#Besides a little reminder that between this chapter and the next there is also the tiny thing I wrote for a Vierapril prompt

[jinniejjam]

Lonely Wine

✎ Mean Neighbor!Lee Know x Lonely Afab!Reader

✎ Christmas AU, Emotional, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, 18+ MDNI! NSFW, Mutual Pining, Smut, Mistletoe Trope, Romantic Ending.

✎ 3.4k

✎ Synopsis: you find yourself feeling alone and distant, lost in your own thoughts. Your annoying neighbor, Lee Minho, crosses your path, and the exchange between you is far from pleasant. But then, to your surprise, he apologizes. As the holiday season continues, the walls between you begin to crumble, and you start to realize that even the most unexpected neighbors can bring warmth and connection when you least expect it.

A/n : hii y'all! I bring the christmas fanfic for today, hope you enjoy the story and also Merry Christmas! I hope warmth found u^^

—Bae

The air was cold, sharp against your skin as you leaned on the edge of your window, a half-empty glass of wine in your hand. Christmas Eve had always been a hollow affair for you, a reminder of what you didn’t have.

Your family wasn’t just complicated—it was fractured, splintered beyond repair. Your parents had divorced years ago, both quickly moving on to build new families, leaving you somewhere in the middle. No one outright abandoned you, but no one fought for you either. Holidays became a game of polite invitations and shallow smiles, and eventually, you stopped trying to belong anywhere.

You finished the wine faster than you intended, the warmth in your chest doing little to ease the ache. The sound of distant laughter and carols drifted in through the window, each note a cruel reminder of what this night was supposed to be.

When you realized your stock of wine was gone, you sighed and grabbed your coat. A trip to the store would be better than sitting alone with your thoughts.

The grocery store was mostly empty, its fluorescent lights buzzing softly. You wandered the aisles, the sight of festive decorations and holiday discounts doing nothing to lift your spirits. Three bottles of wine went into your basket—too much for one night, maybe, but you didn’t care.

By the time you returned to your building, your arms were aching from the weight of the bottles. You stepped into the elevator, letting out a breath as the doors closed.

But they didn’t close fast enough.

“Hold it!” a familiar voice called, and your stomach dropped as Lee Minho slid in just before the doors shut.

Of course. Out of all the people in this building, it had to be him.

Lee Minho, your annoying salty neighbor who had been a thorn of your peacefull life in this building, you're not sure how and when it started, but every encounter with him always feels like a war somehow, well its maybe begin from the very first you moved in to this building.

Flashback

The new apartment smelled like fresh paint and floor polish. You sat on your worn couch, staring at the boxes still stacked in chaotic clusters, a sigh escaping your lips. Starting over wasn’t easy. The stress of work and the pressures of life had already begun weighing down on you, but you were determined to make this new chapter as bright as possible.

After a long debate, you decided to bake cookies for your neighbors as a peace offering—a way to establish yourself in the building. A sense of community might help ease the loneliness. Armed with a plate of warm cookies, you stepped out of your door, knocking at the unit beside yours.

It swung open sharply.

The man who stood before you was breathtakingly gorgeous, but his expression was nothing short of murderous. His dark, sharp eyes narrowed in annoyance, his jawline so sharp you could swear it could cut glass.

“Yes?” His voice was flat, unwelcoming.

“Oh, hi! I just moved in next door. I made cookies and thought I’d introduce myself!” you said, holding the plate out with a smile.

He stared at the cookies like they were contaminated.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” His tone was curt. Without another word, he shut the door.

You blinked, stunned. What the hell was that?

Or that one time when he complained, saying that you're being loud just 3 days right after you moved in.

The next few days after moving in filled with unpacking, arranging furniture, and trying to settle into your new place. It was exhausting, and by the weekend, you decided to reward yourself with a relaxing night—some wine, your favorite playlist, and a bubble bath.

The music was soft, barely above a whisper, but as you swayed along while unpacking some remaining boxes, a sudden knock startled you. It wasn’t just a polite tap; it was loud, deliberate, and aggressive.

You frowned as you opened the door, only to find yourself face-to-face with your grumpy neighbor. Lee Minho stood there, arms crossed, his dark eyes glaring down at you like you were the source of all his problems.

“Seriously?” he snapped.

“What?” you asked, taken aback.

“The music,” he said. “Some of us are trying to sleep, and your constant noise is making it impossible.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s barely 9 PM.”

“And? Some people have early mornings,” he replied. “Unlike you, apparently.”

You folded your arms. “Excuse me, but I’m not exactly throwing a party over here. The music is quiet enough that I can barely hear it myself. Maybe the problem isn’t me; maybe it’s you.”

His jaw tightened. “Oh, so now I’m the problem?”

“Kind of, yeah,” you shot back. “Maybe you should consider moving to a remote cabin in the woods if you hate hearing other people so much.”

The tension between you crackled like static. He exhaled sharply, clearly deciding you weren’t worth more of his time.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Just keep it down.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to his apartment, leaving you fuming in the doorway.

You think that was the moment the gloves came off. From then on, the two of you clashed at every opportunity—snarky comments in the elevator, icy glares in the hallway, and a mounting frustration that turned into outright hostility.

Back to present time, he leaned casually against the cold wall of the elevator, his sharp eyes scanning the bottles in your arms. His smirk was almost immediate.

“Three bottles?” he quipped, tilting his head. “For one person? What is this, a pity party?”

You didn’t respond, staring straight ahead and hoping he’d shut up.

But Minho wasn’t done. “What? Are you that lonely? Not even a family to spend Christmas with?”

His words hit like a gut punch, sharp and uncalled for. Your fingers tightened around the bag handles as you turned to glare at him.

“Yeah, keep talking, Lee. I’m sure your perfect little life makes all of this just so much better,” you shot back, your voice trembling but laced with bitterness.

Minho blinked, taken aback. He had expected you to snap back, to fight him with the same sarcastic edge you always did. Instead, he saw the hurt in your eyes, the raw emotion you’d been trying so hard to hide. His stomach twisted in regret, realizing too late that he had pushed the wrong button this time. The smug expression he wore faltered, guilt creeping in as he watched you turn away right after the elevator door opened.

Once inside your apartment, the weight of his words finally crashed down on you. You set the bottles on the counter, your hands trembling.

Not even a family.

It wasn’t just an insult—it was the truth. Your parents had their own lives, their own families, and you were nothing more than a reminder of their failed marriage. Christmas had become a painful routine: fake smiles, awkward dinners, and feeling like an outsider in both of their homes. This year, you hadn’t even bothered to show up.

Tears welled in your eyes as you uncorked one of the bottles. The first sip burned your throat, but you didn’t stop. With each gulp, you tried to drown the ache, to silence the doubts and regrets swirling in your mind.

But the wine didn’t help. Instead, it magnified everything.

The tears spilled over, hot and relentless, as the weight of the night pressed harder on you. You sank onto the couch, clutching the bottle like it was your lifeline. The sound of distant carols and laughter seeped in through the thin walls, each note a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have.

A knock at the door made you freeze.

“Who’s there?” you called, your voice hoarse.

“It’s me.”

Minho.

Your chest tightened. The last person you wanted to see right now was him.

“Go away!” you shouted, wiping at your tear-streaked face.

But he didn’t leave.

“I need to apologize,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You clenched your jaw, anger and humiliation swirling inside you. “I don’t need your pity, Minho. Just leave me alone.”

But his voice came again, insistent. “Please. I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of line.”

Something about the raw sincerity in his tone gave you pause. Slowly, you stood and walked to the door, hesitating before unlocking it.

When you opened it, Minho was leaning against the frame, his usual smirk replaced by something almost apologetic. His eyes flickered to your puffy, tear-streaked face, and his jaw tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why do you care?”

Minho hesitated, his gaze softening. “Because I know what it’s like to be alone on Christmas.”

The admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice quieter now. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was being an ass, and—"

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. Before you knew it, you were crying again, the weight of the evening too much to hold back.

Minho stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “—Hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him. He hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly. The warmth of his embrace broke something inside you, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you afloat.

Minho held you close, his arms steady and sure, like he was the only anchor keeping you from falling apart. The quiet between you was heavy but not uncomfortable; his presence alone was enough to steady your trembling breaths. His hand moved gently up and down your back, offering a kind of comfort you hadn’t realized you craved.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, your voice muffled.

“For what?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“For being a mess.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes softened as they searched yours, and for the first time, you saw something other than irritation or smugness—something tender.

“You’re not a mess,” he murmured. “You’re human.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and before you could think twice, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hands steadying you as he guided you toward the couch. “Sit down. Let me help.”

He left briefly, and you heard the soft clink of glasses. When he returned, he handed you a glass of water and a blanket, sitting beside you with a closeness that felt intentional.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said, your voice still fragile.

“I wanted to.” His reply was simple, but his tone carried weight.

The room was quiet as you sipped the water, his eyes never leaving you. The soft glow of the Christmas lights from your small tree cast warm shadows across his face, making him look softer, more vulnerable.

“You’re different tonight,” you said softly, daring to glance at him.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners. “So are you.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it was charged, buzzing with something unspoken.

“Minho,” you began, your voice hesitant, but he interrupted you by reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment too long, making heat creeping to your cheeks, redish hue appear within a second.

“You deserve better than this,” he said quietly.

You blinked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at your apartment, the wine bottles on the counter, the loneliness hanging in the air. “Being alone on Christmas. Feeling like you don’t have anyone. You deserve someone who cares.”

The vulnerability in his voice stunned you.

“Do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Care, I mean?”

His eyes darkened slightly as they locked onto yours. “More than I should.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you seemed to shrink as the tension thickened. He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low, his gaze flickering to your lips.

But you didn’t want him to stop.

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, closing the gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was hesitant at first, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as you both gave in to the pull that had been simmering between you for weeks.

Minho’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as you shifted onto his lap. His lips were soft but insistent, exploring yours with a passion that sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, eliciting a low sound from him that made your stomach flip.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Yes.”

He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. He stood, carrying you effortlessly toward your bedroom, his movements careful and intentional.

Once inside, he laid you gently on the bed, his hands brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every inch of you. The way he looked at you—like you were something precious—made your chest tighten.

His touch was both tender and consuming, each kiss and caress unraveling the stress and pain that had been weighing you down for so long. The intimacy of it all made your heart ache in the best way.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was about the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like it was sacred, the way he made you feel seen, cherished.

His lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You shivered, your body responding to his touch even before you could think. Minho’s hands caressed the curves of your body, each movement slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of you. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting something inside of you that had been dormant for far too long.

"Minho..." You whispered his name, your voice trembling as your fingers slid to the waistband of his pants, grabing his clothed cock making him groan from the contact.

"Fuck, Princess."

He kissed you again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that made your pulse spike. You felt his body pressing against yours, his muscles flexing as he leaned into you. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer to him until you could feel the heat of his body, hands trailing to tug on your sweater, getting rid of it in a swift motion, leaving you in your black lacy bra.

When he pulled away for just a second, his dark eyes searched yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "You're so beautiful” he said, his voice low and raspy, full of an almost dangerous edge.

He squeze your tits from outside of your bra, your body aching for him in a way you couldn’t deny. "Minh, please.”

With a growl, he kissed you again, his hands rough as they worked quickly to remove the last remnants of your clothes. You felt the heat of his skin against yours, his fingertips trailing down the curve of your spine before they slid to your hips, pulling you closer as his mouth moved over your collarbone, his kisses becoming more desperate.

Every kiss he gave, every movement of his hands, felt like it was igniting something inside of you, a need that you hadn’t realized had been building up for so long. You moaned softly, your hands running over his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

He responded with a groan of his own, his mouth returning to yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. The air between you grew thick with desire, the tension so palpable you could hardly breathe. His hands moved to your back, gently pushing you back onto the bed, his body following you, never breaking the connection.

As he hovered over you, his lips brushing against your ear, he whispered, “I want you, all of you.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as his words sank in, the meaning behind them making your heart race even faster. “Then take me,” you responded, your voice low and demanding, feeling a surge of confidence you hadn’t known you had.

Without another word, Minho moved over you, his hands and lips tracing the line of your body with a sense of urgency, like he couldn’t wait any longer. He drag his waist band You felt the pressure of his body against yours, he run his heavy cock along your folds, squelching sound coming from the contact signing how wet you are already, "Holly fuck baby, do you hear that? Mmh all wet for me" he said, still teasing your drench cunt. The heat between you both becoming almost unbearable.

Minho finally align his tip to your enterance, pushing it in to your clenching hole, earning a trail of moan from both of you.

"Ahh minhh," Your fingers dug into his back, urging him on as you kissed him with the same urgency, your body moving against his in rhythm.

His movements grew faster, more desperate, as he sought to claim you in the way that only he could. You could feel every inch of him as he slid deeper, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp with pleasure. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as your body trembled beneath him.

"Minho mmh," his name slipped from your lips in a soft, breathless cry, and the sound of it seemed to drive him wild. He growled low in his throat, his hips snapping against yours with a relentless intensity. You met him with every thrust, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control, the pleasure building, escalating with each movement.

"Minho... fuckh you're gonna make me cumhh," you gasped, the heat of your bodies colliding with an intensity that took your breath away.

He groaned, his name slipping from your lips in a way that made his pulse quicken. The sound of your voice, the way you were calling out for him, drove him to the edge. He leaned down, kissing you deeply, his tongue claiming yours in a dance that matched the rhythm of your bodies.

"Cum for me kitten, cum" he said, hips pistoning to hit the certain spot that makes you see the stars.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you felt the tension inside of you snap, "Minhh ahh FUCK," your body convulsing in waves of ecstasy.

"Fuck, fuck fuck shit baby s'goodh mmhh" Minho followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he gave in to the moment, his own release consuming him.

You both lay there, breathless and tangled in each other's arms, your bodies still pressed together, the warmth of his skin against yours grounding you in the reality of the moment. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Minho’s hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you gently, the softness of the kiss in stark contrast to the fiery intensity of what had just happened.

“I care about you,” he murmured, his lips brushing over yours once more. “More than you know.”

You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your chest now replaced with something deeper, something stronger. You smiled softly, your hands running over his back, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"I care about you too," you whispered, your voice full of quiet certainty.

And as the two of you lay together, tangled in the aftermath, you realized that this wasn’t just a night of passion. It was a turning point—one that would change everything between you. It was the beginning of something real, something lasting, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home.

Make a brief synopsis for this story

[lxmelle]

Tentative thoughts about the JJK Epilogue Chapters that have just leaked.

Spoilers (obviously) under the cut:

As you know if you have come across my posts, I’m a shipper so I view things with a special satosugu lens. I mean, they’re the grandparents - the strongest of the modern era - who started the wave of change, after all.

Just this image alone reminds me of that:

I digress.

So I think it links back to Gojo trying to nurture the students so that what happened to Geto and him wouldn’t be repeated.

The epilogue of each person seems to pull on themes relating to Gojo & Geto.

Snow = their connection = their Ao / 青春 / Blue Spring

Nostalgia. Unchanging bond. A sentimentality. Something treasured.

The person who you are on the inside may not change you when if things in life occur or threaten to change you.

Panda being Yuta’s/Gojo clan’s treasures = being spoken about by children of the future.

The passage of time that is natural. What seems to be a peaceful world. The curse between Yuta & Rika was unlike what was between Gojo & Geto.

If one is willing to heal, people can recover & move on. EDIT: Even if I’m not generally a fan of YutaMaki , I guess I can see the sense in it. Yuta is a bit monstrous from being able to bind Rika & upon releasing use her shikigami & move on (despite(?) his pure love much as it is part of his CT) with Maki. And Maki can use Mai (with honour) to obliterate her clan to change things. So they’re just quite fitting I guess. Gojo & Geto are a little different in that they moved on in some ways, but also bound each other emotionally until the end.

“From the bottom of my heart” / 心底 / 心の底 (as pictured from jjk0) - sincerity, authenticity. One’s true self.

That it matters whether one truly and sincerely cares. Whether the other portrays themselves authentically or not.

Even the blindfold and Gojo’s somewhat disapproving attitude towards Geto’s apparent frivolous attitude in his portrayal as a villain was pictured in 0 — seem to parallels with Nobara & her mum.

But they’re of course not perfectly paralleled. Gojo cared for Geto & Geto was honest with Gojo at the end. Geto also never enjoyed doing what he did, unlike that Nobara’s mum appears to. But that is if we believe what she actually says.

U: Aren’t you cold being beside me?

S: The same goes for you, Uraume.

Theme here? My only one.

Each other’s only exception. And they’re reunited in the afterlife.

Edit: if I’m not mistaken, Gojo & Geto do not refer to each other by name in the afterlife. Only in the scene in jjk 0 (“satoru, you’re late” & “suguru, ______”).

And so it seems poignant that Sukuna & Uraume call each other by name in the afterlife + flashback in the epilogue.

It makes for a nice contrast between the pairs, imho... it’s worth noting here that they also go in opposite directions - South & North, respectively. To the past/“unknown” and somewhere new/a “next time”.

In sum... It echoes my thoughts over the ending of jjk. Gojo, Geto, and the others of their generation helped to break the norms of the crappy jujutsu world.

Gege injects these little salient themes into the series and they’re like Easter eggs for people like me who think too much 🤣

Thank you Gege for writing this...

Thank you guys for reading my thoughts & musings.

Comments are welcome as always 🙏🏼

[avirael]

Shattered

The sound of a light chuckle brought A’viloh back to to his senses from the brink of sleep.

With heavy eyelids he blinked and realised that he had almost fallen asleep in one of the armchairs in front of the roaring fireplace of the living room of Fortemps Manor.

Beside the fireplace stood Haurchefant with two cups in his hands and continued to laugh as the Miqo’te looked at him with drowsy confusion.

“I am barely gone for five minutes and you already fall asleep? It must have been quite a day, huh?”

Without really being able to recall why he was so exhausted, A’viloh agreed, “It was…”

“Here!”, the Elezen said and pressed one of the warm cups into A’viloh’s hands. “I’ll keep you company for a few more minutes but then you should get some rest. Tomorrow everything will look brighter again.”

“Thank you.”, a honest smile appeared on the Miqo’te’s face. Haurchefants optimism never failed to cheer him up.

“It’s no wonder though that you’ve almost fell asleep. It’s quite comfortable here, isn’t it?”, Haurchefant pondered in regards of the always burning faceplace and richly cushioned furniture. “But your sweater also seems very soft and cozy. I like the color too, it looks very nice on you.”

“Oh! Thank you…”, A’viloh murmured a little embarrassed. He had made this sweater with Tataru’s help from some wool he had bought at Camp Cloudtop. “I made it myself. It’s really nothing special though…”

“Nothing special? I don’t know, I think such a talent is quite admirable! I for my part would not be able to make something like this.”, the Elezen laughed and wasn’t going to let A’viloh belittle his own skills. “Besides, Alphinaud told me you are quite talented at all kinds of crafts, even at forging weapons and armour. Is that really true?”

“Sort of.”, A’viloh admitted. “But Rael and I work together on things most of the time, so it’s not just my skills really…”

“Ah, you two are such a wonderful team! Together you can probaby do anything! Besides, I find such craftsmanship very impressive!”, Haurchefant praised. “Do you think you could forge something for sometime? I would feel very honored! Maybe a new chain mail or a better shield!”

Still a little embarrased A’viloh shrugged. “Sure, why not? I would be happy to…”

The Elezen grinned bright and friendly as he nonchalantly said, “Maybe if you had done so sooner, I would still be alive…”

For a second he was simply confused. Then an uneasy feeling unfurled in A’viloh’s chest as he realised that something was wrong.

Horribly wrong.

Suddenly the cup in Haurchefant’s hands slipped through his fingers. Loudly it crashed to the floor, bursting into myriads of unfixable pieces and spilling the hot liquid across the carpet.

Alarmed A‘viloh looked back up only to find the Elezen raise a hand to his chest and stare down in shock as it was immediately stained red with blood.

Gasping for air Haurchefant sank to his knees and clawed his hands into the fabric of A’viloh’s sweater, trying to steady himself. Helplessly he stared as Haurchefant coughed and gasped, slowly suffocating on his own blood, while little splatters of it landed on the Miqo’te’s face.

Finally his grip loosened and as if in slow motion Haurchefants sank to the floor of the living room at A’viloh’s feet, lying motionless, while the carpet was slowly stained red by a puddle of blood that grew bigger and bigger and bigger.

With dead eyes the Elezen stared up to him and through red lips and teeth he murmured in a ghostly echoing voice, “I wish I never met you. I wish I let you die in that blizzard. I saved your life and offered you all my love. And as reward you killed me. You killed me. You killed me…”

A’viloh woke up screaming.

With a jolt he sat up and buried his face in his hands as he realised it had just been a nightmare. He shivered and looked through the unfamiliar, sparsely furnished inn room. The flames in the fire place had long died and left the room to a cold, dark atmosphere, barely illuminated by the moon shining in through the window.

Right, he remembered. He had fled here after… Oh, if only all of this had just been a nightmare too.

Unsuccessfully he tried to suppress the memory that flared up in his mind again.

After the incident it had taken Rael and Alphinaud quite a bit of persuasion to make A’viloh leave the side of their fallen friend and steer the Miqo’te’s dazed body back to Fortemps Manor. Once there he had barely dared to look Lord Fortemps or Artoirel and Emmanellain in the eyes, yet alone say anything.

And as he had watched Haurchefant’s father crumble and fall to his knees in grief, something had simply shattered inside of A’viloh. Then and there he had whirled around and ran. How insolent his presence there must have been, offering nothing more than empty excuses while their son and brother lay dead because of him.

After aimlessly walking the city until it was dark and his body began to feel numb from the cold, A’viloh had decided to seek refuge at the Forgotten Knight. He would not return to Fortemps Manor, so Haurchefant’s family would not have to tolerate seeing his face ever again. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see their’s.

Gibrillont had looked at the Miqo’te’s distressed appearance with worry but had gladly not asked any questions and just given him a room where he could stay and rest.

Still he shivered, only partially because of the cold, and tried to push the nightmare and the memories away. Tried to convince himself that Haurchefant would never say something like this. Nonetheless he could not help but think that the words had only been the truth.

As the shock about the nightmare finally faded, miserable sobs began to echo through the silence. Like a puppet with their strings cut he fell back onto the mattress and curled up, tightly wrapping his arms around his own body, as he shook violently and cried until there were no tears left.

Maybe at some point he would finally fall asleep again, not that his dreams would grant him much rest.

If only he would simply never wake up again.

If only he had never been born.

[hiramaris]

I'm gonna request something for haley bc i love how you write her and not so obsessed. im not sure if you are writing for request? but im gonna give my shot

a prompt where haley as wife, and the farmer was late passed midnight because of mining shit. and almost died (lmao). she got home safely, but limping with her wounds and bruise. then there's haley, saw her wife barely walking and her reaction, just comfort, fluff, worried and taking care of the farmer.

that's all, thanks, no pressure <3

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Summary:

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: violence, blood

Notes:

thanks to anon for being the first-ever reader to request a prompt. I initially thought to make a separate fic for this one but I realized why not make it as a new chapter? There would be some adjustments to the prompt, instead of Haley being the farmer's wife, she'd be somewhere in between a friend and a woman struggling to put a name to what she's feeling with the farmer. I'm really sorry anon for not following the route you're hoping for but I do hope you'll like this one.

Summer 9

The sound of thunder clapping from above her made it difficult for sleep to come that night. Despite the late hour, the darkness outside was illuminated intermittently by flashes of lightning, casting eerie shadows across the walls of her room.

Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a constant reminder of Yoba's fury. The room felt oppressive, suffocating almost, as if the storm had seeped its way indoors, invading her sanctuary.

She had always hated rain. Well, the main reason is it's horrible weather for a dashing photographer like her. Not only does it ruin her hair that she spent all morning fixing, but it could also ruin her equipment. Oh, did she also mention it gives an awful lighting?

She also shares the same level of dislike for storms because they destroy the calmness of rain. It's aggressive, cold, and destructive.

That's why the moment the news announced there would be a storm for the next three days, she was quick to stock every little favorite snack she could think of because there was no way she was waltzing outside in that kind of weather.

Haley popped out a tired eye as she looked at the clock beside her.

1:56 AM.

Oh, joy it's almost two in the morning. How in Yoba's name could she go outside with bags under her eyes probably heavier than all of Emily's hippie gems combined?

'I mean– there's always a concealer,' she thought but quickly dismissed the idea.

She has been minimizing her makeup since... since whatever (when you told her she looked prettier even without them) PLUS with summer's sweltering heat, layering on cosmetics seemed suffocating.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed, determination flashing in her tired eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk, hoping that this little solution would finally give her the sleep she'd been craving for.

But as she reached for the milk, a cacophony outside shattered the stillness of the night. Haley froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It's kind of hard to tell with the harsh rain and thunder and everything.

As if to confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, a set of audible coughs echoed just behind the door. Haley's heart thumped so loud she was afraid it might come out of her chest.

That could only be an intruder.

In Haley's sleep-deprived mind, she didn't stop to even realize that Pelican Town had never experienced a robbery in the dead of night. Instead, she quickly bolted to her room, grabbing Alex's old baseball bat he had left here one time, not even having the presence of mind to wake up Emily to face this 'intruder' together.

****

Spoiler alert, it wasn't an intruder but an idiotic farmer covered in dirt and unbelievably wet from the rain.

You were holding your rucksack close to your chest for dear life with your sword held tightly by your other hand when Haley found you slumped against the door.

"What the hell are you doing outside at this hour and in this weather?" was the first words she uttered when her eyes spotted you. She was quick to help you up and bring you inside, not even minding the mud and water accumulating from where you stood.

When you didn't respond, Haley met your eyes.

Haley's heart nearly stopped at the sight beyond her. Without being hidden by the darkness, she could finally see your whole state.

There standing is the farmer herself. Your white hoodie was tattered and looked burned. Your hoodie's sleeves are ripped too up to your upper arms, and your left arm has a cut with fresh blood still gushing out of it.

You were missing the other pair of your shoes, and your hair was disheveled and covered with slime. You even had multiple scratches and scrapes all over your body. Your right cheek has some small scratches, and blood is rushing out of the wound on your forehead.

"Yoba..." Haley's voice was barely a whisper as she gently cupped your cheeks, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Her eyes flickered to the gash on your forehead, blood still seeping from the wound. "What happened, Y/n/n? We need to get you to Harvey!"

You shook your head weakly, struggling to stand upright. "No... H-harvey," you protested, your voice strained. "H-he'll kill me."

"Y/n!" Haley's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace as you nearly stumbled over her. She wanted to reprimand you, to demand answers, but the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her chest prevented her from doing so.

For now, she needed to make sure you were okay.

You only grunted in response as you gave in to her, allowing her to guide you onto the cushions.

"I'm just gonna get a towel and the first aid." Her lips trembled as she said those words.

In record time, she was able to get everything she thought you'd need, afraid if she missed any more seconds you wouldn't be breathing.

When she returned to the living room, she almost went ballistic when she spotted your form unmoving from your seat.

"Y/n! Wake up, for Yoba's sake! Don't you dare die on—" Haley's words caught in her throat as you rasped out a response.

"...oh, look an angel," you managed with a small grin, your tired eyes fluttering open.

Haley couldn't help but smile softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Very funny," she replied, relief flooding through her as she saw you conscious, if only barely.

Wordlessly, she draped a towel over you, tucking it gently to ensure you stayed warm. It was the same blanket she used during storms like this when she felt cold herself.

With a purposeful stride, she made her way to the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire in hopes of warming you further.

"Keep your eyes open, please? I'm just gonna get some rags to clean up your wound," she requested gently.

She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of you before heading to the kitchen to gather clean rags and a sponge.

Returning to the living room, she filled a bowl with tap water and carried it carefully as she made her way back to you.

With great tenderness, Haley cautiously wiped the blood from your body with the sponge, dampening it in the tap water she had prepared. She winced as the color of the water turned red.

"You lost too much blood," Haley commented, masking the shakiness of her voice. She wasn't a great fan of blood but she was not naive with treating minor injuries either. She silently thanked Yoba for letting Emily force her to learn a thing or two about first aid.

You only grunted in response to her observation.

"What happened, Y/n?" She couldn't hide the worry in her voice even if she dared try. "I should call Harvey and get you to the clinic."

You groaned as she accidentally applied too much pressure to your wound. "No... it's okay. It's n-nothing, I'm fine."

"These serious injuries don't shout nothing, Y/n. What the hell happened?"

"'I went to the mine..." you explained, and Haley waited expectantly for you to continue.

"It's storming."

"I know..." You couldn't look at her in the eye. "It's just that there's not much going on in the farm so I thought I should continue my expeditions in the mine. I thought it would be safe but..."

"But it wasn't." Haley couldn't helped but deadpan.

You visibly winced, unsure if it was because of your wounds, Haley's biting remark, or just both. "I heard from Marlon I could find rare items once I reached the hundredth floor, which I did," you explained, tapping your rucksack beside you. "But I should have known better that those items are rare for a reason. Not because they're hard to find, but because they're hard to acquire. Once I got hold of this baby," you gestured to your bag, "the whole cave was swarmed by slimes and shadow people."

"What?" Haley's voice sputtered with disbelief, her brows furrowing in concern. "Shadow people? I thought they were just myths!"

You tried to nod in confirmation, but Haley kept a firm hand on your cheeks, preventing the movement. "Uhuh, they're very real," you affirmed, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "And I can say they aren't really fond of us humans and, uh, dwarves I think. They're more scared of me than intimidating. I tried not to, y'know, hurt them."

"That's a stupid idea."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor. "But given our history with them, I didn't want to give them any more reason to hate us. Plus, I was the one invading their homes."

Haley let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with weariness. "Still, you should have fought back. What if they had killed you in there? How would we have known you were down there and rotting? You're the only one crazy enough to go down there anyway."

You didn't speak after that, and Haley mistook that as compliance. She was too busy fuming at your lack of self-preservation to notice the frown creasing on your features.

After managing to cleanse the visible injuries of your body, she began to grab some clean rags to apply some pressure on your forehead and your forearm to keep your bleeding to an absolute minimum.

She cursed softly under her breath, trying to think of what to do next.

"…Y/n? Y/n, wake up, stop sleeping," Haley's voice was quiet, her tone laced with urgency as she gently tapped your cheek.

Your eyes pulled themselves open and looked tiredly at her. "Hn?"

"I need you to sit up straight and pull your hoodie off. What do you have underneath?" Haley's words were gentle but firm as she carefully supported your shoulder and hip.

"…just a tank top."

Slowly, you strained to sit upright, wincing with discomfort. Haley could tell from the way your grip tightened on her wrist that you were not comfortable sitting for very long.

With Haley's assistance, you managed to pull your hoodie off, careful not to aggravate any wounds. Once the clothes were removed, Haley's eyes lingered on the minor cuts just below your chest, blood still seeping from the wounds. She grabbed the sponge again, gently brushing away the blood from your cuts.

After cleansing the wounds, Haley applied alcohol and antibiotics, causing you to grunt in discomfort. No words were exchanged as she skillfully wrapped bandages around your forehead, forearm, and abdomen. She then helped you into warmer clothes she found in her wardrobe, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"How do you feel?" Haley bit her lip, anxious. Honestly speaking, she wasn't confident in her abilities to treat injuries, so she anxiously awaited your response, hoping she hadn't made things worse.

"…I'm alright now," you rasped, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "…thank you, Hay."

Haley felt a wave of relief wash over her at your words. Your face had regained some color compared to earlier when you looked as pale as a ghost.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she questioned tentatively. "I'll whip you up some tea and soup."

You swallowed gently and nodded your head.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your soup is done."

****

About twenty minutes later, Haley went back into the living room, a tray in her hands. She found you sprawled on the couch (thankfully not moving too much), embracing your rucksack in your arms once again. She wanted to question what was inside and why you couldn't part with it so much but decided to make sure you were okay first.

The things she does for you.

She placed the tray of food on the coffee table and sat beside you, taking in your sleeping form.

"Y/n/n? Food's ready," Haley said softly, tapping your thigh to rouse you from your slumber.

Startled and kind of a forced of habit, you tried to sit up straight. Thankfully, Haley was fast enough to stop you.

"Don't get up. | don't want to wrap your wounds again," Haley admonished, her tone firm.

She grabbed a pillow and propped it behind your back to elevate your head slightly. As she picked up the bowl of chicken soup, she could feel your eyes on her.

"I can feed myself, Haley. Thank you," you finally spoke. Haley's eyes met yours briefly before she averted her gaze, a flicker of emotion passing over her features.

"Clearly, you aren't capable of feeding yourself. Stop being a baby and let me do this."

Your eyes settled on her for probably a full minute before you sighed in resignation. Despite the hardened gaze she probably wore on her face, Haley gently placed a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

"I know you can, Y/n," Haley spoke after a few moments. "But you lost too much blood already, I don't want you to bleed again."

"I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," you uttered softly.

Haley paused and finally looked at you, like, really looked at you properly this time. Since you had arrived covered in mud and blood, she had been operating on autopilot, with only one mission: ensuring you were okay. It's the only thing running through her mind, leaving no room for anything else. Mainly, she hadn't thought about the impact of her words.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's no trouble. I'm just..." Haley paused, thinking about what words to use without giving away that she cared too much. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

Once you had finished eating, Haley placed the empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a stray lock of your hair, she gently wiped away a few drops of blood and dirt, her touch surprisingly gentle. She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice you watching her quietly, your expression softening as she attended to the blemish on your face.

"Haley..." you called softly, breaking the silence. Haley looked down at you, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile graced your lips as you continued, "Thank you."

Haley couldn't help but smile in return. Sometimes it's hard to stay mad at you. "You can thank me by resting and making sure this won't happen again."

You chuckled softly as you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow once more. "No promises."

Seeing that you were getting sleepy, Haley quickly gathered the empty bowl and cup and placed them in the sink. When she returned, she extended a hand to help you up, much to your confusion.

"Come, let's get you to my room."

"Haley," you protested weakly. "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already have."

"Shut up. I won't let an injured woman sleep on the couch, Y/n."

Despite your protests, Haley managed to convince you to agree with her proposed setup. While Haley wasn't entirely keen on sleeping on the couch herself, it's not like she has a choice on the matter. The cushion is uncomfortable as hell, it's like sitting on a pile of bricks. That's more than enough reason to let you sleep on her bed. Plus, with the mess and worry weighing on her mind, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyway.

She was about to leave to clean the mess in the living room when she finally sat you down on her bed, but a hand stopped her.

"…have you seen my bag, Hay?"

"Oh, that? Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no. Thanks but I can get it myself." You made a move to stand but Haley kept a firm grip on your shoulder.

Haley frowned. "You can't barely even stand. Do you think I'm gonna let you walk by yourself? What's in the bag anyway? I'll get it for you."

"I'm wounded, not disabled–" you tried to say but Haley only raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to finish your sentence. You sighed when you realized that you wouldn't win against her again. "It's... it's a gift."

"For whom?" Haley couldn't help but ask. Who could you possibly want to give a gift that you almost died just to get it?

Was it for Penny? Haley heard she liked gems as well. Or was it Maru? If she could remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday and she seemed to like everything you can find in caves. This totally makes sense.

But why did her heart clench at the thought? More importantly, how did she even remember all this information when she didn't care about them at all?

Before you could respond, Haley left the room to retrieve your rucksack. She felt like she didn't need to hear the answer to her question.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed the bag to you, prepared to leave the room once more. However, your voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's for you."

She turned, mouth agape. "What?"

"It's for you." You smiled warmly as you held out a familiar-looking crystalline gem, about the size of a palm, emitting a dazzling array of colors.

Haley's initial surprise quickly turned to dismay as she recognized the mineral. Her frown deepened, and a flicker of discomfort passed through her eyes at the sight of it. She knew what it was, and just the thought of touching it made her feel physically ill.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

"I..."

"Keep it," she said with finality. "Good night, Y/n."

With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and stormed off, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the room as she left.

****

She shouldn't have said that. She knows she shouldn't have but she was just so worried she couldn't control anything else spouting from her foul mouth.

She hated how she caused the light in your eyes to die down. Hated the way you weren't able to say anything else. Hated the way she just couldn't probably express her worries properly.

Now you probably thought she hated your guts.

Which is far from the truth. Kind of the opposite actually but she's far too tired and confused to delve into her feelings further at the moment.

It's true she doesn't share the same passion for gems and rocks as her sister Emily, and people will generally thank someone who will give them a prismatic shard because for one, they are pretty, she's not gonna lie about that. Secondly, they're super rare and by extension, expensive.

Haley just couldn't bring herself to appreciate it in the same way.

She hated them with passion. And she hated people assuming she liked shiny things because of her personality.

While it's true she's kind of materialistic, it was a trait ingrained in her from years of her parents trying to compensate for their absence by showering her with gifts.

She didn't like being materialistic, but she's so used to it that it's hard to stop.

And she hated how you seemed to think the same way about her when you thought about giving her a prismatic shard as a gift. That all she ever was were just pretty and expensive gifts.

And she hated how you let yourself get hurt just to give her this.

She hated everything about this.

****

Haley spent the majority of the night cleaning the living room, hoping to tire herself out enough to dull the heaviness and emptiness in her heart. She didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time, but there she was, experiencing it firsthand, and she despised every moment of it.

And she hated herself more now because she found herself padding her way towards her room. Her steps faltered when she saw you peacefully sleeping on her bed. A gentle smile touched her lips at the sight of your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Unable to resist, Haley approached you quietly. She carefully tucked you in, a tenderness in her actions that betrayed the turmoil in her heart. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your bandaged forehead, a gesture she had learned from her late grandmother.

"To kiss the pain away," her grandmother used to say, and Haley found solace in that belief.

With one last caress of your cheek, Haley settled onto the foot of her bed, a magazine in hand, silently hoping for the sun's rays to finally peek behind the horizon by her room's window.

****

Haley woke up surprisingly lacking any back pains. She didn't feel sleep-deprived either.

Wait—

How'd she get in her bed? You're supposed to be– Oh.

She sat up straight when she realized she was holding a letter in her hand. Straightening up the almost crumpled paper, she could recognize your handwriting immediately.

Good morning, Haley. Sorry for the disturbance last night, and thank you for taking care of me. It means a lot. I didn't want to impose more than I already have so I excused myself while you were asleep. Thank you again. — Y/n

Haley studied the letter, noting the hastily scribbled handwriting that differed from your usual neat script. She could imagine you rushing to write it just to avoid dealing with her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit. But after what she said to you, who was she to complain?

At this point, it would be a miracle if you still talked to her.

"Good morning, sis!" Emily chirped, her voice echoing through the room as Haley emerged from her room. She sat on the couch, casually knitting what appeared to be another sweatshirt.

Haley's expression was one of mild annoyance as she replied, "It's noon."

"Storm has passed but Caroline canceled, just to be safe," Emily responded, her fingers deftly working the knitting needles as she spoke. "And I know it's noon. Just wanted to emphasize you slept late, little lady."

She glanced around the living room, noting the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, indicating that the day was well underway and the storm had thankfully subsided.

"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have a yoga class to attend to?"

Haley let out a resigned groan, her movements sluggish as she made her way toward the kitchen to avoid further conversation with her sister.

"Just so you know, I saw Y/n/n come out of your room!" Emily called out from the living room, her tone playful yet teasing.

Haley froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the handle of her mug. "Wha—" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her surprise. "Nothing happened!"

"Of course, nothing's going to happen in that state she's in," Emily retorted.

Haley couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that suddenly gripped her at the mention of your state. You're in no condition to go home all by yourself.

"Just tell me you took her home," she pleaded, her tone softening slightly as she returned to the living room.

Thankfully, Emily's too caught up with her work to notice that brief slip-up of vulnerability Haley rarely shows.

"I volunteered actually, but Penny saw us on our way and insisted she could do the job," Emily explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"And you agreed?!" she sputtered incredulously.

"Of course, I would!" Emily readily defended. "She volunteered!"

Haley's sigh was heavy as she sank down onto the couch next to Emily. "You should have woken me up."

She could feel Emily's eyes settling on her as if trying to decipher what's got her so distressed.

"I tried, but Y/n/n won't let me. Said you needed the sleep," Emily finally answered after a few moments of silence.

