time, which apparently was an open invitation for Seulgi to cuddle me. I grumbled as her arms wrapped around my middle, her head nuzzling against my back with a giggle.

“What are you doing?” I asked with an amused huff, trying to pry her arms off me.

“I need some love,” Seulgi muttered, kicking my leg when I dug my nails into her skin, “Ow, just because we’re vampires doesn’t mean that doesn’t hurt!”

“Get off,” I laughed, rolling onto my back, forcing her to release me, “I don’t like cuddling.”

“You’re the worst.” Seulgi pouted, glaring as we turned our heads to face each other. I rolled my eyes, disregarding my letter onto my bedside table before settling back down.

“I thought you were with Irene.” I muttered, raising an eyebrow. Seulgi shook her head no and pursed her lips.

“Haven’t seen her since the study hall, she was really pissed.” Seulgi explained, turning onto her back as she stared up at the white ceiling of my shared room with Irene, “It wouldn’t come as a surprise if Mingi was found ripped in half somewhere.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest, “If Mingi dies, it better be by my hands and not anyone else’s.”

Seulgi snickered, raising an eyebrow, “Would you really kill him?”

I pondered for a second, eyebrows furrowing. Was I really capable of hurting someone to the point it would cause their death? Not exactly. Did Song Mingi piss me off so much that I have envisioned myself ripping him up into tiny particles, never to be seen again? Well, yes.

“No.” I settled with my answer, sighing loudly as Seulgi hummed, silence falling over us as there was a quiet rumble in the sky, further somewhere. A storm was coming.

“This took a dark turn, anyways,” Seulgi chuckled, sitting up and grinning down at me, “did you know about the bonfire happening tomorrow night?”

“First time I hear about it.” I grinned as I looked up at Seulgi, knowing where this conversation was leading to.

“Well then,” She wiggled her eyebrows, “You better get ready to attend another legendary party! The werewolves got the Principal to drop the curfew for the seniors tomorrow night, and we’ve got the whole lake house to ourselves!”

“What?” I asked surprised, eyes widening. Well, that was something. The lake house was off limits, unless we were supervised or had swimming classes.

“Yeah, cool stuff, isn’t it?” Seulgi nudged my thigh with her elbow, “You have to admit…these wet dogs are good for something, sometimes.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I shot Seulgi a glare, the faded bite mark and fresh wound on my left bicep suddenly pulsing in pain, “Never. They are the worst and they’ll always be. They shouldn’t even exist.”

“Okay,” Seulgi drew the word out, giving me an exasperated look, “before you start ranting about why vampires are superior and why werewolves should’ve been eradicated a long time ago, I’m going to dip!”

“Leaving so soon?” I asked with a pout as I watched Seulgi get off my bed.

“Yeah, unless we’re having a sleepover, I have to reach my own room before the curfew.” Seulgi said as she grabbed her bag and adjusted her hair in the mirror.

“Irene’s bed is free for the night, she’s not sleeping here, I think.” I muttered absentmindedly.

“Oh, I know.” Seulgi winked as my eyes narrowed at her, and then she was gone, slipping through the door, and skidding down the hallway outside of my room, her light footsteps loud to my sensitive ears. Tomorrow’s party came in handy; I really needed a drink after today. I couldn’t help but fall back into my bed with a loud huff, forcing my eyes shut when my scar started pulsing harsher, the claw marks left by Mingi fresh and just a reminder of that horrific night I was forced to live through so many years ago. And if the universe was against me, howls of those wrenched creatures traveled all the way inside my room, terrifying and loud, covering my skin in goosebumps. I truly hated those awful creatures of the night.

My hand clenched and unclenched above the tray of food placed in front of myself as I reached for the cold-water bottle, jaw clenched as the skin of my right hand burned with each jerk of my raw skin. I have been injured, again, by Song Mingi. It all happened this morning, in Alchemy. Our professor loves switching up seatmates every few days, therefore I cannot escape the wrath of having to sit next to Song Mingi for a totality of an hour and thirty minutes. Every Alchemy class had been a nightmare when we were seated next to each other, but perhaps today’s was the worst of all as Mingi managed to burn my skin with hot, sizzling, lead. Despite being a vampire, it was the second most painful thing I’ve felt so far, and it made my blood boil as the table the Song’s were sitting at was the loudest in the vast cafeteria. These idiots were enjoying their free time, as usual, loudly while bothering everyone around themselves. My eyes fell on Mingi as he threw his head back and wheezed loudly, eyes forced shut and mouth wide open as his body trashed in his seat, hand rubbing his belly as Yunho continued spouting out non-sense at his twin, making Mingi laugh even harder.

I scoffed with a venomous look on my face, unclasping my bottle of water, and taking a long swing of it. The icy water felt refreshing against my dry throat, and after screwing it shut, I placed the bottom of the bottle on top of the healing burn, sighing at the cooling sensation. Because I wasn’t feeding as often as I was supposed to, due to personal reasons, my body wasn’t healing as fast as it should have been. My senses were all over the place today as well, and it didn’t come much of a surprise, when I woke up this morning overstimulated, again, head thumping violently and ears ringing as my neighbor’s blaring alarm from three doors down woke me up. Today felt like a total nightmare, and as suddenly Wooyoung started slamming his fists on the table, edging a guy I didn’t know on to down some sort of disgusting looking liquid, I felt myself reach my limit again. I groaned, looking away from them, wincing when Wooyoung started cackling loudly, like a witch, followed by Yeri’s very shrill shouts, the sounds too harsh and piercing my sensitive ears.

“I can’t fucking stand this.” I hissed, squeezing my eyes shut as I threw the water bottle down on the table harshly, freeing my hands in order to be able to massage my thumping forehead. My migraine was only getting worse.

“Maybe you should try eating something, Y/N.” Irene’s tone was scolding, and I just shook my head, repulsed just by the thought of eating that disgusting stew placed on the plate in my tray. That was straight up dog food, and I refused to eat it. I was craving blood now more than ever, not disgusting human food.

“I’m not eating this—glop.” I motioned towards the stew on my plate and Krystal groaned loudly, throwing me a glare.

“This glop is quite tasty, Y/N, try not to ruin other’s appetite.” She spoke up with an irritated tone, “Thank you.”

I rolled my eyes but decided to shut up, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, this isn’t for my taste either.” It seemed like only Seulgi was on my side, but perhaps that wasn’t a surprise anymore. I saw the subtle glances she stole at Yunho, and when she noticed him inhaling his stew like it was the tastiest meal he’d ever had, she made a face and pushed her tray just a little bit away from herself. But in the end, she still gave in and started eating it, albeit grimacing at each spoonful.

“Why are you eating it then?” Irene asked with a roll of her eyes, pausing to give her friend a glare. I chuckled when Seulgi shrugged, averting her eyes with a blush on her cheeks. I looked down at my hand and flexed my fingers, sighing when the burning feeling intensified. I felt defeated as I leaned back in my chair, realizing that I needed to feed this afternoon too. I couldn’t go around without healing my wounds anymore, my parents would be visiting tomorrow and they’d certainly throw a fit upon noticing the fresh wounds. And that’s something I didn’t wish for at the moment.

“What happened to your hand?” Krystal asked with a frown, having finally noticed my pain as I kept wincing and glaring at the red, raw, skin of my right hand.

“Ask Mingi, he’ll gladly tell you.” I scoffed, shooting daggers at the back of his head. Almost as if sensing my harsh stare, he paused mid-air as he was raising his spoon to his mouth, and very puppy-like looked around the canteen, searching for someone. That is until his eyes fell on me, and they widened before he whipped his head around, audibly choking on his stew as he started coughing, forcing Dahyun to tap his back with strength a little girl like her shouldn’t have.

“That was interesting.” Krystal muttered as she took a longer glance at Mingi, “Almost makes me think you cursed him or something.”

“If I were a witch,” I grinned, looking at Krystal with a malicious glint in my eyes, “I would’ve gladly done it a long time ago.”

“So, will you tell us what happened?” Irene spoke up, eyebrows raised as she reminded us of Krystal’s question.

“He burned my hand, with lead.” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest while being careful not to touch the raw skin, “We were supposed to melt lead and mix it with chloride, professor said something about wanting to try and make aurene glass. Guess who decided to fuck up everything? That’s right, Song Mingi.”

My jaw clenched as I was taken back to that moment in the classroom, cauldrons steaming and a low murmur echoing around the dark room as everyone conversed with their seatmate, talking about the exercise we were given. Everyone except Mingi and I. We remained silent, a tense silence if I may specify, as the textbook was opened and placed in the middle of the long desk, between the two of us. It served like an unspoken barrier, yet Mingi managed to cross it every time he went to grab something, elbowing me even a few times. I tried to control myself, ears ringing as I could hear his loud heartbeat, my nose crying at the stench of wet dog mixed with fresh grass and perhaps something that oddly smelled like cinnamon. Mingi was fidgety and kept glancing at me from the corner of his eyes, licking his lips every so often. I kept on looking ahead, or at what I was doing, completely ignoring his existence. I wore a sleeveless tank top; therefore my bandages were quite obvious. The wounds have closed up already, but perhaps I wanted to be a little bit dramatic as I knew I had class with the Song twins today. I noticed the way Mingi’s body tensed when his eyes fell on my arm, and Yunho had to grab his shoulder and drag him to their table, muttering something so low into his twin’s ear, that even my sensitive hearing didn’t catch it. Not that I was curious.

After the professor assigned Mingi and I as partners, he very begrudgingly trudged over, head hanging low and pouting like a little boy forced to do something he didn’t want to. It was almost hilarious that he thought he was the only one not keen of our current predicament, but I certainly wouldn’t speak to him first about what has transpired yesterday in the study hall. I organized everything on our table as Mingi took his seat while staring at the table, avoiding eye contact when I directed my sharp gaze on his chiseled face, glaring hard at him.

“Think you can melt the lead?” My tone was snappy and cold as I raised an eyebrow at Mingi, obviously mocking him as I knew he could easily do something so easy.

“Of course, I can.” His tone was hard too as his eyes snapped up, connecting with my gaze, glaring back. I smirked as I pushed the material towards him, motioning with my chin for him to start doing so then, “I’m not your slave.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” I asked with a sweet smile despite having heard his mumbling. Mingi took a deep breath, and I watched as his sharp jaw clenched.

“Nothing, if I melt this, you mix it with the chloride, right?” He didn’t look at me as he turned on the fire underneath the steel cauldron. I hummed, pretending to think it over as my eyes ran over our textbook despite already knowing the whole process. Alchemy was always my forte, I always studied in advance for it.

“If I’ll be in the mood—”

“This is supposed to be teamwork!” Mingi snapped quietly, eyes furious as he turned to face me. His eyebrows furrowed a little and I watched as he took a deep breath, his eyes switching for a second between orchid and their deep brown. My heart stilled, the memory of his claws ripping my skin apart too fresh in my mind as my faded wound started pulsing again. I gulped and sneered at him, leaning just a little bit closer, nose burning from his horrible stench.

“Maybe if you wouldn’t have tried killing me yesterday, I would work together with a dog like you.” I hissed, Mingi’s eyes flaring orchid all of a sudden. I stiffened as we stared each other down, faces close to each other, but a few inches in between still.

“If you think calling me a dog does something to annoy me, you’re wrong, you bloodsucker.” Mingi hissed back and I chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Is that why you’re losing your cool again?” I mocked, pursing my lips in thought, “Your eyes are a dead giveaway, Mingi.”

“Perhaps you should then know by now to stop.” His voice dropped eerily low, shivers running up all over my arms, “Unless you want a repeat of yesterday.”

My heart stilled for a second and body froze up, mouth opening in shock. I only gaped at Mingi for a second, flabbergasted by the amused smirk on his lips as he stared me down, almost challengingly. But as I went to threaten him back, suddenly Yunho was behind him, large hands grabbing Mingi’s shoulders and yanking him backwards. Mingi just blinked, eyes back to brown, and looked up at his twin innocently. I couldn’t help but glare at the two, blood boiling for being rendered speechless by a dog like Mingi.

“I forgot my notebook,” Yunho’s voice was irritatingly cheery, yet I didn’t miss the warning tone in it as he squeezed Mingi’s shoulders, “can you hand it over, Mingi?”

“It’s not here.” Mingi said with a frown, looking around our shared desk, “It’s in your backpack, Yunho.”

“Oh,” Yunho chuckled, scratching the back of his head as he released Mingi’s shoulders, “my bad, I forgot. Don’t cause too much trouble.”

And with a wink, he was gone, but not without stealing a glance at me, eyes narrowing as I rolled mine, turning around to face my notebook. And after that, Mingi and I got to work, wordlessly moving around each other, making sure to never even as much as touch the other, abruptly halting when we noticed the other’s hand coming closer to our own. Time ticked away and everything was going well, until it wasn’t. Until Mingi decided to touch the tube containing the sizzling hot lead with his bare hands, spilling it all over our desk, my notebook, and my hand. I gasped loudly and couldn’t help but moan in pain as I shoot up from my seat, clutching my right wrist with my left hand as I squeezed my eyes shut in pain, hearing the professor race over as he shouted at Mingi to get the lead wipes, tissues specifically made for lead removal. The professor carefully pushed me back into my chair and took my hand into his hands, inspecting the skin closely as Mingi crashed into the table with the lead wipes in his hands. The impact sent the other tubes tumbling to the ground, but everyone ignored the sound of breaking glass as suddenly Mingi was all up in my personal space, looming over me as he clumsily handed the professor a wipe. I hissed as the professor removed the hot lead from my skin, biting my lower lip as it started burning instantly, the pain bearable, but strong.