"You're unbelievable." Haley couldn't help but massage the bridge of her nose at Emily's casualness about the situation as if seeing a heavily injured farmer waltz out of Haley's room was just a normal occurrence. "I suppose she told you what happened then?"

"Uh-huh. Accident in the mines, right? And she went here instead to the clinic because Harvey would kill her once he saw her state." Emily chuckled, her tone light as if discussing the weather. "He just literally told her last time to take it easy."

Haley blinked in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Everyone knows this, Haley." Emily looked at her as if wondering why she didn't know this piece of information. "It's practically a common thing to see Y/n/n passed out outside in the morning."

Haley's brows furrowed in frustration, her mind racing with thoughts. Of course, she doesn't know this. If she would have known, she would have told you to take it easy. Hell, she'll help with farming if it will make things easier for you. This thing where you pass out and overwork yourself shouldn't be normalized. Actually, if anything—

She stopped herself from this line of thinking because why the hell was she even considering helping out with your farm when she, in fact, hated dirt?

"She also told me how you stepped up and helped her," Emily continued, her voice pulling Haley back to the present moment. She felt Emily's hand pat her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "I saw she's well-cleaned up. I'm proud of you, sis."

Haley forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I'm not proud of what I did, Em.

*****

Summer 10

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as Haley sat alone on the shore, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the sand providing a soothing rhythm to her troubled thoughts. She had come here seeking solace, the ocean always offering her a sense of peace in times of distress.

The events yesterday had bothered her more than she had let on. She convinced herself you'd understand why she reacted the way she did but a part of herself thinks she should apologize.

But as stubborn as she is, she instead spent the whole day sulking, which is what she did.

She embraced her knees closer to her chest, fingers brushing the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was her great-grandma's, a delicate piece of jewelry passed down through generations adorned in gold and pearl on the middle part. Her grandmother has given it to her instead of her mom because she'd rather wear luxurious things than some hand-me-down jewelry. But Haley loved them, and it's probably the only piece of jewelry she'd ever wear aside from the shell necklace she was wearing now.

It was a ritual of sorts for her, wearing the bracelet whenever she felt sad and alone. It's as if wearing it made her feel like her grandma was with her at this very moment, comforting her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her bracelet had slipped from her wrist. It wasn't until she reached to adjust it that she felt its absence.

"Oh, no..."

With trembling hands, she combed through the sand, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her eyes scanned the water's edge, fearing the worst as she desperately sought any glimmer of gold amidst the grains of sand.

No, no... impossible. She made sure she was far enough from the water for that specific reason.

An hour passed with no sign of the precious heirloom, and Haley felt tears welling up in her eyes as desperation threatened to consume her. She practically combed the whole beach for it and still no signs of the bracelet.

She couldn't help but slump back to the sand. She's feeling everything too much.

She's such a useless piece of shit. She couldn't even kept an important heirloom. How the hell can she even keep someone like you in her life?

Everyone's right. She's way up high in the clouds that everything she touches crumbles within her fingertips.

The tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and a sob is rising on her throat.

And just before a tear fell from her eyes, a hand shot up and grabbed her by the shoulder.

She looked up and met a pair of gray eyes staring into her own. The grayish color of your eyes is stark and deep and seemed a little bluish from the illumination of the sun. It almost looked like the sky during spring or the ocean seen from a cruising ship as a cold tundra threatened to ruin the quiet solitude of the season. Your eyes telltale thousands of untold stories with every blink, stories too ambiguous, too dark for any of them to understand. Though not dark enough to feed her thoughts of the midnight sea, of storms and drowning.

Calloused fingertips thumbed mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness Haley doesn't think she deserves.

"I'm here," you murmured. "What happened, Haley?"

"I l-lost it," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggled to hold back tears. "My bracelet... it's gone! I know I had it on when I got here... But now it's gone, Y/n and I can't find it anywhere..."

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she burrows closer into you. She had probably stained your shirt with expensive make-up and salty tears but she didn't care as she dug her face deeper into your collar bone further and sucks a shaky breath.

"Shh," you soothed, sturdy arms wrapped around her tightened instinctively. "I'll go find it, don't worry."

"I'll never find another one like it..."

"I'm really sorry..." she felt you murmur against her hair. "I'm sure it's just around here somewhere."

"...maybe it'll wash up on another shore," she hiccuped between sobs. "I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

"We'll find it, okay?" you assured her, and Haley swore her heart stopped beating when you planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. We're not leaving until we find your bracelet."

****

And truth be told you did find it.

After what seemed like an eternity of combing through the sand, Haley's eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar-looking bracelet in your hands.

With a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, you approached her.

"You found it!" she cheered as she run towards you, hopping from the sand and straight to your arms.

You weren't deterred by this and proceeded to secure your arms around her to prevent her from falling.

"Careful there, we don't want to drop it again, do we?" You barked out a laugh but Haley was quick to recognize the grunt of pain in them.

"Yoba, I'm sorry! I forgot you're still wounded!" Haley made a move to let you go but you weren't having any of it. If anything, you hold her tighter. Haley couldn't help but let out a laugh as well as she wrapped her arms around your neck just as firmly. "Thank you so much, Y/n. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," you murmured against her chest. "Here, I'll help you wear it."

You gently set her down, much to her disappointment, and began to fasten the bracelet around her wrist, your actions filled with care and tenderness.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really," she murmured softly. "You're always there whenever I needed you and all you get as a thank you is me being... a bitch to you. I'm sorry."

You frowned. "You're not a... 'b' word. Far from it."

"'B' word,"she scoffed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips "What are you, twelve?"

"Hey!" you protested in mock indignation. "I can cuss. I just don't want to use it around you. I don't want to get used to it."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. If you keep this kind of consistency around her then Haley's bound to fall hard on her back. And since it's with you, you'd probably made your way to ensure she'll be falling in a pile of pillows and flowers. You're thoughtful like that.

"I'm sorry for giving you that gift yesterday..." you started after a moment of silence. "Let me finish first," you interrupted gently when you saw her mouth open to speak. "I just... prismatic shards are rare to find and I wanted to give it to you because I thought it's something you'd like to photograph."

You took her hand in yours, a tender gesture that made Haley's heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly at the warmth of your touch. The soft morning light bathed the shoreline in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the sand as gentle waves lapped against the shore.

"But then I realized how it may have looked like to you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Y/n..."

"So I like to try again." Without further explanation, you strode towards the boat beside Elliot's cabin, your steps confident and purposeful, and produced a bouquet of—wait, are those sunflowers?

"No way!" she sputtered as she tried to fight the grin threatening to spill on her face. You're not supposed to look this dashing walking towards her with a bouquet in hand. It's unfair!

"Yes way." you grinned at her as you handed her the flowers, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope I'm forgiven."

"I'm supposed to be the one saying sorry, you dunce!" Haley playfully slapped your shoulders before accepting them. "They're beautiful, Y/n! These are my absolute favorite! Thank you."

"No worries. And if you're free you can take a look at them at my farm."

"You planted them?" Now that she had mentioned it, it sounded like a stupid question. Of course, you planted them yourself, where else can you get these flowers?

But as usual, being the kind and patient person that you are, you only beamed at her and nodded. "Yep! I planted a whole yard."

"For real?"

"For real," you affirmed, your smile widening at her incredulous expression.

"But why? I mean compared to other crops I'm sure sunflowers aren't that profitable."

You shrugged again, your expression softening. "Eh, I wasn't aiming for the profit. I was aiming for your smile."

****

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A/n: my toes are curling while I wrote this, I hope you felt the same. Anyway, the bouquet of sunflowers isn't the same bouquet that makes Haley your girlfriend. It's just a regular ol' bouquet our farmer has personally crafted because she's a simp for our queen but just too oblivious to see it. Sorry for the delay, I had just finished my clinical recently so I was busy the whole month of April. Hope y'all like this one!

P.S. comments are much appreciated!

THANK YOU FOR 2500 LIKES! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, SERIOUSLY.

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[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact. mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited feelings, sexual tension, reader teasing Steve sexually, not giving away anything else

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: After you and Steve cross a line, you are the one to take things to a whole new level — driving Steve insane with your never ending teasing.

Word count: 7.4k+

Author’s note: I know you keep yelling at me but anyways -- shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping me with this, especially the uh last part hehe.

Also, @prettyboyeddiemunson talked about a little crossover thing, and I love her girl in gods & monsters so she's making a little appearance here for Eddie hehe, all credits go to my bestie of course, the character belongs to her! If you haven't read the story yet, go check it out, it's one of my faves!

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Staring up at the ceiling, Steve sinks deeper into his pillows, finding more comfort in his bed than usual, he takes a deep breath as he runs his hand over his face. He should feel content, knowing that he’s got the day off but instead he feels tense and frustrated in a way he had never felt before. 

His mind could be anywhere right now, he could think about the new tapes he stacked up at work last night, he could think about the show he watched before he went to bed, he could think about the mixtape Eddie had made for him, he could think about the girl that so obviously tried to flirt with him at work the other day, his mind could take him to any place, his imagination could be limitless but no, his mind is somewhere it shouldn’t be, his mind is with you. 

Nothing he does, nothing he tries to think about can drag his thoughts away from you. You occupy every space of his mind, reminding him of how much control you had taken over him ever since you both crossed a line that changed things between you both. 

Steve may have been the one who started it at all, but you are the one who took the game to a whole new level. 

The little accident in his kitchen that happened weeks ago, was only the start of it all. 

Steve wasn’t exactly subtle when he kept checking you out before the fiasco with the broken lever, and he wasn’t subtle with his touches either. He was treading on thin ice, he knew that, he knew that his slight teasing could have easily backfired if you reacted differently but it didn’t, and your reactions were everything that he was hoping for. You grew flustered, you started blushing, you stuttered and you looked at him the way he was hoping you would. 

But, what he didn’t expect was for you to tease him back, especially in a way that had him blushing, stuttering, and staring at you in shock. 

You were so innocent and shy at first, doing everything as subtly as possible. It started with gentle touches on his arm or his hand, soft whispers during dinner whenever he sat beside you, or long eye contact. Then, you realized just how much power you had over him and things quickly developed into something more, something so much deeper.

Your teasing was no longer innocent and your shyness seemed to have slipped away more and more, little by little. 

The look in your eyes was no longer a shy one whenever you looked at each other. There was a fire behind your eyes that he had never seen before. The smirk that tugged at your lips wasn’t the same one you usually looked at him with, it was different, mischievous, and very suggestive – a little too suggestive for someone like you because if someone else had looked at him the way you do, he’d think that they’re flirting but you don’t do that and certainly not with him. 

The only explanation for your behavior is that you are teasing him, playing with him just the way he did with you but not because you want him. He started something that night when Hopper and Joyce announced their engagement. It was harmless at first, his teasing was light and playful, he loved to see those sweet reactions of yours but Steve didn’t know that it was a dangerous game that he had started, he didn’t know that he’d be playing with fire the moment he’d touch you. 

Because you are far from harmless, and your teasing is not light and playful in the slightest. If it was, he wouldn’t be feeling like this right now; frustrated, agitated and filled with pent up emotions that he can’t even make out in his own head. 

He closes his eyes again as a groan falls from his lips, he shakes his head at himself, cursing inwardly for thinking about no one other than you. 

Has it always been that way? 

Have you always been on his mind? 

Or is it something new?

An unspoken deal was made between the both of you when you two started this. There are no rules, just a winner and a loser – whoever breaks first loses and so far, it seems like Steve won’t even get close to winning, even though he was the one to start it all so confidently. 

You clearly have taken over, because the moment you looked at him with innocent big eyes and a pout on your lips while pressing your chest against his arm when you tried to squeeze past him, your boobs nearly spilling over your cute little top, your voice sounding raspy from all the weed you had smoked that night, he was done for. 

It wasn’t the first time that a girl had done something like this to him, plenty of girls have given him those innocent eyes, have pressed their boobs against him, in much less clothing… but something about you drives him especially crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that you both hate or dislike each other or maybe it’s the fact that he is just extremely frustrated – sexually frustrated. Maybe that is the only reason why you get to him in that way… why he feels the want to continue this little game or why he feels the intense need to fuck you and get you out of his mind, once and for all. 

Another groan falls from his lips when he remembers that Robin bailed on him after she called him in the middle of the night, telling him that she wouldn’t make it to lunch today, meaning that it will be just Eddie, you and him. 

A part of him even looks forward to seeing you, the other part doesn’t because he already knows how he will feel afterwards, while you will probably go home feeling satisfied after teasing the hell out of him. 

Every time before you leave, you look at him as though you had done nothing wrong, which sometimes leads him to believe that you’re not even aware of all the teasing you torture him with and that he was the only one playing this game, all this time. 

Steve drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower so the water can heat up while he brushes his teeth. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, rolling his eyes at the mess on his head, he brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it. 

As he thinks about what to wear, he gets lost in his thoughts, thinking about you, wondering what you will wear. Are you going to wear a dress? Another short skirt to drive him crazy with? 

He rolls his eyes, cursing inwardly at himself for thinking about you again. 

He needs to get this out of his system. 

He needs to get you out of his system. 

And there is only one way to do it and he knows it, but he’s not even sure where your feelings stand, if you’d be down for what he’s longing for or if you’d laugh in his face if he even tried to suggest something like it. – Your reaction would probably be the latter, and just the thought of it is enough to bring the grumpiness out in him. 

He begrudgingly starts getting ready, all while his mind keeps him occupied with thoughts about you. 

He doesn’t know what caused all of this, he doesn’t know how it happened, how his mind is incapable of thinking about anything or anyone but you these days. 

He feels as though he had been cursed. You are haunting him, in his mind and even in his dreams, and seeing you all the time doesn't help at all… and yet, he wouldn’t want it any other way because this little thing between you both makes him feel a thrill that has been missing in his life. 

By the time Steve pulls up into the parking lot at the diner, you and Eddie are already there.

You’re sitting on the hood of his car, hands folded in your lap, sunglasses low on your nose, a smile on your lips as you’re nodding along to whatever Eddie is telling you. You look good… too good for just a simple breakfast at the diner. 

He parks the car and after a few deep breaths, he pulls out the keys and gets out, trying not to stare at you as he walks towards the two of you. 

“Hey guys.”

Eddie turns around, a mocking smile on his face, he crosses his arms over his chest, “took you long enough, big boy.”

Steve chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he eyes you from the side, “yeah uh, I missed my alarm this morning and Robin woke me up in the middle of the night to bail on us, took me a while to fall back asleep after that.” 

You groan at his words, sliding off the car, you smooth down your jean shorts and push your sunglasses up into your hair, “so she keeps ditching us.” 

“She’s in love, Sweetheart,” Eddie winks at you, wiggling his brows, “she’s got better things to do.” 

You roll your eyes at his words and look over Eddie’s shoulder, meeting his eyes for the first time today. You lick your lips as your eyes move down up and down his body. 

“Hey, Lego head.”

Lego head. The silly nickname doesn’t quite suit the look in your eyes. 

“Blondie,” he nods. 

Eddie chuckles, playing with the keys in his hand as he nudges his head into the direction of the diner, “let’s go eat, I’m starving.” 

“You’re always starving, Eddie,” you snort as you are the first to start walking. 

“Yeah man, you’re always eating and you’re still starving,” Steve chuckles, walking beside Eddie, “you’re like a raccoon or something.” 

You look over your shoulder, a smile on your lips, “oh he’s definitely a little raccoon.” 

Eddie’s lips part in surprise, he looks between you both, “did you just… agree on something?” 

You scoff at his words, turning back around without another word while Steve looks down, shaking his head. The weight of Eddie’s arm around his shoulder makes him look back up, though not at you, but at Eddie, whose eyes are filled with amusement. 

“You’re not trying to steal my girl are you?” 

Steve doesn’t know what is about the words ‘my girl’ but he feels himself clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. By the tone in Eddie’s voice, he should know that he is only teasing, but apparently his mind isn’t able to comprehend that right now. 

He feels a fire in his chest that he can’t even explain, one that only grows even more intense a few moments later, when a guy who was just leaving the diner, steps aside for you after opening the door. 

Steve can’t see your face or the looks you are giving to the man who is staring you up and down with nothing but hunger in his eyes, but by the way you walk past him without even turning your head or looking back, he knows that you’re giving him nothing. And yet, it doesn’t stop his anger when the guy keeps checking you out, shamelessly, following you with his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks at your ass. You’re not even aware of it as it seems and it wouldn’t be the first time. 

Steve saw you at Big Buy’s the other day, you were strolling around the aisles in your cute little dress, throwing food items into your basket, completely unaware of his eyes on you. He couldn’t look away from you… even when everything you did was riling him up, whether it was the way you bend down to reach for something on the lowest shelf, the way you touched your hair or the way your dress was moving by your sides as you walked. As he caught himself staring at you, at your effortless beauty, he knew that he couldn’t be the only one – and his suspicions were confirmed, when he looked into the other aisle only to see another guy, not past his 30s staring at you, something that you weren’t aware of in the slightest. He also caught himself rolling his eyes and clenching his fists… but that’s something that he easily ignored. 

Unlike today, he can’t even help it when he passes the guy who can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you with a deathly glare on his features, feeling anger for how shameless and disrespectful his ogling is, it’s disgusting. 

“Perv,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, glaring the same way Steve does. 

The guy doesn’t even spare them a single glance, moving past them after taking another long… too long look at you before he walks out of the diner. 

Steve and Eddie roll their eyes, following you to the table that you have already picked, completely unaware of what just happened. 

You sit down in the booth, sliding over to the window. You put your sunglasses down on the table and instantly reach for the menu. 

Eddie sits down beside you, while Steve takes the seat across from you. He tries not to look at you, sinking deeper into the leather seats as he reaches for the menu, as well. 

“What are you guys doing afterwards?” Eddie asks. 

“Nothing, just gonna go back home and watch movies or something,” Steve mumbles, peeking over his menu and at you, to find you looking at him already. 

“Perfect, why don’t you two have a little bonding moment and have a movie day together?” Eddie grins, wiggling his brows at the both of you. 

Steve sees the way you scrunch your nose up at his words, scoffing and shaking your head at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing that you have ever heard, like it’s something that you don’t even want to think about. 

“We’re getting along just fine, no need for bonding time.” 

Right. Steve had been so focused on all your teasing, he almost forgot about how much you two are supposed to dislike each other. 

“Exactly,” Steve winks at Eddie, “Blondie and I are doing just fine.”

He looks back at you, his eyes meet yours, you raise your brows at him, smirking as you tilt your head. 

“Are we?” You ask softly as you blink at him. 

Steve leans closer, licking his lips, he opens his mouth to speak but Eddie cuts him off, clapping his hands. 

“Yeah, you are getting along! Now shut your mouths before you start a fight.”

You both snort at the metalhead, leaning back in your seats, neither of you saying a word, you both just look back at your menu’s, focusing on that… for now. 

The busy waitress stops by your table, telling you that she will be back to take your order in a minute, seemingly catching Eddie off guard after placing her hand on his shoulder before she scurries away again. 

He no longer looks at the menu, he finds something more interesting to look at. 

Steve’s eyes flash with amusement as he looks over at his friend, whose eyes are wide and cheeks are red, an awestruck expression all over his face. He can’t help but nudge your foot under the table, tilting his head towards Eddie when you look up with a frown.

You turn to your best friend. Your features soften, eyes flashing with surprise, you bump your shoulder into his, clearing your throat, “hey Ed’s, before you fuck this up again, don’t you want to tell Lego head about what happened?” You ask, snickering. 

Eddie blinks, turning back to you, “h-huh?” 

“You have a man to give you his opinion of what you did wrong.” 

Steve furrows his brows, looking between your amused face and his confused one, when Eddie’s eyes flash with realization and he groans in annoyance. 

“Sweetheart, he’s gonna be on my side.”

“What opinion?” Steve asks. 

You turn back to your menu, scoffing at Eddie and rolling your eyes before you glance at him, “you’ll want to kill him.”

Eddie groans, shaking his head, his curls bouncing a little. 

“You’ll understand, Harrington. You’re a man. She is… looking at it from a feminine side of things.”

Steve gives you a quizzical look, almost laughing at the exasperated look on your face. 

“Alright shoot,” he says to his friend.

Eddie presses his lips together, taking a deep breath before he folds his hand on the table and looks at him with squinted eyes, “okay so, I saw this girl at the hideout yesterday, Jeff told me to go talk to her, you know… so I did. We started talking, she was funny and all that, and you know, I always like to be a little mysterious.” 

You snort, making Eddie roll his eyes again, “shut it, Sweetheart.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Anyways,” Eddie sighs, glaring at you, “so, when she asked me if I was there with a girl, I just said ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’” 

Steve draws back a little, raising his brows and pursing his lips, looking perplexed. 

“Uh huh..” You murmur, keeping your eyes on Steve. 

“Eddie,” Steve shakes his head, “just uh… did it… what happened then?”

Eddie sighs again, “well, she rolled her eyes and left, but you know, she may not have a sense of humor so… it’s whatever.” 

“Munson, that girl had a sense of humor, you just have a lack of fucking tact,” Steve says, shaking his head at his friend, in pure disbelief. 

Eddie’s jaw drops at his words, while a laugh falls from your lips as you turn to look at your best friend with nothing but satisfaction on your face. 

“Told you.”

“Seriously!?” Eddie gasps, frowning. “Harrington, you were always mean to girls in the past, and you still slept with them!” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. 

“That was in high school, Munson! You are a grown up now, why the hell would you do that? Just tell her you were there alone or with friends!” 

Eddie’s jaw drops again, he slumps back in his seat, throwing his hands up. 

“I just thought that a mysterious persona would work better than… you know… bubbly, happy, go lucky guy, desperate to get his dick wet persona…” He whines, “no one wants to fuck me.” 

You giggle, hiding your face behind the menu. 

Steve’s lips curl into a smile, he points a finger at you, “I’m gonna have to agree with Blondie, again, you’re a fucking idiot.” 

“Don’t worry, Eds. I’ll help you,” you say, smiling, “I’ll teach you how to flirt.” 

“How are you gonna do that, Blondie? Do you even know how to flirt?” Steve snorts. 

You may be a tease, a good one at that, but a flirt? No. You’re too rough, too mean, too harsh to be a flirtatious person, you can barely hold a conversation with someone without going off at them about something, you wouldn’t even know where to begin with, unlike him. 

He is a flirty person, he has charm, he knows how to wrap a girl around his finger with just a few simple words. 

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he surely didn’t expect for you to smile at him, to shrug and give him nothing more than a glance that tells him how wrong he is. 

After the waitress comes back to take your order, leaving Eddie a blushing mess, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back with your hair now free from the scrunchie that kept it together and another coat of gloss on your lips, something that instantly catches Steve’s eyes. 

You place your elbows on the table, putting your chin into your palm, blinking at him innocently. 

The look in your eyes tells him that you’re up to no good, but he can’t look away. He leans closer to the table, licking his lips as he raises his brows at you. Both of you are unaware of Eddie, who is basically drooling over the pretty waitress, too distracted to notice the looks you are giving to each other.

“The waitress, is she from Hawkins? Never seen her in my fucking life,” Eddie murmurs in awe. 

Steve turns his head to look at the woman, a gasp nearly tears from his lips when he feels your foot on his calf and you pull his attention back on you, he stares at you with wide eyes. 

Smirking in satisfaction, you pull your foot back and look down at your nails.

“I-I don’t know, Munson, not familiar.” He stutters without looking away. 

Steve knew that this would happen, that you would tease him in one way or another, but he didn’t know yet, just where you would take this today. 

When your milkshakes arrive at the table, both you and Steve watch Eddie with amusement as he stares up at the blonde waitress, eyes moving back and forth between her face and her chest, not knowing what to look at first. 

His eyes get stuck on the dainty cross necklace around her neck, seemingly growing more intrigued by her, his dark eyes meeting her blue ones. 

Steve narrows his eyes at you, almost laughing when you look at him, at the same time. 

Eddie’s cheeks are even more flushed than before now, his eyes wide, lips parted. The girl presses her lips together, trying not to giggle at the look on his face. 

“Your food will come right up,” she says, looking between you all before her eyes meet Eddie’s again as she takes the last milkshake off the tray, putting it on the table and sliding it towards him. 

He clears his throat, wrapping his fingers around the glass before she can even let go. 

Both you and Steve watch the way she smiles down at Eddie and at the fingers brushing against hers. 

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” he smirks at her, surprising both you and Steve with the confidence in his voice. 

The girl smiles in surprise, before she turns around, walking away from the table but not without giving Eddie another glance, his lips curl into a bigger smirk and he waves his fingers at her.

Your mouth drops and so does Steve’s, both of you, looking at each other again, with stunned and puzzled expressions on your faces.

“Dude,” Steve mumbles, slowly turning to face his friend, “tell me… how did you fuck this up again… at the hideout, I mean?” 

Eddie only looks back when the girl disappears into the kitchen, “the girl at the hideout just wasn’t the right one.”

“Oh, and this one is?” Steve chuckles, pointing his thumb to where the waitress walked off to. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dreamily. “She’s so…”

“Hot?” You ask as you reach for your milkshake, grabbing the red and white straw between your thumb and your pointer finger.

“Gorgeous,” he blushes. 

Your lips tug into a smile, you bring your hand up to his face, pinching his cheek, “aw, look at you.” 

He swats your hand away, snorting. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to flirt, you’re doing such a good job, keep it up, Eds.” 

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Eddie winks at you before he looks away, eyes searching for the waitress again. 

“He doesn’t need your help after all,” Steve laughs, tilting his head, “not that you’d be much of a help anyways.” 

You squint your eyes at him, shrugging at his words, and you surprise him with your silence. 

He watches the way you lean forward, placing your elbow on the table as you finally wrap your lips around the straw. Your eyelashes flutter and you tap your red fingernails against the glass, a moan falling from your lips. 

“Mmmh, that’s so good.” 

Steve nearly jumps from his seat, the sound making his stomach flutter, he clenches his fists, staring at you with wide eyes. 

There’s no smirk on your lips, no mischief behind your eyes, nothing but innocence is etched into your features – you’re not even teasing him, it was nothing but a genuine reaction to the sweet drink. And it’s something that frustrates him even more. 

You reach for the maraschino cherry next, popping it into your mouth before you lick the whipped cream off your finger. 

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, he shifts in his seat, trying to look away from your lips… that are still wrapped around your finger but he can’t, his eyes are stuck, his body is stuck, he can’t move, all that he can do is watch you.

And then, you look towards him, eyes flashing with surprise when you find him staring. He hopes to see you blushing but instead, a smirk tugs at your lips as you release your finger, scooping up some more whipped cream before you bring it up to your lips. 

And this is where the real teasing begins. 

Steve nearly gasps when you hold eye contact this time as you lick the cream off your fingers, letting out another, softer moan. 

Holy fuck. 

Steve’s eyes darken, he swallows harshly, clenching his jaw in anger. 

Eddie is too busy with his own milkshake, ogling the waitress as she talks to customers at the bar, completely unaware of how you both eyefuck each other, the way Steve can’t take his eyes off of you. 

By the look in your eyes, Steve knows how much fun you’re having with this, you know how much it frustrates him, you know what you’re doing to him. 

And as though, all of this wasn’t bad enough already. You then accidentally drop some of the whipped cream on your chest. 

“Oops,” you purr, giving him an innocent look through your lashes. 

The warmth in his chest only grows more intense, spreading across his whole body, filling him up with need and a deep hunger that keeps growing and growing, one that can only be satiated in one way – he needs you, just once, he needs to have you, he needs to taste you, he needs to fuck you, he needs you out of his system for good. 

He had enough of this, of all this teasing. 

He would fuck you right there on this table if he could.

But, despite your teasing, despite the look in your eyes, despite your little act, he is still not sure about where you stand. He knows how you react to his touches, to his teasing, but a part of him fears rejection if he does make a move. 

You are barely even friends, and the thought of making a fool of himself, in front of you, makes him want to crawl into a hole. 

You are both playing this game, but while he knows what he wants, he doesn’t know what you want. 

Maybe you just enjoy this little back and forth, waiting for him to break first before you move along and pretend like nothing ever happened. Maybe you don’t even expect anything to come out of this. Maybe you don’t even want him the way he wants you. Maybe you just like to tease him because you know that it's riling him up. 

So what is left for him to do? 

Stop this game and move on? Or… keep going and wait for something more to happen? 

He’s had enough of your teasing, but he’s far from losing, there is still some power left in him… some. 

He won’t sit here and let you get away with this. 

So despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants, despite the burning in his skin, he plasters a smirk on his blushing face and reaches forward, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he mimics you, he grabs his glass and he reaches for the cherry on his milkshake, purposely dropping some whipped cream on the table as he puts the cherry in his mouth. He chews slowly, licking his finger tips while he watches you slowly, the way your smile slowly falls, the way your eyes widen a little. 

He bites back the smirk as he scoops up the whipped cream off the table, with both his middle finger and ring finger, bringing them up to his lips, he looks back into your wide eyes as he places them into his mouth, watching the way you break eye contact to look at his lips. 

Your throat bobs as you swallow, tightening your grip on your glass as you watch the way he licks his fingers slowly. 

He can see the way you shift in your seat, the way your breathing gets heavier and your eyes darken, the way you lick your lips and how flustered you get as you look back into his eyes. 

You are pressing your thighs together, he just knows you are. 

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, smirking at you in satisfaction while you still sit there, frozen in place. He breaks eye contact, looking down at his vanilla milkshake as though nothing happened.

“You gotta give this one a ride home, Harrington,” Eddie mumbles, pointing at you without tearing his eyes away from the bar, “I think I’m gonna stay here a little longer.”

You clear your throat. 

Steve expects you to be more… nervous, to hear your voice wavering, but instead, it sounds confident, filled with yet more teasing as you open your mouth to speak. 

“Oh, I would love a ride home with Stevie,” you smile at him innocently as your foot touches his calf again, but this time, it doesn’t just stay there, you move it up, just a little, but enough to nearly make him choke on his drink. 

“So you can keep getting on his nerves?” Eddie chuckles. 

You lick your lips, smirking as you nod your head slowly, “exactly.”

Yeah, you don’t really do this anymore, getting on each other’s nerves, you both have found something so much better and much more interesting to do to one another. 

“You know I always win, Blondie,” Steve says so very confidently, like he isn’t slowly losing his mind because his want for you is beginning to consume him entirely. 

You tilt your head at him as you bite your lip, the sleeve of your blouse slowly sliding down your shoulder, making him gulp. 

“Do you?” You ask, batting your lashes at him, provoking him with the look on your face. 

He bites the insides of his cheeks, nodding at your words, “mhmm.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips, you shrug and lean back, “we’ll see.”

Eddie doesn’t know that you’re talking about something entirely else now, but he couldn’t care less, when he’s got his eyes set on someone that stole his breath away. 

He uses every second he gets with the pretty waitress to flirt, whether it’s through glances when she passes by or through his charming words when she delivers the food to the table. 

He happily eats his burger and his fries, eyes following the blonde wherever she goes, completely blind to what’s happening right next to and in front of him. 

You and Steve keep staring at one another, eyes filled with intense need, hands itching to reach out to the other. 

Steve feels the longing inside his chest, intensifying as the minutes go by, driving him insane. It gets to a point where he can’t wait to get the hell out of this diner so he can go home and take care of himself. He is not sure if he had ever felt this desperate before – he surely never had to rush home to jerk off, but that’s what he feels like now, like he’s going to explode if he sits here any longer. 

The moment you decide on leaving, Steve nearly throws himself out of his seat, feeling no patience left inside of him. 

“I got this covered,” Eddie announces, pulling out his wallet as he gets out of the booth so you can get out, “you two can go.” 

You grab your sunglasses and get up, putting your hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “I see what you’re trying to do, you wanna get rid of us so you can flirt with the hot blonde.” 

He wiggles his brows, smirking at you proudly, “gotta score a date with my dream girl.” 

Steve chuckles, grabbing the car keys from his pocket, he smirks at Eddie, “just don’t mess it up again.” 

Eddie shakes his head, “nah never.” 

“Alright casanova, call me and tell me how it went.” 

“Call you?” He frowns, “I’ll be there to raid your kitchen tonight, sweets.” 

You step away from him, brushing past Steve, “alright raccoon, I’ll see you later then.” 

“See ya,” he chuckles. 

With a sigh, Steve looks at Eddie, playing with his keys and giving him a nod. 

“Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Eddie winks, “and don’t kill each other!” He jokes, ignoring the weird looks he’s given from an older couple two booths away. 

“Don’t worry, we’re not at that point anymore.” 

You’re at a whole different point now, one that doesn’t make him angry, not exactly, just one that drives him up the wall. 

Steve stares at your hips, at the way your shorts hug your body so nicely, the way your ass looks so good in them. He forces his eyes away, feeling a little startled when you turn around to face him before you open the door, a friendly smile appears on your face and he realizes that you aren’t looking at him, but at Eddie’s ‘dream girl’, waving goodbye at the girl before you step out. 

He feels the sudden need to talk, hoping that you won’t tease him any further in the car, because if you do, he isn’t sure if he will manage to control himself the way he did, the whole time at the diner. 

He rubs the back of his neck, walking down the steps, he clears his throat. 

“Do you think he will manage to score a date?”

You slow down as you put your sunglasses on, “yeah, I’m pretty sure he will.”

Steve chuckles, nodding. 

“She seems nice, and she’s pretty,” you say.

So are you. Steve thinks to himself. 

“She’s got the kind of blonde hair you wanted when you ruined your hair with the blonde dye, huh?”

Steve can’t see your eyes behind your sunglasses, but he can see the amused look on your features as your lips curl into a smile. 

He ignores the way it feels when you step closer to him, when your hand brushes against his knuckles, sending chills throughout his whole body. 

“Actually, I wanted it even lighter, and how would I know that the pictures on the box dye were lies, it said it lightens up any hair color to that specific color!” 

Steve laughs at you, “what color were you hoping for?” 

You shrug, stepping away from him again when you walk around his car to the passenger side. 

“I wanted like a Dolly Parton or uh… Heather Locklear kind of blonde.” 

He unlocks the car and opens his door, raising his brows at you, “wow, you should have gone to a hair salon, Blondie.”

You lift your sunglasses, rolling your eyes at him, “it was a spontaneous decision, I thought I could handle that myself, I’m definitely never touching hair dye again.”

“Just call me, next time,” he winks at you as he gets into the car, “I’m a pro at doing hair.” 

You laugh at him as you get in as well, “didn’t know you were a hairdresser, Harrington.” 

“They don’t call me ‘the hair’ for nothing.” 

“Oh wow. I wouldn’t trust you with my hair, who knows what color you’d dye my hair to.”

“Maybe I’d get it to the Dolly Parton blonde that you wanted.” 

“Yeah, right!” You scoff at him, “cause you’re such an expert!” 

A smile tugs at his lips, it almost feels normal, sitting here in his car with you, talking like this, it almost distracts him enough from the strong tension between you both, from the pull that is dragging him towards you, more and more. 

Despite the frustration that he feels from all your teasing, he cannot help but want to keep playing the little game. 

The sun is shining brightly, pulling down the sun visor won’t be enough – how convenient it is that he keeps his sunglasses in the glove compartment. He could ask you to get them but instead, he moves closer, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs before he places his hand on your knee as he reaches forward so he can get his ray-ban’s. 

Satisfaction rushes through him when he hears you sucking in a sharp breath. 

But, his longing intensifies when he gets a whiff of your perfume and feels how soft your skin actually is. 

He clearly never thinks things through, his little plans always backfire. 

The want to wrap his hand around your thigh and keep it there is so strong… so goddamn strong, but he pulls away begrudgingly, holding back the smirk when he feels your eyes on him. He puts the sunglasses on, and finally starts the car. 

Your silence surprises him, but he knows that it’s something that won’t stay for long. 

Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran starts playing and Steve almost wants to laugh at the irony, this is exactly what he feels like right now, hungry like a fucking wolf, hungry for you. 

If you had been any other girl, he would’ve made a move on you, a long long time ago. He would have flirted more obviously, he would’ve taken your hand in his, he would’ve brushed your hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you.

But you’re not just any girl, you’re… you. 

You love this little game, and no matter how flustered you get, no matter the looks you are giving him, he still struggles to read you, he still struggles to figure out whether you want what he wants or not. 

He is waiting for a sign, but it’s almost like he’s blind to anything you give to him. 

He holds the steering wheel tightly, keeping his other hand on the gearstick, dangerously close to your thigh. He keeps sneaking glances at you, at your soft skin, at the way you press your legs together, at the way your fingers play with the loose string on your shorts. 

Steve’s face grows hot, his heart beating faster in his chest. 

He almost feels relieved when your house comes into view, and he pulls up into your driveway. 

“So… what are you doing today?” You ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “besides having a movie day by yourself.” 

You turn your body towards him, not making any moves to get out of the car yet. 

“Uh… I don’t know,” he lies, his cheeks glowing red. 

He already knows what he’s gonna do the moment he walks through his front door. 

You take your sunglasses off, biting your lip as your eyes move up and down his body, making him shift uncomfortably, yet again. 

“Well, I’m going to lay out in the sun, in my new red bikini.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, and he almost starts drooling at the images that start forming in his mind. 

Images of you… half naked. 

“We should have a pool party at some point,” you smile, blinking at him as you start inching closer to him, looking down at his lips. 

“Uh huh…”

“But anyways, I should get going,” you sigh, catching him by surprise when you place your hand on his thigh, so dangerously close to where he needs you the most, “thanks for the ride, Stevie.” 

And as though that wasn’t bad enough. 

You almost cause his heart to stop beating, when your face is only inches away from him now, and you press your lips against his cheek, kissing him, completely shocking him, leaving him a stuttering mess. 

He lost all ability to speak, all he can do is stare at you, as his skin tingles and his heart races. 

You smirk at him, eying his red cheeks. 

“Who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington would ever blush for me,” you say smugly, before you pull away and get out of the car, giggles falling from your lips. Without another word, you close the door and walk away, looking over your shoulder one more time, still giggling. 

Fuck. 

His frustration turns into anger when the realization starts creeping in slowly. 

The smug look on your face, the smirk and your stupid giggles prove his point, that you did all of this not because you wanted him, but because you wanted to win this fucking game. 

That’s all it is, that’s all it ever was. 

A game. 

He doesn’t know what the feeling in his chest is, whether it’s the feeling of annoyance or rejection, but it only irritates him even further, especially when all he can think about is still you. 

You in your stupid red bikini, lying under the sun, looking pretty and hot… looking like someone he can never have, not even for a single night. 

He is angry, angry at himself for still wanting you, for needing you, for wishing that he could feel your bare body underneath him, for wishing to hear your moans, your voice calling out his name, your hands clinging to his body, fingers tugging at his hair. 

Despite the rejection, he feels his stupid jeans getting tighter, his dick straining against the fabric, making him feel uncomfortable and so needy to a point that the moment he gets home, he rushes upstairs and into the bathroom. 

He slams the door shut and presses his back against it, hastily unbuckling his belt, the clinking and his heavy breathing being the only sounds to fill the room… for now. He pushes down his boxers and his pants, just enough so he can pull his dick out – his tip is an angry red, already leaking with pre cum, he spits into his hand before he wraps his hand around his aching cock. 

That is all that it takes for a needy whimper to fall from his lips. 

He closes his eyes, throwing his head back against the door as he starts jerking off slowly. 

Images of you curse and bless his mind at the same time. 

He wonders what it would be like to feel your hand around his dick or what it would be like to feel your lips on his neck, your whispers in his ear as you take care of him. 

He furrows his brows, lips parting as his moans get louder and he begins to move his hand faster and faster, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He pictures you on your knees for him, your hands replaced by your lips as he shuts you up with his cock in your mouth, silencing you once and for all, while tears stream down your cheeks.

“Oh fuck…” Steve whimpers, getting lost in pleasure. 

He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table when you started teasing him with the stupid whipped cream, but all he can think about now is you on your knees worshiping him. 

His muscles tighten as he increases the tempo, using his thumb to rub the slit as he imagines it being the tip of your tongue as you look at him with big and teary eyes. 

And he doesn’t know for how long he was imagining you like this, but it doesn’t matter because he is soon spilling in his hand, a loud groan escaping his lips as well as a shaky breath, the back of his head hitting the door as he tries to ease his breathing. 

Maybe three minutes passed, or twenty, but it didn’t matter. His cum is already on his hand and in your honor. 

But this didn’t satiate his hunger, nor his lust for you in the slightest. 

Nothing that he could possibly do will. 

He can imagine you and take care of himself all he wants, but it won’t change the way he wants you, the way he craves you. 

He knows that there is only one way to get rid of this.

Tomorrow he will put his frustration away. That’s all it is, frustration. He just needs to let it out. He needs to fucking breathe again. 

Yeah. Tomorrow. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-Final Chapter (Fenrys x reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: SMUT, Minors dni, some angst, violence, mentions of trauma.

See masterlist

A/n: Well, here we are guys, the end of the road. Final chapter. Thank you all so much for reading and loving this series just as much as I loved writing it. This one is quite long so I suggest you get a snack, get comfy and begin reading. Enjoy and I hope to see you again next time! <3

The next day passed swiftly with y/n training some more together with Dorian, Aelin, and Yrene, spending time with Fenrys and watching the others plan their attack on the valg. As the hours ticked by, y/n felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders not just because of the thought of going home, but also failure. What if she fails? What if she can't even open the gates? What if the others fail? What if.....something happens to Fenrys?!

She didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about the "what ifs". Aelin told her how all she had to do was reach as deep as possible within herself to find her own abilities and bring them up. The queen also told y/n that once she opens the gate, she has to feel relaxed and confident in her self because no one will be able to save her or bring her back except herself.

It was later in the night that while they were having dinner, Arthur came rushing in with the Book of Breathings in his hand. His eyes were wide and his breaths were ragged as he set the book right next to Aelin.

"Forgive me, my queen, for interrupting your moment but there is an issue, this book is talking nonstop. No matter how many wards I put, it won't stop acting out of the ordinary."

Lysandra chuckled, "That thing always acts out of the ordinary, Arthur, just ignore it."

The librarian nervously shook his head as he said, "No, you don't understand. Just- just listen. It keeps on hissing and talking over and over. None of my spells work on it."

"He is close"

"Shifting gates"

"Trying, he is trying to come"

Rowan immediately gets up, taking the book in his hand, "Is it the valg or the foreigners?"

"Coming, he is coming"

"Shifting"

"Y/n, I think you should be the one to talk to this book because it seems like you are the only one it will ever answer due to your connection." Aelin's eyes were wide with worry as she adressed her.

Y/n hesitantly nodded her head and got up, Fenrys right behind her as she gestured for Rowan to put the book on the table that was standing between two couches. Once the prince set it down, she took a quick breath, reminded herself that Fenrys was right beside her, that she was safe, and opened her mouth.

"Is it Rhysand?"

"Yes."

"Is he coming alone?"

"No."

"Who else is coming?"

"All except the seer."

So Elain wasn't coming then. Y/n saw from her peripheral vision how Lucien's tense shoulders slightly sagged with relief.

With the room completely silent and all eyes on her, y/n leaned a little more towards the book and asked,

"Are they successful? Have they been able to find a way?"

"They have been trying. Lord of Night is close, true to his name as the most powerful fae, he has managed to get close."

"How?"

"Second-in-command"

"Amren? Did she find a way for Rhys to use his powers and find a solution?"

"A deal with Koschei. She made a deal."

Amren made a deal with one of the Old Gods? This can not end well.

"What kind of a deal?"

"Unknown. Koschei knew of my power and blocked everything but her out."

Y/n sighed but asked her final question.

"If they manage to get through, when will they arrive? You need a gate for that."

"Soon."

Soon. They may arrive soon. Y/n's heart felt heavier with each tense and silent second that passed.

"Well, it seems we will be having some guests soon."

Lorcan's sarcastic tone brought y/n out of her trance, causing her to look around the room before she felt Fenrys' hand in hers, gently soothing her.

Manon crossed her arms over her chest. "Whether they come or not is up to them to figure out but all we need is to be prepared for tomorrow which, I hope that we are."

As the discussion goes on, Aelin steps towards y/n, glancing between her and Fenrys, joined by their hands.

"Y/n, could I take you away for a moment?"

Fenrys looks down at her, his eyes questioning before she nods her head with a small smile and turns towards the queen. "Of course,"

Aelin smiles and gestures towards the other side of the room, away from all the noise. Fenrys squeezes her hand one last time in support and moves towards where everyone seems to be gathered in a circle, arguing.

Once she reached the queen, y/n looked at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she has to say. Aelin sighed before looking y/n straight in the eyes. "There is something that I didn't tell you about the closing of the gates."

Y/n's eyebrows furrowed. "But I thought you and Dorian told me everything that happened with you two when you were closing them."

"Dorian did tell you everything about what happened to him. I, however, didn't tell you what happened to me once I kicked Dorian out."

"Didn't you meet and then kill the Gods?"

"Yes, but after that I.....I ended up falling through worlds."

Y/n's eyebrows hit her hairline as she gasped "What?! How- What?!"

Aelin smiled slightly, "Well, after my 'lovely' encounter with the Gods, I ended up falling through worlds. So many different places, each more unique than the last. But it was too quick, I was just falling- almost flying through each gate. I was starting to loose hope when I fell into one world and saw a fae male with his pregnant mate looking up into the sky. It is thanks to whoever he was that I managed to slow down and find my way back home, back to my family, friends and most importantly, my mate."

Y/n's eyes were wide with wonder as she took a moment to process her words. After a minute, she cleared her throat, "That- that is unbelievable. Do you mean the same will happen to me?"

Aelin's expression turned serious as she placed her hand on y/n's shoulder and said, "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I am not sure if such a thing will happen to you because I wasn't expecting it either but, whatever the case is, I wanted you to be aware of it. To be prepared and in the small chance that it does happen, be ready to find your way home because no one will be able to help you."

"And what if I can't? You said someone helped you to slow down. What if no one helps me? What if I just keep falling and falling forever?"

Aelin shook her head. "Listen to me, y/n. Yes, I may have gotten help to find my way back to this world but what mainly guided me was well, myself. My determination to see Rowan once again, my will to go back home and my confidence in my journey were what kept me from loosing my mind. I want you to do the same. Believe in yourself because if you don't, then no one will and you will fail to find your way back home. To your true home."

Y/n sighed "And how will I know where my true home is?"

She noted the quick glance Aelin gave to Fenrys before smiling back at her. "Home is wherever your heart is."

The queen gave her a small squeeze on the shoulder before joining her mate, leaving y/n to ponder what she meant. Deciding that she needed a moment of peace to herself, she left the room and headed towards...well, she had no idea where. All y/n knew was that she had to be alone for a little while and gather her thoughts.

Y/n kept on climbing stair after stair in one of the far towers of the palace. She might have been here for some time now, but y/n hadn't really explored the whole place, not that there even was any time for that, which is why she just kept following the stairs which seemed to keep moving upwards. She could just fly up now but y/n didn't think she had the energy for that at the moment.

Once she reached the top, there was a wooden door right in front the stairs, waiting for her to open it. When she did, the view knocked the breath out of her mouth. Y/n was standing on the rooftop of one of the palace towers, the night sky above painted in shimmering stars, the moon casting its glow over the fields and waters everywhere. This view was vastly different from the one she saw in the balcony because this place is so much more higher and-

Soft cushions! How lovely and peaceful. Y/n wished she could just stop the time and stay here like this forever. With a small smile, she sat down on one of the soft, large cushions and admired the view, or at least tried to with the kind of a mind she had right now. So much was happening, so many uncertainities, so many questions and complications, y/n didn't know what to do anymore. She just wanted to

"Disappear and never come back." Y/n closed her eyes as she pondered over what she just said out loud for only the stars in the night sky to hear.

“If you even think about disappearing, you’d better be ready for me to chase you to the ends of any world because I refuse to let your light be snuffed out.”

Y/n's eyes immediately pop open, her breath catching in surprise. She looks up to find Fenrys standing right above her, his intensity and passion clear in every line of his face.

Very well then, maybe the stars weren't the only ones to hear her small confession.

"Fenrys, what are you doing here- did you follow me?!"

He gave her a small smile and moved to sit next to her.

"In case you didn't know, my attention these days seems to only be focused on you so if you leave, that means I leave too."

"Don't you wish to be with your family? After all, tomorrow we have a battle to fight. I thought maybe you would want some privacy within the walls of your home-"

He gently took her hands in his larger ones and looked at her with an intense and serious gaze that couldn't even be explained.

"You are my home, y/n. You are my family. There is no me without you, I realize."

She scoffed. "Do not get your hopes up too high. There is a chance that I will simply die while trying to open the gates-"

His grip on her hands tightened. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, y/n."

The low growl that left his lips shouldn't make her feel this way, because this isn't the right time but.....y/n still felt her body betray her.

Her eyes widened slightly as she whispered, "You- you could move on-"

His face was mere inches away from her now, eyes intensely boring into hers. "Move on? You believe I could move on from the death of my mate?! My beloved? You?! Oh, princess if you die, I die too."

"W-what?! No!"

He smiled slightly, "Yes, I will kill myself so that I don't have to stay without my other half for who knows how long."

"Fenrys I-"

"I know, you haven't said anything about accepting or rejecting the bond but mate or not, I am hopelessly attached to you, y/n. This isn't obsession anymore, it's beyond that, I think...I think that I am starting to truly fall in love with you. Therefore, just as I said about never letting you disappear, I mean it even in death. I will follow you in death too."

Her eyes became glossy with tears as she smiled at Fenrys before hugging him and burying her face in the crook of his neck, smelling that delicious scent that is so distinctively him. Y/n felt his arms wrap protectively around her, his grip tightening as he pressed them as close as possible together.

She sighed, content to be in this male's arms before saying, "I have made my decision, Fen. I have an answer."

His arms slightly loosened from around her as she leaned back to look at him, her palms on his chest, a happy smile covering her face. Fenrys' gaze was full of mixed emotions, worry and fear being the main ones as he gazed expectantly at her.

With a determined voice she said, "Fenrys, I-"

But her sentence was cut off as a sharp pain overtook her body, making her bend over, hand going staright to her chest. Fenrys was immediately helping her, holding her firm yet gently as his shaky voice kept saying, "Y/n! What is happening?! Please princess, talk to me."

But she couldn't. Not when her whole body felt like it was being stabbed in all the places. Not when her chest felt heavy and she couldn't even breathe, let alone talk.

All she heard was the Book of Breathing's voice invading her mind and hissing, "They are close! They are coming!" "Come to me! Tell the queen to bring me to you!"

Everything was a blur, she distantly felt Fenrys pick her up and start running but her mind was in too much pain to process what was truly going on. The pain was becoming too much, too unbearable. At some point, y/n started screaming in agony. Or did she? She couldn't think anymore, didn't know what was real or imaginary.

Through the haze and the blur, she could only register that there were multiple heads around her, probably Aelin and others. There was a buzz in her ears that blocked out all the outer noises, including her cries and screams, except one.....Fenrys' rich, honey-like voice became her light at the end of a dark tunnel.

"Please, y/n, hold on a little more!"

"Princess, I am begging you, don't leave me!!"

"Y/n! Stay awake! Please!"

"Help her! Isolde, Yrene help her!"

"Don't fucking try to take me away Lorcan!!"

But then, all her pain suddenly stopped. Her muscles relaxed and her breathing slowly returned to normal, heart beating at a standard rate. Her mind started to slowly become aware as the books voice stopped banging through her walls. She slowly opened her eyes, hand immediately touching her face to feel her tear stained cheeks.

Her vision was still unclear but she could make out the silhouettes around her and just as she predicted, everyone was in the room, probably worriedly watching her-

She felt a hand on top of hers....not just any hand, Fenrys' hand. Her body seems to recognize and react to all of his touches.

"Y/n, princess, do you hear me?"

Her throat felt so dry and painful due to all the screams she had let out but, y/n managed to croak out a small "Y-yes"

She registered a couple of relieved sighs from around the room, someone saying "Oh, thank Aelin."

"Me? Why me?"

"You know, for being a queen, you still ask such silly questions. Whatever, the answer is....because you killed the Gods, of course!"

"Watch how you speak to my queen, Dorian."

"I-"

"Will you all silence yourselves?! Refocus your attention back to y/n, please!"

Y/n shut her eyes, hand gripping Fenrys' as she whispered, "Water, please."

She felt Fenrys grip loosen from her hand only to come behind her and help lift her into a sitting position as someone else helped her drink it.

Once she drank enough, y/n slowly opened her eyes, her haze starting to clear out as she noted the looks everyone around her were giving-

There was something on her lap.

Y/n tilted her head down and saw the same book that has been the bane of her existence ever since it sent her here, sitting right there, on her lap.

This is why her pain stopped. She is with the Book of Breathings, just like it told her.

"You kept screaming 'bring me the book' so, I ordered for it to immediately be brought here." Aelin's gentle voice invaded her mind, clearing her haze even more as y/n looked up at the queen in front of her bed.

The only word y/n could mutter as her hands gently touched the book was, "It says that they are coming. Rhys is ripping open the gates."

"Which explains your pain because you and the gates are clearly connected."

She slowly nodded her head at Aedion's words as Fenrys rubbed her back. "Let them come, then. No harm will come to you, princess. Not while I am here."

Lysandra cleared her throat "Not while we are here."

Aelin crossed her arms "I am aware that none of us are fond of those foreigners but, I will not tolerate any violence on my grounds unless they start it so, we shall greet them like we would anyone else. I am not saying be kind or all smiles, no. Just don't restort to physical violence and it shall be good. I am looking at you, Fenrys."

Fenrys just growled something incoherent and kept his gaze on the ground.

Dorian clapped his hands, "Well, it seems like none of us are getting any sleep tonight so we might as well go over our plans for one last time."

And as the hours passed and dawn started to slowly crack, y/n began to slowly burst with energy as she watched everyone around her plan, eat, drink, talk and plan some more. Her doubts forgotten temporarily as she snuggled closer to Fenrys' chest on the bed.

It was when she finally came outside with Fenrys to follow everyone into the war council room at the other end of the palace grounds, that it happened. The ground shook nonstop, the vibrations going all over her body. Fenrys immediately lunged for her, pinning her to the ground and covering her body with his as a blinding light just erupted all over the place, causing the guards and the rest of the court to also duck for a hiding spot and block their eyes.

A short moment later, the light vanished, leaving only a trail of smoke around. What in the Mother's name was tha-

A large gate opened and in came.....Rhysand, followed by the rest of them.

Cassian, Amren, Nesta, Feyre, Mor and.....Azriel. Oh, Gods.

Fenrys' heart was beating out of his chest as he tried to reel his mind back from what just happened while helping y/n up. Everyone around them were also getting up when another gate opened and in came complete strangers. As usual, Fenrys' first instinct was to move y/n to stand behind him but when he tried to do so, he saw how unmoving she was, her gaze transfixedon the newcomers.

That is when it clicked for him. This was Rhysand and his court. Fenrys turned his intense and calculating gaze towards them as Aelin and Rowan came forward, followed by the rest of the court while the guards surrounded the area.

The male standing at the front seemed poised and polished, even though his gaze told you all you needed to know. This had to be Rhysand. Holding his hand, was a golden-brown haired female with blue eyes. Probably Rhysands mate. There was a shoulder-length haired male with red siphons and wings just like y/n's except much larger. Next to him was a tall female with the same physical appearances as the other one. Probably sisters. There were two more females one tall, with golden blond hair, and the other short with black hair. The short one he saw once when she somehow appeared in his room and y/n called her.....Amren? And lastly, there was another winged male. Short, black hair cut close to his scalp, with a few strands covering his brows, golden-brown eyes and blue siphons. And some dark mist like things swirling all around him.

He already knew which was Rhysand so Fenrys took him out of the portrait. It was either the long haired one or the short haired one. The female beside long haired one was leaning too close to him. Too close to be considered nothing. And he was trying to shield her with his wing. So, they were definitely mates or atleast in some sort of a relationship. That left only the one with the blue siphons and weird shadows and from the way his eyes were looking all over the place in search of something, or rather someone, Fenrys knew that this had to be Azriel.

He was about to go towards him when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head sideways to see y/n looking at him with pleading eyes. "Please, not now." She whispered and how could he ever say no to her.

"It's you," Aelin's voice made them both turn their head towards where everyone was, the queen now standing face to face with Rhysand.

The high lord gave Fenrys' queen a smirk as he said, "So we meet again."

Aedion turned his head towards his cousin. "Aelin? What do you mean?"

She just kept looking at the male as she said to no one in particular, "Remember when I told you that I was falling through worlds? Well, I ended up in his world and saw him with his pregnant mate, looking into the sky. I was falling too fast so I thought I would just quickly pass through there but then I somehow slowed down due to the dark magic that enveloped me. You looked at me like you already knew where I was and gave me a smile and a wave before I was once again moving through worlds."

Rhysand nodded his head slightly as the female beside him said, "Rhys? Really?"

Aelin looked at the female, "I have to thank your mate. If it wasn't for him, I would have completely flown by my world and kept on falling for eternity. Thank you.....Rhysand."

That seemed to shock them all as Rhysand's eyes widened slightly before he once again was looking at the queen with cold indifference as he said, "How do you know my name?"

"Lucien," The blond female's gasp made the inner circle look beyond Aelin, Rowan, Lysandra and Aedion to see the rest of the court standing close by.

Lucien gave them all a cold look before drawing Petrah closer and holding her hand, the witches gaze never wavering away from the blond female's.

"What is this?! How did you end up here?!" The male with red siphons was now demanding as his eyes took in the whole area, coming to land on Fenrys, still not seeing y/n behind his tall and broad body.

Before anyone could answer, the short female said, "You are looking at the wrong one, Cassian." And then, as if she knew, her gaze darted to Fenrys before moving behind him, causing everyone else to also follow in her lead.

Fenrys felt y/n let out a deep sigh before moving to stand right beside him. He didn't want her to see them or for them to see her. All Fenrys wanted was to take her into his arms and disappear to a place where he could hide her forever. Just them two. They didn't deserve to set their nasty gazes on her. Especially not that fucker Azriel. Fenrys was barely keeping his rage at bay, one wrong move and they are done for.

He saw how all of their expressions went from being skeptical to being shocked. Azriel the most of all. He nearly fell down on his knees if not for the blond beside him, gripping him by the arm to try and stabilize him. He let out a disbelieving "Y/n..." as his shaking hands came to grip his hair.

Fenrys took her hand, silently letting her know that he and the rest of them are here, with her and that no harm will come her way. Y/n looked at each of them with the cold indifference she once used to give to Fenrys and that made him feel a little better knowing that they weren't getting any nice gestures or words out of her.

Rhysand looked at Azriel before saying, "Y/n, we have been looking everywhere for you. You have no idea how difficult it was to try and locate you, next time try to not disappear so suddenly on us, alright?" His statement landed flat as y/n gave no reaction to her once high lord.

That's my witchling, Fenrys proudly thought to himself.

Azriel tried to slowly take steps towards her but was stopped by Rowan and Aedion who stood in front of Fenrys while Dorian, Chaol and Lorcan had his and y/n's back. "Not so fast, bat. Who said you could go near her?"

Rowans tone made the winged male's gaze snap to him before moving to look at y/n. "Y/n! Please, my love, please, let us talk. I am begging you, let me in."

My love? My fucking love?

Oh, this male has a death wish, that is for sure.

"Don't." Lorcan's quiet but firm command from behind Fenrys made him pause and take in a deep breath to still cling into that thin thread of not resorting to violence and murder.

He felt y/n's hand shake as she also took in a sharp breath. Now, he was starting to doubt everything. To worry. What if she chooses Azriel? What if she leaves?

But then, he heard her say, "I have nothing to say to you, Azriel."

Azriel, however kept shaking his head, trying but failing to pass through Rowan and Lorcan. Although he is a quite big male, he is nothing near Fenrys and his two brothers, Rowan and Lorcan. None of them were. This would be over before it even began.

"No! No! You don't understand. Please, y/n! Let us talk! Let me explain!"

"Come home now, y/n. We found you." came Cassians voice from the other side.

"Yes, let us go back home and talk rationally there." Rhysands mate said as she looked kindly at y/n. But Fenrys knew better than to trust that look. After all, didn't she also contribute to y/n's declining mental state?

"You are safe now, you are with us once more, come." Fenrys noticed how Rhysands voice held a pleading tone within it as he addressed y/n.

Azriel kept on looking straight at her, either ignoring or not seeing Fenrys standing right beside her. That made him very irritated.

Y/n, still keeping her indifferent mask, said with a cold tone, "I am not coming home."

That shocked not just the inner circle, but Fenrys and his family too as everyone now looked at her.

Azriel's eyes widened as he immediately asked, "What?! Why?! Y/n, no! you know that we are together, that we must solve this issue and b happy once more-"

"No. You have a mate."

"No! I don't love her, I love you-"

"No, you don't."

"Why?! Why are you doing this to me?! Please, my love, Please, come home."

"I can't."

"Why?!"

"Because I have a mate!!"

That seemed to shut Azriel up as his and the inner circle's eyes widened in utter shock.

Y/n continued, her tone harsh as she tightly gripped Fenrys' hand.

"I have a mate here and I am not leaving. I also found my true family here, the one that doesn't neglect me or my troubles for their own benefit. My purpose is here, my life is here, my home is here."

Then she turned her head towards Fenrys, her gaze immediately softening as a small smile graced her lucious lips before she said, "I accept. I accept the bond, Fen."

The second she said that, Fenrys felt an overwhelming feeling overtake him as their bond finally came alive and he was flooded with both her and his emotions. Fenrys couldn't hide the huge smile that overtook him as he asked, "Really?!"

She smiled and nodded. "Really."

He couldn't believe this. He couldn't even explain what he was feeling. All Fenrys now knew was that she was truly his and he was truly hers. She won't leave. They are together forever.

"I accept the bond as well, princess."

He barely managed to finish his sentence before she gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to kiss him. Fenrys immediately took a hold of her waist as he kissed her back just as hungrily and ferociously. Once he remembered that they have an audience, he hesitantly pulled away but not without giving her lips one last peck, a promise of more to come later on.

When they both looked back around, Fenrys saw how his family had knowing and proud looks on their faces, some smiling and some, like the idiots Dorian and Aedion, fully smirking mischeviously. On the other hand, Rhysand and his court were in pure and utter shock and seeing Azriels pain stricken face as he looked between him and her brought Fenrys so much pleasure.

"I am not leaving either." Came Lucien's voice as they all looked back at him.

The female beside the male whom Amren called Cassian recovered from her shock and crossed her arms. "Let me guess, you have found your mate as well, haven't you?"

The prince nodded his head as he let go of Petrah's hand only to pull her closer by the waist.

The blond female said, "And what about your brother? Your family?Elain-"

"I have ended everything with Elain. She was no true mate of mine."

"But she is sorry, Lucien. She is so sorry for treating you that way, for letting you go-"

"Well, too late. I couldn't really give less of a fuck anymore."

The blond female's gaze moved to Petrah before coming back to Lucien. "You know, I always knew you would end up being a traitor. I guess being a snake runs in the family-"

"Finish that sentence, I dare you." Petrah's tone was filled with warning as she glared back at the blond.

"Oh really? And what will happen when he will leave you too, claiming some bullshit like you weren't true mates and he needs to move on. What then? Believe me, you are nothing but a toy for him."

Before Lucien could say anything, Petrah moved away and started to slowly go towards the blond. A smirk overtaking her face as she said, "It's not my fault that the ladies of Prythian are such insecure crybabies. I know your true intentions, Mor. I know them very well. You couldn't care less about Lucien's mate fiasco, your problem is with his brother. You keep on projecting your anger at him because of his brother but let me tell you something, not anymore. You will not longer say stupid shit at him unless you want me to rip your tounge out."

Mor's gaze turned angry as she also came closer but faltered in her steps when Petrah let her iron teeth and nails show slightly. Manon's voice came loud and confident as she stood beside the witch.

"Careful with how you talk to us iron teeth witches, and especially be careful when I am present because you are trying to insult my subject. My second-in-command. And I don't take well to anyone trying to cross my kin. That includes y/n."

"You are a witch?"

"Y/n isn't your kin, witch. She is an Illyrian."

Nesta and Rhysand spoke at the same time, the female's eyes filled with wonder as she asked her question while the high lords gaze harsh as he looked straight at Manon.

Manon smirked and looked back at y/n, causing her to smirk back before pulling away from Fenrys and going towards the witch.

"I am an iron teeth witch as well." She easily let her teeth and nails show enough to have them surprised and then retracted them back.

The stunned silence and the increasing tension between Azriel and Fenrys was cut off by Aelin who cleared her throat, forcing Fenrys to stop glaring at the Illyrian who was glaring back just as harshly.

"Rhysand, I believe you got your answer from y/n. She wishes to stay here, with us and with her mate. I hope you will only act rationally and respect her wishes-"

"Respect her wishes? Her wish to throw us away like she wasn't with us for so many years? Her wish to completely discard the family-"

"Family?!" Y/n's once again cold voice cut Nesta off from her rambling as she looked slightly dumbstruck at y/n.

"You call yourselves my family?! Well, let me tell you something, my dear 'family', a family doesn't neglect its members, a family doesn't cover up the dirt of one of its members just because they saw him as closer to them," She directs her glare at Mor, "A family doesn't walk in on one of their own having a panick attack and then pretends as if nothing happened." Her gaze roams over everyone now, "A family doesn't say 'it is in the past, get over it' when someone tells them of their troubles, a family doesn't ignore someone who is clearly descending into depression and pretend as if everything is perfect. And lastly...." Her gaze stops on Azriel "A family doesn't get to pretend like they are loyal and care about you when all they had been doing was hiding the truth from me about the male I once loved."

The male I once loved.

The male I once loved.

The male I once loved.

Fenrys couldn't hide the smirk on his face as he watched them all, stunned in silence, Azriel's wide eyes staring at her in shock, body trembling, clearly out of words.

He was so proud of her. So, so, proud of his y/n, his witchling, his princess,

His mate.

"Y/n-"

"No-"

"Oh, y/n-"

"I am so sorry-"

"It was none of our intention-"

"Save it. All of you. Rhysand, you got your answer from me. I am not coming with you. You may leave now."

"No, actually, they can't."

Everyone looked at Dorian who now pushed through Rowan and Aedion to get to the front and faced Rhysand.

"The lunar eclipse is today, in about eight or nine hours from now and if they open the gates once more,"

"The magic will shift again, causing the gates to open in wrong locations," Amren seemingly caught on to the kings theory.

He nodded his head before continuing, "And because y/n has the special connection with the book, the gates and all, she may end up failing when trying to close them. Or worse, she could end up in different places. We can't risk it. I suggest you stay until the lunar eclipse. Once that starts, y/n will be busy with the gates while we will be busy with the valgs. She will close every gate. Once defeated, she can manage to send you home before finally sealing this gate as well."

Dorian was looking at Aelin now, expecting her to say something. She nodded her head as she looked back at Rhysand. "What do you say? And before you ask, I swear this is no ruse to get you all trapped or whatever, y/n will truly close the gates today. No violence or harm shall come from our side to you unless you start it. Then, I can't promise you anything.

Before Rhysand could say anything, Cassian asked, "What is a valg and how for Mother's sake can y/n connect with gates?"

Feyre nudged him in the ribs before looking back at Aelin, "We accept. We will stay for the next however many hours and help-"

"Your help isn't needed." Both y/n and Lysandra spoke at the same time, their gazes equally defensive.

"Needed or not, that is the only way we can ensure they don't end up in a wrong place and then blame us for it." Azriel's glare went towards Rowan as he said, "You think you are so smart, don't you? You think you know it all? How fucking pathetic."

Clearly, Azriel wasn't in his right mind right now but that didn't make Fenrys any less furious for the way that prick talked to his friend and prince.

Rowan didn't even give Azriel an ounce of his attention as he took ahold of Aelin's waist, pulling her closer and looked at Rhysand. "I assume you are their ruler. What do you say?"

Rhysand assesed everyone before looking back at the queen and the prince consort as he said, "We may have hurt y/n and broken her trust but she hasn't broken ours. If she trusts you enough to be here, we shall trust you enough to be here. I also swear to keep my members in line and make sure no harm comes from our side either."

Aelin nodded as she said, "Very well, then. Follow me." She turned to leave with Rowan beside her followed by everyone else but Fenrys stayed back when he saw y/n quickly say something to Aelin before coming towards him only to be stopped by Azriel getting in her way.

Oh, you little fucker.

"Y/n, please, there has been a misunderstanding. Please, let us talk-"

She didn't even acknowledge a word he said as she moved past him and headed straight towards Fenrys, taking ahold of his hand before moving in the opposite direction to the wing in which her room was located in.

She saw how Fenrys gave the Illyrian a smirk before turning around and following his mate.

"I have been dying to get to you! I have been so sorry! Please!"

His cries for her went on deaf ears as she led her mate towards the palace. Once inside her room, Fenrys said, "What was that about-"

"Shhhh"

She silenced him with a quick peck to his lips before once more taking his hand and a small lamp while leading him towards the very place she felt the need to show him. The Crystal Caverns. When she moved the creaked floorboard, Fenrys' shock was evident on his face as he looked at the stairs leading into the darkness beyond.

"What- how- what is this? Since when has it been here?"

She turned to look at him and smiled. "I discovered it a little while after I came here. Trust me, Fen. You won't regret it. Just follow me."

He took ahold of her hand as he said with the most serious tone ever, "I will always follow you, my princess. I trust you enough to lead me anywhere."

She couldn't hide the overflow of emotions she felt for him and from the looks on his face, Fenrys felt all of them as well through the now golden bond.

After a while of walking while telling Fenrys all about the place, they finally arrived at the breathtaking location of crystal caverns. Y/n watched every move and reaction that Fenrys made as his wide eyes took in the place, mouth wide open in utter bewilderment.

She smiled and let him look around as she moved towards the small glittering lake, staring into the beautiful and translucent colors eminating from it due to the crystals underwater.

"It is beautiful, isn't it, Fen?"

"It is, but not as beautiful as you." His voice sounded from right near her ear, slightly startling her as y/n turned her head sideways and looked at him.

And then, she whispered the words that changed the mood completely.

"My mate,"

Fenrys' eyes visibly turned darker as his pupils dilated, his breath suddenly coming in ragged breaths and the small scent of his arousal hitting her nose immediately. Y/n herself felt all hot as she squeezed her thighs to try and keep her arousal from him but....from the way Fenrys suddenly turned her around and breathed her in, nuzzling his head in her neck and groaning, y/n knew it was fruitless to hide from him. Not anymore.

He pulled his head away slightly, face mere inches away from hers as he whispered, "Ask me to kiss you."

Her reply came immediately, "Kiss me, Fenrys."

She barely managed to finish the sentence when his lips collided with hers. His tounge invading her mouth as they both fought for dominance in their hungry kiss, Fenrys eventually getting the upper hand.

Without breaking the kiss, she tugged at his tunic, signaling for him to take it off. Fenrys didn't need anymore telling as he immediately ripped it away, hands then coming to help her unclasp her ties in the back of her dress. Once that was on the floor, she was left in her undergarments which caused him to break away and step back to admire her body, her scars and her curves.

She tried to move her hands and cover her exposed areas but his fierce, dominating voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't you dare."

She put her hands down immediately, letting him devour her with just his yes. Another wave of arousal overtook her as she felt herself getting wetter.

"Take off your undergarments and get in the water, princess."

She did as he told her, slowly taking off each piece while keeping her eyes on his. Once she was completely naked, Fenrys groaned loudly as he took her in from head to toe.

"Gods, you are perfect. And all fucking mine."

"And you are mine."

He clearly enjoyed her posessive tone as slowly started to take down his pants with a smirk. "Oh, yeah, princess?"

She nodded her head slowly, eyes admiring every inch of him as Fenrys took off his last garment that hid his prominent erection from her. And oh Gods.....the sheer size and girth of him made her knees buckle. His tip was all red and angry, waiting for her.

She slowly glided her gaze back to his before turning around and seductively swaying her hips on her way towards the lake. Once she entered it, the warm water reaching her mid-ribs, she turned to look at him. Fenrys' eyes never left hers as he took deliberately slow steps towards her, eventually also immersing himself in the water.

They were standing chest to chest now, Fenrys' hand slowly rised out of the water as he moved a strand of her hair behind her ear. He then gently took ahold of the back of her head, bringing their lips closer as her arms went to his biceps. The kiss was full of words they couldn't express. Desperation, hunger, posessiveness, obsession and adoration. Both of their hands exploring each others assets as he gently squeezed her cheek underwater causing a small yelp to come out of her, granting him the access he needed to fully devour her mouth.

After a while, his mouth moved to her jaw and then her neck, leaving open mouthed and desperate kisses but also bites that clearly marked her as his. Y/n tried to hide her moans but stopped when he lifted his head, looking down on her as he said in an attractively raspy voice, "Don't hide your pretty noises from me, princess. There is no one here and even if there was, they would know that you are mine and mine alone so sing for me, witchling."

She did as he asked, letting her moans out as Fenrys kept on going lower and lower, kissing over her collarbones and scars before reaching her breasts and sucking one, while playing with the other. She could feel his hard erection pressing right against her now, causing her to squeeze her thighs which led to Fenrys letting out a strangled moan.

"Fen, please,"

He lifted his head, one hand slowly submerging underwater to slowly find its way towards the place she needed him in the most.

"Please what?"

"Please-" Her gasp cut off her sentence as one of his long and thick fingers entered her mound, causing her eyes to roll back and hands clench on his biceps.

"Please what, princess?"

"I-" A second finger entered her, making her head fall onto his shoulder, small moans emitting from her mouth.

"Princess, what happened?"

Before she even processed his words, a third finger was inside her, invading her walls as his pace quickened, his palm now hitting her cunt as she felt that spark within her build up.

"D-don't s-s-stop"

"Wasn't planning to, princess."

His other hand took ahold the back of her neck as he moved her head back and attacked her neck once more. Her release was quickly building up and his lips on her neck just intesified it tenfold.

His lips came to her ear, hot breath hitting her as he said, "You are mine now, this cunt is mine, this ass is mine, this body is mine, your everything is mine. You are mine and I will prove it to you in every possible way."

That was her undoing as with a final thrust, she let out a loud moan and came all over his fingers, chest heaving up and down as she slowly looked at him through the haze within her and oh, Gods....he was watching her the entire time, his intense and hungry eyes fixed on her completely as he slowly took his hand out from underwater and licked his fingers, groaning at the taste of her on his tounge, causing her to flush red.

"Y/n-"

Y/n didn't give him a chance to finish his sentence before she leapt on to him, joining their lips once more and tasting herself on his tounge. She pulled away slightly, both of them panting heavily as she whispered, "Fuck me, Fenrys."

He groaned out a "Fuck, princess. You are killing me. Jump."

She wasted no time in jumping on to him, Fenrys catching her under the thighs as he lined his cock with her entrance. He slowly entered her, inch by inch, making her let out a silent moan before he kissed her fiercely. Her grip behind his neck tightened as her hands tangled in his hair and her mound took in more and more of him with each stretch until he was fully inside her.

He gave her time to adjust before she nuzzled her head in his neck and whispered a "Move, please."

He started off slow, not wanting to hurt her and y/n already felt so full, her pain quickly dissolving into pleasure as she soon started to kiss and bite his throat, causing him to moan loudly as he picked up his pace, balls slapping against her skin.

Their moans echoed all throughout the place as her walls tightened around him, his tip constantly hitting her spongy spot. Her mind was completely hazy, her mouth was open, everything was a blank. She thought nothing but Fenrys and how good he felt. How she never wanted to leave this cave and make this moment end. She wanted to be with him, forever.

They came together and stayed like that for a while before their newly mated bond caused their insatiable need for one another to renew. After they fucked like rabbits in almost every part of the cave, after Fenrys ate her out who knows how many times more, they were both spent as they lay on the ground, limbs all tangled, bodies all wet with sweat and water as she put her head on his beating chest while he caressed her hair and looked up at the crystals covering the rocky ceilings.

"You know, we Illyrian's have very sensitive wings."

"Yes, you told that to Eva."

"But what I didn't tell her is that, that sensitivity also applies in sex. There is a specific place within the muscles in our wings that if touched properly, we can just cum from that alone."

"Oh, yeah? Hmmm I will test that out for my self soon enough then."

But then she felt his hand on her back, touching her biggest scar and suddenly her mood dampened.

"Who gave you all these scars, princess?"

She sighed and closed her eyes as she whispered, "A cruel monster."

His hands kept on gently caressing her even though she felt his body slightly stiffen as he whispered back, "Where is he now?"

"Dead."

"You killed him?" She heard the surprise in his voice as she nodded her head, still refusing to look at him and said, "My first kill. I was twenty."

"How did he give these scars to you?"

"Let that be a story for another time. I don't wish to talk about it now."

And so they didn't talk. Not with words atleast. But Fenrys made sure to show her all the love with his body as they stayed in the crystal caverns for a little more before bathing in the small lake and then leaving the place hand in hand. Their joy at finally being joined in both body and soul emanating from them both.

Fenrys had never felt so fulfilled in his life before. Finally being with his mate after years of being alone brought him the peace he has been seeking for so long. Even though they are about to face something so terrifying, Fenrys knew that they would be fine as long as their bond stayed strong.

Everyone was in the war council chamber when they entered the room. His protective instincts made Fenrys draw her closer to his body before moving towards the side of the area in which his family was. The high lord, who was listening to Aelin's plans carefully, failed to hide the shame on his face when y/n entered the room. All of their eyes were on her as Fenrys led her to sit with the women; Manon, Petrah, Yrene, Lysandra and Elide.

The anger from Azriel could be felt even if they were miles and miles apart and that alone made Fenrys full with pride.

"Finally, after three hours, you decide to grace us with your prese- oh, now I see." Lorcan had the most mischevious grin on his face as he smelled Fenrys and then looked over at y/n.

Fenrys, still not taking his eyes off of Azriel's intense gaze from across the room, asked Lorcan, "How was it while we were gone?"

Lorcan just scoffed as he looked around the place, his eyes coming to land on Rowan and Aelin explaining whatever to Rhysand and his court.

"I came this close to ripping off that Cassians head about three times in the past hour alone. He is giving all of us these dirty looks, well, how about he tries to give me that look when I am punching him into the ground. His mate-Nesta- is no different- did you know, she also has some death powers like bringing dead people to her feet or something? Apparently they call her lady death."

"Anyways, then that Mor kept looking at Lucien and Petrah which caused her to at some point yell at Mor something like 'If you keep staring some more, I won't hesitate to rip your throat out' and that caused Mor to challenge her and then the whole place turned into a disaster of two sides arguing before Rhysand managed to interfere and calm his court down."

And then, Lorcan's eyes widened as he turned to look at Fenrys with a huge smile and hit him on the arm. "Oooh and my favorite moment was when in the middle of a somewhat civil-as civil as you can get with these barbarians-discussion, Azriel asked where was y/n and Dorian decided it would be a great idea to provoke him by saying 'with her mate, probably fucking.' Oh, Godsss, you should have seen that pricks face, Fenrys. It was like all the color got drained out of him."

Fenrys noted to thank Dorian later on for that as a huge grin overtook his face. He then looked towards the windows where his beautiful mate was with Manon, Petrah and Yrene now, listening attentively as the healer explained something to her by pointing into the book. Even seeing her caused a soft smile to overtake his features as he admired what was now his.

Once all of this was over, he would take her away for some time where it could be just the two of them, basking in their newly found relationship. He looked back at Lorcan and said, "Care for a walk?"

"I would love to." Dorian's voice interrupted Lorcan's as the king popped from behind Lorcan.

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "No one invited you, little king."

Dorian just shrugged as Chaol, Lucien and Aedion also came to stand with them.

"Oh, well. We are all about to risk our lives once more so might as well have a lovely little walk beforehand."

Aedion nodded his head. "Rowan and Aelin seem to have it handled. Just get me out of here, please. I don't know how much of this tension I can take."

Fenrys sighed, "Very well. Looks like what was meant to be an only two person chat will end up becoming a five person chat."

Lucien smirked, "We can't miss the exciting conversation about how you and y/n mated, you know."