“Thankfully the damage isn’t too bad or harsh,” The professor said as he raised my hand and inspected it from closer, “Since you’re a vampire it will heal by tomorrow, but I advise feeding and getting a lot of sleep tonight.”

Sleep, which I won’t be getting because of the bonfire party tonight, “Thank you, professor.”

He hummed before turning his stern gaze on Mingi, releasing my hands and placing them on his hips, a scolding following, “And you, young man. You’re always breaking and spilling stuff in my class, this has become unacceptable, Song Mingi. You could’ve seriously injured your classmate. I cannot accept clumsy students to my classes, I’m afraid I will have to talk to the Principal about your future in my classroom.”

“But, Professor—” However, before Mingi could even defend himself, Yunho was by his side, smiling sweetly at the professor. Of course, he would speak up for Mingi, always the knight in shining armor, acting as if Mingi didn’t have a tongue, a mouth, and a brain. But perhaps that’s why he was speaking up for Mingi, because he didn’t have all those.

“Professor, Mingi really needs this class in his curriculum.” Yunho started with a soft voice, “And the full moon is almost here, he gets stressed and unfocused around this time of the month. I can assure you that something like this won’t happen again, Professor, even if Mingi is clumsy.”

The professor sighed, rubbing his forehead, looking tired all of a sudden. And it was just the morning. I rolled my eyes when I saw the professor nod his head silently, fixing Mingi with a stern glare, “Alright, young man, get yourself together if this truly is caused by the upcoming full moon. I don’t see other wolves acting out, perhaps a counselor could help with your struggles. I will let you off this one time, but you better clear up all that broken glass!”

And just like that, Mingi was let off, and Yunho stood grinning next to his twin, both of them bowing and thanking the professor profusely. I had scoffed loudly, shaking my head as I have started putting my things away, completely ignoring the twins staring as I stormed out of the classroom, not before whirling my destroyed notebook at Mingi, who caught it with a huff as it slammed against his chest.

My eyes snapped back onto the Song table, brought back from my memory as they cheered loudly, while someone sat next to Wooyoung kept throwing grapes in his mouth, cackling at the same time. I closed my eyes with a loud groan, all three girls looking at me with amused expressions. And if this day couldn’t have gotten worse, as I opened my eyes, I was met with a stone faced Hongjoong storming past our table, throwing a piercing stare at me. I rolled my eyes and slid a little lower in my chair, the girls chuckling around me as they watched Hongjoong sit at a table with a very elegant and handsome vampire.

“He’s still butthurt?” Seulgi asked with a chuckle, watching Hongjoong behind me.

“Wouldn’t you also be?” Irene scoffed, throwing a glare at Seulgi, “Y/N literally dumped him after half a year of dating, because she found out he wasn’t rich.”

“Well, if he wouldn’t have lied to me from the very beginning,” I said with a scoff, giving them a look, “I wouldn’t have dated him for half a year, even. You know my parents would flip out if I didn’t date someone our caliber.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Krystal snorted, making me look at her questioningly, “What? You always blame your parents for the way you are, but you fail to realize it’s just you, not your parents.”

“Sure, Krystal,” I snapped, angered by the words of my supposed friend, who should’ve been on my side, “Please, do keep a lecture about how I am, and what my parents prefer if you seem to know everything so well about me!”

“Why are we fighting now?” Seulgi asked exasperated, giving me a tired look, “What is the reason for it?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve had enough.” I snapped and pushed my chair back, ears ringing as the Song table roared with laughter, the guy sitting beside Wooyoung suddenly jumping up and doing silly dances, “I have a migraine, I’m not sitting here for a second longer. See y’all at the bonfire.”

Before my friends could stop me, I grabbed my tray and walked off, forced to head towards the Song table as I had to return my untouched glop of a stew. I couldn’t help but watch Mingi as the sunlight shone inside brightly, falling on his tan skin, his blonde and red hair glinting in the light, which was in a ponytail much like yesterday. His uniform was a little array, the top of his shirt unbuttoned and tie disregarded after our Alchemy class. Of course, he was enjoying life without a care in the world, despite maiming me again, despite causing pain to me again. These bloody werewolves acted like they ruled the world and suffered no consequences when they did something wrong. I scoffed, but smirked a second later as I looked down at my still hot stew, a simple plan formulating in my mind.

It didn’t take long to reach their table, and to my ‘horror’, the front of my shoe got stuck in a ‘misplaced’ tile as it sent me tumbling forward, yelping loudly as I crashed into the back of Mingi’s chair, my tray falling from my hand and to the floor with a loud clank, Mingi’s loud cry following suit. I watched with wide eyes as Mingi jumped to his feet, sending me stumbling backwards, as my hot stew dripped down the back of his neck, his white shirt soaking through as the food trickled down his back. Everyone quieted around us, the Song table freezing as they watched Mingi yank the buttons of his shirt open, ripping the fabric off himself in a frenzy. Yunho and Dahyun were the first to spring into action, the young girl grabbing tissues as she jumped to the aid of her older brother. Yunho took the tissues and he started wiping the stew off Mingi quickly, who was whimpering quietly, as Dahyun took his larger hand in her small one, looking up at his brother with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, no.” I said coldly, the attention on me now, “There’s a protruding tile, I didn’t see it.”

Perhaps the insincerity and mockery in my tone sent Yunho over the edge as his expression suddenly switched up, his eyes glazing over in anger, face scrunching as his fangs suddenly poked through his lips. His eyes didn’t switch colors like Mingi’s would’ve already, but Yunho looked terrifying to the onlookers, not to me. I’ve seen Yunho angry before, and it didn’t faze me because I knew he was all bark and no bite. The giant couldn’t hurt a fly, even.

“Which tile?!” Yunho’s voice was shaking, “Show me! Right now!”

“Yunho.” Mingi whispered, grabbing his brother’s bicep.

“No, Mingi, no!” Yunho snapped, furious eyes settling on his brother, warning him to stay quiet, “I’ve had enough of her always bullying us! I’ve had enough of you, Y/N, always making Mingi suffer. What’s your fucking problem, huh?!”

“You,” I snarled, fangs growing out as I lost composure, “and your pathetic family are my fucking problem, Yunho. You act like animals and parade around thinking there’s no consequence to your actions?! He burned my fucking hand, Yunho! He pierced my skin with his claws, Yunho! What’s next, huh? He bites me and kills me?! Do you not see Mingi isn’t fit to be here? Your whole family shouldn’t be here, Yunho!”

“Until when do you think your werewolf hating agenda can go on, Y/N?” Yunho’s ears and neck have gotten red, eyes shaking as they flickered orchid for a second, but were quickly back to their light brown color. I could hear Yunho’s heart hammer against his chest, Mingi’s heartbeat fast as well, but not out of anger like Yunho’s, instead out of fear. His grip tightened around Yunho’s bicep, and I chuckled as a smirk slipped onto my lips.

“Until the day the Earth ends?” I raised an eyebrow, “Don’t forget your place, Werewolf. You are nobody and nothing, I am a Petrova. My family paved the way for everything you are able to experience comfortably today. So think again before you try to threaten me, Song Yunho.”

“Your family would be ashamed of you, Y/N.” Perhaps that jab shouldn’t have hurt as much as I did, it visibly made me recoil as my eyebrows furrowed, bitterness raising in my throat. No, they wouldn’t be. Just because I hated this family didn’t mean my own would be ashamed of me.

“You’re wrong.” I found myself saying back, voice not as strong as it was, “Stay away from me, all of you!”

And before anyone could say anything, I stormed out of the canteen, ignoring the loud whispers that followed even when I was far away, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts. I tried to forget Yunho’s words, but they were messing with my head. Maybe if his own kind wouldn’t act like such wild animals, I wouldn’t hate them. Maybe if his own feral kind wouldn’t have tried to kill me when I was a child, I wouldn’t hate them so much.

Somewhere along the day I managed to put past myself everything that’s happened in the morning and at noon in the canteen, and after having fed, I was pleased to see the burn on my hand heal by itself by the time the girls and I headed out to the bonfire party. Despite it being a spring evening, the air was chilly and the breeze cool, therefore I opted to wear a light patterned jacket over my black off-shoulder fluffy blouse, ripped black jeans hugging my legs and keeping them warm. Not that I was too cold, a vampire’s body reacted differently to the temperatures compared to the human ones. The party had been in full swing by the time the girls and I have arrived, having had to walk through a short passage of the woods, feeling quite disturbed by the louds howls of the werewolves. The girls only laughed and made comments about them being too excited for such a simple party, but all I could think about was one of them jumping out and ripping us to shreds. I kept closer to Irene, who never questioned it when I snuggled up against her side or held onto her arm tightly, even went as far as to offer me a huge smile and rub my arm up and down reassuringly. Nobody really knew about how I acquired the bite mark on my left bicep, forever marked, but it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. A vampire’s bite looked a lot different, and if a vampire bit another vampire, it faded away in less than three hours. However, if a werewolf bit a vampire, if the vampire was fortunate enough to survive the attack then the wound would scar and fade into a light, but very visible, bite marks.

But I tried to put past myself such grey thoughts tonight, and instead, welcomed the lively atmosphere as we were presented with the gravel path that lead down towards the lake house, the big bonfire a few good meters away from it, in the small meadow surrounding the lake. Vampires and Werewolves alike were gathered around, forming smaller or larger groups, and I was quickly pulled in the direction of the crackling fire as Irene excitedly pointed towards the roasted marshmallows others were having. I chuckled as I released her thin arm and accepted the red solo cup Seulgi pushed into my hands, not bothering to ask what was in it, knowing that it was most likely some unbranded hard liquor which would get us drunk fast, and hit hard, leaving us hungover tomorrow. Which probably wasn’t too smart as our parents would be visiting, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care as my body and mind screamed for a little release as these past few days have been quite stressful. I downed the contents of the red cup in one go, and perhaps that was a mistake as it burned my esophagus, making me cough loudly as Irene happily roasted her marshmallow, giggling about something with Krystal, who was crouched down next to her. Seulgi leaned against my side, resting her arm on my shoulder, and laughed as she watched me wheeze for air, clutching at my own throat desperately.

“Girl, nobody told you to down it in one go.” Seulgi seemed amused by my suffering, and I could only glare at her. That is, until I felt a foreign arm wrap around my shoulders, scent extremely new, but not too bothersome as I inhaled sharply.

“Here, wash it down with beer.” It was a senior vampire I have seen around, his eyes sharp and glinting with mischief. I narrowed my eyes at him before looking at the canned beer, and reluctantly accepted it when he pushed it in my hand, “Don’t worry, it’s unopened. Saw you downing your drink and knew you’d regret it instantly, the name’s Joshua, by the way.”

I opened the beer and took a big gulp of it, welcoming the cool drink as it poured down my throat, finally washing away the awful burn of the previous alcohol, “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

“Right,” Joshua chuckled, releasing me as he stepped back, “Hard to miss a Petrova.”

And with a wink he was gone, making me smirk as he threw a lasting stare back at me. Seulgi chuckled; her eyebrows raised when I looked at her.

“What was that?” She mocked, using a manly voice, trying to imitate Joshua despite his soft-spoken, melodic voice.

“Don’t know, but he’s cute.” I mused with a shrug and took another big gulp of my beer, humming as I could feel my body jittery already. Alcohol affected us, night creatures, harder, but judging my current mental state, I would get drunk a lot faster tonight than I would do so usually.

“Maybe he’s got his eyes on you?” Seulgi smirked, eyes sweeping over the place, searching for Joshua.

“If he’s rich, I don’t mind.” I said with a chuckle and Seulgi just shook her head, detaching herself as Irene and Krystal finally joined us again, instead going up to Irene to ruffle her perfect dark brown hair. Irene whined and pushed at Seulgi’s hand, pouting as she rearranged her curls, exchanging places with Krystal so that Seulgi wouldn’t bother her again.

“Where’d you get those drinks from?” She asked, pointing at Seulgi’s.

“From the open bar.” Seulgi said while pointing with her head towards a long table only a few feet away from us, littered with all sorts of alcohol, four people behind the table handing everyone a red cup as they walked up to them. Two vampires and two werewolves, I could only hope Seulgi accepted our drinks from the vampires.

“Let’s grab some!” Krystal said excitedly, and I nodded, downing my beer and throwing the crumpled can to the ground as I followed after them.

“Wait for me, I need a refill!”

“Already?” Irene asked with wide eyes and I grinned as I nodded, holding my empty red cup up.

“I’m getting wasted tonight.” I chuckled as the girls gave me weary looks, but commented nothing on it.

And wasted I got not even two hours into the party. The world was a little fuzzy and hazy around me, but I maneuvered myself around the crowd quite skillfully, I was one hundred percent sure that someone from the outside wouldn’t have been able to tell that I was, well, drunk. Maybe the way my laughter got louder and more frequent would’ve been a tell-tale sign that, perhaps, I should take it easy on the alcohol from now on, but nobody paid enough attention to me to actually stop me from doing so. Irene and Seulgi were perhaps even drunker than I was, falling over each other and giggling at everything as they whispered in each other’s ears, completely forgetting that with our sensitive hearing we could still hear them if we listened closely. But I was too in my own head to be curious of their conversation, and instead found myself in a heated debate with Krystal and a druid friend of hers about which herbs were actually healing, and which were known to have healing proprieties but weren’t actually used to heal, but to poison instead. Of course, I thought I was quite right at the beginning about some black roots I have found two weeks ago in the forest, but turns out it only gives you diarrhea if you drink it two days in a row. Which was excellent, and perhaps a piece of information I shouldn’t bear as my mind instantly went to Mingi, making me cackle to myself. Krystal said nothing despite me probably looking like a mad woman, and instead came to my aid when she noticed me trying to stand up from the log we had been lounging on for the past one hour.