Chaol rolled his eyes as they moved to first kiss their women a temporary goodbye. "You are acting as if you and Petrah didn't also just newly mate."

Lucien hugged his mate before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, causing her to smile up at him. "We will take turns in telling."

Fenrys ignored the rest of the conversation as he moved to kiss his woman fiercely, leaving her breathless once they detached, her eyes once more filling with lust.

"We will be back soon, little warrior."

Her eyes darted to the others before a small blush crept up her cheeks and she smiled while nodding.

Gods, she was so adorable, Fenrys just wanted to eat her whole.

They left the room and headed towards the royal gardens when an irritating voice stopped them.

"You think you can take my mate from me and get away with it, you viper?!"

Fenrys and the others immediately turned around to find Azriel and Cassian heading straight towards them as Cassian tried but failed to hold him back by the shoulder.

Lorcan and Aedion immediately stepped forward but Fenrys pushed them back, all of their warnings of 'Don't do it.' 'Don't fall for his games' 'He is just provoking you' 'Ignore him' fell on deaf ears as Fenrys stood proud and tall when Azriel--who turned out to be a couple of inches shorter--came to stand right in front of his face.

Cassian, whose slightly anxious eyes now darted towards Lorcan due to his huge size, tried to once again push his brother back but failed miserably when Azriel snarled in Fenrys' face.

"You won't get away with this. She is mine and she knows it. Y/n will come home with me and we will be together once more."

Fenrys kept his indifferent mask on as he said, "Don't you have a mate? Hmmm I wonder what she would think if her beloved is here trying to get back what was never his to begin with."

Azriels eyes narrowed into slits as he said, "You are no mate for her. You are undeserving of her. Who do you think you are? Nobody but a stranger from a different world who interfered with our relationship-"

The dam broke.

The wolf was unleashed.

Fenrys landed his first blow right into Azriel's jaw and hit him with the second one right in the ribs before he even had time to think about it.

Azriel staggered back, a sharp breath escaping his lips as he struggled to regain his footing. His eyes, usually calm and calculating, now burned with a fierce, unyielding fire. The air between them crackled with tension, charged with the raw energy of their confrontation.

With a snarl, Azriel righted himself, his dark wings flaring as he used their power to launch himself back into the fray. He swung a powerful arc with his staff, aiming to catch Fenrys off guard. But Fenrys was ready. With a swift, practiced move, he dodged the blow and countered with a spinning kick that connected solidly with Azriel’s midsection.

In the distance, he could hear shouts and screams. Probably his brothers stopping Cassian or maybe Lorcan too, is releasing his anger on Cassian or maybe they are trying to stop Fenrys. Whatever the case is, he didn't care. Fenrys tried. He tried for y/n. Tried for his queen and tried for his brother but no, Azriel had to breach the line and now, he was facing the consequences.

Azriel grunted, the impact sending him crashing into a nearby stone pillar. He pushed himself up with a growl of determination, wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip. His gaze locked onto Fenrys with renewed intensity.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Azriel’s voice was a low, dangerous growl.

Fenrys smirked, the adrenaline of battle fueling his movements. He advanced, his movements fluid and fierce, each step calculated to keep Azriel on the defensive. He feigned a left jab, only to deliver a right hook to Azriel’s temple.

Maybe in their world, Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand are considered the best, the largest, the most powerful. But here? Azriel was nothing but a faeling for Fenrys. None of them were match for the Cadre.

Azriel reeled, but he quickly recovered, his eyes narrowing as he harnessed his power. In a swift, fluid motion, he conjured a blade of shadow and lashed out with it. The dark blade cut through the air with a menacing hiss. Fenrys barely had time to react, raising his forearm to block the strike. The blade scraped against his skin, leaving a searing, burning sensation in its wake.

He spread his wings wide, using them to shield himself from Fenrys’s next onslaught. As Fenrys closed in, Azriel’s dark magic surged, swirling around him in a protective barrier.

Fenrys didn’t hesitate. He gathered his strength and charged through the barrier with a roar, breaking through the swirling shadows and driving Azriel back with a brutal series of strikes. The clash of their powers reverberated through the air, each blow resonating with the intensity of their struggle.

Azriel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep up with Fenrys’s relentless assault. Azriel's shadows seemingly decided to leave him alone, disappearing into who knows where. Fenrys managed to pin him to the ground, delivering blow after blow, his anger knowing no bounds or limits.

He could shift into a wolf but then that would mean that he has to kill Azriel and although he would love nothing more, Fenrys was still sensible enough to know that by doing it, he would unleash a myriad of unwanted problems.

He saw nothing and heard nothing but Azriel and his bone crunching under Fenrys' fists. Oh the pleasure it brought to him to finally have him like this-

Two small hands were on his, trying to drag him away-

He would know these hands and this scent anywhere. The only one who can ever calm him down. His princess, his witchling, his mate.

Y/n.

"Fen, please stop this!"

"Please, Fenrys!"

He let go of Azriel as y/n managed to drag him away, the rest of their family coming to circle all around him.

"Gods, Fenrys. Are you out of your mind?!" Aedion.

"I think I made it clear when I said no fights!" Aelin.

"You did so good, Fenrys. Thanks to you I got to punch Cassian when he tried to attack us for beating up Azriel." fucking Lorcan.

"Look at your hands!" Yrene.

"Why did I even try with warning you in the first place?" Rowan.

"Fen, please, look at me." His love, y/n.

Fenrys' eyes immediately snapped up to her and before anyone could say anything else, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up onto his shoulder, pushing through others and heading towards the palace.

"Fenrys!"

"Fen, please put me down!"

He ignored her.

A sigh. "Atleast go to the healing hut where we can do something about those bloody knuckles of yours."

He obliged.

Once in the healing hut, he put her down before she knocked on Isolde's door and entered it once the healer opened it.

"Oh Fenrys, what have you done?" Isolde said while slightly shaking her head and gesturing for them to sit down as she went to search for some medicine. Y/n turned to look at him with all the worry in the world evident in her hypnotizing eyes.

"What were you thinking? You promised-"

"He provoked me too much. I couldn't hold it back anymore."

She sighed as Isolde came back with a small wooden box in her hand, giving it to y/n. "Apply this salve over his injuries, they should heal in a days time."

Y/n nodded and said her thanks before the healer turned and left to another corner of the room. Y/n opened the circular box and wiped some of the salve with her fingers before taking his right hand in hers and gently applying it onto them.

"Well, thank you."

Fenrys' eyes widened slightly. "Thank you? For what?"

She smiled. "For standing up for me. For protecting my honor. Azriel is in a horrible condition, you know. If you continued some more, he would end up dead."

Fenrys grunted. "Should've kept punching, then."

She moved her hands from his to his face, cupping it and bringing him closer to her as she looked between his eyes, "I am glad you didn't, Fen. What you already have done has been more than enough. I am so proud of you for everything."

He smiled softly at her as his arm came around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he delivered a soft kiss to his mate's delectable lips.

The next hours passed in high tensions as neither of the courts spoke with each other, only acknowledging one another when needed. As the hours drew closer, y/n just kept her anxious thoughts at bay by burying herself in her mate's arms as they sat on a couch in the sitting room with their family around.

Finally, as she watched her mate and friends choose weapons for the battle, y/n felt her fears slowly to start creeping up-

"Everything will be fine, you will do just fine." Yrene's soothing voice sounded in her ear as they both stood on the sidelines and watched everything going around them.

Dorian entered the room with the book in hand, heading towards them as he said, "The best place for this will be in the forest, ladies. We don't need to destroy any furniture, you know."

Y/n and Yrene smiled as the former said, "Let us get going as well then."

"And not say farewell to us?" Aelin's feigned hurt tone made them look at her, all strapped with weapons as y/n said, "Of course not before that."

"Good, because I don't think I can leave without kissing you some more." Lorcan said to his wife as Elide giggled.

"Get a room, you two." Dorian's disgust at them vanished the second he had Manon in his arms and began devouring her face.

"Such babies," Yrene said while shaking her head as she let her husband hug her tightly.

In the other side of the room, Lysandra, Aedion and Eva were having their own family moment as Fenrys approached y/n.

“Be careful please,” she said as Fenrys hugged her in his arms, inhaling her scent.

“If being careful means coming back to you, then I most certainly will be.” 

She nuzzled her head in his chest, “I am afraid, Fen.”

He kissed the top of her head gently, “Don’t be, I will send you energy through the bond if I feel you declining.” 

She closed her eyes, pure bliss overtaking her “Hmmm”

“If any of those vipers try to do something to you-“

“Fen, no. They won’t because they are ashamed to even look at me in the eye. I will be fine.”

“We are leaving, everyone!” Aelin’s voice boomed across the room as the couples began detaching.

“Ask me to kiss you.”

She smiled and pulled away. “Not this time, Fen. I will kiss you when you comeback home to me. Alive.”

He smiled back and said, “Very well, witch.”

And before she knew it, with a final look, he was heading towards Rowan and Aelin.

Once they were gone, Dorian told the guards to inform Rhysand and his court that it is time. 

As they began preparing for their short journey to the woods, the inner circle entered. Y/n felt her body tense slightly but decided to ignore them all and keep her hands busy with helping Yrene roll the scriptures.

Lucien came into the room a moment later as Eva crossed her arms and asked him, “And where, pray tell, were you?”

He just smiled sheepishly and said, “Can’t a male have his privacy with his mate?”

Elide snickered before they heard a scoff from the other side of the room….Mor.

Y/n put her hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Ignore them, they will be gone soon, Lu.”

He just nodded his head stiffly but didn’t say anything else. 

“Very well, everyone. Time to leave.” Dorian announced as he exited the door, book in hand.

During their walk, y/n felt like she could cut the tension with a knife as the inner circle followed them through the woods. At some point, Nesta tried to speak to her but y/n cut her off with an ‘I don’t want to hear it.’ 

More also tried apologizing for the whole panic attack situation but, y/n ignored her too. Azriel could barely even walk, let alone breathe as Cassian, who had a giant bruise on his cheekbone, held his brother up.

She just kept close to her friends and followed the path Dorian went. When they finally arrived, the place looked like some sort of a ritual point. A huge circle made out of stone held up large boulders with unique carvings on them as green ivy’s covered most of the ground and surrounding area. 

Dorian placed the book in the very center and then turned to look at y/n. “Tell it to open the right page.”

Y/n came forward and put her hand on the book, her body filling with energy as she looked down at the object and said, “Open the right page.”

The book needed no more commands as it’s pages flipped through on their own accord, coming to land on a text with ancient writing. 

Yrene nodded her head before turning to look at the inner circle. “Since you all will be leaving together, I suggest you do not separate at all.” 

Rhysand gave her a short, curt, nod before turning to his court and saying something in a low voice  to them. 

Dorian looked at Lucien, Elide, Eva, Yrene and then at her as he said, “Very well, family. Y/n, the lunar eclipse shall begin in…when will it begin again Yrene?”

The healer looked up into the sky and said, “If my calculations were correct, in exactly two minutes.”

“So, once the eclipse begins, I put my hand on this writing and hone in my energy?”

They all gave her small nods before Eva asked, “Are we sure that the gates will open?”

Dorian just sighed. “For our sake, let us hope that they will.”

“I think it is starting.” Elide announced as she looked upwards, followed by everyone else as y/n heard Feyre gasp and say, “What is happening?”

“It is time.” Dorian looked at y/n, a small encouraging smile on his face as Yrene opened her scriptures and began reciting the spells she deciphered from the book in the library. What they did, y/n had no idea but she trusted the healer too much to ever doubt her skills.

Elide, Lucien and Eva stood nearby, observing and ready to help at any second as the inner circle too, came closer.

Y/n could feel all the eyes on her as she sighed and closed her eyes, bringing her palm up and on to the page. 

The second her hand landed on the magical writing, her blood felt molten, her body feeling too heavy. It was like she was burning from the inside. 

And then, all of a sudden, it was as if something gripped her from the back and yanked her into darkness. 

“Elara’s daughter”

“The connected”

“The key”

“The chosen one”

Multiple ancient voices were hissing all around her as y/n kept on falling through the darkness. 

“Have you come to close the gates, child?”

“Fool, you shall die.”

She fell and fell until her back hit something strong. With a groan, y/n got up  and looked around, only mist and fog were around her. What was this place?

She couldn’t see much due to the fog but she tried her best and stretched her arms in front of her to try and feel where she was going. 

“You think you can close the gates and keep end the valgs?”

She suddenly turned around to find a towering figure emerging from the mist. Cloaked in shadows, its eyes glowed a piercing blue, cutting through the darkness. The figure seemed to absorb the very light around it, creating an aura of dread that chilled y/n to her core.

"You think you can close the gates and end the valgs?" The voice echoed again, this time more pronounced, filled with both curiosity and malice.

"I have to," y/n whispered, her voice trembling yet determined. "It's my destiny."

The figure laughed, a cold, harsh sound that reverberated through the void. "Destiny, child? Or a curse?"

With a wave of its hand, the mist parted, revealing a path lined with ancient, rune-covered stones. "Follow the path if you dare. But beware, for not all who tread here return."

Determined, y/n took a deep breath and stepped forward, her resolve hardening with each step. The path seemed endless, winding through the fog, with the voices of the ancients whispering warnings and secrets in her ears. The weight of her destiny pressed heavily upon her, but she knew she had no choice but to continue.

The path led y/n deeper into the mist, where the air grew colder and the whispers grew louder, each step echoing with an ominous finality. As she continued, the runes on the stones began to glow faintly, casting eerie shadows that danced and shifted around her. 

After what felt like an eternity, she arrived at a massive, ancient gate made of black stone, covered in intricate carvings and sigils that seemed to pulse with a dark energy. This was the source of the whispers, the place where the voices of the ancients converged.

Before the gate stood a tall, imposing figure draped in dark robes, its face hidden beneath a hood. In its hands, it held a staff topped with a glowing crystal, emanating an otherworldly light.

"You have arrived, Elara’s daughter," the figure intoned, its voice resonating with a power that shook y/n to her core. "This is the Gate of Shadows, the barrier between worlds. To close it, you must face the darkness within and without."

The gate slowly began to creak open, revealing a swirling vortex of shadows and light beyond. The figure raised its staff, and the crystal’s glow intensified, casting a protective circle around y/n.

"Step forward, child, and confront your destiny. But remember, the darkness will test you. Only those with the purest hearts and strongest wills can prevail."

With a deep breath, y/n stepped through the gate, into the heart of the vortex, ready to face whatever trials awaited her within.

As y/n stepped through the gate, she felt an immediate pull, like being drawn into a powerful current. The swirling shadows and light enveloped her, and she was plunged into a world of chaotic energy. Shapes and figures moved within the darkness, whispering her name, taunting and challenging her resolve.

As y/n stepped through the gate, she felt an immediate pull, like being drawn into a powerful current. The swirling shadows and light enveloped her, and she was plunged into a world of chaotic energy. Shapes and figures moved within the darkness, whispering her name, taunting and challenging her resolve.

The first trial began almost instantly. The shadows coalesced into a figure resembling her mother, Elara. The figure’s eyes glowed with an unearthly light, and its voice was a haunting echo of her mother’s.

"Do you really think you can succeed where I failed?" the shadow-Elara taunted. "You are but a child, untested and weak."

Y/n’s heart ached at the sight, but she stood firm, clenching her fists. "I am stronger than you think. I carry your legacy, and I will not fail."

The shadow-Elara lunged at her, its form twisting into a monstrous shape. Y/n dodged and summoned her inner strength, feeling the magic within her pulse and surge. With a fierce cry, she released a burst of light, dispelling the shadow.

The vortex shifted, and y/n found herself in a vast, desolate landscape, the sky above a swirling mass of storm clouds. In the distance, she saw a figure standing alone. As she approached, she realized it was herself, a mirror image staring back at her with cold, calculating eyes.

"This is your second trial," the doppelgänger said, its voice a perfect replica of her own. "You must confront your own fears and doubts. Are you ready to face yourself?"

Y/n nodded, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "I am ready."

The battle was intense, with the doppelgänger matching her every move, every spell, every strike. But y/n drew on the memories of her journey, the lessons learned, the bonds formed. With each strike, she remembered her purpose, her friends, and her promise to end the valgs. Her iron fangs and claws working nonstop to help her in defeating her own self.

Finally, with a powerful surge of magic, y/n overwhelmed her doppelgänger, who dissolved into a swirl of shadows. Breathing heavily, she stood victorious, but exhausted.

The landscape shifted once more, and y/n found herself in a serene, beautiful garden, a stark contrast to the trials she had just faced. In the center of the garden stood a towering tree, its branches covered in shimmering, golden leaves. At its base, a small, intricately carved box rested, emanating a soft, warm light.

As she approached the tree, the ancient voices returned, now gentle and guiding. "This is the heart of the gate. To close it, you must place your hand upon the box and channel your magic. But be warned, the gate will resist, and the valgs will try to stop you."

With renewed determination, y/n placed her hand on the box. Immediately, she felt a surge of resistance, as if the gate itself was fighting against her. Dark figures began to emerge from the shadows, the valgs intent on stopping her.

Drawing on every ounce of her strength and magic, y/n focused on the box, channeling her energy into it. The light grew brighter, pushing back the darkness. The valgs advanced, but she held firm, determined to see this through. Black, foggy claws were on her from every side, trying to drag her back as ugly voices said, “You won’t prevail. You won’t prevail.”

With a final, powerful burst of magic, the light from the box exploded outward, engulfing the garden and the shadows. The ancient voices cried out in triumph as the gate began to close, the vortex of shadows and light dissipating.

As the world around her faded to white, y/n felt a sense of peace wash over her. She had faced her trials, confronted her fears, and emerged victorious. The gate was closed, and the valgs were no more. Or at-least she hoped that was the case-

“Y/n.” 

She turned around to find the inner circle. They were in some sort of a hallway that seemed to glow white from all around. Behind Rhysand and his court was a gate that was slowly-very slowly- closing. 

They all looked at her with so much shame, with so much guilt. Y/n sighed and decided to speak first because she knew that this would be the last time they ever saw one another.

“I forgive you all. I won’t forget any of it but I do not wish for us to part with unfortunate feelings towards one another.”

Feyre was fully tearing up as Rhysand gripped her hand. For the first time, she saw Amren’s eyes full with sadness as her unusually soft voice called out to her, “We shall carry this guilt with us forever, girl.” 

Nesta who was standing next to Amren, nodded her head, a tear sliding down her cheek as she said, “I am happy to know that you have found a family that will truly cherish you.”

“That will succeed in the places we failed.” Mor said mournfully. 

Rhysand gave her a small, grateful smile as he said, “It was my honor to have known you for so long. Your invaluable presence will never be replaced.”

As they began turning one by one and entering the closing gate, Cassian’s pained face looked at her. “I am so sorry, sweets. So sorry for letting you down.” 

She gave him a small smile as he too, turned around and went through the gate, leaving only Azriel behind as he looked back at the now quickly closing gate and then at her.

“Y/n-“

“I understand, Azriel. We had a beautiful time while together and I believe that is something I shall never forget. In a way, we both prepared each other to ultimately meet our mates. Now go, be with her. I wish you both well.”

He gave her a small smile. “I will forever carry this guilt with me, but I wish you the best as well. My love for you will never cease to exist, y/n dearest.”

Then, he turned around and entered the gate, giving her final look of gratitude before the gate closed completely. 

She sighed and turned around, taking a step forward-

Her foot fell through a hole. She was falling once more. World after world, gate after gate, she saw glimpses of different realms, different places before their gates too, sealed off completely.

She saw a world with tall buildings and shimmering lights, a world filled with vast dunes and oasis cities, a world where a whole civilization was underwater, a world where multiple Islands were floating in the air.

She went through world after world, the gates shutting off after she passed through each until she was slowing down, down, down….

When she finally opened her eyes with a gasp, she found herself back in the real world, the ancient writing still glowing faintly beneath her hand. She was exhausted but triumphant. The voices of the ancients had fallen silent, and a calm, serene silence enveloped her.

“Oh thank the Gods!” Yrene’s overjoyed voice was the first thing that she heard before Eva was on her, hugging her tightly. 

Y/n was drained. She was panting heavily and felt like her body would collapse at any second when everyone gathered around her, congratulating her.

Eva put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest as she looked at Dorian. “Sooo, I win the bet. Give me my 15 gold coins.”

The king rolled his eyes playfully but said, “You said she would be back in two hours. She came back in three.”

“Well, unlike Lucien who bet ten minutes, I was close enough.”

Lucien laughed as he said, “In my defence, I had no idea it would take this long.”

Elide put her arm under y/n’s shoulder as Dorian hoisted her up from the other side, “Ignore them, we were bored while your body was immersed in a trance so we made bets about how quickly you would return.” 

Y/n didn’t feel like she had the energy to reply to anything so she gave a small smile as they slowly made their way out of the woods while Dorian kept bickering with Eva, others interfering at some point. 

The moment y/n was back in her room, she collapsed on the bed and slept away who knows how many hours. When she awoke, Fenrys was beside her, an arm draped protectively over her waist. 

His eyes were open as he seemingly admired her. Y/n couldn’t keep her joy and relief at seeing her mate come back in one piece contained as she jumped on to him, draping her arms around his shoulders and nuzzling her nose into his neck. 

He hissed a little which caused her to immediately detach and pull the covers away to find his left arm bandaged. 

“Fenrys! What- Are you well? I am so sorry-“

He put his right arms around her waist and pressed her body against his, smiling. “Just a scratch don’t worry. Isolde said it will heal in a week. I am better now that you are with me.”

She looked worriedly all over him before sighing and putting her head back on his chest. 

“Did you manage to kill them?” 

"We killed and killed. None of us could even stop to take a breath. There were so many of them it's like they keep inbreeding. At some point, I started becoming worried when I couldn't feel you through the bond and then I started full on panicking when the valgs wouldn't die because it meant that there was a chance something happened to you. But it wasn't like I could leave, I was stuck killing valg after valg. Then, however, they all suddenly fell to the ground mid-fight. All of them. That's when we all realized that you did, after all, manage to close the gates."

He kissed the top of her head as y/n listened to his beating heart, ensuring herself that he was real, alive and with her.

"Are there any injured?"

"Lysandra's leg got injured and a small amount of skin was ripped off of Lorcan's ribs but other than that, we are all well. Tired, exhausted even, but well."

She nodded her head. "What now?"

"Now? Now we get to finally live in peace. Together. Now we get all the time in the universe for each other."

She smiled. "I like that. I very much like that."

He slightly pushed her away so that they were looking at each others eyes as Fenrys said, "I believe you owe me a long overdue kiss?"

Y/n laughed and said, "Hmmm do I?"

His expression turned into longing as he whispered, eyes trained on her lips, "Ask me to kiss you."

She wasted no time in replying. "Kiss me, Fenrys."

He kissed her longingly, lovingly, hungrily, fiercely and softly. He kissed her until they couldn't breath anymore and once he left her lips, he moved down to her jaw, neck, slowly undressing her as he went lower to her breasts and then even lower. Heat was already pooling below her stomach as they basked in the feel of each other, knowing that they were finally in each others arms and that nothing could ever seperate them.

After a couple of hours, when they both entered the sitting room, they saw everyone gathered there, Lysandra's right foot was perched atop Aedions lap as Lorcan also lay on the opposite couch with his head on Elide's lap.

Everyone else was coupled up with their significant others, basking in the moment.

"Well, dearest y/n, welcome to the family." Aelin's proud voice echoed around the room as she looked at y/n with a bright smile, Rowan too smiled as he sat beside his queen and mate.

Y/n reciprocated their smile with her own. "Thank you. All of you. I am very grateful that you accepted me to your circle."

Lysandra waved her hand in the air, "Nonsense, you are one of us now, we are the ones who are grateful to have you with us."

"Are you going to take the blood oath now?" Chaol's question made all eyes turn to Aelin but the queen just smiled and looked at Manon who smiled back at y/n.

"Actually, me and Manon have already discussed this between ourselves since y/n is after all, an iron teeth witch and the mate of someone who is blood sworn to me. And we decided that..."

"That it is up to her to decide. She may or may not choose to do the blood oath. My only wish is that she comes and visits us in the witch kingdom."

Y/n smiled as Fenrys hugged her waist, "Of course I will. I will come visit all of you. There is so much to explore in this world, I can't wait to see it all with my own eyes."

Fenrys kissed the top of her head as he said, "We shall do it together, you will see all the beauty of our world, I swear it."

"Well, if you don't come to Adarlan first, I will be seriously wounded." Dorian put his hand on his chest as his head fell on top of Manon's, who was snuggled up in his arms.

"Oh, shush, you. Witch kingdom it is." Petrah hit him on the head as she passed by them with Lucien holding her hands.

"Oh, here we go again." Lysandra rolled her eyes as Aedion laughed.

Yrene, who was braiding Eva's hair, said, "Actually, she should go to the Southern continent first. I am sure Nesryn would love to meet her. Oh! I could show you where I lived for so long-"

"No! I think-"

"Gods, you are all such babies-"

"Shush Aelin!"

"Did you just tell my wife to shush?"

"Calm down, Rowan. Dorian has just been itching to get a beating from me for the past week."

"I would love to see you try-"

Y/n smiled and side hugged Fenrys as they watched their beloved family argue and bicker.

Suddenly, Fenrys whispered in her ear, "I promise to love and cherish you across the universe."

Oh, how she was ready for this new adventure to begin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 8: The Cabin: Day 4 (pt.1)

Summary: You try to talk to Soap about yesterday. Key word is try.

Word Count: 4,515

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, mentions of sex, hurtful language

A/N: Another two parter! Enjoy!! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you wish 🫶🏻 also, see the end of the chapter for Soap’s drawing

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 8

The next morning, the pain in your chest is still present. Your heart feels heavy, weighed down by confusion and a little regret. The dull ache between your legs is a lingering echo of Soap's rough touch that had split you in half. A constant reminder of last night. You feel raw, exposed, and the desire to talk to Soap about what happened is overwhelming now. As daunting as it seems, you know this conversation is unavoidable. It needs to happen sooner or later.

Pulling yourself upright in bed, you look to Soap’s side of the room and see that he’s gone. You hope for once that he’s around and hasn’t left for a morning run or anything. You don’t know if you can handle waiting for him to get back. Getting changed into the last fully clean pair of clothes you have, you go to look for the Scot.

As you walk into the kitchen, you’re naturally drawn to look out the window. Your heart leaps when you see him. He’d sitting by the same tree he had a couple days ago, looking out towards the water. Taking a deep breath, gathering up your courage, you exit the cabin. The morning air is cool against your skin, but it does little to soothe your nerves.

Each step you take towards him makes your heart beat faster, the anxiety building with every stride. You’re so nervous to talk to him, afraid of how this interaction might go. You had a pretty bad track record so far of turning civil conversations into heated arguments.

As you get closer, you come to realize he has one of his black books with him. It’s opened up, and it looks like he’s sketching something. His eyes dart from between the lake in front of him to his book, pausing between his strokes when he does.

He either doesn’t hear you or chooses not to acknowledge you until you’re about halfway to him. You can see him glance a little over his shoulder as you draw near, but he never fully turns his head to look at you. His gaze just goes back to his book. Even when you’re finally right next to him, he still doesn’t say anything or even look up at you.

“Can I sit with you for a bit?” You ask before you lose your courage and run back to the cabin.

Soap is silent for a couple seconds, and for a moment, you’re worried he’s not going to say anything to you. There’s a pang in your chest at that thought, but Soap finally answers after a moment.

“Sure.” He sighs, seeming to know exactly what you are here for. Then again, why else would you ever come to talk to him?

Slowly, you move to sit beside him. It’s peaceful outside, a stark contrast to how you’re feeling. Not really knowing how you want to start this conversation, you instead look at the sketch he’s currently working on.

“I didn’t know you liked to draw.” You say, watching as he carefully makes each line on the paper. He’s drawing the scene of the lake. Using one of his fingers, he smudges a line he’s just made, darkening his finger with the lead of his pencil.

“It helps pass the time. Takes my mind off stuff.” He shrugs, still offering his full attention to his drawing.

“It looks nice. You’re really good at drawing.”

And you’re being genuine. You’re surprised to say that Soap is really good at drawing. He’s about halfway through sketching the landscape, and it looks beautiful so far. Despite your compliment though, Soap sighs, taking his pencil off the drawing and finally looking at you.

“What do you want?” He asks, making you shy away slightly. You don’t want him thinking your compliment was just empty words.

“I was being serious. Your drawing is really nice. You’re really talented.”

Soap sighs again, glancing back down to his artwork, but not drawing anymore. “Thanks. But I know you’re not out here cause you want to watch me draw. So get to it.”

You’re silent for a long time, watching the side of his face. You were out here to talk to him about last night, but you were nervous. You wanted to ease into it, not just dive right in. Though with Soap outing you on your intentions, you don’t really have a choice now.

“I just wanted to talk to you about last night…” You say slowly.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He answers quickly, making you frown. Of course there was something to talk about. How could he say that?

“Soap, we… we had sex. How is that not something to talk about?”

“Lots of people have sex, States.” He shrugs. You begin to nervously pick at your nails.

“So it didn’t mean anything?” You find yourself asking.

You don’t know what you want his answer to be. You should want him to say it didn’t mean anything. It was just sex and nothing more. But a part of you doesn’t want him to say that. Maybe if it meant something then you wouldn’t regret it so much? Or maybe you really just wanted it to have meant something.

“Don’t you fucking dare do that.”

“Do what?” You frown.

“Don’t you start telling me this meant something to you. That you think this fixes anything between us.”

“It… it didn’t, I don’t. I mean, I’m just sorting through it- I don’t know.” You say quickly, caught off guard by what he said.

“Fucking Christ…” Soap mutters, burying his face into his hands as you begin to feel flustered.

“Can you just-! Just answer my question! So what we did last night didn’t mean anything?”

Soap groans, hitting his head against the back of the tree slightly. “Nope. It was just sex. Something to get rid of all the tension for a bit. That’s it.”

His answer hurts you a lot more than you expect. The sting of his words leaves you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to process his easy dismissal. “Ok.. well, good.” You find yourself saying, looking out across the waters. It’s silent for a few moments before Soap breaks it.

“Hey, by the way, you’re not going to get pregnant, are you? You are on birth control right?” He looks over to you, and you’re staring straight ahead, a blank expression on your face. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, no we’re fine. I’ve got a birth control implant.”

You weren’t on birth control for the birth control part of it. It was mostly to help with a hormone imbalance to make your menstrual cycle more regular. But the birth control part of it was nice too for situations like when your teammate randomly decides to fuck you senseless.

Soap nods, his gaze shifting back to his sketchbook. He seems to visibly relax knowing there wasn’t a chance of you being pregnant. “Good. Don’t have to worry about that. Let’s just move on then, alright? What we did last night doesn’t change anything.”

You bite the insight of your lip. “How can you say it doesn’t change anything?” It could be meaningless sex, but to say it didn’t change anything? That was ridiculous.

Soap pauses, his pencil hovering above the page. He doesn't look up, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. "Because it doesn’t," he says, his voice tight. "We had sex. It’s over. We move on."

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “How can you just brush it off like it’s nothing."

He finally sets his pencil down, meeting your gaze with a hard stare. "What do you want me to say, States? That it meant something? That it was special? It wasn’t. It was a mistake if anything.”

You hesitate, your emotions a tangled mess. "I don’t know… It just doesn’t feel like it was nothing."

He sighs heavily, closing his sketchbook. "Look, it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. We both needed an outlet, and it happened. But that’s all it was.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I just… Can I ask you something else?” You ask softly. There was still so much you wanted to get answers to.

Soap gives you a hard stare, but he eventually caves. “Sure. Go ahead.” Soap sighs, turning his gaze to look out at the lake. He clearly doesn’t want to keep talking about this with you, but he lets you continue anyway.

“I need to understand. Why did you kiss me? Why now, after everything?”

Soap’s jaw clenches slightly, you make out the slight pulse in his jaw when he does. “Because I needed to blow off some steam. Because we were both there, and it was convenient. Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters!” You snap, your voice rising. “It matters because I need to know if this was just some spur-of-the-moment decision for you or if there’s something more to it.”

Soap sighs heavily, running a hand over his face in annoyance. “States,” he says, his tone softer but still firm. You can he’s trying to keep his cool. “I don’t have a better answer for you. It was just sex. That’s all it was. It was just a way to release some tension. There’s no hidden meaning behind it. No deeper nothing. It’s better if we just forget it and move on.”

“So that’s it?” You manage to say, voice trembling slightly. “We just go back to hating each other?”

Soap’s eyes meet yours. There’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—but it’s gone too quickly to be sure. “Yes, we go back to the way things were, and we forget this ever happened. It’s better that way.”

“How can we just act like nothing happened?”

“We just go about our lives like we did before we fucked. It’s not that hard, States.”

You bite your lip, fighting back tears. “Maybe for you!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shite. You’re a soldier. You know how to compartmentalize. Do it.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “That’s not fair, Soap. You can’t just ignore my feelings because it’s easier for you.”

“I’m not ignoring your feelings! I’m trying not to make things more complicated than they need to be!”

“It’s already complicated! My whole relationship with you is complicated. And now I don’t know what the hell to do! People who hate each other don’t fuck each other.”

“I don’t know what to fucking tell you! I was angry, things have been tense between us for a long time, I wanted to release that tension. So I did. It wasn’t anything. Just a build up of too much tension that needed to be released. And it helped. The sex was good, but that’s all it was. If you can’t wrap your head around that, then that’s your problem, not mine,” he says coldly. “I’ve said what I needed to say. If you can’t move on, that’s on you.”

He picks up his sketchbook up off the ground and stands up, effectively ending the conversation. You continue to sit there, feeling more lost and confused than ever. The weight of his words hung heavily on your heart. You just had to forget it… Move on and act like it hadn’t happened. You regretted it, you wished it hadn’t happened.

Then why couldn’t you let it go?

Soap was more than willing to act like it was nothing. To go back to your normal lives. Though maybe the problem was that you didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to go back to the way things were. Where you fought constantly and were always at each other’s throats. Maybe you hoped that sex meant Soap didn’t hate you after all. It certainly felt like he despised you even more now though.

The more you thought about it, the more angry you got. He kissed you, he was the one who’d had sex with you, he started all of this. All with the intention of just making himself feel better. No regard for how it might affect you. He really hated you that much? And he wouldn’t even tell you why he felt the way that he did. If you had some explanation, some reason, maybe it’d make it better to accept it, but he gave you nothing.

Feeling a new fire ignite inside you, one that didn’t want to go back, or at least wanted answers as to why Soap resented you, you get up and march after him. He’d been dodging the question every time you asked, but not anymore. If things were going to go back to how they were, you were going to know why he felt the way he did.

By the time you’re up, Soap is already walking up the steps of the porch and heading inside. You follow after him, trying to get to him before he tries to leave again or before you lose the nerve to talk with him.

You push the door of the cabin open and step inside, scanning the small space for him. He’s in the bedroom, tucking his journal away as you walk up to the doorway. As soon as Soap realizes you’re back, a sour look crosses his face.

“Fucking hell, what do you want? We’re done talking about last night.” He says firmly, going back to doing whatever it was he came in here to do.

“No we’re not.” You say as firmly as you can. It comes out a little shaky though. “If last night changes nothing, and if it meant nothing, if we have to just go back hating each other-“

“There is no ‘going back’ to hating each other. We always have, nothing ever changed that.” Soap interrupts, just stabbing another knife into your chest.

“Don’t interrupt me! If you’re going to hate me, that’s fine. But I want to know why you do.”

Soap visibly gets uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing. “I already told you, I don’t need to explain myself.”

“You kind of do. You can't just keep pushing me away, Soap. If you really hate me that much, at least have the decency to tell me why."

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Yes you are! I deserve to know why you hate me. After everything you did yesterday, I deserve some answers.”

He clenches his jaw, looking away for a moment before finally meeting your gaze again. "Fine. You want to know why? Because you're always so damn stubborn, always in my face, challenging me, questioning everything I do."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. “So, you hate me because I stand up to you? Because I won't just roll over and let you constantly talk shit to me?”

“Yep.” He answers shortly, and you know he’s lying. Or at least not telling you everything.

“Bullshit. I didn’t start doing any of that to you for a long time. You were awful to me since I stepped foot on base. From our first introduction to each other. Was there someone else you wanted instead of me on the Task Force? Do you not like a girl joining your little group? Are you afraid I’m going to out perform you? Is it because the guys like me, and you can’t stand that?”

“We didn’t need you on our team! We were fine before you came along and ruined the entire dynamic.”

“You are literally the only one who thinks that!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not the first time I’ve seen a whole fucking unit crumble because no one wanted to believe me! I will not let you come in and tear everything apart!”

“I’m not going to tear you guys apart! I want to be on this team! I want to be with Price and Gaz and Ghost, and even you!”

“Yeah that’s what Annette said too!”

“Who’s Annette?” You ask, and Soap instantly closes himself off. He’s said too much. Got too caught up in the heat of the moment, slipped up, and revealed something to you he didn’t want to.

“She’s no one.” He says harshly before quickly continuing. “Look, you want to know why I fucking hate everything about you, States?” Soap is slowly approaching you, cornering you against the doorframe. “Oh, where to even start. You’re stubborn. You can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business. You’re annoying as hell. You’re an absolute shite soldier, one I can’t trust to have my back on the field. You’re reckless, you’re a liability, and you have no clue what it means to be part of a team. And don’t get me started on your pathetic attempts to prove yourself. You’re just a suck up to Price and the others. It’s embarrassing. You think you’re tough? You’re a joke. Every time you open your mouth, I want to walk the other way. You’re nothing but a thorn in my side, and I wish you’d never been assigned to this team. You’re weak, you’re useless, and you’re a bloody nuisance. That’s why I hate you, States. Because you’re not worth the dirt on my boots.”

You’re almost in tears as he finishes up. Your jaw is clenched tight to keep it from trembling, and you’re gripping the wood on the door frame so tightly you’re afraid it’s going to rip off. Soap has been a jerk to you in the past, but he’s never been this raw with his words before. At least you finally had an answer. One that felt real. Genuine. And shit, did it hurt.

“We’ve got three more fucking days together, States. Don’t speak to me again during that time. Understand?”

He’s leaning over you, face far too close for comfort. All you can do is nod your head, afraid that opening your mouth is going to make you break down. Soap huffs, his warm breath against your cheek before he pulls away.

“Going out for bit. Gonna be hours. Just letting you know so you don’t worry.” He tells you mockingly before leaving you against the doorframe. You listen for the sound of the cabin door closing before you sink to the ground, sobbing into your knees as you hug them close to you.

***

As Soap leaves the cabin, he can hear you crying inside. Despite all the horrible things he just said, after expressing how much he hated you, his heart tightens in his chest. It wasn’t that he liked saying those things… hell, he wasn’t even sure he meant half of those things anymore. But he refused to let you in. He couldn’t. And you just won’t understand that.

It was all just a mess. Truth was, things had changed yesterday when he had sex with you. The more time he spent thinking about it, the more he realized Ghost was right. He really did just need to fuck you and get it out of his system. For the split second that all the tension was resolved, he truly felt an attraction towards you.

And that scared him.

He hadn’t been expecting that. He thought you’d simply fuck and then have a breather for a moment. He didn’t expect to be rushed with this sudden urge to actually want to be with you.

These next three days couldn’t go by faster. He wanted this hell to be over. This torment to just end. He yearned to go back to how things were before he came here with you. Even if it’d been complicated before, it was better than how complicated it was now.

He listens to your sobs a moment more before shaking his head and heading for the woods. If he stayed a second longer, he was afraid he’d run back to you and do something he was going to regret.

***

You sat on the floor and cried for what felt like hours. Your eyes burned from how many tears had been leaking from them. The skin your around eyes was sore from how often you’d wiped at them, and your last clean shirt was now soiled with tears and snot. It wasn’t pretty…

After a few hours, you really couldn’t cry anymore. You didn’t think it was possible, but you’re sure you’ve run out of tears. You feel disgusting. Soap’s words played on repeat over and over in your head, and you’re beginning to believe them.