“I’m getting a drink,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes for a second as the world swirled with me upon standing up, “and then I’m going to dance, want to come?”

Krystal hummed, looking around the bonfire, eyes pausing on somebody I couldn’t see due to my alcohol infused brain, “Perhaps later, would you mind that?”

“Of course not!” I exclaimed with a grin and petted her head, albeit a little too aggressively, before turning my head to look for Irene and Seulgi…but they weren’t where we had left them not even fifteen minutes ago. My eyes narrowed as I searched the place, closing my eyes to tune into their voices, listening closely, but failing as there were too many voices surrounding me. On a normal day, finding them even a crowd as big and loud as this one would’ve been child’s splay, but with my fogged-up brain, it turned out to be mission impossible right now. And closing my eyes made me feel nauseous, so I quickly opened them and with a drunken wave directed at Krystal, I took off towards the open bar. I was quite skilled at walking in a straight line without bumping into anyone despite my current state, and could only grin at the people behind the table once I arrived there. I failed to notice the werewolf dude leaning over the table, asking what I wanted. I held up one finger before pointing at the beer, and he handed it to me quickly with a smile, making me chuckle as I opened it and took a big gulp of it. He chuckled and cheered for me, making me wink at him before I turned and took off, headed towards the lake house. I had been in the mood to dance for hours now, but the girls kept me busy with stories, and I continuously kept bumping into people I knew, forced to converse with each one. But now, finally the time to join the dance floor came, and I felt giddy as I sped up, not noticing that I was using my vampire speed, the world blurring even more in front of my eyes, that is until my body slammed into another one, halting me back with a loud gasp as the beer was slapped out of my hand.

“What the fuck?!” I called out loudly, pushing my arm out in front of me as my arm dripped with disgusting beer. The music was louder as I was almost near the lake house.

“Sorry, I wasn’t—oh.” My eyes snapped up at the sudden attitude in the tone of the person who had run into me, only needing a few seconds for the wet dog stench to register, the blonde hair of the deceitful girl standing in front of me way too familiar.

“You.” I snarled, eyes darkening as my fangs appeared, out of control due to the alcohol in my system at this point as I glared down at the shorter girl in front of myself. Yeri’s eyes were just as dark as mine, her hands balled into fists as her cheeks were flushed red, “What the fuck are you doing here, little dog? This party is for seniors, and you’re not even a junior.”

“Fuck off, bitch!” Yeri snapped, growling at me, sending me into a giggling fit as I stared the younger girl down, raising an eyebrow.

“Did one of your disgusting brother’s snuggle you inside?” I tilted my head to the side, pouting my lips in mockery, “Or did you slip in by yourself? How about I show you where wet dog’s like you belong?”

“Don’t touch me!” Yeri yelped when my hand shoot out, wrapping around her bicep painfully, my eyes flashing scarlet red.

“I keep telling your brother the same thing, yet he never listening, little Yeri.” I sighed loudly, making fake crying sounds in my drunken stupor, “How about I teach him a lesson through you?”

I flashed my fangs as I stepped all up in Yeri’s personal space, her eyes widening in fright as she started yanking on her arm, her heartbeat fast in panic.

“If you struggle, it’ll only hurt more.” I whispered menacingly as I started leaning closer to her neck, grabbing her other arm with my free hand, stilling her movements with my inhumane strength. The girl whimpered loudly and I watched as her lips trembled in fright, shaking her head furiously no. I grinned sadistically at her, chuckling when I got close enough to her neck, hearing her quiet sniffs as she had started crying, “How pathetic.”

I loosened my grip on her and she instantly pushed me away to the point I staggered backwards, almost loosing my footing as the world swirled with me, “You fucking psychotic bitch!”

Yeri cried at the top of her lungs, a few night creatures glancing our way, but they continued walking on when they saw that nothing bad was actually happening, “Oh, little puppy got scared? How sad!”

“I will rip you to fucking shreds when I have my first shifting!” Yeri screamed, voice shrill and breathing heavily as I threw my head back in laughter, gulping down the sudden wave of nausea which hit me.

“Stupid dog, in your place I’d be more worried about growing a beard!” I stuck my tongue out at Yeri in child-like mockery, and watched as her eyes widened to the point of popping, choking back a scream. I just laughed as she threw me one last furious glare before turning around and storming off, her mumbling quite loud as I laughed hearing her curse me to the heavens and back.

“Great, now my beer is gone.” I grumbled to myself once Yeri was out of sight and not entertaining me anymore, making me sigh as I remembered my mission before I was interrupted by the stupid girl. I turned around and grinned as I spotted the door to the lake house open, and once again using my vampire speed, I waltzed inside quite clumsily, knocking into the doorframe and groaning as I stumbled towards. Somebody caught me but I quickly shook their hands off, and pushed my way through the crowd, settling somewhere towards the middle of it, closing my eyes and getting lost to the even beat of the EDM music playing.

I smiled as I threw my arms up, jumping to the beat, until I felt someone tapping my shoulder, making me turn around. It was a girl I knew from one of my classes and she looked quite excited as she waved, making me chuckle as I waved back. She was quite the cute fae and extremely friendly, so I didn’t object as she pushed a red cup into my hands, prompting me to drink from it. Perhaps it was the tastiest cocktail I drank all night long, and I thanked her with a big grin when she said I could keep it. I closed my eyes and swayed my hips to the rhythm of the music, enjoying myself with the small fae girl as she twirled around cutely, making me laugh at some of her movements as I found them hilarious, but endearing. The DJ suddenly changed the song and everyone screamed, making me excited as it was one of my favorite song’s, the fae girl’s eyes also widening as she grabbed my arm and started jumping up and down in excitement. Soon, I found myself taking large gulps of the sweet cocktail as I jumped up and down with the fae, screaming the lyrics at the top of our lungs as we were just two drunken bodies enjoying ourselves in the crowd of the night creatures. That is, however, until I felt a harsh grip on my right bicep, forcefully yanking me backwards and away from my fae friend. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and I pouted when the fae girl suddenly stepped back, eyes wide and set behind me before she got lost in the crowd, my body whirled around so fast that everything went hazy around me, and I was forced to shut my eyes for a few moments, stomach doing weird flips. It also didn’t help that suddenly it smelled like wet dogs.

“Listen here, bloodsucker,” A deep and raspy male voice hissed, my eyes snapping open as I found myself face to face with Mingi, “you can insult me and threaten me all day long, if you want, but if you touch my sister one more time, Y/N, I will rip you apart!”

I stared into Mingi’s handsome face for a second, and then the next I was laughing, head falling back as my body shook with the motion, hardly able to control myself in my inebriated state. But my fun didn’t last for long as I felt the red cup slapped out of my hand, making my blood boil as I glared at Mingi.

“This is the second time one of you, Song wet dog’s, slap my drink out of my hand, Mingi,” I hissed, unimpressed at this point, “It’s getting tiring and annoying.”

“I don’t give a shit about your drinks, Y/N,” Mingi growled, stepping closer, “What I do care about is you having a problem with my sister and—”

“Blah-blah-blah, Mingi.” I scoffed, pulling on my arm, but Mingi’s grip only tightened, “Quit yapping, I don’t give a shit. You’re irrelevant, irritating, and you fucking stink.”

“Listen to me, you fucking entitled bitch!” Mingi’s raw voice boomed over the music as he grabbed me by both arms, shaking my body harshly as his breathing got heavier, heart thumping wildly in his chest. I chuckled and bit my lower lip, surprised by this new side of Mingi. His breath was mingled with alcohol, no wonder he was acting so wild all of a sudden, not that he usually wasn’t. It was just…more raw tonight, seemed more sincere than before, “I want you to leave my family alone. We’ve had enough of your torment and constant taunts, what the fuck did we do to you?!”

I groaned and threw my head back to stare at the dark ceiling of the lake house, “You’re just too dense, Mingi, aren’t you? Do you seriously want me to go on a rant and repeat every single thing I’ve told you these past two days? You have no place at Wilden Pine Academy, let alone in Nocturnal Parade.”

“I’m done with this conversation,” Mingi hissed through his teeth, making me smirk as he stepped back, letting go of my arms finally.

“Are you?” I mocked as I cocked an eyebrow at him, blinking at him sweetly, “I thought you were here to put me in my place for touching your precious little sister. She’s quite dumb, by the way, but I suppose it runs in the family.”

Mingi didn’t say anything, but it wasn’t hard to miss the way his jaw clenched, ebbing me on more to continue taunting him. I felt confident as I allowed my eyes to run over his body, taking in his tall and lanky form. The dark grey jeans hung loosely around his lower half, a little low on his hips, held in place by the thick belt he wore, making him look like a cowboy, almost. There were quite big rips in his jeans, the lower half of his thighs uncovered just to below his knees, a quite delicious sight for hungry eyes. I slowly dragged my eyes up, and perhaps, they lingered a tad bit too long on his narrow waist, the black muscle shirt tucked inside his jeans clinging deliciously tight against his lean muscles, which were not too harsh, but quite obvious now that he was out of his loose Academy uniform. I knew werewolves were night creatures with higher body temperature, but it was still a bit surprising that he didn’t wear a jacket, his neck decorated with various silver chains, similar much to the collars dogs would wear. I giggled at my own thoughts as I finally looked back into Mingi’s eyes, forgetting for a second where I was going with this, or what I initially had in mind as I felt my own heartrate pick up, almost matching Mingi’s. I failed to notice his fluffy hair was out of his day-to-day manbun, lusciously falling around his face, framing his sharp eyes which looked even sharper with the harsh black eyeliner rimming them.

“Nice necklaces, Mingi,” I complimented, twirling my finger around a chain until Mingi slapped it away with a hiss, “reminds me of dogs and their collars their owners make them wear. Do you also have an owner?”

Mingi’s cheeks flared in an instant, and I wasn’t surprise to see his eyes flash orchid, flickering back to their warm brown color the next second. I tilted my head and licked my lips as I stepped just a bit closer, suddenly meowing at him in a mocking way, “Do big, bad, dogs like you like little kitties too?”

It really happened in a flash, perhaps in a sober state I would’ve been impressed by how fast he moved even for a werewolf, but all of my senses were dull at the moment as my world was hazy, and all I could do was remain frozen in surprise as Mingi’s large hand took ahold of my neck and tightly wrapped around it, his silver rings digging into my skin. His puffs of breath hit my face as he was breathing hard, and I could hear the blood race through his veins, flush to his head deliciously as his heart thumped wildly, the strange cinnamon scent I have smelled before on him very prominent all of a sudden. My blood ran cold as Mingi’s eyes flashed orchid again, fingers squeezing my throat just a bit more, but now it hurt. However, I felt my heart race pick up as butterflies flew freely in my stomach, making me giggle breathlessly. The alcohol could really make you a fool if it wanted to, if you allowed it to.

“Will you snap my neck in half?” I whispered against Mingi’s lips, almost touching, knowing well that he could hear me crystal clear. Mingi sucked in a harsh breath of air, shaking his head, body trembling. I smirked, very aware of the conflicting emotions on Mingi’s face, and of the growing and shrinking claws against the soft skin of my neck. He really could’ve snapped my neck in half right then and there if he wanted to, and I would’ve been too drunk to realize it in time and defend myself. Making it even worse, I was the one asking for it, edging him on, laughing danger in its face, forgetting why I hate werewolves so much. Forgetting that I almost lost my life because of one of them.

Perhaps the planets stilled and galaxies aligned as one, and not even that could’ve prepared me for Mingi’s next actions, or the crippling shock I felt in my body, as Mingi pulled my body into his, ferociously chasing after my red lips as his plump ones found mine, inhaling them as he sucked on my lower lip, my body too numb on the inside to show on the outside the shock I was feeling. His teeth clamped down on my bottom lip painfully so, making me gasp as I yanked my head back, very aware of Mingi’s huge palm kneading the flesh of my ass through my jeans, forcing a hysteric laugh out of my body as I threw an arm around his shoulders, feeling weak all of a sudden, and needing something to anchor myself in. My laughter was high-pitched and extremely loud, but it didn’t deter Mingi from me as I felt his left hand grab my nape and yank my head back up, our eyes boring into each other.

“What the fuck, Mingi.” I found myself chuckling, fingers tangling into his soft hair, grip firm and painful as Mingi grimaced slightly.