Liability… untrustworthy… embarrassing… weak… useless…

You didn’t want to be those things. And you know Ghost, Price, or Gaz would be so fast to dismiss them and reassure you that you weren’t. But they weren’t here, and they couldn’t tell you those things. The only person you had was Soap.

At some point, you decide you’ve had enough of sitting on the hard wood floor. You were a soldier. You know how to pull yourself together and keep going. So that’s what you were going to do. The first thing you were going to do was take a bath. Wash away any remnants of Soap. Wash away the things he’s said to you, the grim, the pain. Take the opportunity to clean yourself now that you felt like you were in a million pieces before you put yourself back together again.

You slowly collect all the things you needed for bathing and head outside. It’s warm. Beautiful as always. You hope maybe the sun will help you grow after feeling like you’ve wilted. You can only hope.

As you step onto the deck, you notice your shit covered boots still waiting outside to be cleaned. You might as well clean those too while you’re at it. Why shouldn’t everything have a fresh start. So you pick those up and carrying them down with you to the waters edge, dropping them in the dirt while dropping your towel on a nice patch of grass.

You strip down, no longer really caring about who is going to see you. You’re far too upset to care at this point. The sun is warm of your skin, but the water is cold. It always is. It’s numbing though, and you’d really like to feel numb for a little bit.

You’re stepping deeper and deeper, feeling an odd moment of calm. The water really is soothing. It’s helping to take your mind off the past three days. You close your eyes, soaking up the sunlight on your face and letting the water hold you.

You’re so deep into your own mind, trying to self soothe, that you don’t hear the silent steps of someone joining you on the shoreline. You don’t hear your boots being knocked over, or see your clothes being stepped on. It’s only when the feet of your unwanted guest step into the water, creating ripples and a plunking sound, that you realize you’re not alone.

An uneasy feeling overwhelms you and you shrink down slightly. “Soap?” You ask hesitantly, your first thought being that he was close by. But when you glance over your shoulder, it’s not Soap. Instead of meeting his angry blue eyes, you instead meet the angry black eyes of a black bear.

You gasp, almost losing your footing as you try to back away quickly into the deeper water to get some distance. There was a fair amount of distance between you and the bear already, but your first instinct was to get away from it.

The bear is sniffling the air, looking right at you. It’s watching your every movement like it’s reading your body language. Trying to decide if you’d be worth going after. It makes a few grunting sounds, which sound so familiar. This must have been the bear that was chasing you yesterday. It must have followed you here.

“G-go away!” You shout at it, not sure if you’re suppose to play dead or not. Clearly this bear knows you aren’t dead, and you honestly aren’t sure if the play dead thing was a myth or not.

Maybe it wasn’t a myth though, cause as soon as you shout at it, it raises onto its back legs and bellows at you. The sounds makes your heart thud harder in your chest, a shiver of fear running all through you. Its teeth look so sharp, it’s claws so long. Panic is starting to overtake you no matter how hard you try to push it down and keep a clear mind.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… what the fuck do I do?” You mutter to yourself, yelping as it comes down on all fours again.

The bear starts to walk into the water, continuing to sniff the air and watch your every movement. It’s still grunting and growling at you as it slowly stalks towards you.

You’re frozen in fear, almost like you’re hoping it won’t see you if you stay super still, and it will go away. The creature takes a lunge at you, splashing up water before retreating a bit. Testing you. The sudden movement brings you back to the present, and you let out a scream, holding your arms up to shield you from the spray of water.

“Go away!” You shout louder this time and start to splash water towards it in hopes of scaring it off. It manages to make the animal jump and back away, but it recovers when it realizes the water didn’t hurt and starts to come in again.

It lunges again at you, letting out a long roar and getting closer. However, this time it doesn’t back away. Its mouth is hanging open and thick drool is dripping from its chops. It was like drooling at the very thought of having you for its next meal, a thought that makes you shiver.

“Get out of here! Go!” You shout some more. In a panic, you try to make more distance, swimming out a little further. The water was coming up to just under your chest now.

You avert your gaze for a split second to look around for a weapon, a stick or anything to defend yourself with, and the second you look away, the bear charges. You scream again, heart pounding and tears coming to your eyes. It was standing up again so it could touch the bottom of the lake, its arm taking a swipe at you. Luckily you’re still just out of reach.

“Go away! You fucking stupid animal! Go away!” You scream at it, backing up more.

To say you are terrified is an understatement. You’re naked and completely unprepared to fight off something like a bear. You can’t think, your mind still stressed and exhausted from the last few hours. You’re panicking and afraid that you’re going to die.

Then you hear, far off in the distance, a familiar voice. One you’ve never been more happy to hear in your entire life. As relieved and happy as you are to hear him, you hope it’s not going to be the last voice you ever hear.

“States?! States!!!”

***

[pumpkinfyre]

Prisoner of Vows

Chapter Two: Courting

Summary: Naelys Velaryon is the beloved daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. After the Dance begins, she is trapped in Kings Landing and forced to choose between her blood.

"I remember you disliking tourneys," Helaena says, her thin lips pursed in a straight line. "Yet, for your marriage celebrations, we must attend one. It is quite strange." Helaena herself was strange, but Naelys loved her all the same. They had been close as children before Naelys and her family moved away to Dragonstone. Helaena had been the first to congratulate Naelys on claiming Silverwing, as Naelys had done the same when she bonded with Dreamfyre. The fact that they hadn't seen each other in years didn't change their fondness for each other. 

"I still have no love for them, but Mother enjoys them..." 

They slip into the box above the arena, both girls taking seats. Naelys tries to calm herself, nervously surveying the dusty arena. Aegon is beside his mother, already taking to his cups, the queen giving him a scathing glare. 

"Ser Criston will be taking part, as will your stepfather," Helaena says, noticing her companion fidgeting. "I heard that they held a competition against each other almost two decades ago when our mothers were our age." Naelys sighs at the mention of Daemon. "I also heard that Ser Cole bested him." The idea of seeing Daemon defeated on the dirty ground was a fond one. 

Naelys feels a hand on her shoulder, and when she looks over her shoulder, she sees her mother walking past, wobbling as she nurses the baby bump. The princess comes down the balcony, taking her seat next to her daughter, Jace, and Luke following shortly. Rhaenyra sighs deeply, the heaviness of the babe taking its toll on her. 

Naelys hated tourneys, but she would make do for her mother. 

Nearly an hour passes, and the princess can feel her boredom eating her alive. Daemon had indeed participated, but he hadn't been pinned against Ser Cole, much to her disappointment. She had been forced to hand over her favor to her stepfather, and that alone had put her in a foul mood. Naelys would rather be riding the skies with Silverwing but alas was forced to observe the most boring of events. As the tourney comes to an end, Rhaenyra grasps her daughter's hand tightly, a wide smile on her face. 

"Your little cousin and grandmother have arrived," she coos, grunting as Naelys helps her to her feet. The large bump not helping in the slightest. "We should go see them, then." 

Baela had grown taller, and more beautiful. Her face was stern and unmoving, like stone. She reminded Naelys of Daemon, though she liked her cousin much more. Rhaenys pulls Naelys into a sweet embrace, her thin fingers wrapping around a lock of white hair. 

"I would congratulate you, but I'm not sure how, cousin," Baela says, her eyes narrowed slightly as she eyes the Hightower's as they take their leave from the hall. Naelys smiles awkwardly, grasping Baela's hand in her own. "In any case, I'm glad you came. I was hoping we could do some dragonriding together," she speaks in a hushed tone, but her plans do not escape her mother. Rhaenyra huffs to herself, lowering her gaze to her oldest child. "I don't like you riding whilst I'm in this condition, Sweetling," Rhaenyra grits out, a lightness to her words. Naelys couldn't understand her mother's worry. Silverwing was fiercely protective of her, not to mention the great silver beast was known to be quite docile, at least as docile as a dragon could get. Silverwing was large, only slightly smaller than Vermithor, so Rhaenyra's fear was slightly understandable, but in all the years Naelys had been a dragonrider she had never had a tumble. 

"Then I will not ride," Naelys says, smiling softly at her mother as Rhaenyra eyes her knowingly. "Without grandmother, of course! I'm sure Rhaenys wouldn't mind accompanying us to the skies," Baela intersects, giving her cousin a knowing look. Despite being a pious and quiet girl, Naelys became quite ravenous when it came to her dragon. Nothing could keep her away from Silverwing for long. Rhaenys smirks as she watches the young girls giggle together, hiding their smiles behind their hands. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Having Daemon Targaryen as a chaperone was something Naelys would not wish on her worst enemy, but her mother had insisted on Daemon accompanying her around the Keep until the wedding. Daemon was charismatic enough, and Rhaenyra trusted him to look after her daughter during the short courting process she and Aegon would be having. 

That being said, it was awkward to have lunch with the queen and her son alongside her stepfather who notoriously hated the Hightower's. 

The garden was nice, and the cool air made a good atmosphere. Naelys sips at the cinnamon-spiced tea in her cup as Daemon absentmindedly dangles Dark Sister off his hip. Alicent sat next to Aegon, keeping their cups full of cider instead of wine, her lips pursed sternly as she kept an eye on her eldest child. Aegon himself stares blankly at Naelys as she sips her tea, dainty fingers cradling the glass softly. Naelys was less clumsy than she had been years prior. She no longer tripped over her long skirts, and she no longer tried to make Aegon play with her, as she did often when they were children. She would follow Helaena around, as they were close, but her relationship with Aegon hadn't been much different. They would sneak into the kitchens to steal extra cake, and Aegon would always take a swig of wine he knew he wasn't allowed to have. Now she was so much like a proper lady, something his mother liked. 

But she wouldn't look at him. 

Sitting beside Daemon in her dark burgundy gown, Naelys holds a neutral expression on her face, licking her lips every so often to clear the remnants of tea. Her cup had been refilled three times in total, because despite what others may believe, Aegon could count. Naelys tries to avoid conversation with Daemon, but he speaks to her anyway. 

"My brother will be attending the wedding, I assume. I haven't seen much of him since we arrived," Daemon says, his thin lips pursed in an ugly manner, much the way his face usually looked. Daemon Targaryen never truly looked happy or content. Naelys perks up at the mention of her grandfather, her big brown eyes trained on her stepfather as he speaks. Letters had been sent to Dragonstone telling them of King Viserys' festering sickness, though her mother and stepfather had never taken them seriously. Rhaenyra's trust in Maester's died alongside her mother and baby brother. 

"The King, as I'm sure you are aware, is very sick these days," Alicent says, a bite to her words as she stares at Daemon through her thick lashes. "He wishes to save his energy for the festivities." The Hightower matriarch folds her hands in front of her, sparing a glance towards Aegon. "His Grace is very excited for the wedding, given he hasn't seen you in such a long time, Princess," she says, Daemon narrowing his eyes at her. "I remember you were quite close with him before your departure to Dragonstone." Naelys smiles slightly, her fingers digging into the velvety fabric of her dress, the burgundy gown creasing at the force.

Naelys was sure that her mother had already seen the king since they arrived, but she hadn't spoken about her visit at all. Rhaenyra had the habit of dropping by her daughter's room every night, without fail. When Naelys was still a young child, it would result in whimsical bedtime stories, or Rhaenyra would read to her about the Conquerors adventures across Westeros and Dorne. As she became older, though, Naelys would read to her mother, and sometimes her younger brothers. Joffrey had become extremely attached to his older sister, and followed her everywhere. 

Lately, though, Rhaenyra hadn't said anything about her father during her nightly visits with her daughter. Naelys had noticed, of course, but decided against mentioning it to her mother. The current pregnancy had not been treating Rhaenyra well, and Naelys worried for her mother. Her grandsire must have been worse than either of them thought. 

"Mm, my brother would not miss such a thing," Daemon says, looking at Naelys as she takes another sip of her tea, her eyes worried. 

She would visit him, Naelys decides. Her grandsire was sick, surely he would enjoy some company. 

The group moves from eating pastries and sipping tea into walking the gardens, Aegon and Naelys a few steps ahead of Daemon and Alicent. 

When they were children, the gardens were a common place to see them playing together. Aegon would chase Helaena and Naelys around with a wooden stick, pretending to be a villain of sorts, and little Aemond would play the knight in shining armor. Alas, they were no longer children, and things were much different now. Naelys herself had changed since the death of her father, she seemed somber to Aegon, a certain sadness to her face. 

The awkward silence was deafening, and Naelys could feel herself wanting to run away desperately. She glances at the man beside her, only to realize that Aegon is picking his fingers bloody. Perhaps unconsciously, he rips at the skin of his cuticles, blood seeping from the small wound as he did so. It looked painful, and she cringed slightly. Naelys moves her body to shield the view of Daemon before grabbing at Aegon's hand, stopping his self abuse. 

"Stop that, you're hurting yourself," she mutters, feeling the clammy flesh of Aegon's hand in her own. "See? You're bleeding, Aegon." She examines his bloodied fingers, frowning as she notices that he must do this often, the lingering scars of his picking evident. Aegon himself stares at her, his light eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. It looked almost as though he was confused on why she would show any sort of concern towards him. 

Aegon looked exceedingly different, Naelys notices. When they last saw each other, his hair had been much longer, the white mess of curls had reached past his shoulders back then, and always made him look similar to his mother, in Naelys' opinion. Now it was shorter, his curls less pronounced. His eyes, still that light lilac hue, had deep shadows underneath them, indicating his night lifestyle. Aegon no longer looked like the boy who would pretend to be a dragon and chase her around the courtyard. 

He looked like a man. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

"How long does it usually take for an egg to hatch?" Lucerys asks, glancing at the pink egg as it rested in the lit brazier. Naelys is pulling a comb through her brothers fluffy brown hair when he asks the question, his little nose twitching as Naelys' incense is burned. Their nighttime routine was simple. Luke and Joff would come to see their older sister before bed, due to their mother's condition. She would ready them for bed instead of a servant due to Joffrey's fussy nature, he remained well-balanced when with Naelys. 

"It depends," she coos, setting the brush down on the vanity. "Sometimes it takes years, or centuries. Other times dragon eggs don't hatch at all. They can often turn to stone, as mine did." 

Rhaenyra had placed an egg in Naelys' cradle, as was their tradition. The egg, however, failed to hatch, even after the princess was born. It left room for Naelys to claim her own dragon, Silverwing, at age thirteen. 

She no longer mourned the desolation of being dragonless, but she understood Rhaena's plight either way. 

"Will this one hatch, do you think?" Luke clung to Naelys as she leads the boys out of her chambers and towards their own rooms. Little Joff was fast asleep in her arms as she walked the long corridors, the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet making a slight echo. "I do." She answered, finally tucking Joffrey in his bed, the toddler still fast asleep. Naelys kisses his forehead gently, as their mother often did, before turning to usher Lucerys to his bed as well. 

"We have a long day tomorrow," Naelys said, making sure to leave the pitcher of water on a desk nearby. Luke got thirsty during the night quite easily. "Make sure you sleep well, Luke." 

Leaving the room, Naelys makes her way towards the nursery. She would bid her youngest brother, Aegon, goodnight before heading to bed herself. 

Before she can enter the nursery, the door opens suddenly, and Naelys jumps, a soft gasp leaving her lips. Elinda, Rhaenyra's lady, let out a startled shriek as well, placing a hand over her heart as she breathes deeply. 

"I'm so sorry, Princess! I didn't know you would be in your way here, so-" "It's alright, Elinda, everything is fine..." 

Elinda closes the door behind her, glancing at the cradle that housed the youngest of Rhaenyra's sons once more. 

"Princess, your mother had told me to fetch you after I was done putting down Prince Aegon," Elinda says, giving Naelys a soft look. "Ah, alright then. I'll go to see her... you should get some rest as well, Elinda." Naelys smiles at Elinda, giving her a kind look before turning to travel towards her mother's quarters. 

When she finally arrives, Rhaenyra is pacing the room, her long golden-silver hair pulled out of her usual braids. Naelys smiles gently, walking towards her mother carefully. Her nerves were obviously on edge, it was common for Rhaenyra to pace with an unhappy expression on her face when she was worried about something. 

"Elinda said you wanted to see me?" 

Rhaenyra turns, her eyes narrowed slightly with worry. 

"I've decided that the wedding is off, I will not allow you to marry your uncle," she says, her hand cradling her baby bump tenderly. "I cannot leave you here with these vultures, I simply can't do it." Rhaenyra snaps, resting herself in a chair. Naelys' gentle smile fades quickly, and she looks at her mother as though Rhaenyra had grown  second pair of arms. 

"Are you mad? The wedding is the day after tomorrow, we cannot back out! Grandsire would never allow it, neither would the Queen..." Naelys looks at her mother, trying to understand where her passionate denial had sprouted from. "If you deny the marriage everything will fall apart, please don't let your emotions get the better of you." Rhaenyra rises from her seat, beginning to pace the room again. "You are my heir, and my only daughter! These people will strip you of all your purity and kindness, I cannot allow it." 

"As your mother, and the crowned heir to the Iron Throne, I have authority over you," Rhaenyra stands in front of Naelys, her hands cupping her daughter's cheeks lovingly. "We can find you a good, honorable man. One who can love and protect you, but that man is not your uncle." 

"I wish to do my duty, mother," Naelys says, her brown eyes welling with tears. Even as a child, she was prone to her emotions. Any strong feeling she had could reduce the girl to tears. Seeing her mother so desperate was terrifying. "My duty is to you, and I intend to do it well." 

mama nyra is the best nyra, I love her smmm 

I'm going to try to come up with a designated schedule for updates, but it may take some time.

thank you for reading!

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[unhinged-simp]

LOVE YOUR HC!!! Can I ask for Haku, Romeo, Sho, Subaru courting the reader? And maybe a jealous HC if you are comfortable haha (could be combined to one or separated HC)

Haku, Romeo, Sho, and Subaru Courting Reader HCs(Gender Neutral Reader)

Of course! Thank you for requesting.

Ahhh thank you!

I'll do a separate jealous HCs since I didn't really include it in this post. I wasn't as well versed in courting hcs as I was in dating hcs, so I hope you enjoy.

Spoilers for the Hotarubi chapter in Subaru's part

It happened one day, out of the blue, when Haku asked you if he could court you. 

When you agreed, Haku began.

It started with texts. You two would converse whenever you had free time.

The texts ranged from ordinary school life to the flirting that Haku did occasionally. 

Next, Haku would give you little gifts. Flowers, little keychains that reminded him of you, plushies, and many more gifts.

And finally, he planned out many dates.

Restaurant dates were the first kinds of dates you went on. Then you went on trips to amusement parks and arcades. Now you guys go on little fun dates.

Haku would make sure to set boundaries between you and him.

If you enjoy physical content, he would make sure to initiate it. If not, he'd respect it.

Haku would ask Subaru and Zenji for advice for courting.

You would meet with the other ghouls in Hotarubi very often, having tea parties and talks.

Even though he's busy most of the time, he always makes time for you.

Romeo is a bit worse with courting. He didn’t even tell you he wanted to, he just started doing it. 

When you told him that you’d go through with the courting, he didn’t really react besides a “good choice” and a smile, but inside he was ecstatic.

Romeo was not that great at flirting at first, often times more of a backhanded compliment than a real compliment. Though after some conversations with Rui, reluctantly, he managed to get the hang of it.

The gifts Romeo brought you were oftentimes things he uses and owns. 

Similar clothes, the same perfume he wears, and even similar sunglasses. He also gets you lots of flowers.

Even with his busy schedule, he managed to plan dates. 

Fancy restaurant dates were the most common, although if you expressed interest, you could convince him to go to an aquarium, amusement park, or site seeing different spots in Japan. 

Romeo is very possessive and proud. The gifts he gives you are his way of “marking you.” 

He'd only be affectionate in public if it was a way to brag about you, and the fact that you’re the one dating the great Fico. 

He would actively keep you away from Taiga and Rui, especially Taiga. 

He’s always eager to meet up with you whenever his work ends.

Sho doesn’t really know how to court properly, but that still doesn’t stop him.

After much consideration, he asks you if could court you. 

He already texted you a lot, but he ups the romance a bit. He tries to flirt with you, but it ends up failing, at least you got a smile out of it. After lots of research he starts getting the hang of it.

Sho learns your preferences to pick out perfect gifts for you. 

He gives you your favorite flowers, clothes he knows you'd like, and jewelry that you love.

Though he does buy you small things like coffee and food.

Dates with Sho are often held at your dorm with a home cooked meal made by him. He does take you on amusement park dates, arcade dates, and even cooking dates.

Sho does enjoy physical touch, and often holds your hand. Kisses and hugs are saved for private. He loves cuddling with you.

He actively keeps you away from Leo, but he doesn’t mind you being around Alan. 

You’re his encouragement, and he looks forward to whenever he gets to see you.

Subaru is a mess when it comes to courting you. When you approve of him courting, he nervously starts.

Subaru’s texts are polite and romantic. He doesn’t know how to flirt, so he often asks for advice from Haku and Zenji. 

Subaru uses his stigma to learn your preferences, which helps him not overthink presents for you. He also gets help from Haku about gifts for you.

Lots of flowers, jewelry, and little trinkets are given to you by him. He gives you a pretty decorated good luck charm that he made.

Subaru’s dates are pretty chill. He takes you to watch Kabuki, you two have little tea dates, and you take little walks through scenic places. 

Subaru doesn’t like physical touch due to his stigma, but if you do, he’ll deal with it. He does like hugging you, he just wishes his stigma doesn’t activate.

You have tea and snacks with Haku and Zenji occasionally. Subaru sometimes joins in with them when he isn’t busy. 

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 2: Reign of Mercy

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: There’s a whole world here, where your curse can start to bloom…

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.1k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, past attempted murder

a/n: if anyone is wondering, 190811 jungkook is exactly who I have in my head for this fic. so, go google that and thank me later😍😂 also if you saw me change the summary, don't mind me😙 one more thing, I just wanted to clarify that while I say female reader, in this fic it's just the use of she/her pronouns. reader is shorter than Jungkook, but I don't think there's any actual anatomy description going on, in case that's a worry for you!

supercharged playlist

“You’re kidding, right?”

Namjoon made no reply to Jungkook at first, simply sighing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved past the younger man and sank into the sofa. Anyone would have thought he hadn’t heard the irate question.

Eventually he deigned to give a weary reply.

“Jungkook, we can’t pick and choose what happens. And nor could she. So drop it.”

Silent, wide eyes flickered between the two from the kitchen. Jimin’s breath stilled at his lips watching his two brothers while he clutched V’s hand tightly.

Chewing over Namjoon’s response, Jungkook was like a ticking bomb. His gaze never faltered, blazing eyes fixed on his leader.

“Jungkook.”

Only now did his tense form turn, finding Yoongi sat on the sofa behind him, relaxed with one leg slung over the other. No one had seen him come in, but that was normal. He still had his hood up; probably just got back.

Aiming a level look at the youngest, Yoongi said no more.

Exhaling, Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little. Simultaneously, a hint of poison leaked away from the air in the room.

Jungkook turned around.

“It was Bolt, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Namjoon didn’t try to deny it.

Swallowing, Jungkook stepped back to take a seat by Yoongi. He did not relax into the sofa's comfort, however, staying perched on the edge, alert.

“It’ll be fine,” Namjoon spoke firmly, “I understand you’re not feeling great about it, but you’ll get used to it. A good night’s sleep, and you’ll forget you were ever this mad.”

Jungkook scoffed derisively. Like that was ever going to happen.

“It’s not fair on the kid,” Yoongi weighed in, “she was pretty beat up.”

“See?” Namjoon agreed, as if that was a positive thing. “Never mind how she might look, she was a victim of Bolt too.”

Eyes slipping to the floor, Jungkook stuck his tongue in his cheek.

“You know how we work.”

Namjoon’s words were final. And Jungkook could easily read within them the challenge, daring him to question their methods. Their trust. And he could never do that. Angry as he was, he knew Namjoon was right.

“How you’re feeling is valid,” a softer voice tentatively entered.

As Jimin slid into the spot beside him, shuffling as close as possible with comforting arms enfolding his form, Jungkook gave in. Slouching at last, he leaned into his brother as V found a spot opposite.

“But try to be fair,” Jimin’s gentle reminder sounded in his ear.

Jungkook stayed silent.

Cracking open, the door left a gap just big enough for Jin to talk through. The sound proofing on your safe room made it necessary.

“Good morning! Are you decent?”

He had to resist the panicked urge to enter when nothing answered him for a moment. But he needn’t have worried; you were still asleep. His greeting brought the first ray of light with it to illuminate your room, and soon had you stirring.

Eyelids inching open, you managed a groggy humming sound.

“Can I come in?”

“Huh? Yeah,” you croaked, coming to your senses.

Sitting up among a crumpled pile of blankets, you were in time to receive a glass of water from Jin as he entered. On moving, your head announced its displeasure with a nauseating wave of pain, so you were grateful for the pills he then pushed into your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

Swallowing them down with the cold water, you finally became alert enough to feel embarrassed. In front of you, Jin was professionally dressed in a shirt, smart as he had been the night before. You however, probably looked like the worst hangover in history.

“Not bad…” you muttered.

Examining your hands, there was mercifully no sign of that cursed blue so far. The burn you had sustained was also remarkably faded.

“Up to some breakfast? It would certainly help.”

Not sure how hungry you were, you agreed anyway. He probably knew best.

Stepping outside, he waited while you slipped on some clothes he had brought. They were fairly shapeless, large black things, but you couldn’t exactly complain.

Just as the sweater fell over your head, a prickling sensation burst into your wrists.

Gasping, you dropped the jumper over your eyes to look. To your surprise the blue shocks of light jumped from your fingertips and up the fibres of the garment like static. You braced for the burning feeling like last time, but it never came.

Still not free from the knot of fear which tightened every time the powers leapt out, you stared, dumbstruck at your palms.

“Y/N? Are you nearly ready?”

Blinking rapidly, you looked, startled to the door.

“Sorry! One moment!” you called.

There you stood, fully dressed, yet frozen to the spot. As much as this room felt like a cell, you were safe in the knowledge that your powers would do no damage in here. If you left its walls, you had no way of controlling it.

Fists clenching of their own accord, you didn't notice the gasping sniffles that took over you as you watched the door fearfully.

Clearly, Jin did.

“Y/N?” his voice was markedly more concerned, “I’m coming in.”

A moment’s pause, and he was coming towards you.

A firm grip on your wrists pulled you back to reality. Horrified, you stared wide-eyed at Jin’s hands, expecting at any moment for them to be fried when your powers made themselves known. But he was unafraid, keeping them there without hesitation.

“Y/N.” His steady tone had you raising your eyes to him. “I know this is strange for you. But you won’t hurt any of us, it’s perfectly fine. And besides, food makes everything better.”

Holding his smiling gaze with scepticism, you let your hands fall weakly to your sides as he released them. Wiggling your fingers, you tried to detect any sign of the electricity that now resided there.

With a sigh, you only lagged a few steps when you followed Jin's lead out of the room.

A little way down the corridor, a glorious smell of cooking wafted past. Perhaps Jin had a point.

Emerging into the kitchen, you eagerly headed towards the mouth watering scent. But on rounding the corner, your steps slowed a little. Although the space was mostly empty, providing some relief from the overwhelm of last night, the figures that occupied the place were not ones that built your confidence.

By the stove, flipping bacon in a pan, was a man you hadn’t seen before. But you only caught a glimpse of his profile under white hair, before your eyes fell on the other, seated at the island.

Slowing, you instantly recognised the face of Jungkook, who had looked so angry last time he had seen you. Tentative to get too close, you stopped entirely some steps away from the seats.

Nearer to you, the tv was on, volume low as it displayed the news to two empty sofas. But, eager for the distraction, you let your eyes linger on it to delay approaching the intimidating man in the kitchen.

Shame it didn’t provide the respite you were bargaining for. A shot of a city tower cut directly to a startling blue image, the beaming face of a man otherwise hidden by his mask. Bolt.

Your eyes widened, breath freezing in your body as the blue eyes on screen seemed to pierce through to meet your own. The same blue which had confronted you in the mirror last night.

Gulping, you forced your eyes down to the rolling red text below the images.

BOLT SPARES ATTACKER, REIGN OF MERCY PREVAILS

Something churned, low and dangerous in your gut. The letters leered, imprinting themselves on your retinas as you struggled to believe them.

“…you know, my job is to keep people safe, not to sentence them…” Bolt’s voice carried faintly from the screen, twisting harshly in your ears, “…the authorities are the real heroes, I just lend a hand where I can…”

So Bolt had done the noble thing, and left Kuyang unharmed? Except he had sentenced you. Judge, jury and executioner, all in the blink of an eye. In one throwaway flicker of light.

Taeyeon hadn’t even been so lucky.

You hadn’t even noticed the tension in your frame until the image in front of you suddenly shrunk, dropping to black.

“That’s enough of that.”

Jin threw the remote onto the sofa, giving you a meaningful glance. You avoided it, spinning back onto your original path, having totally forgotten your reason for abandoning it in the first place.

Jungkook had been shovelling food into his mouth, but looked up as Jin rounded the island.

And then he saw you.

Straightening instantly in his chair, his chopsticks hovered in mid-air as his every action halted.

Your brain failed you, leaving you staring right back. It was only after a second that you jerkily prompted yourself to smile. Might as well try to make a good impression.

His brow quirked a little, the only acknowledgment you got. Because not a second later, you were gasping as a shock ran down your arms.

Hurriedly fisting your hands in your jumper, you gritted your teeth. Already subsiding, the familiar feeling was seeping away as a chair screeched against the floor and Jungkook’s tall figure brushed roughly past you.

Turning after him with shock, you could only watch the rigid line of his shoulders as he marched away down the hall.

“Breakfast is served!”

Jin’s chipper call pulled you reluctantly back to the table. Seating yourself, you caught him looking regretfully after Jungkook.

Though the food on your plate was steaming hot and looked delicious, you frowned around at the kitchen. Hadn’t someone else just been here? And what had just happened with Jungkook?

As you began to eat, you eyed Jin’s back. Could you have done something to upset Jungkook? The way Jin had looked ready to run after him reminded you again of the fact you had suddenly intruded, albeit not of your own accord, on what seemed to be an established group.

Fixing your eyes on your plate, you focussed on getting through breakfast. It was admittedly very tasty, and you felt energy return to your body once more.

“Any better?”

Jin’s stubbornly upbeat mood was back, and now you were finally able to offer him a smile and a nod. Feeling full and a little more alive, you turned your attention to Jin who leant towards you from across the table.

“You’re still recovering from yesterday, but we need to do a little bit of work” – you frowned slightly – “it’s not like we want to put you in full training, but Joon reckons you would appreciate being able to control your powers a little.”

Though you nodded, your frown deepened.

“Training?”

“Ah.”

That was all Jin said before standing, leaving you no option but to follow him. Abandoning the kitchen, you hurried to his heels and walked, confused as ever, back down the corridor away from the main space.

However, this time, you passed by the door to your small room. There was little variation in scenery as you went further down the corridor. You found yourself near enough tripping over Jin’s heels when he stopped in front of the final door that ended the hallway. Plain and dark like the others, it was like a black hole, pulling you towards it.

Looking up at Jin, you tore your eyes away from his hand where it rested, hovering on the handle. His mouth had drawn itself into a flatter line, smile erased in favour of a serious stare.

“The others are probably in there already, so… just stay near.”

And then he flashed a smile, as if he had been inviting you in for tea.

With no more time to worry about what on earth he meant by that, you were greeted with the door opening and an instant cacophony of sound from beyond it.

Eyes widening, you forced newly tense muscles forwards. Jin’s reminder to ‘stay near’ pressed close on your mind as he disappeared into the dim space beyond.

A thin staircase curved and led you downwards. When the door shut, it cut off no light. In here, flashes bounced off dark walls, air cracking as it was tossed around.

Coming to the base of the stairs, you looked over a long room. It resembled a gym, a couple of benches and punching bags pushed against the outside walls and large square mats on the floor. Sure enough, as Jin had said, some of the boys you had met the previous day were dotted along it.

As you stopped beside Jin, who waited by the steps, another spark, like lightning, burst across the far end of the space. Gold sliced through the air in a thick, powerful beam, veins darting into the air.

Just as quickly, it was gone.

“Jungkook has the most similar powers to you,” Jin’s voice, low in your ear, “which is why we would have him teach you, but… I don’t think that’s best, right now.”

He moved into the space without elaborating. Though your feet carried you with him, you were occupied by squinting across at Jungkook. He hadn’t noticed you yet. He was facing away, and now he rolled his shoulders out, shaking hair from his face, and raised his arms again.

In the blink of an eye, vibrant gold shot from his palms, towards a sort of metal disk on the wall opposite him.

“Look out!”

Your gaze at Jungkook was severed as a tug came on your arm.

In your distraction, your feet had stilled, and now you stumbled towards Jin and out of the path of a medicine ball which slammed into the wall with a dull thud. Gulping, you watched it fall heavily to the ground, not even bouncing.

“Sorry!”

Snapping your jaw shut, you found the source of the apology.

Chest heaving and pink hair plastered to his forehead, was the man that had smiled at you last night. He shot another dazzling grin now, as if he hadn’t just sent a weighted ball shooting at where your head had been.

But as your eyebrows raised, he lifted a hand and suddenly the ball floated up from its resting place on the ground. The next moment it was flying back towards him.

Flattening his hand, the ball stopped and stayed hovering a few inches above his palm.

You must have failed to hide the shock on your face. The moment he looked over to you, he burst out laughing, eyes creasing. And you couldn’t be sure – his eyes were obscured after all – but they might have glowed pink for a moment as you watched. The ball never moved, seemingly fixed in place in mid-air.

“That’s Jimin,” Jin muttered, then raised his voice, “get back to it!”

Laughter subsiding into a bold grin, Jimin snatched the medicine ball from the air and turned away.

Close behind Jin, you made more effort to stay with him this time, eager not to find yourself in the path of any more flying things.

Further along, the wall gave way to an opening. A similar room lay beyond, square this time. Peering around the corner, a familiar blond zoomed across your vision. But watching the person, you could barely believe it was the same cheery Hope who had welcomed you yesterday.

This room had more equipment, ropes descending from the middle of the ceiling, as well as bars and hoops filling the floor. And currently Hobi was way above your heads, making easy work of a rope. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he leapt from it with zero hesitation.

A second later, he landed securely on the wall, grasping small climbing holds you hadn’t noticed. They were black just like the walls, only noticeable because he was now clutching onto them.

Pulling himself up, he launched once again into the air, kicking off the neighbouring wall into a somersault. You had barely scooped your jaw off the floor when he landed on a lower platform and dropped out of sight behind it.

“You know Hob-ah already,” Jin said conversationally. His light tone sounded more like he was showing you around an art gallery, not that you had just seen his friend performing death-defying stunts.

Rushing once more to keep up with your guide, your eyes never settled. They darted from him to the surroundings, not having time to look more at the flash of purple from across the room or the white-haired man slumping onto a bench near Jungkook.

“So this-“ you panted, “this is training?”

“Yep!”

“You… you all train with your powers?”

A nod.

You had reached the end of the gym now. A couple more doors led on; where, you could not guess. This place seemed like a maze. You didn’t even know whether you were underground or not at this point.

Sticking close to Jin, you couldn’t help but shrink back as you passed Jungkook. He was a few strides away, but as you expected, that venomous glare fixed itself back on his face the moment he saw you.

Sparks crackled by his fingertips, drawing your eyes. Was he trying to intimidate you?

Brow sinking and nostrils flaring, you fixed a stare right back at him. You hadn’t spoken to him once! What could his problem be? As you glared, a flicker of gold darted across his irises.

But then you had apparently reached your destination, as Jin opened one of the doors and you were led away, gaze warring with Jungkook until the last moment.

Once you turned back to Jin, you found him a way down the new hallway. Quickening to catch up, you frowned at the back of Jin’s head.

“What… what power do you have?” you asked tentatively.

In front of the next door, Jin stopped, making you do the same. A soft chuckle left him, his face good-humoured as he turned to you as if you had just told a joke. Shaking his head, his eyes turned back to the door you waited at.

“Me? No, I don’t have any powers.”

And then he was rapping at the door.

“One moment!” came a call from inside.

“Except maybe keeping Namjoon-ssi organised,” Jin winked at you then.

Too startled to form any kind of response, you hadn’t so much as laughed before the door was pulled open. Jin swiftly left as Namjoon smiled in greeting and stood back to let you into the room.

Swallowing, you stepped into the space. It was fairly unremarkable, grey walls with a plain desk and a couple of chairs in the middle.

You paused a few steps in, but now Namjoon strode to the desk. Following, you sat opposite him. A tension had seeped into your frame and now you eyed him warily as he made himself comfortable, a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m sure Jin told you,” he began, “we don’t expect you to do anything with your powers just yet. But it will make things easier for you if you can control them a little. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

Taking you in for a moment, Namjoon was silent. Then he sat back and spread his arms.

“I want you to summon them.”

“What?”

Your protest was instant, but you got no further.

“If you can summon them, that level of control will help you to suppress them as well,” Namjoon explained calmly, finger raised to quell your complaints, “not to mention that by using your powers, it prevents the need for them to burst out uncontrolled as well.”

“But… I don’t know how to summon them,” you spoke quieter, hanging your head.

The scrape of his chair brought your eyes up again. An encouraging nod your way had you standing as well.

“Hold your hands out.”

Still hesitant, you did it anyway. He seemed to have no issue with the fact he would be directly in your line of fire if you actually succeeded.

“Okay. I would have liked to ask Jungkook to do this with you, since his powers are most like yours. I don’t know exactly what your powers feel like, so you’ll have to think about that yourself. Can you imagine how it felt when you used them?”

You chewed your lip as you tried to recall. It hadn’t been pleasant, you knew that. A sort of itching, tingling sensation – though at first it had been worse, like a burning.

You didn’t want to feel that again.

“Got it?” he asked.

Nodding weakly, you listened to the next instructions.

“As a starting point, try to picture the feeling. Hopefully they should respond. Really focus, and when they do, try to sustain it for a couple of seconds. You should be able to feel the core, where the power is flowing from.”

You blinked. You hadn’t really understood any of that, but you took a deep breath anyway.

Letting your eyes slide closed, you tried to remember precisely the feeling of your powers. Not that you wanted to feel the electricity claw its way down your veins, or burst from your fingertips.

Nonetheless, you willed the fire to unleash itself.

It must have sensed your reluctance, though. Nothing came.

Dropping your arms after a few more moments, you sent an apologetic glance to Namjoon. But he didn’t look disappointed in the least like you had imagined he would.

“It almost never works the first time,” he said. “Keep trying.”

Biting down on your lip, you resigned yourself and raised your hands again.

“If it helps, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he kept talking, “you won’t hurt me, or damage anything. In fact, you can actively try to hit me if you want. Imagine I’m someone you hate!”

His dimpled grin made it hard to imagine him as an enemy you would enjoy frying with lightning. Focussing again on the non-existent feeling in your arms and hands, you tried to come up with some sort of motivation.

Your first thought was Bolt.

You had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough for him to rule your life out as insignificant. The single thoughtless shock of blue could well have ended your life – nearly did.

A sharp flicker of heat made your eyes fly open. At the same moment, an exclamation from Namjoon.

For a split second, blue had bloomed in your palms, but it had slipped away before you could grasp it.

“That was good,” he encouraged, “a bit longer next time.”

Breathing heavily, you shut your eyes again, the sensation more present in your mind now. Your anger at Bolt had helped, but the memory was so fleeting it couldn’t sustain the feeling.

Taking a steadying breath, you straightened your arms in front of you. You wanted to do this. Strangely, the next face that cropped up was that of Jungkook. Glaring whenever he saw you, he seemed to resent your presence.

Maybe he didn’t want you there? Didn’t think you belonged?

You would show him. You wanted to do this. If you could control your powers, he would have no reason to look down on you.

Gritting your teeth, you looked the inevitable pain right in the face, challenging it to come out.

Like a floodgate opening, you felt a heat expand in your chest, energy flowing down your arms. When your eyes opened, they were met with a beam of light as it exploded out from your hands.

Without noticing it, your jaw had dropped. The bright blue light you had so quickly come to despise spilled confidently from open palms. Very quickly, the discomfort of electricity in your veins faded, nothing a but a slight warmth to indicate your power.

Around you, you vaguely noticed a deep red glow hanging in the air. Made of light, the cage-like structure stretched from the floor and was containing the lightning you were creating.

On the other side of it, Namjoon stood unharmed, your power dissipating, melting in mid-air before it could harm him.

“Stop,” he now told you, voice slightly raised.

Blinking as spots bleached themselves into your vision, you tore your eyes from the light that had hypnotised you. How did you make it stop?

“Make the feeling go away,” Namjoon said, “the opposite of what you just did. You control these powers.”

You didn’t exactly feel that was true. Arms beginning to tremble, you desperately scrambled to shut it off. It felt warm, so you tried to think of cold, creeping up your arms…

The beams of light sputtered.

Breathing in, you clenched your fists around the power. You could tell it was stemming from your chest, and tried to focus on shutting it off. It felt much like swimming upstream, counter-intuitive as you had to forcefully reign in the feeling that suddenly felt natural.

Holding your breath, you screwed your eyes shut.

Your powers pushed back, wanting to be free. But you dug your heels in, getting the odd sensation that you were backed up against a door that didn’t want to shut.

But the warmth was receding, the stream of energy down your arms thinning.

Namjoon was repeating your name. You had to stop.

All at once, like a candle blown out, the light was gone. All the heat snuffed out, the barrier in your chest blockaded.

Gasping, you fell forwards, stumbling until your arms braced against the desk. Before now you hadn’t noticed the sweat breaking out on your forehead, nor the exertion making you heave for breath.

The red cage dissolved around you, a flash of crimson dying in Namjoon’s eyes.

“Good, well done,” he was saying, a chair being thrust under you. Sinking gladly into it, you still leaned heavily on the table.

“That was good,” he repeated, a glass of water making its way into your hand, “I won’t make you do more now. But it was a start.”

Panting, you raised your eyes as you lifted the glass to your lips. The water was welcome since you felt like you had just run the length of the city. Wrangling your powers to your will was difficult, but you didn’t know what you had expected.

A sharp chime rang out.

Starting, you saw Namjoon’s gaze snap to the tabletop, where a screen had lit up. A small circle and a name popped up, but he swiped it quickly away, the screen’s light dying the next second.

But you frowned. You could have sworn that said-

“Apologies,” he spoke, standing up, “business calls. Is it alright if you rest outside? You can find your way back when you’re ready. We have no more demands to make of you for a while.”

And so you followed him to the door, being left alone soon after.

You looked each way down the plain corridor outside. Letting a breath out, you resolved to at least find a seat before collapsing with exhaustion, so you set off, feeling a little lost. So far you hadn’t really been left alone here, always being shown the way.

But it was simple enough, only a straight path to the large training room you had already seen.

It was emptier now. Someone was evidently still training as you could hear noise, but it came from out of sight in one of the adjoining spaces. Otherwise, the place was now deserted, leaving you free to sink onto the nearest bench.

Limbs feeling a little shaky, you gladly took the weight off them and slumped back against the wall.

You were unsure how long you spent staring into space, catching your breath. That had been tiring, so much effort expended for relatively little result. You supposed you should be proud that you had achieved some level of control over the powers, but you still felt no safer. If they were to surge again, you were no closer to being able to hold them off with any ease, nor to summon them.

The only thing you were sure of was that the energy from breakfast had quickly been chased away, and the prospect of ever getting up again was distinctly unappealing.

“Hey!”

The cheery call pulled you from your thoughts. At some point the sounds from the next room had ceased, outside your notice, and now Hope was walking from the training room.

Having seen you, he changed course and was heading your way. The sight of his sweat-soaked hair and reddened face reassured you for a moment – you weren’t the only one tired. But this only comforted you for a split second before you remembered the sorts of stunts he had been doing, while you had only half succeeded in your beginner attempt.

“First training session?” he asked, thousand-watt grin never fading.

“If you could call it training,” you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Ah, you’ll be great in no time!” As he drew up to you, you finally mustered the strength to stand up, joining him to a clap on the shoulder. Taking in your dejected state, he offered a sympathetic smile. “Tiring tho, hmm?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I know what you need! Some good food will pick you right up.”

You couldn’t say you disagreed, and put all your remaining energy into getting up the stairs and to the kitchen while Hobi talked on happily.

“I’ll get us something,” he told you once you were there.

Infinitely grateful for his offer, you slid into the closest seat and resisted the urge to face-plant the table. Instead you leaned on your elbows, watching idly as he grabbed plates from the cupboards.

“Ah! Y/N! How was it?”

A new addition rushed to the kitchen, familiar pink hair approaching as Jimin took a seat beside you. You looked back into a bright smile as he sat expectant.

Laughing drily, you looked at the countertop.

“I don’t think I’m a natural.”

Tilting his head, he pouted a little at your response and lifted a hand to rub your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s always tough to start with,” he nodded, “but the beginning is the hardest. Don’t push yourself.”

“Yeah, we can’t all be Jungkook,” Hobi laughed. He returned to the table with two plates of sandwiches, pushing one under your nose. Jimin quickly turned his attention to pout at Hope, who rolled his eyes and shoved the other plate towards the pink-haired boy before returning to prepare another for himself.

As desperate as you had been a moment ago for some food, your curiosity was piqued.

““Be Jungkook”? What do you mean?”

“Our golden youngest,” Jimin explained, taking a large bite of his meal before adding, “for more than one reason.”

“It’s seriously unfair,” Hobi spoke over his shoulder, “the kid can do anything he sets his mind to. Best pupil Joon’s ever had.”

Shutting your mouth, you sank a little in your chair. Jimin was buried in his sandwich, and Hobi in the kitchen, leaving you to pick at your own plate. But you only bit your lip. So Jungkook was some kind of prodigy?

You sighed, neglecting your food entirely. It made you feel even worse about your terrible performance and lack of skill. And here you were, thinking that you would be able to prove yourself to the man who seemed to hate you.

Only when a flickering light distracted you did you look up from your hopelessness.

The kitchen light blinked off entirely for a brief moment, returning to reveal Hobi whirling around with a shout.

“That’s my lunch! Make your own, this is already my second try!”

Frowning, you looked around trying to spot who Hope was berating. Nothing.

While you sat perplexed, the blond suddenly leapt across your vision, jumping high enough to hop from the kitchen table and towards the sofa. As he landed, another figure became abruptly visible, falling as if emerging from a patch of shadow.

Beside you, Jimin guffawed loudly as you gaped. Hobi had knocked the mysterious figure from seemingly thin air, and now deftly swept a plate of sandwiches from their hands, the whole while straddling them to keep them pinned on the sofa cushions.

“Nice try!”

A muffled ‘get off’ accompanied flailing arms, vague attempts at whacking their attacker.

Heaving himself from the couch, Hobi walked victorious to the counter and began, at last, to eat. Behind him, a white-haired young man sat up, ruffling his dishevelled hair as a hood fell from his head.

He turned around with a sheepish smile, shuffling back to the kitchen.

“Be gentle, Hob-ah,” he grumbled on his way past, though there was no malice behind it.

Hobi only laughed loudly in return, turning as the white-haired man came past and playfully hit at his shoulder.

“You’re all brats!” Hope claimed loudly, waving half a sandwich in the air. He was laughing so hard you were concerned for a moment he would fall clean off the chair.

As yet, the new man hadn’t noticed your blatant staring. Luckily, your attention was diverted before he could see your saucer-like eyes. Unluckily, it was diverted by the entrance of a certain Jungkook.

Jimin had been the first to stop laughing. Looking around, you became aware of the tall figure hanging back in the shadows on the other side of the living room.

The raucous joy that had filled the kitchen froze over very quickly as the other occupants noticed him. Cold, piercing eyes scanned over the space, but undeniably landed on you. Struck dumb, you merely stared back as his calculating gaze bored into you.

Setting his jaw, his gaze snapped away, fleeting over the rest of the room for a moment before he turned and left.

Sliding from his chair, Jimin dropped his remaining lunch back onto his plate.

“Jungkook-” he called, shoulders drooping when there was no response. With a sigh he followed after the younger man.

You watched him go, and then watched the empty doorway he had left through. When at last you turned slowly back to the kitchen, Hoseok sent you a grimace.

“Sorry it’s taking him a while to warm up,” he said, as if that was consolation. It didn’t seem as if Jungkook was trying to ‘warm up’ to you at all.

You produced no reply, but were saved the trouble as the white-haired man joined you. For the first time, he looked at you, eyes roaming over your face, still surely littered with scrapes from the previous night.

“You look better than yesterday,” he commented.

You blinked.

“I’m sorry… have we met?”

“Yoongi,” he nodded, sinking onto a chair. Then, “you should eat that.”

That had hardly explained anything, but you complied anyway, picking up your food. Once you had finally finished your sandwich, the quiet was disrupted by Namjoon entering. Nodding once at you, he headed across to the kitchen.

Seeing him again, you were reminded of the ‘business’ call that had taken him from you earlier on. Eyes lingering on his back as he busied himself grabbing a mug and plate from the cupboards, your curiosity swelled within you. You were sure you had seen who was calling him. Though your life before Bolt – and all that happened since – seemed so distant, you couldn’t help your keen interest.

On the edge of your seat, you chewed on your lip until you couldn’t hold it any more.

“How’s Kuyang?” you blurted.

The others’ eyes snapped to you. Namjoon froze.

Slowly, he turned around, faint frown lining his face. You never dropped his questioning stare.

“He’s… fine,” he spoke.

“Sorry,” Hope looked lost, “you know Kuyang?”

Before you could do more than nod, Yoongi spoke up too.

“He’s fine? How did he get away from Bolt?”

“That’s not important.” Namjoon strode across the kitchen, “but how do you know Kuyang?”

“I was his secretary.”

You had hoped your honesty might prompt Namjoon to reciprocate, but no such luck. His reason for involvement with Kuyang was promptly forgotten. Hobi gasped at your news; Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly as if something was dawning on him.

But Namjoon beat him to it.

“That explains why you were hit by Bolt,” he said.

“We thought you were just a bystander that got unlucky,” Hobi chipped in.

Just as you opened your mouth to return to your original question, Namjoon turned away from the table. Swiping his food from the counter, he marched away.

Halfway across the room, he paused with a look over his shoulder. Maybe he would give in and tell you at last?

“I suggest you rest,” he told you instead, “Jungkook is going to help you practise some more tomorrow.”

Thank you for reading!! I'm so looking forward to hearing what you thought🥰

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[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

The Human Bit the Werewolf?

Chapter 2: The What the Fuck Years

Read on AO3 | Read Chapter 1

Derek Hale

3:56 pm

Stiles: I’m sorry. I def fucked up bc I didn’t know the biting thing was like a thing

Stiles: Bc of my adhd I have this fun little thing where I bite people as a form of affection

Stiles: You rly can’t call it weird since biting is apparently also a werewolf thing so

4:23 pm

Stiles: Also, i had a concussion so you super can’t blame me

5:48 pm

Stiles: Could you at least answer so I know you didn’t die or disappear again

7:13 pm

Stiles: ???

   Stiles groaned, dropping his phone beside him on the bed and letting his arms fall to the bed as he glared up at his ceiling. He tried apologizing and explaining and waited literal hours for a reply and all he got was a big fat lot of nothing. 

   And he still heard nothing from Derek the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Three days of nothing.

   See, at first, Stiles had been anxious and worried he’d really fucked up his (tentative)friendship with Derek. Then he went three days without an answer and he knew Derek was still able to use his phones because he was still texting Scott and the other betas about patrol! Derek was just ignoring him and that really got on Stiles’s nerves. 

   On Thursday night, Stiles got a text from Scott.

#1 Dumbass

4:27 pm

Scott: Dude where are you???

Stiles: wdym? I’m at home

Scott: Are you sick

Stiles: no why

Scott: pack meeting tonight?

Scott: you coming?

Stiles: Shit i didn’t know

Stiles: be there in like 15

   When had they decided to have a meeting tonight? Stiles checked his messages just to be sure but he hadn’t missed a text from anyone, especially not Derek who normally sent reminders about meetings.

   When Stiles finally got to the loft, he found they had already started talking without him. They paused when he walked in and joined them.

   “Hey guys, sorry I’m late,” he said. Isaac made room for Stiles without a word and Stiles sat down next to him. “I must have forgotten we had this planned.”

   “Didn’t you get Derek’s text,” Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow at him like he was stupid.

   Stiles’s eyes flicked between Lydia and Derek, noticing that he was the only person not looking at Stiles. “No, I didn’t… Must have not gone through.”

   The entire pack meeting, Derek refused to even look at Stiles and it was really starting to piss him off. First he ignores all of Stiles’s texts for days, then he tries to exclude him and now he pretends Stiles doesn't exist? Seriously, what the fuck? You know what? Fuck it. They were going to figure this out one way or another. If Derek wouldn’t answer his texts, Stiles would talk to him in -person after the meeting.

   “We need to talk,” Stiles said, following Derek as he walked away from the pack. 

   “About what,” Derek said, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

   “Are you— You know what about,” Stiles said, stopping himself from going off.

   “Nothing to be said about it,” Derek told him, stopping at the bathroom door and turning to look at Stiles. “Anything else?”

   “Why are you ignoring my texts?”

   “I don’t have anything to add about the topic. You didn’t ask a question and I had nothing to ask you,” Derek said, obviously trying to avoid the conversation. 

   Stiles glared at him. “Why’d you try to exclude me from the pack meeting tonight,” he asked.

   “Didn’t mean to. I thought Scott would tell you,” Derek shifted uncomfortably under Stiles’s glare, looking like he wanted to escape. Is that it?”

   “Why don’t you want to talk to me,” Stiles asked. “You’re acting like I’m the dangerous one here. Was it really such a big deal that you can’t stand to be near me anymore?”

   Derek closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He took the moment to gather himself and then met Stiles’s eyes. “Even though it’s not how you meant it, the meaning behind biting that I grew up with makes it… uncomfortable. Stiles, you’re a child—”

   “I’m seventeen,” Stiles scoffed, cutting Derek off. “I’ll be eighteen in April! You’re barely three years older than me.”

   “You’re a child, a minor, and the fact that you don’t understand that seventeen is still a child makes me all the more sure,” Derek said. “I’m making sure nothing like that happens again because it makes me feel gross.”

   “I make you feel gross,” Stiles asked, only getting more angry. 

   Derek rolled his eyes. “You can be mad at me all you want. I’m the adult in the situation so I’m putting a stop to it.”

   “Oh, fuck you,” Stiles scoffed and walked away. 

   He complained to himself the entire walk out to the jeep, cussing Derek out and replaying the conversation in his head. He started his drive home pissed off. 

   But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. While Stiles still didn’t think he was a child and three years didn’t seem like much, at least not until he thought about someone three years younger than him would be only fourteen and that… was really weird. Fuck, was Derek right?

   Perk of ADHD: you get over being mad at people faster because you don’t think about it.

   Downside of ADHD: YOU FORGET THAT YOU’RE MAD AT PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

   Stiles was still mad at Derek. He was really mad for the first two months where Derek avoided talking to him as much as possible, anger which he annoyingly forgot not two weeks into Derek willingly talking to him. Sure, he kept the conversations short and didn’t add much but Stiles was used to him being quiet. It was another four months– just after Stiles’s eighteenth birthday– that Derek would have normal conversations with him, even if he still kept his distance. 

   More annoyingly, Stiles’s crush didn’t seem to care that he was mad at Derek because he was still unreasonably attractive. Like, who the fuck green-lit that decision? How the hell did anyone think that giving a man that face with those eyes and the effortless werewolf muscles was fair? Were they trying for Adonis 2.0? Absolute bull shit and completely unfair!

   And it wasn’t like Derek was just hot, he had to be a good person to, the fucking asshole. It would have been one thing if Stiles just thought Derek was hot, he could get over that, but he was in deep for this man. Derek put his whole life on hold to protect Beacon Hills, a city full of people who only knew him as a traumatized kid that was suspected of killing his own sister. Derek’s only family left was Peter– who he had yet to kill again even though he deserved it– Malia–  who still thought of herself as a Tate and not a Hale– and Cora– who was in Brazil or Argentina or somewhere like that– but he never complained or thought of leaving Beacon Hills to join his sister. Okay, so maybe he complained about Peter but who wouldn’t? And he was protective of the pack and would make sure everyone was okay after even a tiny scuffle. He listened, at times begrudgingly, to the arguments of the pack. He took all the patrol shifts nobody else wanted. He let them crash at his place and made sure there was food they could take. 

   Stiles started college and, holy shit, did he understand why Derek had called him a kid just a few months ago. He couldn’t even put it into words, really. After his first semester of college, he started to see the divide between high schoolers and himself. It was weird. He’d grown up with most of them and, yet, it was like a divide had opened up. By spring break, he felt like he was lightyears apart from high schoolers and he realized he needed to apologize to Derek. Like, actually apologize.

   Stiles stood awkwardly at Derek’s door, debating whether he really wanted to do this or not. The decision was made for him when Derek opened the door.

   “Hey,” Stiles said lamely.

   “Hi,” Derek said back, raising an eyebrow, “Did you need something?”

   “Ya. Well, kind of,” Stiles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

   Derek tilted his head, “for what?”

   “For being a total dick when you called me a kid. I get it now,” Stiles mumbled, looking at his shoes. “Thanks for, ya know, being the adult. I guess I didn’t realize how much growing up I still had to do, still have to do.”

   Derek looked at Stiles, really looked at him. He realized how much had changed, that Stiles wasn’t just a gangly awkward kid anymore. Stiles was growing up and figuring himself out, starting to figure out the whole adult. Derek didn’t have it figured out yet– hell, he wasn’t even sure Peter had figured out how to be an adult yet– but maybe they could figure it out together. Be actual friends and not just keeping each other alive. 

   “Do you wanna come in,” Derek asked, putting an end to the silence that had started to grow between them. 

   “What?”

   “Do you want to come in? You can tell me about school, how things are on the east coast,’ Derek shrugged.

   Stiles smiled and stifled a laugh. “Surprisingly different from the west coast,” he said and Derek let him in. 

   He let Stiles in his apartment but he also let him in as a friend. It was… different.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN◾TWENTY

They start the day as normal as she's ever experienced with him, but in the end it's all just a ruse when he reminds her of her role, of his rules, and of the consequences should she break one...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Public fingering. Humiliation. Sugar Daddy behavior. Sex toys under clothing. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 8.9k

SEVENTEEN 🟥 EIGHTEEN 🟥 NINETEEN

She's still tired when he wakes her the next morning. Whether he used her during the night or not, she can't tell, she feels sore, but that's how she already felt when she fell asleep on him on the couch. Everything after that is gone from her conscious mind. And it doesn't matter either way. It's his right to do to her whatever he wants, if it makes him happy, she's fine with it.

What she's not fine with, but tries not to show too much, is how exhausted she is, and frankly a little hangry too, her stomach rumbling emptily, her limbs barely able to move. He pulls her out of bed, makes her brush her teeth and wash her face, superficially cleans his cum and her juices from between her legs. He also pulls the plug from her ass, finally. She can't even tell how long she's had that in there. The sudden emptiness feels weird, but she prefers it over the constant pressure.

He then dresses her in her pastel pink dress and nothing else because he either forgot about her panties in his pocket or doesn't want her to have that extra protective layer. While he dresses in fresh clothes he finds in the closet (a pair of jeans and a hoodie that looks good on him but strangely unfamiliar, too casual almost), he lets her use the bathroom, before he puts on her socks and sneakers, then drags her out of the cabin and into his car.

She feels like the doll she is, handled into place, buckled in, and with her head heavy and sleep still clinging to her, she lets him, kind of likes it even. It's easier that way.

If she would have been alone, she'd stay in bed for the rest of the day (or week). But he seems to be the more active kind of guy, always ready for the next adventure. Luckily the first thing he takes her to is a diner at the side of the road, somewhere rural, and the smells that assault her nostrils as he walks her into the heavily air-conditioned room, his hand tight around hers, make her almost drool in anticipation.

They sit down at a booth in the far back, she's in the corner, he beside her, and while she rubs her arms, he scans the menu, then waves the waitress over and orders something of everything. Unconsciously moving closer to him under the cold air, she flinches slightly when she bumps her shoulder into his arm, blushing when he looks at her. His arm moves around her shoulders and pulls her even closer before he kisses the top of her head.

“Are you cold?” he whispers. She nods, acutely aware of the shortness of her sleeveless dress and the lack of underwear. “We'll get you some clothes later, okay?”

She purses her lips. “What about... my backpack? It's still in your car, isn't it? I could wear something I brought...” It feels like forever ago that he asked her to pack up something she may need from her old apartment, but it was only yesterday, twenty-four hours ago, when her life changed completely.

He shakes his head. “I'd rather dress you up in something new,” he tells her quietly, giving her a wink.

Exhaling loudly, she looks away. “Why did I even bring anything then?” she mumbles under her breath, folding her arms over her chest, not just to underline her pouting, but to cover the goosebumps on her skin as well.

“What was that?” The sudden change in his tone makes her flinch, and she looks back at him, eyes widening, arms falling away. His gaze is dark, face stern, his body tense even with his arm around her in a casual manner.

“I... I, uh...”

“Speak up,” he says quietly, but with a demanding edge.

For a moment she's forgotten their roles, they've been so close, so comfortable around each other, but seeing him now, she can only duck her head, breathing harder, knowing she shouldn't have said anything.

“I –”

Footsteps sound behind them, and without breaking eye contact, she notices the waitress approaching their table. She presses her lips together and witnesses how his dark face lights up when he looks away and towards the woman carrying their order.

Suddenly he's smiling at the woman as she fills their table with various plates of different food items, and he thanks her with a soft voice, and she could swear the woman blushes, she even giggles when she nods her head and leaves again. Was he just flirting? In front of her?

She's pulled from one extreme to the next when he suddenly looks at her again, eyes narrowed, the darkness back in his gaze. She blinks in confusion, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions.

“We'll talk about this later,” he tells her sternly, retrieving his arm from around her shoulders, before he pushes the plate of pancakes towards her and puts a fork next to it.

She swallows hard, lowers her head. “Yes, sir,” she mumbles, focusing on the deliciously smelling food under her nose.

Her stomach tenses, but not in anticipation of nutrients. Suddenly she's back being bent over the back of his car, his belt whirring through the air and landing blow after blow on her soft skin. (And that was when he didn't have a reason to punish her.) The welts still burn, but she is sore all over so it blends into her other aches as she shifts on the seat.

She feels him looking at her, and the cold isn't just in the air around them, it's growing inside her. Poking at her pancakes, she tries to ease her breathing and the beating of her frantic heart. Was it disobedient to question his ways? To go back on his generosity to let her pack something from her old life, even if he doesn't allow her to use it anymore? It's not fair, but this has never been about fairness. He takes what he wants, she has to do what he says.

And she even has to endure if he flirts with other women, because why shouldn't he? But it still stings, to see him smiling at that waitress while he glares down at her now. It doesn't matter that she's the girl he decided to fuck, but maybe she'll like to see that smile as well? It's selfish, and a want she shouldn't have, she reminds herself as she chews on the first bite of pancake.

“I thought you were hungry,” she hears his low voice, and quickly looks up, straightening her shoulders.

“I... I am, I'm sorry,” she whispers, looking at him as she picks up another piece, but the fork misses her mouth slightly and pokes her cheek, smearing syrup all over her skin. A little whine escapes her, but before she can panic more, he's grabbed her hand and puts the fork down, then wipes at her soiled cheek, holding her gaze.

“Relax,” he says quietly, bringing his syrupy finger to his lips and licks it clean. She swallows and nods, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I am sorry, though,” she urges out.

He gives her another stare, even though his face isn't as dark anymore. “Eat,” he tells her and motions towards her plate.

She nods quickly and focuses back on her breakfast, picking up the fork with a shaking hand. Trying to keep her head empty (trying to think back to the times she's felt good and comfortable with him), she eats in silence, barely registering how he finishes his plate of bacon and eggs.

He's sipping on his coffee when the waitress returns, and she stares down at her emptying plate, breathing harder when another giggle comes to her ears. Stupid woman. Go away, she thinks darkly, a deep shiver that's not from the AC crashing through her.

“Can I bring you anything else? Maybe a juice for your daughter?”

She almost chokes on her pancake bite, coughing roughly as she feels her cheeks burning up. His hand is on her back, patting it gently, but he's still facing the waitress.

“No, thank you. I'd like the check though,” he replies, not even fixing the woman's mistake.

She doesn't look that young, does she? Well, she is still wearing that stupidly cute dress with the modest collar and the stupid flowers, and it's pink, and ugh, this can't be happening. If only that stupid woman could see the state of her thighs and the bruises on her neck and that she's not wearing any panties because he took them from her because he probably wants to keep easy access to her cunt so he can – oh god, what is she even thinking?

She bites the inside of her cheek so hard she's tasting blood, the sudden sting distracting her from her erratic thoughts. Breathing rougher through her nose, she shoves the last of her pancake into her mouth, chewing aggressively, still trying to ignore anything around her. The waitress just walks away, and as soon as she does, his hand moves under the table and dips right under the hem of her dress, eagerly slipping between her legs and poking at her folds, as if he's had the same thoughts just now.

She gasps softly and stares at him, swallowing hard to get the pancake down. His eyes are darker, pupils blown, and so intense she can't look away. He's moving his finger up and down her slit, and she can't help it, she's wet, and her thighs twitch, and –

Suddenly the waitress returns, check in hand, but he keeps his hand right where it is. She clamps her legs together in panic, but he doesn't care, just turns to the woman and hands her his credit card with his other hand – and another smile when she leaves them again. She squirms against him as he pushes his finger deeper, teasing at her entrance, but the more she protests, the rougher he gets, eventually forcing his way into her, adding another finger, curling them.

She's aware that her cheeks are burning, that her breaths are too fast, her shoulders shaking slightly as she tries not to move against his ministrations. The woman returns to the table and hands him his card, which he accepts with a casual nod of his head, another damn smile, and an infuriatingly nonchalant air around him as if he isn't fingering the girl the waitress declared his daughter in this very moment...

Luckily the skirt of her dress is long enough, the table positioned just so nobody can see the scene, but she still cannot completely halt her reactions. He leans against her when he slips his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, allowing him to push his hand further and his fingers deeper, and she croaks out a muffled moan, immediately putting a hand on her mouth as she stares at him with wide eyes.

His eyes hold her hostage, dark and intense, but only for a moment before he sits back and focuses on the waitress gathering their empty plates. The woman looks at her then, a frown on her face.

All she can do is clear her throat and lower her hand, face flushed even more.

“Are you alright, dear?” the woman asks, and she blinks, forcing a smile with tight lips, and nods. The waitress pulls her eyebrows up but doesn't press it any more before she leaves their table, plates balancing on one hand.

“You gotta learn to keep quiet,” he whispers, leaning back into her, his voice low in her ear, his breath hot on her cheek, his fingers deep in her cunt.

“M'sor-ah!” she chokes out, swallowing another moan when he curls his fingers and scrapes his short nails over her soft flesh, teasing that special spot. Her eyelids flutter, her stomach tenses, her head spins from the onslaught of sensations. Knowing that they're in a public space only adds to her heightened senses, and she can't help it when her walls clamp around his fingers, causing her to sit up in her seat with a jerk.

“Shh,” he makes, increasing his motions, now also teasing her clit with every deeper push. She furrows her eyebrows, pressing her lips together, forcing herself to remain calm and quiet, which seems absolutely impossible to achieve with her insides positively aflame by now.

“P-please,” she breathes through tight lips.

“Please what?” he whispers back, leaning casually in his seat, free arm draped over the back of the bench, eyes scanning the room while his fingers pump into her with reckless abandon.

“P-please... st-stop...” she gasps, squirming more against him, hands grasping at his wrist.

“Are you telling me no?” he asks, his tone as casual as his demeanor, but she can tell there's a darkness behind his words.

She whines quietly, clamping her thighs around his hand, trying to stop him. “N-no, I... I mean... please... not here...” she mumbles, looking at him with pleading eyes.

He meets her gaze, tilting his head. “You are telling me no,” he says. “And you know what that means.”

A cold shiver runs down her spine. She's so tense, sweaty and teetering on the edge, but she doesn't want to let go here, and somehow facing punishment for disobeying him sounds better than climaxing in a diner full of people. Even if he'll belt her again. In this moment, humiliation burns brighter than any pain he can inflict.

He stops, resting his fingers in her clenching cunt, and she breathes deeply, her body shaking as the impending release slowly deflates again. “You sure?” he asks again.

And to her own surprise, she nods.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he pulls his fingers from between her dripping folds, the quiet squelching sound the last bit of embarrassment she hopes to endure. Pressing her thighs together to keep her juices to herself, she sinks into the seat, exhaling loudly in relief.

He stares at her as he brings his wet fingers to his lips, casually licking them clean. The heat crashes through her again. Before she can fully recover, he stands up and holds his hand out to her. She takes it hectically, not wanting to add even more disobedience to his list. He pulls her up, his free hand finding her face before he tucks her hair behind her ear, fingers tracing the bruises on her neck.

She shivers, stares up at him, her heart beating out of her chest. Her thighs are sticky, and she's aware that the back of her dress might be a little wet as well. But she focuses on him, tells herself she doesn't know these people and will probably never see them again. Then his hand smooths down her dress, curves around her rear, pushes the fabric slightly between her legs, gathers her wetness, and before he eases it out again, he presses against the back of her thigh, right against the stinging welts.

She jumps, barely able to refrain from crying out. He stares down at her, shaking his head threateningly. She's close to crying now, and even more so when he sighs loudly, gives her butt an audible pat that makes her wince and grabs her wrist to pull her after him, not to the exit, but to the restrooms.

Stumbling after him, she's acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes following them. The waitress gives her a sympathetic smile, probably thinking she had an accident or something. Stupid girl, chokes on her food, can't control her bladder, what a disgrace...

The first tear slips from beneath her lashes when he pulls her into the room and closes the door behind them with a click. Breathing heavier, she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, lets more tears spill from them, before she finds the last bit of strength inside her.

He's about to pull her into a stall, when she puts her feet down, making him look back at her with a frown, then she closes the distance between them and puts her free hand on his face, looking up at him pleadingly.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice low and dark, the creases between his eyebrows deepening.

“I... I want to say that I'm sorry. I... I didn't do as you wanted, and I'm sorry, I am, really, please believe me,” she stammers, voice a desperate little hum, leaning against him, hoping that physical touch and closeness may ease his bad mood, may save her from whatever punishment he has in store for her.

He stares at her, jaw clenching under her palm. “Are you bargaining with me?”

She blinks.

“You said no to me,” he starts, letting go of her wrist to grab her throat, fingers digging into the bruises, aligning with the marks the same hand has left before. “And you know you are not supposed to.” She nods frantically. “And I told you I will punish you if you disobey me. You disobeyed me, so I have to punish you, isn't that right?”

She pulls her eyebrows together, sniffling helplessly. “Yes, sir,” she whimpers, swallowing against his hand. “But –” she keeps going, knowing it'll only get worse, but she has to try.

He shakes his head, cutting her off. “No more bargaining. I decide what I do with you, when I do it, and where I do it...” He pushes her backwards by her throat until her lower back slams into the sinks. She lets out a breathless whine. His gaze darkens.

“P-please...”

His hand tightens around her throat, it hurts, but whatever he wants to do to her next will probably be worse. Her fingers brush against his wrist as she looks up at him.

“What did I say?” he hisses, leaning closer until he presses his nose against hers.

“Y-you... decide...” she stammers, barely able to get the words out.

“I do,” he whispers, staring her down. She shudders under the intensity in his eyes, the fluorescent lights above them only amplifying the darkness within him. “And if I want to spank you in this very bathroom, I will do it.” She whines pathetically. “And if you don't keep quiet, I will most definitely do it...”

She freezes, frowning slightly. He leans back then, letting go of her throat. Watching her for another moment, he sighs, then swiftly pulls his hoodie over his head, revealing a tight black T-shirt beneath that emphasizes his strong arms, muscles and veins shifting under his tight skin. She stares at him, confusion washing over her. He looks down at her, then pulls her away from the sinks by her elbow and turns her around.

She meets his gaze in the mirror, but whatever she has feared he would do, he doesn't do it, instead he wraps his hoodie around her waist, turns her around once more and knots the sleeves together in front of her stomach, ultimately covering up the wet stain on the back of her dress. She sniffles as a strange kind of pressure falls off her.

His hands find her shoulders, his gaze dark as he looms over her. “Do you really think I would spank you in the restroom of a full diner?” he whispers, a malicious little smirk dancing around the corner of his lips.

She swallows whatever remark wants to break free from her clouded mind and presses her lips together.

“I've done crazier things, but I am not that stupid,” he adds with a sigh and straightens up again, wiping his fingers over her wet cheek. “But don't worry. I won't forget. You'll get your punishment.”

A cold shiver runs down her spine, a strangled sob escaping her throat. He watches her for another moment, then nods towards the sink behind her. “Wash your face,” he orders, and she turns around quickly, opening the faucet with shaking hands and lets the cool water run over them, then splashes it carefully onto her burning face. He hands her a paper towel from the dispenser, and she dries her cheeks and forehead with it, focusing on the task instead of her frantic breaths.

Wiping the rest of the water away with her hands, she then turns around and looks up at him. He reaches towards her and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, nodding contently. Then he grabs her wrist and pulls her after him, already opening the door, when she tugs gently on his hand. He turns around, giving her a glare, but she bites her lip and whispers “Thank you” as she curls her fingers into the hoodie tied around her waist.

He relaxes slightly and gives her another nod, then continues to drag her through the diner. Again she's aware of the eyes on her, but she tries vehemently to ignore them and keeps her head low when she follows him.

“Have a lovely day!” the waitress calls after them, and while she ducks her head, he slows a little and turns around slightly, replying, in a friendly tone she's rarely heard from him: “Thanks, you too, Nancy.” He even raises his hand to wave at the woman who probably blushes again, giggling like the school girl she hasn't been in decades. Stupid Nancy.

Something cold mixes with the heat of embarrassment churning in her stomach. They leave the diner under the soft ring of the bell above the door, then step into the bright sunlight. He pulls her right to his car, opens the passenger door and lets her get in. Despite everything he still leans over her and buckles her in, but he doesn't look at her when he does so. She sinks into the seat when he slams the door shut and walks around the hood to his side, leaving her to stew in her own mind.

The first punishment he gives her is silence – and after what feels like forever, she thinks it is worse than any pain he could inflict upon her. He's not looking at her, one hand is curled around the steering wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, close to her seat, but he's never touching her either. He just drives, eyes on the road, there's no radio to distract her, just her own dark thoughts.

But she doesn't want to go down that path again, so she keeps squirming on her seat, feeling the stickiness between her thighs, that empty feeling in her cunt, remembers his fingers there, his cock, his mouth, and in the end she feels she's getting even wetter, probably now also staining the hoodie he gave her.

Her fingers play with the sleeves, feel the soft material, she can smell the subtle scent on it, and of him, of course, right next to her, and more than once, she looks to her side, almost longingly, pleadingly, hoping to catch his eye, but he never indulges her. So she just watches him, lets her eyes wander over his toned torso, those strong arms, follows the veins down to his hands to then stare at the tendons moving under his skin when he moves his fingers.

He looks so casual in just that T-shirt, not as intimidating as in a suit, but he's still that big wall of muscle next to her, unapproachable, almost scary. She wonders what punishment he'll show her whenever they arrive wherever he wants to go, and then she thinks back to why she deserves it.

That comment about her uselessly packed backpack has been ungrateful, she knew it the moment it left her mouth, but in a normal conversation it wouldn't have been that bad, nothing to be angry about, really. But normal doesn't define what they have, what he pulled her into. There's nothing normal about taking a girl from a club and keeping her as his own personal sex doll or whatever he sees her as.

But that is what she is, isn't it? These last days have been so intense, so physically and mentally straining, she can't even recall all the different things he made her do, forced her to, pushed onto (and into) her. It is all a blur, and her body is as confused as she is, no longer distinguishing between soreness from within and from outside, it's all one big pain as her muscles try to adjust to the unfamiliar sensations.

Shifting on her seat again, she looks away, out of her window, but she can't see the landscape rushing by, the small towns they drive through, her eyes are unfocused, remembering him even though he's right next to her. Remembering his fingers under her dress, in the diner, remembering how she denied him.

Did he really expect her to be okay with being forced to have an orgasm in a public space, surrounded by people who were already staring at them, because they were strangers, because he's that grown-ass man and she's that girl looking younger than she is, apparently. Making them believe she wet herself was only part of the problem. It was the forcing her to say no to him, knowing fully well that she's not allowed. But what was she supposed to do?

A sigh escapes her, but he still doesn't acknowledge her. And now she's not only left dreading whatever comes next, but also feeling the ache inside her, the itch that needs to be scratched, that she denied herself...

Her fingers flex around her knees, gripping the hem of her dress, tracing the little flowers. She's stewing in her own thoughts (and juices) for a while longer, before it all gets too much, and she looks back at him, opening her mouth – only to freeze when he suddenly looks at her, eyes dark, face stoic, and she realizes he's pulled the car into a parking lot and has killed the engine.

She blinks in confusion, looks around, before she feels his large hand gripping both of hers, holding them tightly. Staring back at him, she holds her breath in anticipation (while also savoring the warm touch, no matter how demanding it is). His eyes wander over her face, looking her up and down.

“You'll behave in there, won't you?” he then says quietly, his voice that low hum that goes straight into her tense stomach and lower.

She nods eagerly, happy that he's talking to her again. “Yes, sir, of course,” she replies quickly, licking her lips.

“You'll do as I say, no matter what?”

“Yes.” There was a little hesitation but she still got the word out.

“No matter what,” he repeats, squeezing her hands. She nods again, breathing a little harder.

“No matter what,” she whispers, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Good,” he says and lets go of her, then unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the car to round it. When he opens her door, he points to the buckle of her own seat belt, and for the first time doesn't lean over to open it himself.

She fumbles with it nervously, then pushes the seat belt away and follows his nod to get out. He's not offering her his hand. Once she stands outside, next to the tall man looking so grim she feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes, she notices they're in a large parking lot of an even larger department store. People stream in and out of the building constantly.

Suddenly she feels nervous and slouches her shoulders in an attempt to make herself even smaller. Her heart beats faster. It's not just the threat of him making her do whatever right here in public, it's the people themselves. She hates crowded stores, people are loud and stressed and everywhere. Swallowing hard, she blinks the tears away, focuses, but in the end the need for comfort is bigger and she reaches her hand out to touch the side of his leg.

He looks at her, so tall but slightly less intimidating than facing all these faceless people, and he seems to sense her nervousness, seems to pity her for it. With a loud exhale he slips his hand around hers and holds it tightly, then gives her a nudge and pulls her after him. She follows immediately, eager to stay as close to him as possible.

The walk through the giant store is a blur, she focuses on his warm hand, on his confident steps, his tall body blocking her from most of the things that make her nervous, but the more they walk, the more anxious she gets of the man beside her. What is he planning? What will he do?

He pulls her into the clothing section and heads straight to the changing rooms in the back, small boxes separated by thin sheets of wood and a flimsy curtain in the front. She watches him when he looks around the section, then pushes her into one of the stalls and steps in behind her, pulling the curtain shut.

She's pressed against the wall, he is right there in front of her, chest to chest, and when she looks up at him, her heart racing, he tilts his head and studies her for a moment, then leans down a little and unties the hoodie from around her waist. She holds her breath, timid and afraid, too nervous to move much. She doesn't even stop him when he grabs the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head, leaving her completely bare (except for her socks and sneakers).

Shivering badly, she doesn't dare to pull her arms around her chest to cover herself, just stands there, thighs pressed together, hands by her sides, fingers twitching. He holds the hoodie and the dress in one hand, then raises the other to slide his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her shoulder, exposing her bruised neck. There's a large mirror to her left, and she can see the dark red and purple marks, his fingers scorched into her pale skin, a reminder of his strength, of his unpredictability.

He moves his hand down her arm, gives one breast a gentle nudge, then closes his fingers around her waist, pulling her against him as he leans over her to whisper into her ear: “You'll stay right here until I come back, understood?” She nods, breathing harder, feeling the warmth of his chest pressing into hers, the heat of his breath on her sensitive skin, the unspoken threat in his words taking root in her heart. “You wouldn't want to be caught like this, right?” he adds in a mocking tone, then leans back to rake his eyes over her naked body.