“Fuck you, Y/N.” Mingi’s growl was animalistic as he crashed our lips together again, the dancing bodies around us forcing us closer together, flushed to the point where I didn’t know where Mingi ended and where I began. His lips set a feracious pace, slotting perfectly against mine, inhaling my breath like I was his only oxygen supply. I didn’t realize it in that moment, but I clung onto him as if my life depended on it, as if he was my life source and I desperately needed him. I sucked and bit at his lips, unashamedly moaning when his hand grabbed onto my ass firmly, rocking our lower bodies in sync to the rhythm of the song while he inhaled my lips, thumb pressing into my cheek painfully as he had grabbed my jaw, keeping me in place, refusing to allow me to pull my head back again. I sucked on his plump lower lip, hearing a small whimper slip through his lips as they parted, granting me the access inside his mouth as I pushed my tongue through his parted lips, forcing his mouth open wider. Mingi groaned deep in his throat, fingers slotting back into my hair and yanking harshly on it, making me gasp as he refused to let me dominate the kiss as his tongue lapped at mine, forcefully entering my own mouth, tilting my head in a way that would grant him even more access to reach deeper. My only body felt alive the longer Mingi’s mouth pressed against mine, no matter the pain as I fisted his muscle shirt, struggling to keep my moans at bay as Mingi’s hand slipped inside the back pocket of my jeans, cupping my ass and guiding my body against his as they grinded together to the music. His tongue was hot as it explored my mouth, licking at every corner, making my breath still as he licked at my fangs almost mockingly, almost as if he tried to draw his own blood, making my head thump with wild lust I’ve never felt before. I didn’t think much, clearly, as I felt with my right hand down his broad shoulders, firm chest, and abdomen, slipping between our bodies without Mingi noticing. My lungs screamed for air, but I refused to pull back first, grabbing at Mingi’s hard-on through his jeans, eliciting a choked back moan. Putting pressure on his dick with the heel of my hand, I started massaging him, Mingi’s breath hitching as he flushed our bodies together even more if that was possible, no longer paying any attention to the music or keeping up with the dancing bodies in the crowd around us. The longer I kept on rubbing his dick slowly but firmly, the sloppier Mingi’s kisses got, gasps and groans slipping past his occupied mouth. I smirked against his slick lips, and felt triumphant when he was the first one to pull back, gasping against my mouth as a string of saliva connected our mouths together still, Mingi’s eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure as I raised my hand enough to slip it inside his jeans, the belt not making it much too difficult to do so. My eyes widened when I realized Mingi wore no underwear, and my throat became drier instantly at the thought of how easy he made everything as my fingers slowly wrapped around his bare member.

“Fuck, not here.” Mingi’s deep voice was raspy and raw as he grabbed my wrist, biting his swollen lower lip.

I chuckled, licking at his red lips, enticed by the flush of his cheeks as I tightened my grip around his shaft, making him gasp in pleasure, “So the big, bad, dog does like playing with kitties, after all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mingi hissed, eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at me, yanking my hand out of his jeans, his long and sharp nose pressing against mine, “You won’t be calling me no dog after tonight.”

Something lay heavily on my chest, hot air tickling the sore skin of my neck. Not much needed to be said as I groaned lowly, all of my muscles feeling heavy and sore, head thumping violently due to the ticking of a clock, which seemed to only become louder and louder, too piercing to my sensitive ears in the quiet of my room. My mouth felt dry and my throat almost felt like burning up, the feeling quite similar to bloodthirst, which wouldn’t make much sense as I have fed yesterday. I wasn’t thirsty, yet my body felt alive, almost alert, as I sighed softly, trying to stretch out my muscles, but unable to move, almost as if I was pinned down by something. I licked my lips and rubbed at my eyes, suddenly registering the foreign scents mingling together around me. The scent of cinnamon was nauseatingly overbearing, making my stomach flip when it mixed with fresh grass, somehow clashing with a completely different scent that reminded me a lot of those stupid wet dogs. Werewolves, only they smelled like that.

My eyes flew open, heartbeat kicking off in a frenzy as my dry eyes burned, having to blink them multiple times until the ache went away, telling myself that this must be just a bad dream as the room I found myself in looked nothing like the dorm room I share with Irene. It was scaringly the opposite of it, quite messy and littered with boyish things, a family picture framed, and placed on the wall opposite the bed I lay in, almost making me scream at the top of my lungs as my eyes swept over the Song family. I jumped when a soft breath tickled the skin of my neck again, and my jaw dropped as I finally took the bother to look down at myself, muscles locking up, and a scream choked back in the back of my throat as I lay frozen with an asleep Song Mingi on top of me, naked. Both of us were naked, and I felt myself starting to panic as I licked my chapped lips, pressing my head back harshly into the pillow, racking my brain for any memories of last night, coming up almost empty handed after my fifth red cup, everything a haze as I desperately tried to find the reason why I was in Mingi’s room, laying naked in bed, and why we have even slept in the same bed…naked.

And the blurry pieces of my recollection that I managed to find were horrifying as obscene memories flooded my mind, heart fluttering and cheeks flaming as Mingi’s breathless moans all of a sudden felt too loud in my ears, his strong body looming over mine as he kissed down my neck, gasping for air when my hand tightened just a little bit harder around his dick, hand moving up and down fast. It made Mingi whimper as he whispered in my ear that he was close to coming, sucking and biting on the soft flesh of my neck, making me moan as his hand cupped my breast, kneading it and squeezing it, body yearning to feel more of him.

But the memory became hazy again, and as I gripped my hair in frustration, I was shocked to find myself just barely remembering Mingi’s face scrunched in pure bliss, head thrown back as his calloused hands gripped my hips to the point of bruising, his hips pistoning upwards as my thighs trembled with my body leaned over him and hands holding onto the headboard as I rode him, our loud moans tangling together in wanton noises, no doubt disturbing Mingi’s neighbors. I could remember my heart beating out of my chest as my orgasm was quickly approaching, hip movements picking up as I started moving up and down faster, calling out Mingi’s name when his thumb found my clit, his eyes suddenly flashing orchid as he growled, letting me fuck myself on him as he looked up at me with the hungriest look in his eyes.

My breath stuttered in my throat as I tried to push the memory away, appalled by the way my body felt hot all over suddenly, Mingi’s naked weight pressing down on me not helping my situation at all as another stray fogged-up memory lurked at the back of my mind, fighting to push through, despite my attempts to keep it at bay. But it was a lost cause as I licked my lips, remembering the feel of Mingi’s lean body above mine and pressing into me, slick with sweat as Mingi’s mouth was parted, puffs of breath leaving his lips with each sharp thrust of his hips, hiking my body a little higher after each one due to the sheer force he was using, my toes curling and fingers gripping the sheets overhead. Mingi had one of my leg’s pushed flushed to my chest as he used it as leverage to turn his pace brutal, my other leg wrapped around his waist, digging into his backside, as I urged him on to move rougher as his thick member pulsed inside my tight walls, tears springing into my eyes when my third orgasm was fast approaching, my body too sensitive to take any more, but Mingi wasn’t stopping. He clamped his free hand down on my mouth as I was borderline screaming, body completely numb at this point as Mingi desperately chased after his own release, growls escaping through his parted lips as his orchid-colored eyes bore into my scarlet ones. Never have I ever felt such intense pleasure before, and I almost had to slap myself to push the memory away, skin tingling as Mingi suddenly shifted on top of me, lips brushing against my collarbones. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts and trying to remain level-headed, but the more the realization that I have slept with Mingi dawned on me, the more hysterical I started feeling. My body trembled in anger, and confusion over how much I liked it and how much my body was yearning for it again.

I did the next best thing I could, raised my hand and whacked Mingi in the back of his head hard, making him jump up with a loud growl and eyes orchid. He looked around the room frantically as his lower half pressed into mine, making my heartbeat quicken. It took Mingi almost the same amount of time as for me to realize just what happened, and as he whipped his head around, eyes back to their usual brown, his mouth fell open, and a very shrill scream left his lungs, making me close my eyes in pain as my ears rung.

“What the fuck!” Mingi continued to scream, horrified eyes looking at me, then at himself, continuing to do so for a few minutes until I realized he was basically looking at my naked breasts, making me smack him in the face, but not in a painful way, “What the fuck?!”

“Shut up!” I screamed back at Mingi as my head thumped violently, his screaming only adding onto my migraine and hangover.

“What are you doing in my bed naked?!” Mingi still seemed too shocked to move, and I pushed his head away so that he wouldn’t look at me anymore. I went to wriggle out from underneath him, but that only made matters worse as I rubbed up against his morning wood, making me gasp as my body instantly reacted, wanting nothing more than to spread my legs wide open for Mingi, a thought so terrifying that I froze. I didn’t miss Mingi’s sharp inhale and his reddening cheeks.

“What do you think, you fucking idiot?!” I managed to fire back, Mingi suddenly realizing just how naked we were as he rolled over, finally his body off mine. I finally felt like I could breathe as I rolled to my side as well, shielding my private parts from him as the sheet on us wasn’t big enough to cover the both of us anymore.

“Oh, my God,” Mingi sounded mortified and I felt the bed dip behind myself, “Where’s Yunho? Did he not come back here?”

“I fucking hope not!” I snapped as I sharply turned around, pushing Mingi hard, kicking him off his bed as he yelped loudly, hitting the carpeted floor with a heavy thud.

“What the fuck!” He called out, reaching a hand up and ripping the sheet covering me off, to shield himself. I yelped and scattered off the bed as well, wildly looking for my clothes, thankfully finding them disregarded by the bed as I used my inhumane speed to dress myself before Mingi could see me.

“Did we—why were you naked in my bed?!” Mingi stood, sheet wrapped around himself like a burrito, only his head visible as his face looked pale. He better was just as hungover as I as I struggled to button my jeans due to it, blood boiling at his stupid question.

“What do you think, you stupid boy?!” I hissed, scarlet eyes snapping onto him menacingly, “Surely not because we read the Holy Book Of The Clergy!”

“Don’t bring up the Clergy right now, oh, my God!” Mingi looked mortified as he looked around, eyes pausing on his family photo, face blenching even more, “We had sex.”

“You don’t say!” I snapped accusingly, eyes falling on the clock, mortified when I realized I barely had an hour to get ready until the gates of the Academy would open for all parents to be welcomed. I went to throw the door open just as Mingi marched up to me, grabbing me by my arm, face hard, and eyes set in a glare.

“Get out.” He snapped, grabbing the doorknob, the sheet wrapped around his body almost falling to the floor. I scoffed and yanked my arm out of his, glaring back just as viciously.

“You hypocrite,” I pushed him back, sneering at him, “you act like I’m the one who put my dick inside of you.”

“I don’t doubt you wouldn’t have, if you had one!” I huffed as I was appalled, my eyes turning scarlet once again as Mingi scoffed at me

“I’m pretty sure you started this on the dancefloor, Mingi—”

“Don’t say my name!” Mingi cringed, turning around and pulling the sheet over his head as he started wailing silently. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics and went to leave the room, never wanting to see his stupid face again, until I remembered just how big of a louse mouth Mingi actually was, and it made my heart thump wildly in fear that he’d go around blabbering about what we had done. So, I turned sharply, and using my vampire speed, appeared in front of Mingi, clutching his throat tightly, only to be faced with no face and only a white sheet. I closed my eyes in exasperation as Mingi gasped and started wailing that he couldn’t breathe, so, I ripped the sheet off his head, glaring at him, almost amused by the way his blonde and red hair stuck up in all directions.

“If you say anything to anyone, Song Mingi, I swear to you right now, that I will suck your blood dry and eradicate your whole family afterwards.” Mingi’s nose scrunched in disgust as I leered the words at him, my fangs menacing, and scarlet eyes terrifying. When Mingi didn’t say anything, I tightened my fingers around his neck, making him roll his eyes at me.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N, I wouldn’t want a soul to know about this.” I narrowed my eyes at him, but upon being convinced based on his heartbeat and stoic face that he was saying the truth, I released him and left his room in a hurry once making sure that nobody would see me. Was it really necessary that my days would turn into nightmares each day lately?

The image I was presented with when I looked in the mirror in my own room was nightmarish, mouth falling open when I saw the dark bruises creating a whole constellation on my neck. I needed a few minutes to calm myself as I took in deep breaths, otherwise Mingi would be laying now in a puddle of his own blood. The sight of myself was disappointing, and I couldn’t help but feel angry with myself for letting this happen. If we weren’t so drunk this would’ve never happened. I can’t believe I let a werewolf touch me…let alone in such inappropriate ways. My mind kept trying to wander off to memories of last night with Mingi, but I forced myself to focus and forget everything that happened, marking it as a stupid drunken mistake that would never again happen. Despite having barely an hour to get ready, I was done in record time. I was fresh and clean after the deep cleanse shower I took, all bruises and miscolored spots instantly covered up afterwards. I curled my hair nicely and applied very light makeup, adding a little color to my pale cheeks and lips, wearing the dress my mother sent. Irene thankfully helped me change it a bit, and now it was up to my taste as I wore my black high heels to match the color of my nails, and left the dorms, not wanting to be late when my parents would arrive. I would certainly get chastised for it, and my still thumping head wouldn’t have been able to take that as well. I was finally regretting the fact that I mixed so many drinks last night and that there wasn’t anyone to stop me from wrecking myself. Surviving today would prove to be almost an impossible mission.

By the time I made it to the gardens, it was buzzing to the brim with students, the younger ones all excited to see their parents, the older ones not as quite happily waiting for them. I easily found Irene in the crowd as I smelled her sweet perfume, and came to stand next to her, arms crossed over my chest as I grimaced when the fifth graders kept cheering and screaming in our vicinity. I didn’t want to ruin the moods of those poor children, but if they didn’t shut up soon, my head would surely explode.

“Oh, Y/N,” Irene said as she finally noticed me, her eyebrows furrowing as she took me in, snapping me out of glaring at a blonde little girl, “When did you arrive? I didn’t notice you.”

I sighed and looked at her tiredly, my muscles quite sore after…the night I had, “Just now, this is dreadful.”