She swallows, nods again, looks at him timidly from under her lashes. “No, sir. I'll stay right here...”

“Good girl,” he whispers, giving her the hint of a smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

His praise, no matter the circumstances, still hits its mark and makes her clench around nothing, and she squirms slightly on the spot with her thighs rubbing together.

He notices the movement. “Do you have to pee?” he asks bluntly, and she blushes deeply, shaking her head vehemently. His hand is moving around her rear, teasing between her legs. A soft but dark chuckle escapes him as he dips a finger between her wet folds. “I see,” he whispers and leans in again, brushing his lips against her ear. “Do you want to come, baby girl?”

She gasps, squirms more, unconsciously grinds against his hand. But before she has to deny him once more (which she almost wouldn't have as she considers that there weren't too many people around), he leans away and wipes his finger along her hip. Looking down at her darkly, he gives her a wink, then steps back.

“Be right back,” he tells her and slips through the curtain, leaving her alone and naked and completely flustered.

He takes his sweet time, doing whatever he does, and she just stands there, shifting from one foot to the other. She's managed to cross her arms over her chest, rubbing her forearms against her hardening nipples. The AC seems to blow right into the stall, but it's actually quite nice, because the heat coursing through her body seems unbearable otherwise.

Her core is aching, and for only a moment she is tempted to slip her fingers between her legs and handle the situation on her own, but shame and fear pushes that thought away again. Inhaling deeply, she listens to the noises around her. The faint music playing in the back, voices of passing customers, footsteps coming closer and leaving again.

One time, someone steps really close to her stall, and she quickly grabs the edge of the curtain and holds it closed, mumbling “Occupied!”, and a grunted “Sorry” comes back. Her heart is racing, and, still holding the curtain, she leans against the wooden wall and tries to catch her breath, ease her nerves.

Eventually she relaxes, slips into the furthest corner of the small square room and stares at herself in the mirror for a bit. It's a frightening sight. She's bruised all over from where he's grabbed her, held her tightly, choked her, and she remembers the situations, remembers the hard thrusts of his cock, the strength in his arms, the weight of his body, the warmth, the noises when he came deep inside her...

Covering her burning face, she groans into her hands, squirming on the spot again as her cunt clenches in a need she never felt before. Is it because he hasn't fucked her yet? She woke up and he dragged her away, to the diner, to this store, and the last time she's felt his cock inside her has been... she squints as she tries to remember... on the table, before he choked her into unconsciousness. She gave him head after that and he fingered a few orgasms out of her, but the kind of sex where he just takes and uses her, where she's that pliant thing in his arms, that feels like a very distant memory (even if it wasn't).

She's gone all her life without sex before he took her away, and now, after only three days of intense... sexual exercise, for lack of a better term, she feels the need to do it all the freaking time, and even a few hours without makes her feel itchy and restless and desperate.

What has he done to her? What has he turned her into? What has she become?

A sudden noise rips her from her thoughts, and then he's back, standing tall inside that tiny cubicle, towering over her, several pieces of clothing draped over his arm. The sight of him makes her feel both calm and anxious, and her core is just happy to see him, shedding a few drops of moisture that slip slowly down her inner thigh. She doesn't even care anymore at this point.

He looks at her for a moment, waits for her arms to fall to her sides, then starts putting the hangers on the hook on the wall. She sees many different colors, soft pastels mostly, but also some whites and blacks. Dresses, skirts, blouses, shirts. Obviously no underwear.

He makes her try on everything, and even if she was a little apprehensive at first, she moves almost automatically when he makes her strip over and over again. While she slips into the different outfits, he observes her silently, barely shows any reaction to the tight dresses, the short skirts, the revealing blouses or form-fitting shirts. He has a good eye, managed to find her size almost perfectly.

Whenever she's done, he takes the clothes, puts them back on their hangers and separates them into two sides, and in the end he chooses two black skirts for her (a pleated one that's really short, barely fits over her butt, definitely shows the red welts on the backs of her thighs and most definitely will flash anyone who stands behind her if she has to bend down, and a flowing one that's covering at least the middle of her thighs) and a soft pastel yellow, long-sleeved blouse that's tied in the front, showing off the flat of her stomach and the hint of her boobs with a plunging neckline (she hopes he'll buy her a push-up bra too, but he seems content with how it is).

He also decides on a long dress that brushes along the floor with how short she is, black with white accents in the bust, a belt on the waist and a large bow in the back, sitting right on the swell of her rear, letting the dress flare out a little. She feels most comfortable in that, it looks so fancy, and she can imagine herself standing next to him in his elegant suit, holding onto his arm, beaming up at him like the women do in those old movies.

For now she is again just the naked girl in the way too tight changing room, waiting for the man next to her to give her something to wear so they can finally leave the store. But he doesn't seem to be done yet. He takes the clothes he didn't choose, gives her another pointed look, and leaves through the curtain once more. She sighs and brushes her hand along the black dress hanging on the wall.

He probably expects her to be grateful for this, and she is, of course she is, nobody has ever gone through the hassle of buying her clothes before, but she wonders how she can repay him, what he wants from her in return. She's already doing (almost) everything he asks of her, what could he possibly expect now? What if he asks her to suck him off in the middle of the store? To spread her legs on one of those display tables? Bend over those clothes carousels? She shudders just thinking about it. Not the act itself (because her cunt is still weeping for him), but to be surrounded by people watching them...

How would she react if she'd see a couple doing it in public? Hearing those moans and grunts, seeing their bodies moving together? It's definitely not something one would see while shopping for clothes or groceries, it's frowned-upon, forbidden for a reason. He wouldn't do that, would he? It wouldn't be good for his reputation as well, she'd assume.

She has no idea where she is now, certainly not in the city she met him, but maybe they know of him here too? He's a popular bachelor, she's seen his face on those fancy business magazines displayed in dingy newspaper kiosks, he's known, he wouldn't just throw that away to humiliate her in public, right?

She's again ripped from her frantic thoughts when he returns, this time carrying a bunch of shoes with thin leather straps, skillfully balanced between his fingers, some high heels, some wedges, some flats. He immediately bends down and grabs her left foot, and she has to hold onto his shoulders for support as she watches him take off her sneakers and socks, then slips her feet into each pair, one at a time, lets her balance on them (again he's picked the right size on instinct or accident), his warm fingers always in contact with her ankles, a comforting touch that fuels the need within her.

He's surprisingly patient, calm and collected, and his cool demeanor makes her feel safe – despite those nagging thoughts of what may happen after they are done shopping. For now she enjoys the moment, the gentle touches, the way he looks at her. When she's tried on every pair of shoes, he puts them all back between his fingers, then gathers the clothes he chose for her over his arm.

But as he turns around to leave again, she feels the sudden urge to grab him, hold him back, and her fingers brush against his back before digging into his shirt. He stops, turns slightly and looks down at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

She shifts on her naked feet, rubbing her bare arms, biting her lip. “What am I supposed to wear?” she asks quietly, suddenly afraid he may force her to streak through the department store.

“I'll be right back,” he only says, not answering her question, and before she can do anything, he's slipped through the curtain once more, leaving her behind, naked, shivering under the AC, confused as ever.

More time passes (and she's back in her own mind, thinking about things that already happened, that could happen in the future, that hopefully will not happen anytime soon), and when he returns this time, he's holding three large shopping bags – and her pastel pink dress and his hoodie in the other hand.

“Put on your shoes,” he tells her, and she quickly crouches down and does so, happy about having something to do, and when she's done and stands back up, he hands her the dress. It feels softer and a little warm. “I had it cleaned,” he replies to her quizzical look, and the warmth from the fabric seeps into her body, warming her heart, melting away the doubts she's had before.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, smiling up at him before he makes her lift her arms and pulls the dress over her head, smoothing his hands along her sides, then frees her hair from the collar. She doesn't even mind the lack of underwear anymore.

He's been so good to her, giving her these new clothes, being so gentle about it, having her dirty dress cleaned and dried. Spending money on her. Treating her like a human being, like a girl wants to be treated, like she wants to be treated anyway. She feels so grateful, she's even considering thanking him right then and there, her eyes already moving down his body, her cunt clenching as she thinks about putting his cock into her mouth, but he stops that train of thought by grabbing her hand (not her wrist) and pulling her out of the changing room.

She inhales deeply as she follows him, finally out of the constant AC blast, and she isn't even mad about the many people around them when he walks with her through the store. She's focused on his hand around hers, on the shopping bags he's carrying for her, how her heart swells contently. When they pass the food court, he buys her a large pink milkshake that she happily slurps as they continue their way.

This feels normal, she thinks as she watches him with the straw between her lips, smirking softly as the sweet drink runs smoothly down her throat. Just a girl and her... boyfriend? The thought makes her blush deeply. A strange word for him, maybe... gentleman caller? Lover even?

Something cold crashes through her as the deeper parts of her mind shove themselves to the forefront. Abductor. Abuser. Manipulative asshole who forces her to do things she would never have agreed to, who doesn't allow her to say no, who'll punish her for disobedience or without any reason at all. She swallows hard, blinking away a sudden tear.

But, she reasons with herself, he's also a man who gives her a chance at a new and better life. A man who spends time with her and money on her, who gives her his attention, and food, whose strong arms make her feel safe and protected. Whose cock fits so perfectly into her cunt she cannot live without it anymore.

That last thought makes her choke on the thick milkshake, and he looks at her with a frown as she coughs into the crook of her arm. She swallows, clears her throat, looks up at him with a nervous giggle and burning cheeks. He squeezes her hand and keeps walking.

When they reach his car, her drink is halfway finished, her mind is a complete mess and her blush has crept all the way down to her chest. He takes the shake from her and empties the cup with a few sucks, and she's too stunned to protest, too mesmerized by the way his lips close around the straw, how he watches her as he does so. He lowers the cup, still watching her, and takes a step closer, his hand wandering up her arm, then around it to snake along her waist before he presses it to her lower back and pulls her against him with a smack.

She gasps, and he uses the moment she parts her lips to bring his head to her level and press his lips to hers, or rather his whole mouth to hers, because his tongue, strawberry sweet, dips straight into it and tangles with her own. She mirrors the motion instantly, her hands reaching out to hold onto him, eagerly, hungrily, her pussy weeping all over again. His kiss is short but intense, and when he leans back, she still tastes the milkshake – and him, and it almost makes her drool.

He watches her with a soft smile, licking his lips, and she just stares up at him, oblivious to the people walking around them, the cars coming and going, it doesn't matter. If he'd ask her now to suck him off, she'd be on her knees in an instant. Head empty, head filled with him.

The moment passes, and he lets go of her again to throw the empty cup into a nearby trash can, before walking back to the car and opening the trunk to put the shopping bags in. He rummages around a little longer while she leans against the side, legs trembling slightly and crossed, fingers playing with the hem of her dress, waiting, savoring the soft moment.

The thud of the trunk startles her, and when he returns to her, he's holding a smaller bag, one of the outfits (she can't tell which), and another bag she hasn't seen before because it's not a shopping bag. He then takes her hand and pulls her back to the building, but instead of going in again, he steers her to the public restrooms on the side.

Her heart beats faster. What is he going to do now? The answer comes when he maneuvers her into a stall, but instead of following her only shoves the shopping bag into her hands. “Put these on,” he tells her, then closes the door and seemingly leans against it from the other side, waiting for her to finish.

It's the high-heeled wedges, the very short black skirt and the pastel yellow blouse. Still, no underwear, and as soon as she puts the pleaded skirt on, she feels exposed, basically naked, the fabric barely enough to cover her butt. If she just stands in it, fine, but she has to walk in it, move, turn, possibly stretch or bend, and everybody will see her bare cunt then. She shivers, but continues to dress.

The heels give her at least two more inches to her height, and she sways on them for a moment before adjusting. The blouse is soft, plays around her curves nicely, even accentuates her small bust a little with its plunging neckline. Once she's done, she knocks softly on the door. He opens it immediately, his eyes raking over her form, no reaction on his face, just a little nod.

She watches him look around then, before he steps into the stall as well, crowding the tiny space, pushing her back against the wall beside the toilet. “Turn around and bend over,” he says quietly, and a little surprised whine escapes her.

She's been too comfortable with him, blinded by his generous gestures, completely forgetting about what else he can do to her. The idea of his cock is one thing, the need for it, the hunger to be filled, the way her cunt clenches just thinking about it, but knowing he might fulfill her hidden desires right here, right now, makes her anxious, turns the tension in her stomach into an actual ache.

She still does as he tells her, without much hesitation, turning around and bracing her hands on the toilet lid as she bends forwards, feeling the little fabric of the skirt slipping up over her rear. His hand is on her soft skin, following the gentle curves, dipping between them and downwards, and she flinches slightly when she feels his finger pushing straight between her folds, deeper, a quiet squelching sound making goosebumps ripple over her exposed skin.

“Perfectly wet,” she hears him whisper, and she isn't sure if she should feel shame or pride at his words. “Shouldn't hurt too bad then,” he adds, and those words make her stiffen, her heart beating faster.

She suppresses a whimper when he pulls his finger away and replaces it with something hard and cold, and before she realizes what it is, he nudges the object into her clenching cunt, slow and steady, not forced and rough, but it still makes her knees shake beneath her, even more so on the high shoes. He keeps pushing, against her tight muscles, and she whines quietly when it reaches the far end, or so she thinks, because then his fingers are on her clit, rubbing it hard, making her gasp and shiver, relaxing her muscles enough for him to be able to prod the item even further, and the last inch causes her to groan deeply.

She feels full, stuffed, like she's been stuffed twice before, and somehow she is glad he's only shoving a dildo up her cunt, but she should never count her chickens before they are hatched, as they say, because suddenly he nudges his leg between hers, holding her open and also the toy in place, when he presses a cold, wet finger to her sphincter.

She arches her back, bucking her hips to get away from the sensation, and suddenly she remembers the slim fingers of the woman in the sex shop, Mistress, feels those long pointy nails poking into her tense muscles, though his finger feels very different, wider, longer, harder, and he's equally unrelenting, shoves it in and out, easing the tight grip of her hole. She's fighting her reactions, tries to keep the noises down, though she doesn't even think about the possibility of other people entering the restroom.

She's too focused on the pressure inside her ass. And it gets only worse when he adds another finger, pumps them harder, deeper, faster. Her arms are shaking as she leans on them, her head hanging low, lips pressed into a tight line, breaths rapid and heart frantic. And amidst it all, she can't believe he's doing this, here, now. Not that he cares.

His fingers vanish after a moment, leaving her empty (well, half-empty) and gasping for air. Then she feels the cold tip of the plug pressing into her, and when the first ball shaped bump tries to squeeze through her tight muscles, she cries out in a choked croak. He nudges his leg against her core, only making it worse, and it's really hard to keep her composure, to keep quiet.

She's biting the inside of her cheek, whining helplessly, wishing he'd prepare her better. It burns when he forces the toy deeper, her muscles are too tense to let it in properly, and yet he keeps shoving, really putting his strength into it, one hand pushed against her stomach as he holds her in place. She would have probably sank to the floor already without his strong grip.

After a bit more fight and more tears and muffled wails, the plug sits inside her, the base gripped by her clenching hole, the other dildo brushing against it through her protesting walls, and as soon as he lets her go, she stumbles, shaking badly, barely noticing how he puts his hand around her mound, then pulls something up her legs. The harness. That she notices. She winces when it scrapes over the welts on her thighs, then whimpers when the hard leather straps press against the toys to hold them in place.

He secures the belts around her legs and hips, checking every strap before leaning back and grabbing her waist to pull her into a standing position. He flattens the skirt over her rear, turning her this way and that, and she lets him because she's frozen in shock, suddenly realizing that she has to leave the restroom in a short skirt that shows off everything, from the bruises on her legs to the black leather harness holding not one, but two dildos inside her. The people will see, they will know, they will whisper, point fingers, they'll think she's a... slut.

Another tear rolls down her cheek, and he catches it with his finger before he cups her face fully and leans down to look at her. “This is just the beginning of your punishment, darling,” he tells her with a dark smile.

She sniffles, swallowing hard. She should have just let him make her come in that freaking diner. At least she would have felt good about it in the moment.

SEVENTEEN 🟥 EIGHTEEN 🟥 NINETEEN

End notes: Will she ever get a break? Nope, not yet. But at least he finally fed her real food in this one! That's something, right?

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Sunday!

TAG LIST: @untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾️SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN◾TWENTY

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

Side 2. Rina, Rocket Puncher

Note: someone pls tell her to stop punching the phone-

This took place between Chapter 35 & 36

The Smash Room was not the type of place Y/n had expected to visit that day. The walls were covered in padding, and an impressive assortment of “smashable” items—plates, bottles, electronics—lined the shelves like some dystopian buffet. Karina stood beside him, grinning from ear to ear, holding a bat like it was the best gift she’d ever received.

“Are you… sure about this?” Y/n asked, eyeing a particularly delicate-looking lamp.

Karina rolled her eyes, thrusting a bat into his hands. “Yes, I’m sure. Trust me; you’ll thank me later.”

“But smashing things on purpose… it feels wrong,” he admitted, staring down at the bat.

Karina laughed, already cracking her knuckles in anticipation. “It’s supposed to feel wrong! That’s the point. I needed a place to blow off steam, and I thought it’d be way more fun if you came along to try it out.”

"…I don't really have anything to blow off steam, though?" Y/n questioned.

"Lies." Karina deadpanned. "You're dating Minjeong. Surely there is something you find annoying about her."

"Oi, you're trying to rat me out now?" Y/n widened his eyes.

"It's between us." Karina giggled. "…unless?"

Y/n gulped, but Karina’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Fine… let’s do this.”

-

When they finally suited up, helmets secure and armed with a stack of plates, old electronics, and an assortment of glass bottles in the centre of the room, Y/n couldn’t shake a lingering sense of hesitation. He’d been dragged here, no doubt, by Karina’s insistence that “everyone needs to smash something every once in a while.” She practically glowed with energy as she scanned the items around them, clearly fired up for what was about to go down.

“Ready to blow off some steam?” Karina asked, eyeing a nearby plate with a devilish grin. She picked it up and weighed it in her hands like a pro, already looking to him for the go-ahead.

“Uh, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied, still clutching his bat with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. “You seem a little too excited about this.”

“Oh, trust me, I am,” Karina laughed. “You don’t know how badly I’ve needed this!”

With a wild swing, she sent the first plate crashing against the wall, bits of ceramic scattering in every direction. She let out a triumphant yell, her face lighting up.

“Jeez,” Y/n said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that plate supposed to be someone in particular?”

Karina grinned, winding up for the next throw. “That one was for all the times I’ve had to work late for a last-minute meeting. And—” She smashed another plate. “—for every time I had to remind everyone to be on time, especially NINGNING!”

Y/n snorted, gripping his own plate. “Ning just use her aespa time….a bit too much, huh?”

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the stress of managing appearances and, like, fifty different social media expectations!” Karina vented, smashing another plate with gusto. “Not everything needs to be perfect, but the pressure is still there! SO DAMN ANNOYING!”

“YES!” Y/n said with feeling, setting up his own bottle to smash. He hesitated for a moment, thinking back on his recent frustrations with Winter, from her infamous ‘kiss prank’ to the slightly overwhelming reality of actually dating her…which came with some undisclosed baggage. He swung, and the bottle exploded in a satisfying burst.

“OHHH SHT! That felt good!”

From the bottom of his heart, he loved Winter, but that was liberating.

Karina, catching his thoughtful look, nudged him with a knowing smile. “That looked personal. Care to share?”

He grinned, a little sheepishly. “It’s just… Jeong. There’s so much about her that’s awesome, but dating her is a whole new experience. I mean, she’s perfect, but also impossible. She just, like, invades my space EVERYWHERE, which sounds great…"

"Uhuh" Karina was intrigued.

"…until she messes with all my stuff and stole my oreo stashes I kept for myself.”

“Oh, I get it. Minjeong does have that… selective attention to detail,” Karina laughed, setting up another bottle. “She’ll memorise every outfit in her closet but will still ‘forget’ to tell you she invited the whole group over to your place.”

Y/n laughed, nodding. “Exactly! And it’s like the more time we spend together, the more I realize she’s just as rowdy as the rest of you—if not more. But… it’s hard to stay annoyed when she gives me that look, you know?”

Karina grinned as she grabbed a plate, holding it up like it was a prized possession. “This one? This is for every time a schedule’s changed last minute, throwing off everything we’ve worked on!” She wound up, smashed it, and let out a satisfied sigh.

Y/n found himself nodding along. “You know, Jeong has this habit of casually dropping huge things at the last possible moment. Like, ‘Oh, by the way, I promised my mom I’d come by for dinner’—while we’re already on our way somewhere else.”

“Oh, she finally did that to you!” Karina laughed, taking a quick swing at another bottle, the glass shattering on impact. She turned back to him with a playful glint in her eye. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Tell me about it.” Y/n lined up another bottle and smashed it with a swing that was a little more enthusiastic than he’d intended. “I love her for how she is, but…those will kill my sanity.”

They both shared a laugh, the cathartic smashing of objects somehow loosening up more than just physical tension.

-

“Alright, Rina, use Rocket Punch!” Y/n challenged, feeling his earlier nervousness fade as he grabbed another plate and handed it to her.

"Ya, I'm not a Pokemon!" She took it, eyeing him with a mock-serious expression.

"Whatever, do it!" Y/n cheered.

“This one is for all the choreography changes we go through in the middle of a tour,” she muttered with feigned gravity, before smashing it so hard that tiny ceramic pieces ricocheted off the wall.

"Perfect shot." Y/n winced and gave a low whistle. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly, I think all of us need this every once in a while. You can’t keep everything bottled up without it exploding, right?”

He nodded, a grin spreading on his face. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time for the grand finale.” He held up an old radio, raising its high for dramatic effect.

“Ohhh, nice choice!” Karina cheered, standing back to give him space.

"KIM MINJEONG! STOP DOODLING ON MY FACE!"

With a loud yell, Y/n hurled the radio against the wall, bits of plastic and metal scattering everywhere as they both burst into laughter.

Breathless, Y/n leaned back against the wall, shaking his head. “Holy….I seriously didn’t think this would be so… satisfying.”

Karina nodded, grinning at him. “I knew you’d come around. It’s not just about breaking things; it’s about letting go, you know?”

He looked at her, her usual serious leader demeanour replaced with a relaxed, genuine smile. “You know, I think we all see you as this powerhouse who just handles everything. It’s easy to forget that you need to punch things.”

Karina’s smile softened. “I guess I do. It’s just… hard sometimes. When you’re the leader, there’s this pressure to always be ‘on’ and ‘perfect.’ But, it’s nice to have these moments where I can just be myself. Not ‘Karina the leader,’ just Karina.”

“Well, for the record, you’re pretty cool Rina, leader or not,” Y/n said, giving her a sincere look. “I think we’d all be a little lost without you, to be honest.”

“Cool? Not cute?”

“Erm. Sorry, I have a Minjeong.” Y/n denied.

She let out a soft chuckle, bumping his shoulder. “Thanks, Y/n. It’s nice to hear that, especially from someone who has to put up with us 24/7.”

"You're welcome." Y/n grinned. "Now, please stop punching the camera."

-

Exhausted and a little breathless, they finally put down their bats, slumping onto a bench in the lounge area. Bits of dust and tiny shards clung to their protective gear, but they looked thoroughly exhilarated.

Y/n turned to her with a smile. “You’re living up to the name Rocket Puncher, you know that?”

Karina shrugged, though her eyes sparkled. “I guess I just have a habit of punching things.”

Y/n laughed. “Just don’t go overboard. We can’t have you smashing plates left and right during practice, alright?”

She laughed, nodding. “Fair enough. I’ll keep it contained to smash rooms.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Karina pointed toward the photo booth in the corner, her eyes lighting up. “Hey! Before we go, we should take a picture. Just, you know, to remember today.”

Y/n followed her gaze and groaned. “Are you serious? We look like we just walked out of a war!”

“Exactly! That’s the point!” Karina insisted, practically dragging him over. “C’mon, tough guy, one picture won’t kill you.”

As the camera flashed, Karina made a series of increasingly ridiculous faces, pulling Y/n into the antics with her. By the last frame, he was laughing so hard he barely noticed the camera snapping.

When the photos printed, Karina held up the strip with pride. “This is definitely going up on the fridge. Maybe I’ll even show Minjeong.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Please don't. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Karina just smirked, pocketing the photos. “Consider it payback for letting me rant today. And don’t worry—I’ll only tease you a little.”

“Tsk.” Y/n sighed. “ But thanks for this, Rina. I think I needed it more than I realised.”

She smiled, looping her arm over his shoulder. “Anytime, Y/n. A little smash helps wonder.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation lingering, but in a way that felt comforting rather than heavy.

-

Karina’s usual habit was quickly taken up by a notch in the dorm. No one could resist teasing her after each new incident, and her reactions—half-defensive, half-mortified—only added to the fun.

Which happened sooner than expected.

One evening, everyone was gathered around the dinner table for takeout night. Y/n watched with an amused grin as Karina grabbed her chopsticks with a little too much enthusiasm, causing her plate to slip and crack against the table.

“Welp, another one bites the dust,” Y/n quipped, leaning back with a smirk.

Karina gave him a narrowed look, cheeks flushed. “You know what? Maybe plates these days just aren’t made to last!”

Winter snorted. “Or maybe you’re just turning into some kind of superhero with ‘smash’ as your only superpower.”

“Sooo…Hulk?” Giselle questioned.

Karina huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, I didn’t ask for this power.”

Ningning leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but if you keep breaking things, people might actually believe you’re the leader of a super-powered girl group.”

Giselle clapped her hands, laughing. “Imagine if they replaced our choreo with you smashing props on stage!”

Y/n’s eyes lit up with mock seriousness. “Rina, think of the fan meetings. You’d just need to sign autographs on concrete blocks with a sledgehammer or something.”

Karina tried to stifle her laugh but couldn’t. She finally gave in, laughing as she tossed a crumpled napkin at Y/n. “You’re all just jealous of my raw strength.”

-

The next morning, Y/n and Karina found themselves in the kitchen, prepping for a long day ahead. Karina was trying to work the espresso machine, but it seemed to be giving her trouble. As she pulled the handle, the coffee machine sputtered and stopped working entirely.

“Did it just…?” Karina blinked, staring at the lifeless machine.

Y/n, stifling a laugh, leaned in to inspect. “Hmmmm, let’s see, it was perfectly fine this morning, and now it’s dead. Who could possibly be responsible?”

Karina swatted his arm. “Hey! I didn’t even touch it that hard! I just… pulled the lever with a bit of confidence.”

“Oh, ‘confidence,’” Y/n said with a grin. “That’s a nice way of putting it. You know, you’re like a coffee machine whisperer… except in reverse.”

Karina glared at him, then let out a laugh. “Fine, maybe I got a little too eager. But you’re making the coffee, then.”

Y/n shook his head, feigning exasperation as he grabbed his phone to put in a delivery order for iced lattes instead. “I’ll be sending this bill to the SM. You know, at this rate, you’re going to single-handedly ruin every appliance in the dorm.”

“Then maybe you should start getting unbreakable appliances,” Karina shot back, grinning as she took a seat at the counter.

Winter wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She looked between the two and yawned. “What happened now?”

“Coffee machine casualty,” Y/n explained, waving a hand at the machine. “She claimed another victim.”

Winter shook her head with a small laugh. “Great….another funeral?”

Karina shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “Apparently, I’ve just… developed an ult.”

-

A few days later, Karina and Y/n were shopping for some supplies when they wandered into the electronics section. They’d been joking about her newfound “habit” all morning, and Karina couldn’t resist poking fun at herself.

“Ya, Y/n, think they sell smash-proof headphones?” she asked with a grin, picking up a sleek pair.

He laughed. “If they did, you’d be their first customer.”

Karina nodded thoughtfully, pretending to examine the headphones. “Maybe we should just go all out and buy everything in metal. Like, imagine an indestructible blender or a phone that can survive anything.”

Y/n snorted, crossing his arms. “What, you’re planning on hurling your phone across the room?”

Karina gave him a playful nudge. “Not *intentionally*. But you never know.”

She picked up a ceramic mug, examining it thoughtfully. “Hmm. You think this one would survive me?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you try holding it like a normal human, and we’ll see?”

Karina broke into laughter, the two of them gathering curious stares from other shoppers. “Fine, fine, I’ll keep my grip to a minimum.”

-

That night, back at the dorm, the members were lounging around after a busy day. Y/n was tidying up the living room when he heard a familiar *crack* from the kitchen. He didn’t even have to look to know who the culprit was.

“YOO JIMIN!” he called, trying to sound stern but barely hiding his amusement.

Karina peeked around the corner, looking sheepish. “It was just a spoon…”

Winter groaned dramatically. “Do we even have spoons left at this point?”

Ningning held up a plastic spoon with a grin. “These are the only safe ones left. And I’m not taking any chances.”

Giselle couldn’t resist piling on. “At this rate, we’re going to have to wrap everything in bubble wrap. Including you, unnie.”

Karina laughed, her face flushing pink. “It’s not my fault! Everything’s so fragile!”

Y/n rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “Okay, you and I are making a pact. Once a month, smash room therapy. But no more ‘practicing’ in the dorm, got it?”

Karina raised her hand in mock seriousness, nodding. “Fine, deal. Monthly smashing sessions only in the smash room. But only if you join me.”

The others burst into laughter as Y/n sighed, defeated. “Alright, alright. As long as you promise to keep your ‘smashing’ in the smash room.”

Winter nudged Karina, grinning. “This is really gonna be a thing, isn’t it?”

Karina shrugged, laughing. “Guess so. Let’s just hope I don’t smash anything important, like, I dunno… the door.”

“Or my boyfriend” Winter instantly glared at her leader while hugging Y/n. “Only he can deal with our rowdiness here.”

The entire group laughed, shaking their heads. Despite the accidental destruction, they couldn’t help but enjoy every minute of it. Karina’s “habit” had become an endless source of entertainment, and Y/n knew he’d never look at a coffee machine—or a remote—the same way again.

-

The next month rolled around, and true to their agreement, Y/n and Karina made another trip to the smash room. Karina was fired up, armed with a bat and practically bouncing on her heels as she looked at the new array of breakables.

“Oh, you’re going down this time,” she taunted, tossing Y/n a helmet. “Get ready to lose, mister.”

Y/n scoffed, slipping on his helmet and giving her a playful glare. “Is that so? We’ll see about that. Just don’t go breaking anything else when we get back to the dorm, okay?”

With that, the smash room countdown started, and they both went at it. Plates shattered, vases exploded, and Karina laughed wildly with every hit. They were neck and neck, neither one letting up as they plowed through piles of items. But just as they were about to swing at the last piece—a towering stack of old electronics—they paused, catching their breath.

Karina raised her bat, grinning. “Alright, let’s end this. Whoever smashes it first is the ultimate champ.”

Y/n, equally competitive now, rolled his shoulders, raising his bat. “Prepare to lose, Rocket Puncher.”

“Three… two… one!” They both swung, aiming straight for the top of the stack.

But just as they were about to hit, Karina’s bat connected a split second sooner, sending pieces flying—and her bat continued on its path, grazing Y/n’s arm as he tried to dodge.

“Ow!” he yelped, dropping his bat and clutching his arm, though a grin tugged at his lips.

Karina gasped, immediately dropping her bat. “Oh my gosh, Y/n! I’m so sorry!” She rushed over, her hands hovering as if she wanted to check on him but didn’t want to make it worse.

Y/n burst into laughter, holding his “injured” arm dramatically. “You actually smashed me, Karina! I didn’t know I’d signed up for *full-contact smashing.*”

She smacked his shoulder playfully, though she was still red-faced with embarrassment. “You were in my way! And stop laughing—I thought I broke your arm!”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Next time, we’re putting a strict no beating your manager rule in place. I barely survived.”

Karina laughed, shaking her head as she helped him up. “Guess I did win the smashing contest, though,” she teased, flashing him a victorious grin.

Y/n chuckled, rubbing his arm with a smile. “Yeah, yeah, Rocket Puncher… but the prize is definitely on you. Because from now on, I’m giving you a permanent smash ban.”

She pouted, though she couldn’t hold back her smile. “Fine. But don’t be surprised if I accidentally ‘smash’ something again. Just… try not to stand in my way next time?”

“That sounds wron-“

“Finish that and you will eat this bat.” Karina glared.

“Yes ma’am”

With a shared stifled laugh, they both left the smash room, Karina proudly claiming her “victory” and Y/n mentally preparing to dodge any “unintentional” smash attacks back at the dorm.

As they finished their monthly agreement and left the smash room, a renewed sense of camaraderie between them, both feeling lighter than they had in a long time. There was certainly mild hostility between the two of them when first met, but things changed for the better.

It wasn’t just the smashing or the laughs—it was the reminder that they had each other, through all the chaos, and that was a pretty solid foundation to lean on.

[macbethsymphony]

Port Wine & Sake | Chapter 4

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

wc: 7.7k

Chapter rating: NSFW

Whole fic content/warnings: NSFW, 18+, Female Reader, Enemies to lovers, slight alcohol abuse, dysfunctional family dynamics, past trauma

Summary: You were tired of the fucking nuisances freeloading in your brother's castle, but it seemed you had no choice but to endure. A tumultuous romance between Roronoa Zoro and Dracule Mihawk's sister, set throughout the 2 year time skip.

Chapters [1 & 2] ◈ [3]

Masterlist

Also on AO3 if you prefer

Tag: @itsagoodluckkiss

Chapter 4: The First Month — Midnight Wanderings

As Roronoa Zoro’s training intensified, he often found himself roaming the halls in the dead of night. The adrenaline from Mihawk's relentless regimen still coursed through his veins, keeping him awake when he should have been sleeping. It was during one of these restless nights that he first glimpsed you wandering the eerie corridors, your figure shrouded in a ghostly robe that billowed behind you like a specter haunting the damned cursed castle.

At first, he almost mistook you for Perona, the way your silhouette moved with an ethereal grace, illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the high windows was otherworldly. He almost expected you to disappear through a wall, almost called out but something stayed his tongue—a faint trace of cinnamon and something uniquely you, a scent that clung to the stillness of the darkness and pricked at his senses. Zoro had hesitated, his annoyance at the interruption of his solitude mingling with a begrudging curiosity.

He watched as you moved with a purposeful stride, the unusual softness of your features catching his eye despite himself. You seemed driven by some unseen force, your path illuminated by the thin glow of the moon. He followed you from a distance, justifying it to himself as idle boredom. The corridors were silent save for the quiet echo of your footsteps and the far away hum of the sea beyond.

That first night, you had simply wandered back to your room. Zoro had stood there, hidden in the shadows, watching as you disappeared behind your door. The encounter left him with a lingering sense of intrigue that gnawed at him, an unwanted added distraction he couldn’t shake.

The next night, sleeplessness plagued him again and he found himself in the halls, hoping—against his better judgment—to glimpse you once more. But as he roamed the corridors aimlessly, you were nowhere to be seen.

You could feel yourself slowly unraveling. You knew you were sleepwalking again. Your feet were sore from your endless wanderings, exhaustion loomed over your shoulders but most of all you were bored. Bored out of your fucking mind. Roronoa Zoro had finally started his training and as you’d promised Mihawk, this meant the end of your entertainment.

The little swordsman was even avoiding you. You weren’t sure if you should be flattered of that fact or annoyed that he had seemingly disappeared from your quotidian. It was truly a dreadful situation. A tragedy.

You kneaded the dough with a bit more force than necessary. Perona had asked for bagels. Well asked wasn’t quite the adequate word. Demanded was more like it.

The dough resisted under your hands, an extremely poor substitute for the excitement Zoro's presence had brought. You glanced out the window, where you could just make out the training grounds in the distance. The rhythmic clanging of swords carried faintly on the breeze, a reminder of where your distraction had gone.

With a sigh, you focused back on your task. Perona's demands weren't going to go away on their own and you had learned that keeping the specter princess happy greatly improved your peace. Besides, it wasn’t the worst of requests. You quite enjoyed bagels yourself.

As you shaped the dough into perfect circles, your mind wandered, replaying moments with Zoro. Oh, how easily he flustered. How he twitched and squirmed so beautifully beneath your stare. You bet Mihawk was having a field day training him.

You sighed.

It was truly a shame, such great entertainment wasted on sword training.

”What’s got you sighing like that?” Perona interrupted your train of thought. The girl floated in from behind you, peering over your shoulder as you worked.

”Wouldn’t you like to know?” You smirked, not looking up from the dough.

She huffed, hovering closer. “Oh please, he’s not THAT interesting,” she remarked, leaning in with a mischievous grin.

You shot her a sideways glance, a knowing smile playing on your lips. “No? You should see the way he reacts when you catch him off guard. It’s priceless.”

Perona rolled her eyes. “You two siblings are insane,” she stated. “He’s not interesting. He’s just another swordsman obsessed with his training. Entirely boring and entirely not cute.” She poked at one of the dough circles. “And yet here you are, making bagels and sighing about him.”

You gave her an overdramatic shrug. “What can I say? Boredom has overtaken my life once more.”

“As I said, entirely insane.” Perona floated to the other side of the counter, facing you. “You even played doll and dressed him. What a complete waste.”

You chuckled, the memory of his reaction as your nail had grazed his abdomen delightfully sweet on your mind. “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, girl? Do you desire new clothes too?”

”Don’t call me like that.” She pouted. “How old are you anyways?”

”It’s really none of your business,” you replied, your tone a touch too short.

She frowned at that, her passing interest growing into something more concrete. “What? Are you actually younger than me?”

Your jaw clenched, and you regretted your words. You should have simply given her a bullshit answer. “I wouldn’t know, Perona. Father wasn’t particularly keen on birthdays.”

That seemed to shut her up for a second. She let out a small “oh” of realization as your statement sank in.

You couldn’t help the hint of bitterness coloring your tone as you continued. “Don’t dwell on it too much. It’s not something I tend to think about, myself.”

For a moment Perona hovered in silence, seemingly lost in thought. Then with a shake of her head, she switched gears, returning to her mischievous demeanor. “So, about those bagels. Any chance I can get a heart-shaped one?”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile gracing your lips once more. “I can try. No promises though.”

”And, yes,” she said. “I would also like new clothes. So make me a dress.”

You laughed, a hearty laugh. “Now, why would I do that?”

As Roronoa Zoro swung his swords in precise, furious arcs, the rhythm of his training became a battleground of its own. Amidst the clash of steel and the exertion of muscle, your presence haunted him like a persistent ghost. He couldn't escape the memory of your laughter, the way you effortlessly turned your interactions into a game of wits that left him off balance. It was infuriating how you managed to get under his skin with such ease.

He needed to get stronger, he reminded himself. For Luffy. His captain should never have been fighting alone.

Each swing of his swords echoed with frustration. The more he trained, the more his thoughts drifted to you—your sharp retorts, the way you so easily unraveled his composure with a mere glance or a fleeting touch. It was maddening, it had been days since you last played with him. And yet, you were still a torment that gnawed at him relentlessly.

No.

He needed to get stronger. He wouldn’t let what happened in Sabaody happen again.

Zoro’s mind flashed back to the moments that lingered like a curse—the curve of your lips as you teased him, the warmth of your breath on his skin, and the tantalizing scent of cinnamon that clung to the air long after you had left. Those memories, intertwined with the intensity of his training, threatened to drive him to madness.

Damn it.

He needed to get stronger. For his crew, for his friends.

He gritted his teeth, focusing harder on his strikes, hoping to drown out the reminiscences with the physical exertion. But no matter how fiercely he swung his swords, your presence remained like an indelible mark etched upon his consciousness. The memory of your softened features in the moonlight, the way that sheer robe you wore at night, that short slip and how it left nearly nothing to the imagination.

Fuck.

He needed—

"You're distracted, Roronoa," Mihawk's voice cut through the air, bringing Zoro's attention back to the present. The warlord observed him with his characteristic stoicism, but there was a hint of something else in his gaze—almost amusement.