Irene chuckled as she followed my sight, which was back on the loud kids, “Well, yes, you shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night…”

I rolled my eyes, looking back at my friend, “Look who’s talking. I thought friends are supposed to stop you from doing stupid shit? Oh, well, you couldn’t possibly have done so since you disappeared with Seulgi, again.”

Irene blushed and looked away abashed, clearing her throat awkwardly, “Sorry about that, won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Yeah, right.” I chuckled unamused, knowing very well they will most likely disappear off to somewhere together the second they get the chance to. Irene looked at me with a small smile, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, lightly bumping her shoulder against mine. I watched as her eyebrows slowly furrowed and nose scrunched, leaning closer to sniff me. I yanked my head back and gave her a confused look, Irene looking even more confused, “What?”

“Uh,” She paused, sniffing me again deeply, her eyebrows raising in mild interest, “Y/N, you kinda smell like those werewolves you hate so much…”

“What?!” I snapped, heart somersaulting in my ribcage as I raised my arms to sniff them thoroughly, then raised the front of my dress too, but smelled nothing peculiar, “No, I don’t. What are you talking about?!”

“I mean, you kinda do,” Irene looked at me like I was crazy, “Especially that Mingi guy—”

“No, I don’t.” I hissed, looming over my best friend, muscles tense and blood boiling, “And don’t ever again bring him up!”

Before Irene could react or even look at me like I was crazy, I stormed off towards the opened gates just as my parents car rolled up, their butler getting off first to open the door for them. I took a deep breath and brushed all thoughts aside, assuring myself that the copious shower and intense perfume I downed on myself surely masked any remaining scent of Mingi’s on my body, Irene must’ve smelled it wrong. Perhaps Mingi was lurking around and that’s why she felt his scent on me.

Two more hours. I only had to survive two more hours of this mayhem until the gates would be closed once again, parents away, serenity coating the Academy once again. I was barely holding on at this point, ears ringing to the point I barely heard anyone talking to me, and head thumping so violently I would’ve willingly asked Mingi to rip my head off. But I had to keep an image, and therefore, I made sure to drink lots of water and mask everything I felt under a small smile that would turn into a grimace whenever nobody was looking at me. Our table was simple and small as it only consisted of my parents and I, and it was more towards the middle of the garden, of course, the prestigious families sat closely together, Irene’s just to our left, with Seulgi a few tables down, Krystal’s nowhere in sight as the druids were seated more towards the entrance, close to the faes. My father and mother found this opportunity perfect to spread their business ideas to the other night creatures, thankfully not bothering me as much as I thought they would. However, the second we sat down to eat is when the real headache started as they drilled me with questions and didn’t fail to remind me of our principles and rules that I must follow at all times.

When my mother saw me, she wasn’t too keen of the changes done to the dress, but she said nothing as she enveloped me in a big hug, smiling at me brightly as she pulled away, her skin absolutely perfect and glinting in the sunlight. She looked very young, almost younger than me, her vampire genes certainly more on the fortunate side, thankfully passed down to me as well. My father was less affectionate, but he was quick to offer me a side hug and smile at me cheekily, playfully asking if I had been up to no good last night as he apparently knew about the bonfire party. I merely laughed and brushed it off, assuring him that I was in bed by twelve, my beauty sleep absolutely necessary. They didn’t have to know of my endeavors last night, not that they would’ve been against me mingling with a werewolf, the opposite, my parents were huge werewolf lovers and supporters. After the clergy, they were the first ones to preach unity between our kinds, urging everyone to love and respect each other, to live in harmony. One would think almost losing their only daughter to a monster would scar them, but they only became bigger believers of the necessity of peace between us, using me as an example quite often. Perhaps my parents played a significant part in my life when it came to me hating werewolves so much.

Barely even half an hour had passed since their arrival when I felt my mother adjusting my hair and telling me to stand up straight, eyebrows furrowed as she kept leaning close, inspecting my face closely. She muttered about the skin of my neck being darker, and for a second, I thought the coverage came off, but my father just told her to leave me alone as nothing was wrong with my neck. I knew my mother would keep a scrutinizing eye on me, but I hoped she wouldn’t try to spot every little flaw about me today. However, that wasn’t the case as she pinched her nose and threw me a disgusted look. I paled, mouth hanging open as she cleared her throat, slapping my father’s arm as she motioned towards me.

“Sweetheart, doesn’t she smell a bit funny today?” She had asked my father, making me freeze as they both stared at me. I felt like a little child all over again.

“Not at all, let the girl relax a little, dear, she’s been tense all day,” My father had sighed and had gently pulled me into his side, chuckling, “She’s walking a bit funny, I bet those physical training classes are quite challenging for you.”

If my face looked as mortified as I had felt in that moment, my parents said nothing about it, they just hummed to each other and let me off, asking me to walk with them as they caught up with old acquittances and present business partners. I wanted to burry myself hearing my parents words, but I just brushed them off and laughed anytime someone mentioned my scent being a little different, hands clenching behind my back into fists, itching to connect with Mingi’s sharp jaw.

Finally, my parents have grown bored of talking to everyone and we were seated at our table currently, them enjoying the copious amount of food placed on our table, me, not so much. I ate very little and told them that I have fed earlier in the morning and wasn’t feeling too keen about having human food as well, which, thankfully, they accepted and didn’t push for more answers. The truth was that I would’ve thrown up right then and there if they would’ve forced me to eat the raw meat on my plate. My eyes were trained on the Song family’s table as my eardrums shook each time they roared with laughter, falling off chairs and conversing just way too loudly taken the setting we were in. I grit my teeth as the sunlight fell perfectly on Mingi’s face, coating him in a golden hue as his longish hair had little braids in it, highlighting the red against his blonde hair. Everything about him was infuriating, and I gulped when my stomach started doing weird flips upon hearing his laughter. His mouth opened wide and his head fell back, body shaking in time with his wheezes, soft skin looking like precious gemstones glinting under the sunlight. I scoffed and grabbed my tall glass, taking a sip of my orange juice as Wooyoung’s witchy laughter pierced my ears, making me shut my eyes in pain.

“Are you still sensitive, love?” My father’s gruff voice made my eyes snap open as I averted my gaze from the Song’s, looking at my father with a forced smile on my lips.

“Yes, some days it’s worse than others.” I explained, making him hum as he looked at my mother.

“Well, that’s not exactly healthy,” He muttered under his breath before shaking his head, “but many things changed in your immune system after you were bitten—”

“I don’t want to talk about this here.” I snapped, voice harsh and body tense as my grip tightened around my glass. Anyone could hear us. My faded bite mark suddenly started pulsating hotly against my skin and I gulped, heartrate accelerating.

“Dear, it’s nothing to be ashamed of—”

“Mother,” I snapped, eyes shooting to her, “Not here.”

My parents fell silent as I remained tense, shooting them piercing stares, the two of them sighing in sync as my mother leaned back in her chair, looking defeated.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re doing alright.” My father suddenly smiled and reached over the table, patting my hand a few times. I nodded with a silent hum and took another gulp of my orange juice, eyes finding the Song table again as they roared with laughter once again. I was about to sneer in their direction, when I realized Mingi was already looking at me, eyebrows lightly furrowed. I threw him a piercing stare, making him avert his gaze as he joined the cheers of his family, making me scoff.

“Aren’t they just a lovely bunch?” My mother mused with a dreamy sigh, “I have always wished vampires were able to reproduce more than once. Imagine all the little fangs we’d find once they fell out, little toes hitting the floorboards loudly, the giggles resounding in our vast mansion, the warm feeling of being a big family.”

Nothing could’ve sounded more horrible than the exact same thing my mother was describing. My father chuckled and took a sip of his wine, watching the Song family too now, “I bet those five pups were rascals while growing up.”

“Still are.” I muttered underneath my breath, thankful that my parents were too busy staring yearningly at the Song family.

“I love the warm and homey feeling they spread around themselves,” My mother smiled fondly, looking back at me, making me sick to my stomach when I saw the look in her eyes, “They truly are a treasure to Nocturnal Parade, lighting up every corner they pass with their positive energy. You’re lucky you get to go to the Academy at the same time as the pups.”

“Lucky,” I almost snorted, but quickly masked it as I took another sip of my orange juice, eyes finding Mingi’s again, “You’re right. I’m so lucky.”

For some unknown reason, I felt enticed by Mingi’s eyes on me, mind fuzzy for a second as I watched him stand and excuse himself from his parents, headed towards the side of the garden where large pillars kept the construction of the greenhouse up. My jaw ticked and I took a deep breath, trying to fight the sudden urge to go after Mingi, but I figured he deserved to be chastised for leaving his strong scent all over me, so, I quickly stood and told my parents I would be back as I tried not to hurry after him, instead ended up doing a speedwalk towards Mingi. When I came up behind him, I grabbed his arm and yanked him after me, away from the prying eyes and curious glances, behind a tall pillar, silence finally enveloping around me as I was away from the loud chatter and laughter of the gardens.

“What are you—”

“Why do I still smell like you?!” I snapped, glaring at Mingi as he pulled his arm out of my grip rather harshly, “Everyone can tell, Mingi! I thought nobody was supposed to know about—”

“And nobody knows, alright?!” Mingi snapped back, eyebrows furrowed as he didn’t look me in the eyes, “It’s not my fault you smell like me. It happens with anyone, not just me, Y/N.”

“Well nobody else’s scent I’ve slept with was as strong as yours, so it is your fault.” I hissed back, stepping closer, confused as to why Mingi wasn’t looking me in the face. Something felt off, something was wrong. I could simply feel it. There was a nervosity in my system that wasn’t there before, I almost felt the way Mingi looked. My faced blanked as something dropped deep in my stomach, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden need to reach out and touch Mingi. There was something so magnetic about him, something so luring that I stepped back with a gasp, watching Mingi alarmed and confused as his head whipped up.

“What have you done to me?” I asked in a whisper, hugging myself, trying to comfort myself as Mingi’s mouth fell open, gaping at me. The color drained from his face and my heartrate matched his as it started racing, profoundly confused.

“No—nothing.” It wasn’t like Mingi to stutter, it wasn’t like Mingi to suddenly avert his eyes and look small. It unsettled me and made me feel more panicked as I took a step forward, eyebrows furrowing more.

“Mingi.” I hissed, leaning down to try and look into his eyes, but he just looked further away, “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“No?” Mingi sounded far away from being convincing and I licked my lips in frustration, reaching out and grabbing his elbow. Mingi’s head whipped up towards me suddenly, his body heat so overwhelming that I felt dizzy as his cinnamon scent entered my senses, so calming that I felt my tense muscles suddenly relax. It was too confusing, never having experienced something like it before.

“I—” Mingi hesitated, sounding almost breathless as he looked me in my eyes finally, “I have imprinted on you, Y/N.”

“What?!” I screamed, releasing his elbow as if it burned me, eyes bulging and jaw on the floor as everything stilled around me. Mingi looked nervous and embarrassed as his cheeks flushed red, clearing his throat when I said nothing else, hoping that he’d say that he was just pulling a stupid prank on me.

“Mingi.” I hissed, getting all up in his face in a sudden burst of anger, glaring at him furiously, “What do you mean you imprinted on me?!”

“Exactly that, Y/N, oh, my God.” Mingi groaned, rubbing his face, taking a deep breath.

“No.” I snapped, fisting his grey sweater, “I—I refuse. No, unimprint on me or something!”

“What?” Mingi looked confused, rolling his eyes, “I can’t unimprint on you—that word doesn’t even exist, Y/N.”

“I don’t care what word exists and doesn’t, Mingi.” I hissed, yanking him down to be eye level with me, “You can’t fucking imprint on me. I’m a vampire and you’re a werewolf. What is wrong with you?!”

“Nothing’s wrong with me, stop being a bitch!” Mingi hissed, gripping my wrists. Electricity coursed through my skin where he touched me and my eyes widened in fright, giving him a look, but it didn’t seem to phase Mingi.

“Do you imprint on everyone you sleep with?!” I hissed, body shaking in anger, heart beating fast. It wasn’t helping that Mingi looked calm, almost defeated, as if this was final and he had accepted his fate.

The glare he gave me was sharp and unimpressed, “That’s not what this was—”

“Really?!” My voice raised again, panic coating my voice, “Because we were completely fine until last night, Mingi! And now you’re telling me that—you—I—that we’re—mates?!”

“We’ll be mates if you accept me, I thought you knew this by now—”

“It doesn’t make any sense!” I exclaimed, breathing fast as Mingi’s fingers suddenly started rubbing the skin of my wrist softly, sighing quietly, “You can’t imprint on me.”

“Calm down first, your heart is beating like crazy.” Mingi whispered, voice soft and raspy, warm brown eyes boring into mine. I felt on the verge of teras as his warmth engulfed me, coating me in safety I’ve never felt before, a bubble of safety and calmness wrapping around us. He started taking slow deep breaths, making me subconsciously copy him as I felt myself relax once again, shake his hands off once I felt fine. I took a step back and was rather rattled when my body instantly yearned for Mingi’s. This was bad. Very bad.

“You need to sort this out, Mingi.” I gestured around wildly, eyes wide, “Whatever you do, I don’t care. But you can’t imprint on me.”

“Well, I already did.” Mingi seemed annoyed as his words felt sharp, giving me a pointed stare, “So accept it, because it won’t change.”

“You can’t just say that!” I whisper-shouted, feeling furious again as Mingi continued acting nonchalant about this whole ordeal.