Zoro’s mouth twisted at being read so easily. “I’m not,” he stubbornly denied.

“Those forms of yours would disagree.” Mihawk stepped forward, drawing his sword. “I would suggest you don’t entertain my sister’s antics, but I doubt that is within your control.”

Zoro’s jaw clenched as Mihawk’s words hit their mark. He knew the warlord saw through him, saw through the façade of focus he tried to maintain during training. Swinging his swords with renewed determination, Zoro fought to regain his composure, but the memory of you kneeling before him as you laced up his pants lingered like a stubborn shadow.

“I’m not distracted,” Zoro insisted, his voice edged with frustration as he parried Mihawk’s assault.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, his swordplay graceful and precise, effortlessly overpowering him. “Denial suits you poorly, Roronoa.”

The memory of the tips of your fingers grazing his skin plagued his mind once more and his strike faltered, allowing the warlord to bring him to his knees, blade at his throat.

“I can see what she meant,” he continued with a rare smile. “You are delightfully easy to rile up.”

Zoro scowled.

“Emotions play a large part in winning battles, Roronoa.” He lowered his sword, letting Zoro rise. “Learn to control them.”

He needed to get stronger.

The second time Roronoa Zoro caught you wandering in the dead of night was days later. He had almost convinced himself that the first encounter was a one-time fluke, a bizarre chapter in the castle’s ghostly narrative. The sprawling fortress was enveloped in darkness, the moonlight barely filtering through the heavy clouds, casting an eerie, fragmented glow along the stone corridors. The silence was thick, oppressive, wrapping around him like a shroud.

It was a rare solace, this peaceful solitude. A respite from Perona’s incessant chatter and, more importantly, a break from the piercing scrutiny of your stare.

Your stare...

It lingered in his mind, unsettling, annoying. He gritted his teeth.

It was the soft echo of steps that made him stop, barely audible over the sound of his own breathing. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a series of faint, smeared footprints on the usually pristine surface of the marble floor. He bent down, observing the dirt tracks and, disturbingly enough, specks of blood that marked the path. Irritation flared further within him—why did you have to bring chaos even in your sleep?

Still, he quickened his pace, following the trail. The delicate scent of cinnamon pricked his senses, signaling that he was drawing closer. You moved slowly, your features bathed in the dim, cold glow of the moon. Your eyes were half-lidded, your expression serene, almost childlike. The sight was unsettling, and yet, there was a beauty to it that he reluctantly acknowledged.

A soft murmur escaped your lips as you reached a wall, barely audible in the stillness. Zoro strained to hear, trying to catch the fragmented words. “Father... locked all the doors... trapped...” you mumbled, nails digging into the stone. “The doors...can’t get out…”

There was no distress in your tone, only a grim acceptance that tugged at something he didn’t like deep within him. He dimly spotted tear tracks glistening on your cheeks.

Eerily beautiful.

Before he could take another step, a figure emerged from the shadows. Mihawk moved with his usual grace, his gaze fixed on you with a softness Zoro hadn’t known the warlord was capable of.

Zoro froze, watching as Mihawk reached out and placed a hand over yours, stopping the mindless digging of your fingers. “You’re safe,” Mihawk’s voice was a low murmur, soothing. “No one can harm you here.”

You didn’t turn to Mihawk, your eyes still unfocused, far away. “But... Father... the doors...”

“Hush, now,” Mihawk whispered, his tone softening further. “I’m here. There are no locked doors.”

You seemed to relax in his hold. “Father,” you stumbled, and Mihawk settled you. “Father’ll be angry.” Your voice was so quiet he barely heard the last few words.

The warlord’s stare caught Zoro’s eyes, and he flinched under the coldness of the amber gaze. “Father’s not here,” Mihawk’s tone was tender, a sharp contrast to the expression on his features.

He should not care. Really should not care.

He watched as Mihawk picked you up effortlessly, as your face buried itself in his coat.

“Forget what you’ve seen, Roronoa,” Mihawk said as he passed him.

Forget, huh?

Yes, he could do that. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

Or at least, he tried to convince himself he didn’t.

"You've started wandering again," Mihawk's voice, calm and measured, cut through the stillness as he strode into the dining room.

You winced, pausing mid-bite. The weariness from your restless nights was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, a testament to the strain you were under.

"I am aware," you replied, your words tinged with frustration, each syllable a sharp edge against the tranquility of the early morning hour.

He observed you silently for a moment, his gaze inscrutable, a flicker of concern hidden deep within his amber stare. "It's becoming a problem," he said finally, his tone devoid of accusation, merely stating a fact that hung heavily between you.

You brought the piece of bread back to your lips, chewing with a slight annoyance, not tasting the buttery jam as you watched him pull out a chair and sit down across from you. The quiet scrape against the floor felt unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room.

You sighed, the weight of his stare pressing down on you, an invisible burden that seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. "As I said, I am aware it has," you muttered, the depths of your voice trembling almost imperceptibly, a crack in your usually composed facade.

Mihawk's sharp eyes missed nothing. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed. "You need rest," he said, his tone softer now, gentle. "This can't continue."

You looked down, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It’ll pass," the vulnerability in your voice betraying how close you were to crumbling. “You know it always does.” The words felt heavy, laden with the exhaustion that had settled deep in your bones, making every night a battle you seemed destined to lose.

Mihawk's stance eased a little at your answer. "It seems our guest has also been following you on your nightly escapades,” he added, almost as though it was an afterthought.

Your gaze snapped back to him at that, a slow, satisfied smile spreading on your lips. “Has he?” you cooed with sudden interest. “And here I thought our little swordsman was trying to avoid me.”

A flicker of amusement danced in Mihawk’s eyes, though it was fleeting. "It seems you have a way of captivating even the most unwilling participants," he replied, his tone light yet laced with an underlying seriousness.

You leaned back in your chair, a smirk playing on your lips. "Oh, I’m well aware of that," you said, the confidence in your voice masking the exhaustion that still clung to you.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, leaning back as well. “I would appreciate it if you stopped distracting my student.”

You were about to say something clever, maybe a little provocative when the sound of arguing made the words disappear on your tongue.

“Are you dense or something?” Perona's sharp screech sliced through the air, her annoyance palpable as she directed her scolding at Zoro. “We’re in this room three times a day, minimum. How is it possible you still don’t know your way around?”

Zoro shot her a sidelong glance, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “I made it here, didn’t I?”

Perona rolled her eyes dramatically, her exasperation evident. “Barely. It took us over an hour. For someone who supposedly helped defeat Moria-sama, your sense of direction is abysmal.”

Zoro scowled at Perona, the frustration clear in the tightness of his jaw. “I didn’t ask for your help,” he muttered, throwing himself in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Perona huffed, her hands on her hips. “Well, you should. If you keep wandering around like this, you’ll never make it to the dining room in time for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.”

The tension between them was almost tangible, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at their bickering. “Now, now,” you interjected smoothly, a playful glint in your eyes. “Leave him alone, Perona. It’s not every day someone manages to get lost in a straight corridor.”

”It is quite the miracle you ever make it to training,” Mihawk added.

Zoro’s scowl deepened, his pride clearly bruised by the collective teasing. “I didn’t ask for your commentary either,” he grumbled, the frustration evident in his voice.

You smiled sweetly, leaning back in your chair. “Just trying to help,” you said, feigning innocence. “You seemed to be having a rough time, little swordsman.”

His jaw twitched visibly. “I’m not little,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You laughed.

Zoro's breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles screaming in protest, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth more intense with each exhale. He tried to ready himself, tightening his grip on his swords, bracing for the onslaught he knew was coming. Mihawk’s eyes bore into him. Sharp. Calculating.

“Again,” Mihawk’s voice cut through the air, cold and unyielding.

Zoro barely had time to raise his blades before Mihawk was upon him, his strikes swift and merciless. Each clash of their swords reverberated through Zoro’s bones, the sheer force of Mihawk’s blows driving him back, step by agonizing step.

He tried to focus, tried to find an opening, but Mihawk’s movements were a blur, a dance of deadly precision that left Zoro scrambling to keep up. His vision wavered, the edges of his sight tinged with red. Was he hallucinating? The warlord’s strikes seemed more brutal than usual, each one carrying a weight that threatened to crush Zoro’s spirit.

“Is this all you’ve got, Roronoa?” Mihawk’s evident boredom was a dagger to Zoro’s pride. “You’ll never defeat me with such feeble attempts.”

Gritting his teeth, Zoro pushed forward, his swords a whirlwind of steel. But no matter how fiercely he attacked, Mihawk was always one step ahead, his defenses impenetrable. Zoro’s frustration mounted with each failed attempt, his body growing heavier with every passing moment.

Sweat dripped from Zoro’s brow, mixing with the blood that trickled from a cut above his eye. His grip on his swords faltered for a split second, and Mihawk seized the opportunity, disarming him with a single, decisive strike. Zoro’s swords clattered to the ground, and he fell to one knee, gasping for breath.

“Get up,” Mihawk ordered, his voice devoid of sympathy. “You’re not done yet.”

Zoro’s vision swam, the trees and the sky spinning around him. He reached for his swords, his hands trembling. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to stand, to face Mihawk once more.

“Again,” Mihawk said, his tone unwavering.

Zoro lunged forward, his movements fueled by sheer willpower. But Mihawk’s blade met his with a resounding clash, effortlessly deflecting his attacks. Each strike sent shockwaves through Zoro’s body, his limbs growing heavier, his breaths more labored.

“You’re slow,” Mihawk taunted, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Predictable.”

Zoro’s frustration reached a boiling point. With a roar, he unleashed a flurry of attacks, his swords moving with lightning speed. But it was a hopeless struggle, the warlord's swordsmanship was flawless. He parried with ease, his expression never wavering, not a drop of sweat or dirt marring his skin.

His vision blurred further as exhaustion and pain took their toll. He could barely keep his grip on his swords. He stumbled, his legs buckling beneath him, and Mihawk’s blade was there, waiting, knocking him to the ground with a final, decisive blow.

Zoro lay, his chest heaving, every breath a struggle. He could hear Mihawk's footsteps approaching, each step a reminder of his failure.

“Do you see now, Roronoa?” Mihawk’s voice was calm, almost gentle, but the words cut deeper than any sword. “You have strength, but you lack control. You have determination, but you lack discipline. Until you learn to master both, you will never defeat me.”

Zoro’s vision darkened, his body refusing to move. He could hear Mihawk walking away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.

“Ghost girl, patch him up,” Mihawk's command was sharp, the final blow to Zoro's pride.

He lay there long after Perona finished patching him up, watching as the sky shifted from its usual gray to hues of twilight. It was only him and the moon, and even though his mind was swirling with pain and exhaustion it was still a peaceful moment.

With a grunt he sat up, his eyes falling on his swords, still scattered on the ground. Slowly, painfully, he crawled over to them, his fingers wrapping around the familiar hilts. Each movement was agony, but he refused to give in, to let his body dictate his limits.

With unwavering determination he stood up and he brought Wado Ichimonji to his mouth. He got into stance and then… then he saw you.

You, tittering on the edge of the balustrade. You, your hair flowing in the cold night wind. You, ethereal under the moonlight.

His breath halted.

For a moment he thought you’d jump and his sword fell from his mouth and he instinctively took a step forward, not that he could do anything from so far away. And his heart both stopped and beat too hard in his ears.

But then you simply backed away and disappeared. Disappeared as though you had only been a hallucination his psyche had conjured out of desperation.

And he cursed himself. Cursed the hold you had on him. Cursed the fact that he was not able to keep you from his mind.

You were always vaguely aware that you were dreaming, but your consciousness never quite allowed you to return to reality. You knew the halls you wandered through were not real, that you were not back in the nightmare of your childhood, and yet the dreams persisted. The walls around you were the same cold, unforgiving stone, the same locked doors and barred windows. There was also a faint awareness that you were sleepwalking, the sensation of your feet against the floor just a little too real for it to be purely a dream.

But the scent of that familiar cologne filled the air, the unmistakable smell making your heart race with fear and anger. It was always there in these dreams, a cruel reminder of the control he had wielded over your life. You wandered aimlessly, your feet carrying you down usual paths, your hands brushing against the rough stone walls.

The memories forever played out in your mind, a loop of pain and helplessness. You could hear his voice, sharp and demanding, as if he were right behind you. You flinched at the phantom sound of his steps, your own quickening as you tried to escape his hold. But no matter how fast you moved, you were always trapped, always locked in this prison of memories.

Your fingers traced the edges of a door, the wood splintered and worn. You tried the handle, knowing it would be locked, but the compulsion to try was too strong. It rattled in your hand, and a grim acceptance overcame you.

Your gaze locked with the one window you knew was never sealed.

It would be so easy.

As you pried the panes open, the cold night air rushed in, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the halls. You felt a momentary sense of freedom, a fleeting respite from the relentless memories that plagued you. The ground below seemed to call to you, promising an escape from the torment.

It would be so, so easy.

You opened your eyes, taking in the sight before you. The wind was freezing on your skin, far colder than the one of your dreams. You were so up high, tittering on the edge of the balustrade. Your gaze met Zoro’s from afar. You watched as the sword in his mouth dropped down. He looked concerned. How adorable. For a moment, you moved your foot, still with half a mind to jump, half a mind to end it all but instead you laughed, rich bitter laughter.

It was the dreams talking. The past, not the present.

You gave a long shaky exhale.

“Have you been following me for long?” you asked Mihawk, whom was hovering right at the edge of the balcony’s door.

“Long enough,” he answered simply. “You were rather uncooperative tonight.”

You sighed, hopping backwards, back onto the stone floor and turning to face him. “I see,” you dragged on the word. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

He hummed, following you as you stepped back inside. Your steps instinctually brought you to the cellar and you selected two bottles of wine at random from the top shelf.

“You should rest,” Mihawk said as he watched you continue to browse. You chose a bottle of port, taking a moment to shift your hold so you could carry all three bottles comfortably.

“I’m going to drink Mihawk.” You strolled past him. “Get entirely wasted, forget for a moment, so while I appreciate you keeping me safe, I’d also appreciate it if you left me alone for a while.”

Mihawk's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you. His expression softened just a fraction, the concern in his gaze unusually barely hidden.

"Drowning your sorrows in wine won't solve anything," he said, his voice calm but firm.

You laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "Perhaps not, but it will give me some sort of reprieve," you replied, your tone matching the emptiness you felt inside. "For a few hours at least."

He didn't respond immediately, and you could feel his stare boring into you, weighing his next words carefully. "Very well," he finally said. "Try not to do anything too dumb, Sister.”

You offered him a wry smile. "When have I ever, Brother?" you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

With that, you turned and made your way to one of the salons, the bottles of wine clinking softly with each step.

It seemed to Roronoa Zoro that the only thing in this damned castle he could find, was you. Every corridor he turned down, every hallway he explored, he couldn’t for the life of him find his way back to his fucking room. And still, his steps brought him to you.

He paused outside the slightly ajar door to the salon, a soft humming and the flickering warmth of a fire drawing him in. He cursed himself. He couldn’t help it. He pushed the door open further and stepped inside.

You were seated by the fireplace, a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other. You looked up as he entered, a wry smile playing on your mouth. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little swordsman,” you drawled, raising your glass in a mock toast.

Zoro scowled at the nickname, ignored the urge to snap back. His eyes unwittingly roamed your form. Seared into his mind how the short black silken slip you wore rode dangerously high along the plushness of your thighs, the way your hair framed your face, how your features were unusually relaxed, the tint of wine on your lips, the way one of the straps was sliding lower and lower against your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t drink alone,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. “Oh? Then you should join me?” You took a sip of your wine, watching him over the rim of your glass.

He huffed, dropping into the chair opposite you. “I’m not here to babysit you,” he said gruffly, but there was an undercurrent of something else in his voice he didn’t quite understand—concern, perhaps?

You leaned back in your chair, studying him with an almost lazy interest. “No, you’re not. You’re here because you’re lost, aren’t you?”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, the firelight casting shadows on his face. “You’re annoying,” he grumbled.

“And yet, here you are,” you retorted, pouring another glass of wine and offering it to him. “Drink with me, Zoro. Maybe you’ll find me less annoying.”

He eyed the glass warily, his instinct screaming at him that it was a bad idea. But something about your demeanor made it impossible for him to refuse. With a grunt, he took it from your hand, the touch of your fingers against his sending a jolt through his system.

Fuck.

He downed the wine in one gulp, barely tasting the rich flavor as it burned its way down his throat. You watched him with a mix of amusement and curiosity, refilling his glass without a word. Zoro took it, this time sipping more slowly, the alcohol warming him from the inside out.

“It’s been a while, little swordsman. Did you miss me?”

Zoro’s jaw tightened at your question, his grip on the wine glass firm. “Miss you? Hardly,” he retorted, though it lacked the venom he intended. The warmth of the wine and the flickering firelight softened his resolve, making it all the more difficult to maintain his usual gruff exterior.

You chuckled, the sound rich and melodic, filling the room with an odd sense of comfort. “Oh, come now. We both know you enjoy our little exchanges. Why else would you be here?”

He huffed, taking another sip of his wine. “As you said, I’m lost. This castle is a damned maze.”

You leaned back in your chair, your eyes never leaving his. “Is that so? I hear you’ve been keeping me company.”

Surprise flickered on his features which he quickly tried to mask with a scowl. It didn’t work though, the slow spreading smile on your lip’s infuriating. “Why do you always have to be so—“

You laughed and the words died on his tongue.

“So what? Annoying? Vexing? Overdramatic? Theatrical?” you listed off each word with exaggerated flair. Your laughter bubbling up again as his scowl deepened.

In a languid movement you got up and he downed the glass in his hands in a desperate attempt to quiet his beating heart.

“Oh I know!” You continued, your fingers slowly brushing against his shoulder. “Sanctimonious? Maddening? Irking?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew you had a little too much alcohol flowing through your veins for you to make sensible decisions and by the way he’d just downed the entirety of the almost overflowing glass you’d poured him so did he. But you wanted to play. You needed to play. Your boredom craved to be satiated and Roronoa Zoro was the perfect little plaything to satiate its incessant demands.

He was so pretty struggling like that, the challenge in his steely gaze intoxicating.

Despite the haze of alcohol, you remained keenly aware, attuned to the signals he might give were he to choose to stop you. You doubted he would, however. No, he would not. If you were reading him well, and you knew how easily you could read him, he wanted this…perhaps even more than you.

He was so pretty struggling like that, his body held taut, desperately restraining himself.

The way his gaze fixated on you spoke volumes, clouded with a raw intensity that could only be interpreted as desire. As you continued to speak, your words tumbling out in a provocative stream, you wondered if he truly comprehended any of it. His attention seemed consumed by something primal, a hunger that mirrored your own need for amusement.

He was so pretty struggling like that, entirely lost to the allure of lust.

Drawing closer, you abandoned decorum, slowly you pressed your knee between his legs. You leaned in close, your lips almost touching his earrings, your hand finding balance over the backrest of his chair.

”You’re so easy to rile up, Roronoa Zoro,” you whispered, your breath grazing his skin.

The only thing you seemed to like more than fine wine and messing with him was the sound of your own fucking voice. Fuck. You were so pretty taunting him like that. So pretty, so pretty, so pretty. He needed you to shut up or he’d do something he’d regret.

Zoro gritted his teeth, his pulse quickening as your words echoed in his mind, yet remained unregistered. Each of your smiles, every playful insult, all of your fleeting touches, only served to ignite the simmering frustration within him.

You were close now, hovering over his seat, the smell of amber and cinnamon filling his every senses.

"You're so easy to rile up, Roronoa Zoro," your voice had a lilting quality, a teasing edge that drove him to the brink. You leaned in closer, your knee slotting between his, your hand finding balance on the backrest over his shoulder, your breath warm against his ear. "Maybe one day, you'll actually do something about it."

You were playing with fire and you both knew it. But as your gaze locked with his and he registered the mischievous glint in yours, it became evident to him that you were exactly aware of what you were doing and that you clearly didn’t care.

Zoro's fists clenched at his sides, fingers digging into the wooden armrests until his knuckles went white and his nails left crescent marks. The muscles in his jaw worked overtime to keep his composure. Damn you and your games. He wanted to walk away, to distance himself from your intoxicating presence, but he found he was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

Your lips moved but he didn’t hear anything.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his voice an imperceptible growl. "So beautiful.” The words were so low they were lost in the air between you.

You may not have heard the words but you’d definitely read them on his lips. He cursed himself, cursed that he’d slipped up. He expected you to taunt him further, say something clever, but instead, you laughed, the sound like a bell chiming, and it drove him to the edge.

His self-control was fraying, unraveling with each passing second. He could feel the heat rising in him, a primal urge to close the distance between you, to capture those taunting lips with his own and silence you in the only way he knew how. His pulse pounded in his ears, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

“It’s been so long since we’ve played together.” Your hand traveled from the backrest to his bandaged chest, sliding down and dangerously close to the waistband of his pants then to his thighs.

You dropped to your knees, pushing his apart, settling yourself as though it was your rightful place. Your hands went up and down his thighs, then your nails dug in hard in the leather as they roamed back up one last time, closer and closer to his crotch, finding the laces at his waist.

“How about I thank you for entertaining me tonight?” You cooed, pulling absentmindedly at the cords, your cheek resting on his tensing thigh as you gazed up at him through your lashes.

Zoro's breath hitched, the sight of you between his legs nearly undoing him. Your touch, your voice, your proximity—it was all too much, yet not enough. He watched, mesmerized, as you slowly worked at the laces of his pants, your eyes never leaving his. The smirk on your lips was a promise of the wicked intentions you harbored, and he could feel his resolve crumbling under the weight of his own desire.

The alcohol dulled the edges of his restraint, making his mind fuzzy and his body hyper-aware of every movement, every touch. Your fingers brushed against his skin, and he shivered, a low growl catching at the back of his throat. "You're playing a dangerous game," he managed to rasp out, his voice strained with the effort to maintain control.

You tilted your head, your cheek pressing further against his thigh as you looked up at him with a mixture of mischief and defiance. "Is that so?" you murmured, your tone dripping with faux innocence.

With a swift, deliberate motion, you loosened the last of the laces, your fingers grazing his heated skin, riskily close to his crotch. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he sucked in a breath, his body responding instinctively to your touch. His hands, which had been gripping the armrests, moved to your shoulders, his fingers digging into your flesh as if to anchor his sanity in reality.

"Stop," he said, but the word lacked conviction. It was a weak attempt to assert control, to regain the upper hand, but the truth was, he was losing himself in you. In this moment, your touch, your presence, was a drug he couldn't resist.

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through him. "Are you sure?" you asked, your voice low and sultry. You tugged at his waistband, and his breath came out in a harsh exhale. Your fingers slid beneath the fabric, teasing, exploring, never quite where he needed them to go. His head fell back, eyes closing as he surrendered to the sensation. “I’ll stop if you really want me to, little swordsman.”

Your breath was warm against his skin as you leaned in, your lips brushing his abdomen in feather light touches. The tension was unbearable, the hunger overwhelming, and he knew he was on the verge of breaking.

You sensed it too, your grin widening as you watched him struggle.

"Fuck, woman," he muttered, his voice a gravelly whisper. He opened his eyes, looking down at you with a mixture of frustration and raw, unbridled lust. His hand moved from your shoulder to your hair, tangling in the strands as he pulled you closer, the intensity of his need overwhelming any remnants of hesitation. “Fuck.”

You smiled, a slow, satisfied smile that told him you knew exactly what he meant. "Good," you purred, your hand moving with a practiced ease that made his pulse race. "Now let me thank you properly." You finally dragged his aching cock out of his pants.

You ran a finger along the underside, your breath hot against his tip. “Already?” You teased, gathering a bead of precum and bringing it to your lips. “I haven’t even started yet.”

You held his gaze as you brought your tongue to him, licking a slow thick stripe before giving his tip a soft kiss. His response was a guttural sound, half-growl, half-moan. You deftly slipped the straps of your slip down, revealing your chest, your fingers playing with your erect nipples.

"Fuck," he muttered again, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes were captivated by the show you gave him but as a small mewl escaped your lips, his gaze met yours once more, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was only you and him, locked in this dance of lust and power.

As you moved to take him into your mouth, he let out a low, shuddering breath, his entire being falling back against the chair. The sensation was overwhelming, a combination of pleasure and torment that left him gasping for air. He could feel his control slipping, the tight leash he kept on his desires fraying with every passing second.

"Please," he whispered, the word escaping him before he could stop it. It was a plea, a surrender, a desperate acknowledgment that he was at your mercy.

You paused, looking up at him with triumph in your eyes. "That's more like it," you murmured, your voice a sultry purr.

His hand twitched at that, his fingers itching to grab harder, to pull you closer and control this tortuous game. But he held back, a war raging within him. He ached for your touch, but he would be damned if he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him lose control any further.

You, however, feasted on the desperation in his gaze, drank in every shaky moan escaping his lips as yours wrapped around his length. You wanted to hear more, craved to hear him beg. You hollowed out your cheeks and he almost bucked under you.

Adorable.

You took more of him, your nose nearly finding the patch of green hair at his base. His lids fluttered shut in pleasure. That wouldn’t do. You needed to see him unravel. You backed a little before taking him again, one of your hands traveled between your thighs and you moaned around him. His eyes snapped open as the sound hit his ears, as he felt the vibrations around him and the unbridled lust that broke on his features was the sweetest of victory.

In this moment, he was yours. You held all the power of the world over him. He was lost and you were his guiding star.

His fingers tightened their hold in your hair, his thighs trembled at your sides. You moaned around him again and again. The taste of him, the feel of him against your tongue, was intoxicating, and you reveled in the way he shuddered beneath your touch.

You slowed back down for a moment, savoring every sound he made, each little reaction but as his grip tightened and his hips bucked, you increased your pace, taking him deeper, faster, harder.

His breathing grew ragged, moans filling the room as you brought him closer to the edge. He was lost in ecstasy, the pleasure overwhelming, and you knew he couldn't hold back much longer.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice a desperate growl. "I'm gonna—"

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his as you stroked him with your hand, your mouth still teasing the sensitive head. "Do it," you whispered, your voice filled with anticipation. "I want to taste you."

With a final, shuddering groan, Zoro gave in to the pleasure, his release hitting your tongue. You took him in, savoring the taste, the feel of him pulsing in your mouth, and you didn't stop until he was spent, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

His seed was hot in your mouth. You smirked as you snaked your way up, straddling him with ease. You traced his jaw then his lips, prying them open gently. Your hair formed a curtain around you as you leaned closer, your lips almost upon his.

You let his cum dribble out of your mouth and into his, lust thick in your gaze as your fingers mixed the milky white with his spit. His eyes never left yours, something akin to reverence merging with the haze of release swirling in them. You absentmindedly grasped for the bottle of port at your side and brought it to your lips. As you savored the rich sweetness, you pushed further almost choking him and he groaned and you delighted in the hold you held over him.

You put back the bottle, craving for his touch. Your hand reached for his, dragging it along your outer thigh, then to your core, letting him feel how wet you were. “It’s a shame you came so fast, little swordsman,” you moaned as his fingers gathered your slick. You had half a mind to pursue your own rapture but instead you continued to guide his hand up, pressing it harder against the softness of your breast, to your cheek. “We could have had so much more fun,” you teased as your reddened lips wrapped along his slick digits.

You let them go with a pop and moved in closer still. Your tongue met his lower lip, then your teeth and through your grin you nipped at the soft flesh. Your lips finally found his, and your tongues swirled together, the taste of both your arousals mixing with the sweetness of the port wine.

Zoro's senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of your taste and touch. The coldness of your spit on his fingers, the softness of your breasts beneath his hold, and the way your lips and tongue moved against his—all of it combined to create a maelstrom of desire that left him breathless and yearning for more.

He groaned into your mouth, his hand traveling to your waist, somehow pulling you closer. The heat between you was palpable, your bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desperation. His hands dug into your flesh, knotted into fine silk, the ache to claim you, to make you his, growing stronger with every passing second.

You let out a moan, which he drank in with intensity. It was intoxicating, it made the world disappear, ecstasy flowed through his veins. He rolled his hips under you and you let out another one, needy and muffled against his lips and he reveled in it. His fingers traveled under your slip, seeking your skin, tracing your spine, tugging you into him.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmured against you, his voice rough with lust.

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. “Good,” you said as you slipped away, leaving him stranded in the heat of his desire. “I like being in your thoughts.”

Your hands met his, and you dragged them away from you. You touched his cheek tenderly before pulling up the fallen straps of your slip and smoothing down the thin fabric. With slow deliberate steps you made your way to the door. You looked back at him, delighting in his confusion.

Adorable.

“Thank you for playing with me, little swordsman,” you giggled, disappearing into the corridor. “Come and find me, if you want to play again,” you called out.

And just like that you left him in a haze of bewilderment and wild desire. His ragged breath slowly tamed and the heat of your presence dissipated so quickly he almost thought it had all been a hallucination. With a shaky hand, he reached for one of the bottles on the side table, not caring as he brought it to his lips.

Port wine. He scowled as the liquid hit his tongue. He’d never been a fan of port. It was too sweet. Too rich. Too expensive. But in this moment, it was intoxicating.

Previous Chapter | Next chapter (coming soon)

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[sanjisluvbot]

Isekai Yandere Strawhats Chapter 2

Previously| next

The days turned to weeks and weeks to months soon, that world was a thought of the past. Y/n had continued to her regular life going to school, hanging out with friends, and having her biggest worries being what time her assignments were due.

She didn’t throw away any of her old books or posters with those characters on them instead she put them in a box under her bed. Just so they were right beneath her feet if she ever wanted to return and fantasize about maybe a different time, maybe if things would’ve gone differently. 

The seasons were beginning to change March would soon become April. It had only dawned on the girl today that a year had passed since she first started that journey. Sitting by the window as the birds chirped in glee, Y/n finally had some time to dive into her memory.

A year ago Y/n had just met the straw hat pirates. She appeared in their life so suddenly, and little did she know they would become so easily enamored. She laughed to herself in disbelief then rubbed her hand through her bangs, “ How could I be so stupid?” she said to herself.

Opening her curtains for the rays of the sun to wash over her reminded her of tanning with the girls on the Sunny, in the beginning, it was just so sweet, wasn’t it?

With a sigh, she got up from her bed and waltzed over to grab her remote from the desk turning on the TV hoping to drown out the memory of a certain someone. The shows were white noise as the face of Trafalgar Law was all she could focus on. 

A call from her mother had made her jump and she quickly made her way out of her room. “ Yes, mother?” She said walking into the living room. Her mother smiled and handed her a letter. The envelope was black with no writing on it and the seal was yellow with a small bear on it.

Y/n bit her lip, not wanting to get too excited in front of her mother and for herself, who knows if this letter is from who she thinks it is?

She thanked her mother and quickly made her way back to her room shutting the door with her back. The pit of her stomach grew butterflies and nerves flared inside of her. She turned off her TV and sat on her bed using her thumb to unseal the envelope.

There were two letters inside marked with red and blue at the tips of the corner. Pulling the blue one out first she swiftly opened it and began reading.

Dear Y/n, I wonder what you’ve been doing all this time. I know you got back home safely, I can feel it in my bones. I debated on whether or not I should just go see you myself but I figured it was better to let you enjoy your time with your family for now.

I have been able to avoid clashing with BlackBeard thanks to you and I have been able to gather more research on this gateway between our worlds. I won’t go too in-depth in this letter but I can say that we have a lot to talk about once we meet again. After you left the strawhats also left me alone without a word or a fight. Within the next month, we will meet but it will take some effort on your part as well. Please read the next letter for additional information. 

L. 

Y/n felt ecstatic, finally after months of wondering what happened to Law there was an answer, directly from him at that. She tossed the note beside her pulled out the red-tipped letter and began reading.

There were instructions and illustrations explaining how to open a gateway directly onto the polar tang where they could travel with ease. It was a method without shifting that wouldn’t be so strenuous on both parts.

At the end of the letter, there was a small warning, “ It will take time, over a month on your end to make sure that the gate is stabilized so as soon as you read this you should get started.”

With a smile on her face, she followed both letters back into the envelope and began to follow the instructions. The instructions were relatively easy but there was a reason she needed time.

Step one, keep the mirror on your door as clean as can be that will be the gate. Step two, ensure any other mirrors are not facing the gate including your television.

Step three, keep your curtains open as the sun will help charge up the portal. The other steps were simple as well, don’t keep anything plugged in at night, and keep a diet consisting of greens. 

Y/n had a new pep in her step and everyone around her noticed. Y/n had smiled more often and life at home seemed like a fantasy for her parents, they never had to ask her twice to complete chores or help out with anything around the house.

The first week of April swings by and exam season is brewing up, Y/n spent time studying with her friends in the library. " Y/n me and y/f/n are going to get drinks real quick."

The girl waved her friends off too focused on her current textbook. A minute passed before she was interrupted again by a text message. Her mother was telling her she needed to pick up something for dinner, she sighed and decided to take a break from studying and possibly find a book she could take home.

Out of interest Y/n took to the supernatural fantasy section. Wondering if she could find any books relating to portals and how they work.

At the top of the shelf there was a black hardcover with the words open your mind written in script on the spine. Reaching up she grabbed it, ‘ Open Your Mind written by N.R’. The book seemed to be brand new, the pages crisp and the cover silky smooth.

Returning to her seat Y/n began to read. Her friends soon returned and hours had passed as Y/n fell into the fantasy world of N.R. The book was about a women who had a found family and was able to discover the mysteries of her world. The chills ran down her spine when she realized how similar it had been to one piece.

Although there weren’t any pirates Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling of having heard a few similar stories within her favorite series. Bitting her lip she closed the book on the third chapter, not wanting to spoon herself while with her friends.

Y/n tucked a strand of her behind her ears and told her friends she would be off as it was getting late. Waiting for the bus questions popped into her head.

There is no way one of them could be here right?

Law made sure they didn’t have a way back right?

It’s been so long since she was filled with this much anxiety. The cool spring breeze wouldn’t cool her nerves and the palms of her hands filled with sweat.

The bus finally came and she stepped on seating herself in the single seats. Her head rested on the window and she silently watched the cars zoom by leaving colorful glares.

🏷️: ( new tag list, reply to be added to next update )

A/N: Welcome back to the drama!!! I’m so excited to begin this new journey again and I am so happy everyone enjoyed the first part. I don’t currently know how long I want this part to be but I will have a schedule in my Masterlist of when I will update.

Extra: What do you think about the letter?

[starsjulia]

angel chapter five // stepping away

a/n : so i may have lied, this one’s another short one… also i know jonas resigned but i write this before he did and im to lazy to change it.

warnings : cancer, cancer treatment, side effects, still a fluffy chapter though.

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Angel’s treatments, though showing promise, still left her weak and vulnerable, and there were many days when Leah could see how much her little girl needed her. It wasn’t just about the medical appointments and treatments—it was about the quiet moments in between, when Angel would wake up from a restless sleep and reach out for her mother’s comforting touch, or the times when she would ask Leah to sit beside her just so she wouldn’t feel alone.

Leah had missed a few training sessions recently, and though her teammates were understanding, Leah could see the strain it was placing on the team. The club had been nothing but supportive, but there was a growing realization within Leah that something needed to change. She couldn’t keep splitting herself between the demands of football and the needs of her daughter, not when Angel’s fight was still so precarious.

The moment of clarity came one afternoon as Leah sat in the hospital room, holding Angel’s hand as her daughter slept. The beeping of the monitors filled the silence, a constant reminder of their reality. Leah stared at her daughter’s pale face, at the way her once-vibrant hair had thinned and how fragile she looked lying there. The thought of being away from her, even for a few hours of training, filled Leah with a deep sense of unease.

It was time. She knew what she needed to do.

The next day, Leah called a meeting with the club. Sitting across from Jonas and the management team, she took a deep breath. “I need to step away from football for a while,” she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want to be with Angel. I need to be there for her.”

Jonas leaned forward, his expression compassionate and understanding. “We completely understand, Leah. Your family comes first, and we’ll support you in whatever you need.”

Leah nodded, relief washing over her but also a pang of sadness. She had dedicated so much of her life to this sport, to this club. Walking away, even temporarily, felt like leaving a piece of herself behind. But when she thought of Angel—her daughter’s small hand clasped in hers, her soft voice asking if Leah would be there when she woke up—it wasn’t even a choice. It was the only thing she could do.

Leah informed the rest of the team after training that day. The news was met with a wave of emotion, and as her teammates surrounded her, Leah could feel the love and support in every embrace, in every quiet word of encouragement. Lia pulled her aside, her eyes shining with understanding. “We’re all here for you,” she said. “And when you’re ready, we’ll be here waiting.”

The next morning, Leah woke up knowing that football was no longer part of her daily routine. There was no training to get to, no tactics to think about, no upcoming matches to prepare for. It felt strange, disorienting even, to be without the structure that had defined her life for so long. But as she glanced over at Angel, still sleeping soundly beside her, Leah was reassured that she had made the right choice.

Their days settled into a new kind of routine. Leah became fully immersed in Angel’s world—sitting through long hours of chemotherapy, reading countless books to pass the time, and finding little ways to make each day feel special, even if it was something as simple as a board game or a coloring session. She learned to treasure the moments when Angel’s energy returned, however fleeting they were, and to be present in the quiet, difficult times when all she could do was hold her daughter’s hand and let her know she wasn’t alone.

Angel’s condition continued to fluctuate. There were days when she seemed to be getting stronger, her smile more frequent and her laughter more like it used to be. But there were also setbacks—unexpected fevers, side effects from the treatments, and nights when her pain seemed unmanageable. Leah remained a constant source of comfort, her presence giving Angel the strength to face each day, no matter how hard it was.

Despite stepping away from the pitch, Leah couldn’t completely shut football out of her life. The Arsenal team kept in close contact, sending messages and video calls, making sure she knew they hadn’t forgotten about her or Angel. On match days, they wore “Angel” armbands in her honor, and the club organized fundraisers for childhood cancer research. It was a reminder that the Arsenal family was still very much a part of their journey, even from a distance.

One evening, as Leah and Angel sat together in the hospital room, the little girl looked up at her mother with wide, curious eyes. “Mummy, why aren’t you playing football anymore?” she asked. “Don’t you miss it?”

Leah’s heart ached at the question. She thought about all the times she had taken to the pitch, the adrenaline of game day, the roar of the crowd, the feeling of being part of something bigger than herself. But then she looked at Angel, and her daughter’s tired but hopeful face reminded her why she had made the choice.

“I do miss it,” Leah admitted, her voice soft. “But right now, you’re the most important thing in the world to me. Football will always be there, but I want to be with you while you’re getting better.”

Angel seemed to ponder this for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” she said, a small smile forming on her lips. “But you’ll go back one day, right?”

Leah nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from Angel’s forehead. “One day,” she agreed. “When you’re all better, we’ll go back together.”

The days that followed were a mix of quiet resilience and unexpected joys. Though Leah wasn’t on the pitch, she felt more connected to her daughter than ever before. They created their own little world—one where they painted pictures of football matches, watched old Arsenal games on TV, and even kicked a small foam ball around the hospital room on Angel’s good days. It wasn’t the life Leah had planned, but it was a life filled with love, and that was all that mattered.

And slowly, Leah began to notice a change in herself too. Being with Angel day in and day out, she found a new kind of strength, one that didn’t come from physical training or mental toughness, but from the unconditional love she felt for her daughter. She learned that sometimes, the bravest thing you could do was simply be present—to sit in the discomfort, the uncertainty, and the fear, and still find a way to see the light.

One quiet afternoon, as they sat together coloring a picture of the Emirates Stadium, Leah looked over at her daughter and saw a glimmer of the little girl she had been before all this began—cheeky and full of dreams. Angel caught her mother’s gaze and tilted her head. “What is it, Mummy?” she asked, her blue eyes twinkling.

Leah smiled, feeling a swell of hope she hadn’t dared to acknowledge before. “I was just thinking,” she said softly, “about how strong you are. You’re the bravest person I know.”

Angel’s smile grew, and she took her mother’s hand, squeezing it gently. “That’s because I have you,” she whispered.

Leah felt tears prick her eyes, but they were different this time—more hopeful than sad. She knew the road ahead was still uncertain, still full of challenges. But for now, they had each other, and that was enough.