“I’m not as horrible as you think I am—”

“Mingi.” I snapped, shaking my head at him, “No. Just no. We’re not having this conversation. Unimprint on me and we’re done, that’s it!”

“I just told you, I can’t possibly—”

“Mingi?” A quiet voice called out, soft and timid as I whirled around, Mingi walking past me instantly.

“Yes, Dahyun?” Mingi smiled, previous tension and anger gone from his face, and he crouched in front of his much shorter sister. Dahyun gave me a warry look before poking Mingi’s cheek, giggling.

“Mom and dad are wondering where you are,” She muttered, casting me another warry look, “I saw you walking off with the vampire that smells like you, so I told them I’ll bring you back.”

It wasn’t hard to notice Mingi’s body freeze at his younger sister’s words and I scoffed, completely flabbergasted that this little girl could tell I smelled like Mingi. This was the absolute worst, and I was close to simply ceasing my existence once and for all. Before they could say anything to me, I stormed past them, headed back to my table, thinking of excuses I could use to get my parents out of the garden and away from the Song family.

The past few days have been…silent, weird, different, empty, almost. They felt unsettling and I found myself unable to sleep at night, and even if I did, I would wake up in a cold sweat, chest heavy and lungs heaving for air. Something just simply didn’t feel alright and I knew there was nothing wrong with me per se, with my vampire being, yet something was affecting me rather harshly. And it was noticeable in my appearance as well. No matter how often and how much I fed, my skin looked sickly pale and the glow of my dense hair seemed absent no matter how much I tried fixing it. My cheeks had fallen slightly in, creating a hollowness in them that wasn’t there before. I looked like I was decaying and I didn’t understand why when I was completely healthy and fine. Yet, something was doing this to me and I couldn’t help but blame it on this whole imprinting thing, and Mingi. I haven’t seen him since Parents Day, and despite deciding to avoid him for an eternity, it seemed like Mingi had the same thing in mind as me. Even in our shared classes, he was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t even smell him or hear him, yet Yunho was certainly there, his aura very much so present. Nobody said anything, perhaps too afraid to make a comment about my sickly appearance, and I knew I needed answers. I couldn’t go on like this anymore despite not wanting to see Mingi. There was something very wrong about my body, something internal and scarily real as the longer I stayed away from him, the stronger the yearning became. The heaviness in my chest only got worse with each ticking minute, and I knew I couldn’t go on like this anymore when I started listening in on the creatures’ conversations around me, searching for Mingi’s name, searching for his voice even, for his infuriatingly loud and obnoxious laughter, his unbearable stench, and his stupid siblings. I needed to put an end to my own suffering, therefore I decided to act like an adult for the first time in my life, and find Mingi in order to talk things through, even if I didn’t want to.

History of the Vampires was an excruciatingly long class and I couldn’t wait to be finished with it, unable to sit still as my mind kept wandering elsewhere, desperately trying to clock Mingi’s voice or even aura in the building. But it was harder to find him than I thought it would be, almost as if he was hiding himself from me, Yunho’s strong aura overbearing Mingi’s whenever they were together. And I knew those two were together as I searched for familiar voices conversing, lowering my head so that my professor wouldn’t notice my closed eyes as I focused on singling out Mingi’s raspy and deep voice amongst his siblings as they were out in the fields, not too far away from the classroom I was in. Dahyun was talking to him, and it was the first time I heard the younger girl’s voice for such a long period, animatedly retelling a story to Mingi about a boy she liked in her class. At first I thought Mingi wasn’t talking to her, until I realized Wooyoung and Yeri’s cackling was too loud for me to pinpoint Mingi’s soft voice as he muttered to Dahyun words I couldn’t understand. It felt alarming how easily I found myself wanting to know more about Mingi’s bond with his siblings, wondering whether I would fit in with them. And it was hard to listen to Mingi’s quiet voice as he departed with Yunho from the rest of their siblings, the twins headed to class as Mingi’s aura remained still dull, washed out by Yunho’s. I didn’t think masking one’s existence was possible, but then again, I didn’t know much about werewolves and their abilities as I always remained ignorant to them due to my hatred towards them.

Once class was over I excused myself from my friends in a hurry, finally able to pinpoint Mingi’s exact location as Yunho wasn’t so close to him anymore, making it easy for me to follow Mingi’s voice and scent. He was two floors below my classroom, having their own history class about Werewolves. By the time I got to the classroom not many students were there, however, I could hear a few still inside, Mingi included. Closing my eyes as I leaned against the stone wall, I could hear him scribbling something in his notebook, muttering to himself about having forgotten to do his physics homework. Yunho had left Mingi behind, saying that he was becoming restless, and how he needed a run before their next class. The full moon was tonight, I could only assume it had something to do with their moods, werewolves became rather restless in the afternoons on full moon nights. Finally, the last three students left the classroom laughing and whispering to each other, looking back inside, no doubt gawking at Mingi. Something clenched in my stomach, making me hiss at the three girls as they passed in front of me, looking fearful once they noticed who I was. The scurried away and I couldn’t help but smirk in glee, that is until I heard Mingi scrambling around the classroom, gathering his things to leave. I took a deep breath and willed myself to push off the wall, hands slightly trembling as I appeared in the doorway just when Mingi was about to step through it.

He gasped; eyes wide. Our gazed connected and I couldn’t help but smile at him, tilting my head in wonder as he gulped hard, audibly, licking his chapped lips. There was little distance between our bodies, and he suddenly took three big steps backwards, making my eyebrows furrow in disdain as his comfortable warmth disappeared with him. My heart shouldn’t have picked up so fast, racing just at the sight of him, senses flooded with his cinnamon and fresh grass scent. I took a step forward, the door shutting behind me with a loud thud, trapping Mingi and I inside the otherwise empty classroom. The windows were open, a warm fresh breeze slithering inside. It probably wasn’t the reason why Mingi’s cheeks were suddenly flushed, gaze averted again as he cleared his throat loudly, as if something was stuck there. I allowed myself a short moment to take in his appearance, and was taken aback to find him sickly looking, dark bags underneath his tired looking eyes, lips chapped to the point of looking painful, and cheeks as hollow as mine. It was startling, and it only raised more questions in my mind as I took a deep breath, the strong cinnamon scent burning the back of my throat.

“We need to speak,” I spoke up, voice unsure as I continued looking at Mingi, who was still avoiding eye contact, “something is…happening to me.”

Ever so slowly, he turned his head, eyes reluctantly falling on me. His thick eyebrows furrowed as his eyes racked my body, then stopped on my face, looking very confused, “Were you avoiding me?”

Mingi hummed, pursing his lips as he cleared his throat, “Yes.”

I didn’t expect him to be so honest, for some reason it didn’t feel nice at all, “How did you mask yourself so well?”

“A pack can mask their wolves when sensing danger.” Mingi explained, eyes suddenly steeling as he licked his lips again. My eyebrows furrowed, feeling confused all over again.

“Am I a danger to you?” I found myself whispering, looking at Mingi questioningly. Something in my stomach dropped at the prospect of me being the cause of danger to Mingi.

“With how much you keep threatening me, yes.” I chuckled humorlessly at Mingi’s words, and he looked just as unamused as I felt. His shoulders were slouched forward as he shook his head, looking defeated, “What do you want, Y/N?”

“To talk.”

“Then talk.”

I gulped, feeling off thrown by Mingi’s hostile attitude, acting as if he didn’t even want to see me. Hadn’t he imprinted on me? Weren’t we supposed to be mates now? Why was he being so cold towards me? My heart beat faster, body yearning to feel Mingi’s warmth so desperately that I had to dig my nails in my palms to stop myself from marching up to him and latching myself onto his body.

“Ever since you—imprinted on me, I just—I don’t know.” I gulped, averting my eyes as Mingi’s sharp gaze bore into mine, “We haven’t seen each other in almost four days and I—I don’t feel well, Mingi. Something is happening to me, and I don’t understand what—”

I gasped at how fast Mingi closed the gap between us, orchid-colored eyes boring into mine, making me shrink back in fear. Have I angered him again? Was he going to hurt me? But to my surprise, Mingi’s hand gently cupped my cheek as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, holding it in his lungs as I remained still, afraid to breathe. Nobody spoke as he slowly exhaled, eyes snapping open, once again brown, staring at me with a newfound softness in them. I gulped, taken aback by the tingles traveling all over my body, cheek warm from Mingi’s palm, a safety bubble nestling around us. I felt complete again, the heaviness in my chest not as strong as before, my heartbeat beating fast like never before, a pull so strong towards Mingi deep in my being that I realized I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Mingi licked his lips again, suddenly looking like he’s made up his mind about something, softly exhaling again as he opened his mouth to speak, probably, but I couldn’t focus on anything else anymore but the feel of Mingi so close to myself. I didn’t need to hear his words in this moment, I needed to feel him. And I did just that as I desperately cupped his cheeks, pressing my lips against his. Mingi froze, unmoving and hand falling from my cheek limply as I squeezed my eyes shut tight, inhaling his comforting scent as our lips molded together.

As I went to pull back, realizing that Mingi wouldn’t kiss back, suddenly fingers tangled in my hair and pushed my head back with a newfound force, our lips crashing against each other as Mingi whimpered, not wasting any time as he set a bruising pace. My hands slipped from his cheeks to hug around his neck as I flushed my body against his, sighing into the kiss as my body almost felt like it was lit from the inside, heart fluttering, and the yearning in my stomach turning into a desperate want as the pace of our slick lips quickened, desperately needing more of Mingi. I moaned against his mouth as he captured my bottom lip between his lips, suckling on it softly before licking it, and hovering his lips against mine, breathing through his mouth as shivers racked my spine. My fingers tangled in his hair, which was in a half-up ponytail again, and I quickly got rid of the hair tie as I gently pulled on his soft locks, parting my mouth in permission for Mingi. I could hear his heart beating like crazy, faster than mine even, and in a flash, his tongue was pushing past my lips, tangling with mine, my skin feeling as if it was on fire. Mingi was warm, almost to the point he was burning up, and I failed to notice it getting transferred to my own body as I clung to him, moaning when he skillfully licked inside my mouth, taking his sweet time to suck on my tongue before allowing me to push mine inside his mouth, relishing in the quiet whimpers that left the back of his throat. His hands eagerly explored my body as they slowly slipped towards my backside, squeezing my ass hard through the skirt of my uniform, my eyebrows furrowing as I tried not to moan. With our heads now tilted, I felt myself turn into a puddle as Mingi hiked one of my leg’s up before making me jump up, legs squeezing around his waist firmly as I held onto him. Mingi didn’t stop kissing me as he walked us towards a desk, gently setting me down as we broke apart for a second to fill our lungs with air.

As he tried to step back, I tightened my legs around his waist and pulled him even closer to myself, biting my lower lip when his heavily ring clad fingers grasped at my left thigh, black tinted nails digging into my flesh. Mingi’s hot puffs of air landed on my lips and I licked mine, failing to notice the lust in Mingi’s eyes as he watched me closely, eyes constantly flickering between brown and orchid. He rested his right hand on the desk, next to my hip, as he pressed his forehead against mine. My breathing was heavy as I realized just how badly I needed to feel all of him, feeling on the verge of craze as he lifted his chin ever so slightly when I went to kiss his lips, making my eyebrows furrow as I whined at the denial. But I quickly was forced to inhale sharply as Mingi’s calloused, big, hand slowly slipped up higher on my thigh, underneath my skirt, making me groan as he massaged the inside of my thigh, my lips attaching to the skin of chin. It was soft despite the little stubble growing out, and Mingi moaned as my lips travelled lower, pressing open mouthed kissed against his neck, his Adam’s apple, nipping at his hot skin at the junction between his neck and collarbones, slightly distracted by Mingi’s grip on my thigh tightening as I slipped a hand under his shirt. His abdomen was firm and his muscles tensed under my fingertips as Mingi looked down at me while breathing heavily as I blinked at him innocently, a soft groan escaping his lips before he crashed his lips against mine.

It felt like my soul was alive again, a fire lit deep in my stomach as our tongues battled for dominance, and I pulled Mingi’s body flush against mine, moaning when I felt his erection press against my core, fingers tangling in his hair once again firmly. Mingi moaned as I pulled on the longer strands around his nape, making me gasp against his lips as he moved his hips, slowly grinding against me. His warm palm slowly slipped from my thigh and I whined at the loss of it, but his hand instead went and gripped my waist firmly, keeping me in place as he moved slowly, dragging his hard-on against my throbbing core. His free hand cupped my covered breast and I moaned into his mouth as his tongue pushed deep inside my mouth, toes curling as he kept grinding against me, setting my skin on fire, his scent intoxicating as the layers separating us became unbearable.

“Mingi,” I pulled my head back, moaning as Mingi didn’t stop kissing me, latching his lips onto my neck instead, “this isn’t talking—Mingi!”

I yelped as his fangs nipped against the sensitive skin of my neck, making me throw my head back as I gripped his belt, trying to stop him from grinding against me anymore, everything becoming too much.

“Mingi,” I tried again, voice breathless as he sucked at a spot under my collarbones harshly, licking it slowly afterwards, “we’re in a classroom, we have to stop.”

“I never thought you’d be a prude.” Mingi’s voice was extremely low as he spoke against my skin, lips like feather as they brushed against my heated body.

“I’m not a prude,” I hissed as Mingi’s hips stilled, but with his hard-on pressing sharply against my clothed core, “but if a professor walks in, we’re done for.”

Mingi groaned and he raised his head to rest his forehead against my shoulder, taking deep breaths as I licked my lips, staring up at the ceiling as I tried to ignore the desperate need to rip his clothes off and let him take me on this desk. Mingi took a deep breath, which tickled me once he exhaled, and I felt him move as he looked up at me, releasing my waist as he gently cupped my face again, pushing the strands of hair behind my ears, smiling cutely as his cheeks were flushed pink.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alive before.” He whispered, truly looking like he felt lighter. It was a little disheartening as I realized that the heaviness was lifted off of my chest, my own skin buzzing with excitement as I felt myself smiling back. The truth was that I felt the same as Mingi, but I was too afraid to admit it. Something was changing and I was afraid to acknowledge it when I spent my whole life hating on the species right in front of me, in between my legs, making my heart swell with his gorgeous smile and cute flush, his deep eyes, and clumsy personality. I was still afraid of werewolves, I still hated them, but I couldn’t deny the sudden pull towards Mingi anymore.

“We have to talk.” I didn’t mean to break the serene bubble around us, but we needed to clarify so many things, “I have too many questions, and you have a lot to explain.”

Mingi nodded with a hum, lowering his head, surprising me as he slowly nuzzled his cheek against mine, inhaling deeply, making me blush as the endearing action. Nobody has ever done that before, and it made my skin jittery as it felt good.

“I promise we will talk, but tonight’s the full moon and my mind is all fogged-up, Y/N,” Mingi explained as he gave me an awkward smile, “I can’t exactly…think right now, if you know what I mean. And I don’t want to do something we’d both regret later. All I can think about is marking you right now, and that needs a serious conversation first.”

My heart jumped in fright at the mention of marking, and I gulped as I slowly nodded my head, realizing finally that Mingi had no malicious intentions towards me. If he did, he wouldn’t be saying things like that, nor treating me gently. I offered him a small smile and he chuckled, leaning down to press a lasting kiss against my lips.

“It’s a shame we must stop, but,” Mingi smiled cheekily as he removed himself from my body, much to my dismay, “I have to go to class, I’m already late, and I know Yunho will come looking for me in exactly three minutes.”

I chuckled as I watched Mingi try and straighten his clothes, brushing through his long strands, searching for the hair tie, which seemed to be gone. I grinned as he gave up searching for it, instead went and grabbed his backpack discarded on the floor.

“See you tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrows, still adjusting his messy hair, “When I’m not thinking with my dick?”

I snorted, nodding my head as I licked my lips and crossed my legs, remaining seated on top of the desk, “See you tomorrow after lunch break, I know you have a free period.”

“Someone’s been stalking me, huh?” Mingi smirked as I looked away embarrassed, gulping before I admitted a little secret of mine.

“When you spend so much time hating on someone, it’s alarming how much you learn about them.” Mingi’s smirk only widened to my horror, completely amused by my admission, instead of feeling hurt or even angry.

“What a little freak I have to deal with—”

“I’m not a freak!” I exclaimed in irritation, making Mingi chuckle as he walked backwards towards the door.

“We’ll see after I find out more about you,” He winked as he opened the door, “Take care, doll.”

I rolled my eyes as my face flushed at the pet name, and my eyes stayed glued to the door even after Mingi was long gone, his footsteps faded as he made his way towards his classroom, Yunho making a ruckus as to why he was late and why he looked so shaken up. I chuckled and fell backwards on the desk, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly as I raised my hands, playing with the black hair tie around my wrist. This was becoming real, wasn’t it?

I bobbed my head to the music as I wrote down some more numbers, rubbing my forehead as I had been doing equations for more than an hour now. It was late in the evening, and after Irene and I studied for a while together, she said she needed to go somewhere, and left around half an hour ago. She promised she’d be back early tonight and we could have a girl’s night, but I had my doubts about that as I knew she was with Seulgi. It didn’t bother me as much as it normally would’ve as my mind was distracted with thoughts of Mingi, impatiently waiting for tomorrow to arrive so that we’d finally discuss where this…something…was headed between us. The wind had picked up and it was rattling the old hinges of the window, and I turned my head to look out the window, lightning in the distance. A storm was coming, and the dark clouds made it hard to spot the full moon, but its light was strong enough to pinpoint it on the dark sky.

As I started solving another equation, the guitar in the song I was listening to was soft and calming, but there were rapid knocks against the door of the room, disturbing my peace, making me look towards it with furrowed eyebrows. It was almost eight in the evening, slowly we were approaching curfew. Only the wolves were allowed outside past curfew tonight, so it made me wonder who it could have been. I placed my pen down and pushed away from my desk, standing and stretching my stiff muscles as I went to swing the door open. I was rather surprised to find a short, dark haired, girl standing in the hallway, chewing on her lower lip as she looked up at me. We stared at each other for a few seconds, me flabbergasted to find Dahyun standing in my doorway, and the little girl staring past me, inside my room, wonderingly.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” I asked confused, eyebrows furrowing.

“Is Mingi here?” She asked quietly, trying to look inside my room again.

“No, why?” I answered curtly, watching the girl warily.

“Are you sure?” She pressed, looking up with a glare at me, “Are you lying to me?”

I scoffed and crossed my arms in front of my chest as a rather strong gust of wind rattled the windows out in the hallway. The lights flickered for a second, making both Dahyun and I pause as we looked around.

“Why would I lie to you?” I asked once Dahyun faced me again, and I rolled my eyes when the girl continued glaring at me, “Be my guest and have a look inside my room. I haven’t seen Mingi, why would I even know where he is? Isn’t he your brother?”

Dahyun didn’t seem too happy with my answer, and suddenly her small hand grabbed mine and I was yanked down with such force that I gasped, taken aback by just how strong the little werewolf girl was. I stiffened when her face suddenly pressed forward, nose pressing against the junction between my neck and collarbone, inhaling deeply.

“What—what are you doing?” I stuttered, brushing the girl off, feeling weirded out.

“Mingi scented you.” The girl said, eyebrows furrowing as she took a step back, taking me in fully, “You smell like him, that’s why I thought he was here.”

I felt rather confused as I smelled myself, but felt no scent of Mingi on myself. What did she mean that he scented me? Wasn’t that a werewolf thing? How could he even scent a vampire? When did he do it that I didn’t even notice?

“I don’t smell like him.” I objected, glaring down at the girl as she looked suddenly scared when there was a flash of lightning in the distance. I opened my mouth to send her off, but the way she latched onto my arm and looked up at me pleadingly made me pause.

“I can’t feel Mingi’s scent,” The little girl whimpered, “and a storm is coming, I’m scared. Mingi always tucks me in before bed, and I’ve searched for him everywhere and I can’t find him.”

I felt awkward as I cleared my throat, not knowing how to comfort the distressed girl, “Uh, well, you have many siblings. Go find them.”

“I need to find Mingi.” Dahyun stressed, “I know where Yunho is as I can feel his aura and smell his scent, but for some reason Mingi’s gone. I’m scared something happened to him, Y/N.”

I gulped, suddenly fearing the same as I tried to listen closely as I searched for Mingi’s voice in the vicinity, but came up empty handed. I sighed as I continued looking at the girl, who started shaking now, and I shook my head, “Wooyoung and Yeri will certainly help you.”

“Wooyoung is also shifting tonight and Yeri didn’t even open the door when I told her it was me knocking,” My eyebrows furrowed at the cruelty of her older sister, feeling a sneer wanting to settle on my face, “Can you help me, please?”

Perhaps the sweet, and teary, puppy eyes staring up into mine were what broke my resolve as I sighed and nodded tiredly, watching a smile appear on Dahyun’s face, “Where should I look for Mingi?”

“They are usually at the shed at this time.” She said, detaching herself from me. My eyebrows furrowed as my heart lightly picked up, mouth going dry at the prospect of having to step outside during a full moon while the campus was littered with wild, animalistic, werewolves running around freely.

“I can’t go out there, I’m sorry.” I muttered, eyebrows furrowed, “The whole place is infested with werewolves and I—”

“They haven’t shifted yet, I promise.” Dahyun quickly interjected, “Mingi always struggles shifting, and Yunho always waits for him. Please, it’s not dangerous to look for them, they are very docile and still recognize everyone in their wolf forms. Please, Y/N, please.”

I gulped and looked outside through the window behind Dahyun, feeling a coldness seep through my bones the longer I thought about this stupid request. But I couldn’t deny that I also felt worried for Mingi now, and one more look at Dahyun had me giving in, “Alright, wait here, and I’ll go look for Mingi. If Irene, my roommate, comes back, tell her that I let you stay here until I come back, okay?”

“Yes, thank you very much!” Dahyun almost cried in happiness as she walked inside my room, making me sigh again as I grabbed my light cardigan, wrapping it around myself tightly as I left the room. I tied my hair with the black hair tie forgotten on my wrist as I knew the harsh wind would whip it all around in my face.

Perhaps coming out to the shed in a long skirt and a t-shirt with nothing but a cardigan on in such violent wind wasn’t the brightest idea as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to warm myself by rubbing my hands up and down quickly. However, it offered little to no warmth, and I shivered as I heard howling in the distance, my skirt getting caught in dry weed as I hissed, tumbling a little forward and into the door of the shed. At least I have finally reached it. It isn’t too far from the dorms, but it’s on the outskirts of the forest, and I could feel my heartbeat picking up as I knocked on the door loudly.

“Mingi?!” I called out over the loud wind, carefully pushing the door open, sticking my head inside to see if anyone was in. But it seemed empty and I took a warry step inside, feeling my eyes turn scarlet as my senses spiked as I felt on edge so exposed and alone. I slowly walked further inside, scanning the shed, but Mingi’s scent was absent, and he was nowhere to be seen as well. I sighed as I tightened the cardigan around myself and leaned over the table discarded in the middle of the room, finding clothes scattered around. I could smell the stench of wet dog, yet Mingi’s scent was absent. Maybe it weren’t his clothes, however the disregarded chains looked a lot like his necklaces. I sighed, and went to turn around when the old floorboard creaked up front, making me freeze. I slowly raised my head, looking around again, feeling my heartbeat quicken even more.

“Mingi?” I whispered, chewing on my bottom lip in fear, my breath coming in short as there was another creak. Just as I opened my mouth to call out his name again, two glowing orchid-colored eyes appeared in the dense darkness, making me gasp loudly as my hands slapped against the desk as they fell from around my body. I stared into the beasts eyes as it stepped forward from the shadows, form huge and menacing as its fangs were long. Its fur was midnight black and thick, scent completely unrecognizable as I tried to sniff around for Mingi. My body trembled as we looked each other dead in the eyes, memories of that dreadful night flashing in my mind.

The weather had been similar, wind blowing harshly and a distant rumble in the skies as the storm was fast approaching. I was playing in the flower field on our propriety, gathering flowers before the pouring rain arrived, humming a song to myself, oblivious to the world around myself. I had turned five years old just a few days ago, I had no worries in the world, nothing to be afraid of. That is until I realized something was snarling not too far away from me, staring at me piercingly, as I giggled while playing with my imaginary friends. It wasn’t a full moon, but for rogue werewolves it didn’t matter whether it was day or night, full moon or not. Just as I was about to turn around and leave for the mansion, it pounced on me, snarling in my face as I was pinned to the cold ground, shrieking and screaming as its saliva dripped on me. I could still remember, and feel, the pure terror that coursed through my whole being, screaming and calling for my parents to help me. The werewolf didn’t like that I was being so loud, or a vampire, and it bared its teeth at me when I started crying, begging it to let me go. The rogue wolf was scary and strong, no matter how hard I tried to escape, I couldn’t. It happened in a flash, it’s claws pressing painfully against my chest as its teeth ripped through the skin of my forearm, making me cry out so loudly that I thought I broke my vocal cords. It felt as if someone pushed a burning rod inside my body one after another, two sharp needles ripping your skin apart, tearing you up from the inside. My body started convulsing as I continued screaming, mind hazy and breathing ragged from the excruciating pain. I didn’t remember much after that, only waking up numb in the hospital, tubes connected to my left arm and bicep bandaged tightly, my mother sitting at my side, and only crying harder when she saw I had opened my eyes. The second my father walked in with the werewolf doctor is when everything suddenly dawned on me, sending me into a hysterical fit, to the point I needed to be sedated, trembling and crying out for the poor doctor to stay away from me. It was a trauma I was forced to live with, and I could never actually put it past myself, that pain forever present in the back of my mind as my faded bite mark started pulsing painfully once again.

I took a slow step backwards, barely even moving, but the werewolf caught it and suddenly snarled, making me jump in terror as even my head started shaking violently in fear. I was taken back to that day, when I was a defenseless little girl, almost killed by a monster so similar to the one facing me right now. My attacker had black fur with white patches, I could never forget its fur and orchid eyes. I knew wolves had the urge to chase their prey once they started running, but it was either I stayed here and surely died, or tried to run and save myself. I acted upon realizing I wasn’t ready to die at the claws of this monster, and turned swiftly, taking off as I heard the werewolf howl behind me, jumping over the table to chase after me. I screamed when I realized he was really after me, snarling and howling every few minutes, a lot faster than I had anticipated. I had to grip my skirt and raise it above my knees as my lungs burned and muscles strained, never having ran this fast before in my life. My mind was only focused on saving myself, on taking me far away from danger. I didn’t realize that I was running further inside the forest instead of heading towards the dorms, where the werewolves were forbidden of entering once they have shifted.

I ran even faster as my sensitive ears picked up on the loud thuds the werewolf was making as it chased after me, snarling louder, sounding completely furious as I was gasping for air, lungs completely empty and begging for me to take a breather, but if I stopped, I would die. I pushed even more, using my inhumane speed to try and get rid of the beast, but it seemed like it did nothing as the wolf chased after me without sounding tired and nowhere near of giving up on its pursuit of me. I was becoming desperate, I couldn’t go on like this for much longer, my body was shaking despite me running. I was filled with adrenaline, heart pumping my blood fast as I ran for my life, until I felt the werewolf nipping at the back of my skirt with its large teeth, making me cry out in fright. I turned my head to see the distance between us, but it was a foolish action as it caused me to lose my footing, tripping in the huge twigs scattered around the forest floor, sending me to the ground with a painful tumble. I cried out as I felt my skin scrape through my cardigan, even if it would heal in mere seconds, it was still painful. I hadn’t even realized that I have started crying, and now that the werewolf was just a foot behind me, snarling and hissing at me animalistically, I started crying loudly, trying to get away from it until my back hit a tree.

“Please,” I whimpered, jumping when the wolf growled at me, staring me menacingly in the eyes. I shook my head and pressed my hands against my mouth, lungs heaving for air as my whole body shook, eyes filled to the brim with tears, my vision blurry, “Mingi!”

I didn’t understand why I called out his name, but I found myself desperately clinging onto his name as if it would save me, as if it would send the werewolf away, “Mingi! Please, Mingi! Help!”

My screams were shrill and my throat hurt, but it only made me shake more as the black wolf growled and almost jumped at me, hitting its paws against the forest floor annoyed, hissing, and puffing. I could feel the pain I felt that day, spreading from my bicep down to my arm, infecting my brain with that excruciating ache, and I started sobbing as I pressed my head against my knees, curling up in a ball as if it would’ve protected me from the beast. I didn’t even realize it in that moment, but I started calling out Mingi’s name as if it were a mantra, praying to all celestial powers that he would show up and save me from this monster, which was coming closer and closer, its hisses and growls louder by the second. I hate werewolves, I hate them so much, yet I was calling out the name of one until my throat was too dry to scream anymore. Only my sobs could be heard around us, and the scream I let out when I felt arms wrapping around me, sending me into a panicked state as I trashed around, trying to fight the grip they had on me off. I couldn’t hear and I couldn’t see due to the deep-rooted fear I felt, that is, until a faint voice slowly started getting to me, my brain registering the familiar rasp of it, the deep tone I was used to hearing.

“Y/N, Y/N, please, it’s me,” The voice was soft and scared, sounding almost like it was talking to a scared little child, “It’s me, Y/N, Mingi. I’m Mingi, you’re safe, please—”

My arms flew around Mingi’s neck as I threw myself at him, gasping for air loudly as I clung to him to the point my nails dug into his naked shoulders, drawing blood. Mingi’s body felt warm, muscles stiff, but he instantly cradled me against himself, fingers tangling in my hair as he started quietly shushing me. I continued to cry for a few more minutes, hard to completely calm down, but Mingi’s warmth and reassuring words seemed to get my heartrate back to normal, making me forget the panic I felt just minutes ago.

“You’re alright, I’m here.” Mingi’s nose pressed into my hair, lips barely brushing against my ear as he whispered quietly into it, “You’re safe, I’m here. Nothing will hurt you, Y/N, you can calm down now. I’m here, I got you.”

I let out a shuddered breath as I closed my eyes, pressing my face into Mingi’s neck and inhaling his comforting scent, feeling my muscles ease up as Mingi’s fingers brushed through my disheveled hair, pressing kisses against my temple. I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, heart still beating fast, and body on high alert as the adrenaline didn’t leave me yet.

“Mingi.” I croaked out, slowly pulling my head back to look at him, feeling my lips tremble as I realized just how terrified I had been, “I was so—”

“It’s okay now,” Mingi cut me off with a small smile, expression soft as he nuzzled his nose against mine, closing his eyes for a second, “You don’t have to talk. Just sit in my arms and calm down.”

“Mingi,” I whispered, feeling the need to cry again, but I forced the tears away just as Mingi’s cheek touched mine, and he nuzzled them together just like he had done earlier today, in the classroom, “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

Mingi looked confused once he pulled back, but when he noticed I was looking at the bloody nail marks on his shoulders, he just chuckled and shrugged, “Don’t worry, I’ve been roughed up way worse before.”

I looked into his eyes again and loosened my suffocating grip around him, but still clung onto him, overlooking the fact that he was completely naked. I was still trembling and afraid, I wasn’t physically able to let go of him yet. And just then, there was a growl to our right, and I gasped as I turned my head and saw the black werewolf standing there, eyes set sharply on Mingi. My body started shaking violently again and I felt my fight or flight kick in again, but Mingi held me strongly against himself, caging me against his body as he hugged me tightly, shushing me when I tried to speak up.

“You, asshole!” Mingi hissed towards the werewolf, making my eyes widen, “What is wrong with you, Yunho?!”

My eyes widened as I snapped my head towards the wolf, finding him shuffling on his four legs, snarling his teeth at us.

“Why would you chase her, are you nuts?!” Mingi’s voice was raising, I could feel his heartrate quicken underneath my cold hand, “You know she has some sort of trauma with werewolves and you go chasing her around the fucking forest, during a full moon, you idiot!”

Mingi’s words were sharp, and it was visible on his face that he was beyond pissed as he snarled his own fangs at the black werewolf, which was Yunho, apparently. I remained silent as I watched the exchange between the twins, one in human form, the other in werewolf form, my muscles tense but not like before as I realized I was away from danger now. There was a whimper and I cast my eyes upon Yunho, who was looking down at the forest floor, dragging his front paws as if he was asking for forgiveness.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, dude,” Mingi snapped, shaking his head in disappointment, “I’m done running around for tonight, go find Wooyoung or someone else. And don’t come back tonight to the dorm after you’re done being an asshole. Get lost!”

I watched with an open mouth as the big, black, and scary werewolf hung its head even lower, cries and whimpers leaving its mouth as it started jumping around, pressing its front paws forcefully and harshly into the solid soil.

“Stop throwing a fit, Yunho.” Mingi said with a roll of his eyes, his hands rubbing my back up and down in a comforting manner, “I won’t tell you to get lost again.”

The werewolf growled, but it lacked power and menace as he cast us one lasting stare before it turned around and ran off with loud howls, making Mingi roll his eyes again before he looked back at me. He had an apologetic look on his face and I sniffed, snot threatening to come out of my nose due to the extensive crying I had done tonight. Mingi’s hands cupped my face again and he gently wiped the fresh tears off, pressing kisses against my cheeks before he pressed a soft one against my lips, my eyes falling shut at the plushness of his warm and soft lips.

“I’m sorry about that,” Mingi sighed, sounding ashamed and disappointed, “Yunho can be a huge idiot. He thought chasing you around was a way to get back at you, but I don’t find it funny at all.”

I gulped and nodded wordlessly, clearing my throat despite it feeling sore, “How did you know…about my trauma…”

Mingi hummed, sitting back and gently pulling me in his lap, my cheeks flushing as he sat naked, looking quite unbothered, as I forced myself to look at his face only, preferably in his warm brown eyes.

“Well, first of all, the bite mark.” Mingi explained, gently touching where my mark was, looking sad, “And well, you know, the whole hatred towards us and all that shit, it’s not hard to put two and two together.”

“I’m sorry.” I found myself whispering, feeling ashamed of myself all of a sudden.

“Hey, don’t be, it’s alright—”

“It’s not,” I cut him off, eyes hardening as I gulped, “I put you through so much just because I’m traumatized, and you have nothing to do with it. I’m a horrible creature.”

“I can’t imagine what you must’ve went through to feel so strongly against us,” Mingi’s fingers intertwined with mine as he rested our hands in my lap, “And I never blamed you for it one second. Of course, your bullying did get too much at times, but I always had my family to back me up and reassure me. I never had a problem with you bothering me as long as you left my family one.”

My cheeks turned pink as I looked to the side, biting my lower lip as Mingi chuckled. I blushed even harder when he leaned closer and kissed my cheek again, “I guess you always had a thing for me.”

“Shut up, Mingi,” I groaned, looking him in the eyes again, “This is so not the moment nor place to turn cocky on me.”

“I could turn into only one thing right now,” Mingi chuckled, eyes flashing an orchid-color, “But I think the cocky thing is something we could take care of faster—”

“Song Mingi!” I slapped his hard chest, glaring at him for saying such things while I sat in his naked lap. Mingi cackled, biting his lower lip once he was done, watching me amused as I tried to get off his lap, but he didn’t let me.

“Glad to see you calm and comfortable again,” Mingi mused, grinning as he ruffled my hair, making it even worse than it already was from all the running, “but I must ask, why the hell were you even outside on a full moon, Y/N?”

“Because of your stupid sister—” I cleared my throat quickly, “I mean, sweet sister, Dahyun. She said she couldn’t feel your scent and was scared of the approaching storm. Plus that you tuck her in every night, so…”

Mingi sighed loudly, looking up at the dark sky. I looked around us, realizing that the sky was rumbling, the lightning just above our heads. I was too distracted to realize that the storm was minutes away from starting.

“That silly girl,” Mingi muttered, chuckling as he gently pushed me off himself, “I hate to tell you, but she was only pranking you, a plan probably elaborated with Yunho—”

“What?!” I exclaimed as I scurried off to my feet, gaping at Mingi as he chuckled, rubbing his nape.

“Yeah, well, uh…you know, she hasn’t let me inside her room since she was in fourth grade, which was like…four years ago.” Mingi pursed his lips, also standing, the view quite a sight as I quickly plastered my gaze on his face only, “She didn’t lie about the storm though as she usually comes to me for comfort. She must’ve gotten scared and went looking for me, having a pretext to send you outside.”

“Why couldn’t she feel your scent, then?” I asked as Mingi suddenly swept me off of my feet, making me yelp as I clung onto him as he held me bridal style.

“I don’t know,” Mingi shrugged, looking nonchalant, “My scent comes and goes sometimes when I shift.”

“Oh,” I muttered, giving Mingi a questioning gaze as he started walking through the forest, headed back to the shed, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you back to the dorms.” He said with a smile, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You certainly must’ve grown thirsty after seeing me in all of my naked glory.”

“Mingi.” I blanched, giving him a deadpan look, “You better put me down right now.”

“Hmm, let me think about it,” He pursed his lips mockingly, looking up towards the sky, “No.”

“Mingi—”

“I’ll put you down once we’re in my room.” He winked, and something coiled in my stomach as I gulped.

“Your room?” I mused, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Of course, don’t think I’m leaving you alone tonight, what if the big, scary, black wolf comes back to eat you?” He cackled and I smacked his chest hard, making him groan in pain.

“You’re making me think you were in on the plan too.” I hissed, glaring at his perfect jawline. Mingi chuckled and just shook his head, giving me a pointed stare.

“Tormenting my mate isn’t top of my list, you know?”

“We’re not mates.” I muttered.

“Yet.” Mingi grinned.

“Ever.” I hissed and Mingi licked his lips before biting his bottom lip, his heart thumping just a little bit faster as I could feel his giddiness radiate off of him.

“Do you know you drank my blood when we slept together—”

“What?!” I snapped mortified, almost jumping out of his arms, “I did not!”

“Uh, yes, you did.” Mingi chuckled, wriggling his head at me funnily, “I found two little punctures at the base of my neck.”

I felt mortified hearing that, face turning completely red and muscles tensing. It wasn’t forbidden to feed off of other night creatures, it’s just that it was a very intimate action, usually only practiced between vampire lovers.

“You know, it’s funny,” Mingi’s eyes were glinting as he looked down at me, “It’s where my scent gland is, the spot where werewolves mark each other when mating—”

“Mingi, please, stop.” I pressed a hand against his mouth, completely and utterly embarrassed. But he licked my palm, making me yelp as I ripped my hand away from his mouth.

“I think you triggered my imprinting, isn’t that the funniest thing ever?”

“Oh, my fucking God,” I wailed, squeezing my eyes shut in mortification, “Kill me right now, Mingi.”

“Can’t do that, doll, not when you’re the love of my life.” Mingi chuckled, nearing the edge of the forest finally.

“Stop spewing non-sense,” Yet I felt my heart beat just a little faster, cheeks heating up hearing his words, “I thought we agreed to talk about this whole thing tomorrow.”

“True,” Mingi hummed, smiling contently, “So, how’s your memory?”

“Why?” I raised an eyebrow in suspicion as Mingi smirked, looking ahead.

“Mine’s a little foggy, that’s why.” He said nonchalantly, making me gulp as I had a hunch what he was talking about.

“Well, so is mine.” I said in a small voice, Mingi’s attractive face turned downwards as his sharp eyes bore into mine, plump lips pulled into the most attractive smirk I had ever seen.

“Good, I think it’s time we give it a refresh, then,” He whispered seductively, leaning just a little closer, “You know, make sure we don’t forget this time, not even the littlest details.”

My mouth went dry and I felt my stomach coil at his suggestion, and all I could do was nod at him speechless, licking my lips as a warm feeling washed over me, going straight to my core. Mingi’s eyes were glinting and he chuckled, kicking the shed’s door open as he walked us inside.

I don’t think there was a single thing I would’ve been able to forget about Song Mingi, even after having lived for an eternity.

≡ Masterlist ≡

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